#can't make this all sparkles & rainbows.

[wildwoof]

Koga's thankful to have the dorm room to himself this evening. It'd be far more awkward to explore anything with the presence of another. Leon's head pokes up over the edge of the bed, tongue hanging out with a grin upon their face. A small frown curls to the edges of his lips with a low sigh. "Go lie down in your bed for the night, Leon. Just for tonight, 'kay? I got some stuff I gotta do tonight." Though the look on their face appears more in confusion, the pup hops back down the steps beside his bed to head to the pet bed not far off. Usually, the spot it used only when Koga has to leave Leon behind, but at least they understand enough that they cannot sleep together tonight.

Why?

Something new came over Koga he's been shoving off to the side rather than acting upon it.

Once he knows any disturbances are gone, he shifts his attention to the new information he chose to look up. Koga momentarily thought about checking out porn, but the idea of watching someone else do anything to someone proved to be far too awkward and uncomfortable. Why the hell would he gaze upon some random person he feels nothing for? It fuckin' stupid! A waste of his time truly. Though, as he knew exactly who he emotionally felt drawn toward, there came one thing he needed to learn about.

How the hell do two guys do it?

They can jerk each other off. Easy enough. He knows of blowjobs, which also an option. How the hell does a dick fit up someone's asshole? Lubrication. Fingers. Dildos are an option -- UGH, why the hell should he use some kind of object? Not that he even owns one for that matter.

Eyebrows furrow with a scrunch up of his facial features. No need to be embarrassed about this shit! It's all normal bodily functions. The flow of excitement and hormones. A growth of need for the intimacy to be so close in proximity to their body and feel them completely surrounding him in warmth and scent. Just the thought alone proves to bring about a small amount of need.

Still, he wouldn't be caught dead forcing this closeness upon them. He knows better than to push his own emotional needs upon them. He cannot dare to make them do exactly as he desires ultimately. Work's one thing, but this... Momentarily hand lifts into a small fist to press against the left side of his chest. The thought hurts alone for a brief period, but he need not allow such desolation to take root. He already sent Leon off to sleep. This happens to be his time alone.

Deep breath in. "Don't be a fuckin' wimp about this, Oogami Koga. Ya ain't no baby. Ya ain't a fuckin' wimpy bastard who gets hurt by the smallest of thoughts. Ya know how ya feel. Ya know what ya want." Yes, he knows exactly what he wants. What he desires. Exactly what he extends his hand out toward to grab a hold of. They aren't entirely out of his reach.

[ Maybe one day I can touch ya 'n' you touch me back... but for now, I relish in the very thoughts of what may be. ]

The silver-haired boy at last pushes his boxers down as he tosses his phone to the side. No need to gaze upon anything. Their image already so burned deeply into his mind he almost feels he might be able to reach out and touch it in front of him. May he dream of their cooler touch upon his heated skin. Is it fair for him to think about them in this light?

So scandalous the situation his mind plays out. Encasing him and swallowing him whole. They aren't his to claim, and yet he so damn desires that to be possible. No... they're not his... but his love blossoms so powerfully. Hand reaches to encircle around the flaccid length. It twitches and quivers by the thoughts rising up in his mind.

To imagine them holding onto him. Strong arms surrounding him no matter how many times they attempt to play off something feeble. Scent thick in his nostrils as the memory boils up. A heat. A lecherous drive. Position shifts upon his bed to maneuver his legs out of the way. Heart begins to race, a pound in his chest, with the flow of blood pooling to lower abdomen.

Squeezing around the gradually hardening length, the wolf begins to stroke the sensitive nerves quicker. He takes the time to allow the pace to pick up than going right into it before he's even at full mast. At first his thoughts stick to just picturing them around him. He's touching himself. It's his hand. No one else.

But, what if... what if they're touching him, instead...?

No, no, he shouldn't think of them in that situation! It's not fair on them, but... he hears their voice whispering in his ear. [ Are you feeling good? ] "Y--Yes..." he softly breathes out in a heavy pant. Inserting words into their mouth. The throws of pleasure reaching out those claws to sink in and drag him downward. Eyelids flicker shut as the heat builds not only in his center but also throughout his entire body.

A shiver traversing along his spine. Certain they could be behind him at this point, larger hand encircling him and stroking harder. Thighs twitch and head tilts a tad to the side. Would they bite him or allow him to bite them..? He wonders. Shit, he'd truly like to sink his teeth in and lay his claim--

They're not his, but fuck does he wish --

Grip squeezes tighter while momentarily halting his pace of jerking himself off. Can he... Should he... What's it like to be underneath or even on top of them? To feel them entirely captivating him with a charm never experienced before? Slowly eyelids reopen. Right, how two guys do it...

A man's g-spot. He looked up what the possibilities were. Idea completely embarrassing, yet how else may that connection come to pass? This is his own fantasy, so who the fuck cares? No one else will know except for him, and he never plans to shove it on them. Lock it up deep in his heart and mind. Rather die than say it out loud.

Koga lashes his hand outward to the stand beside his bed to pull the draw out quickly to the condoms and lube he chose to buy recently. A secret transaction done with minimal interaction. One condom collected and the lubricant popped open. Get it done quick. It might hurt at first, but it's supposed to feel good. That's what he read! Positioning himself upon his side, condom over a finger and lubricant poured over it, his free hand returns to his erection.

Veins pulse with blood flow as the guitarist starts up once again stroking the nerves from the hilt up over the glans before back down again in repeated motion. Pleasure to distract the potential of what's to come. Reaching behind with his other hand, a leg props itself up to give him better reach. No point in hesitating anymore. The first push into the twitching muscular ring elicits a small gasp out of his mouth.

Would they be coaxing him in this moment for the first time? Would they call him a good boy for following instructions? Would this even be the position he's in with them? No point in wondering too much. Allow the fantasy to take its root in his mind and envelope him like a weighted blanket. Crushed by the weight of the pleasure enveloping him.

Pain and pleasure.

A single finger shoves right up inside of him. A pressure in his lower abdomen. Features scrunch up once again. It feels more awkward than pleasurable. The hell they talking about?! Soft gasps escape his parted lips as he once more returns to distracting himself by the motion of his hand. Koga feels around a bit before beginning to move his finger in tandem with his hand stroking his length. A rhythm sets itself in place with the angle he's contorted into. Weird but good. Awkward but lecherous.

Only need think about them. Their vocals whispering against his ear in his imagination. One hand tending to his ass while other tends his erection. Squeezes it while pressing his insides. The longer this continues the more he finds himself squirming upon his bed. Pants heavier and low moans sputtering out of his lips. More... more... Why the hell can he not gain more?!

If only they were here with him... If only... He wants them. He desires them. To sink his teeth and claws into as he cries out in a deep pleasure. One finger's the farthest he goes for a first time as the bells ring in the back of his mind. Ecstasy boiling over the lip of the cup as eyelids shut tightly. Pace quickens as he rolls himself over into climax. Hips sway upon his bed in motion with his hands while the young adult cries their name out of his lips. Sputtered and shaken. Koga lets himself go. Admittedly, been a while since he last took the time to masturbate, but his first time truly thinking about them in such a light...

Well, he'll still be able to look at their face tomorrow.

Heavy breathing, he pants to ease his heartrate back down. Pull of his finger uncomfortably from his rear, a toss of the condom used to the side with the bedsheets beneath him soiled now thanks to his cum. A small frown pulls against his lips as eyelids slowly open back up to stare into the darkness of the surrounding room.

[ Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid -- ]

Without presently caring about the mess he just made, the guitarist proceeds to roll himself over to face the opposite direction while coiling his body up together, arms tuck his knees in against his chest. Why the hell did he have to think about them...?

[teddybeartoji]

彡 NO GARDEN CAN BLOOM WITHOUT THE SUN

☆. contains: bf!satoru gojo x gn!reader; fluff fluff fluff!!!! they're in love!!!!!! satoru is the king of acts of service!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! wc: 1.5k

"c'mon, show me those chompers, baby!"

sat on the bathroom counter, you watch your boyfriend bare his fangs at you in the most adorable way. his eyes are pressed shut, his smile so wide that it's almost reaching his ears – he's showing how you should do it.

unable to contain the sleepy chuckles that bubble up your throat, satoru's eyes crack open. he's sleepy, too. but he's still here; he's still determined to make you happy, to make you feel good, to make you smile. he's determined to take care of you no matter what.

he ushers you with a laugh of his own, showing you the lump of toothpaste sitting on your new toothbrush.

(he bought you matching ones the other day. he's very proud of himself.)

(you love him.)

you can't say no to him. his free hand squeezes your waist, a sign that he's here and he's waiting. he's not being impatient, though – no, never that. he's just reassuring; skin on skin, he wants you to know he's never leaving.

to him it isn't dramatic to be thinking about his everlasting devotion while doing a menial task like this (if you can even call it that) – it's more than normal actually. he simply cannot stop; you're eating him from the inside and he's grateful.

you do as he says and clench your teeth together while pulling your lips back. you're sure you look a little silly but satoru couldn't disagree more.

"there we go! you look like a little tiger!" he leans in and brushes his nose against yours, making it scrunch up and that makes him giggle in turn. he feels giddy around you, he feels like he's in heaven.

he wets the toothbrush before bringing up to your mouth. he takes his hand from your hip and places it on your jaw instead, gently guiding your face up so he can see a little better.

bristles brush against your enamels and you peer at satoru. he looks awfully concentrated – he's cute like this. there's a small crease between his brows, his crystalline eyes glued to your canines as he watches your mouth fill with foam.

blindly, you play with the hem of his shirt; your fingers graze his marble skin and he shudders at the light touch. the fluorescent light coming from behind you illuminates his face and you waste no time in counting the freckles that adorn his skin. again. you've done it a thousand times before and you'll do it a thousand times more. they're your stars – his smile being the sun and his pretty blue eyes the equivalent of the moon in the sky. he's your guide during the day and the night, you'd be utterly lost without him.

he's your world.

satoru wipes the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the extra toothpaste that's threatening to trickle down your skin and smears it into his shirt, laughing loudly when you gasp at his antics. you smack his stomach and watch his head loll back with a dopey grin. his chest rumbles, hearty giggles bubbling up his throat. his adam's apple bobs before he lowers his head back down, his gaze meeting yours. he's so full of love, he just might burst.

"was gonna wash it anyway."

he looks proud of himself and you snort at his answer.

"yersuchachild."

the toothpaste in your mouth is making it hard to sound serious, your words coming out all muddled and slurred as you splutter at him. he doesn't care for your lecturing – his mind is filled with hearts and sparkles and rainbows and kittens and puppies and pastries and warm blankets and glitter and roses and the color pink and the color red and your eyes and everything else that could possibly be associated with the word love. he watches your mouth move and he sees flower petals falling, he watches you blink and he sees shooting stars, he watches you breathe and he feels at home.

he's your air.

you're a perfect match – you breathe him in and he makes a home inside your lungs. you keep him safe, you cradle him with your gentle hands and hide him from the cruel world. and he in turn takes care of your heart; he warms it, he tends to it like it's a garden. he waters and he weeds, he plants new seeds and he reaps what he has sowed with the softest smile in the world.

no garden can bloom without the sun.

satoru places the toothbrush in your mouth before yanking the dirty t-shirt off of his body. he raises his brows, seeking for praise. "better?"

you nod sleepily and the brush between your teeth bounces up and down, making satoru laugh again. you give him a smile and his breath hitches just a little. all foamy and pretty – he loves you so fucking much.

he goes back to his job, carefully brushing over your front teeth and then the sides. he gives your cheeks a squeeze, telling you to open up again and then he's leaning in so close that you almost choke on the paste in your mouth. a smirk tugs on his lips as he squints his eyes, glaring at your teeth like he's a proper dentist.

your fingers itch for him and you refuse to suffer when he's right there; you trace over the scars that cover his tummy, his whole body, and you hum. finally, you decide to just rest your hands on the waistband of his pyjamas – you need to be touching him, always and forever.

but the sleepiness is starting to take over; your eyes feel heavy and satoru doesn't miss your slow blinks. he speeds up his movements, whispering for you to show him your tongue. he quickly cleans it, intent on giving you his hundred percent.

when he deems that he's finally done, he takes the brush from your mouth and leans back, taking a good look at the masterpiece before him; half-asleep, mouth covered in toothpaste & content. he couldn't wish for anything else.

without giving you time to react, he lunges forward, pressing his plump lips against yours. he holds your cheeks like you're made out of glass and you grasp at his skin like he's about to fade away—

— but you won't break and he won't disappear.

seperating from him, you're met with the most bashful fucking smile in the world. his hands rest on his hips and he really couldn't be more proud of himself. frothy lips and sparkling eyes, you simply stare at him and just let the butterflies fill your stomach. there's no stopping them anyway.

"okay, c'mon, sleepyhead." satoru taps your thighs. "wash your mouth."

he comes up close again, his nose touching yours. "or do you want me to do that for you, too?"

he's a little cocky and he's a little smug and you think it's only fair; he has every right to be – you're wrapped around his finger like honey around a dipper. but alas, you plop off the counter and press yourself flush against him before turning around and facing the sink. he doesn't move, staying glued behind you like it's where he's meant to be.

(it is.)

his arms snake around your middle, patiently waiting for you to finish cleaning up. satoru sways his hips, gently, as if trying to lull you to sleep. he stares at you through the mirror, unable to tear his eyes from you. his own shirt drapes over your figure, soft skin peeking from under the collar, just waiting for him to press his lips against it. you feel like putty in his hold, like his own personal plushie and he has never been this excited to go to bed. he can't wait to sleep with you – to curl around you, to hug and kiss, to feel your heartbeat under his heavy head.

(every morning he wakes up already dreaming about spending the night with you again. you rest together, you heal together.)

you raise your head from the sink and satoru is already handing you a towel. you thank him with your eyes and dry yourself off. he rests his head on your shoulder and your fingers crawl between his messy white strands, you rub at his scalp and he closes his eyes. a purr reverberates through his body and then through yours and another smile makes it's way onto your face. it's inevitable; he just makes you so fucking happy.

hearts beating together, you stand there in your bathroom. it feels special, it is special – he always makes you feel like this, no matter where, no matter when; like a lock and a key, like a blanket and a pillow, like a piece of paper and a pen, like rain and thunder, like the ocean and the beach—

— like a ray of sunlight and a blooming flower.

+ hii my beloved satoru lovers just felt like tagging you guys bc... i felt like it<333 @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @staryukis @mossmurdock @neptuneblue @lxnarphase @nkogneatho @cockaiine @kentophilia @sugulani @13curses @blankwashed i love you

[23victoria]

Father’s Day!!

f1 grid x reader

warnings: just fluff

authors note: today is Father’s Day so want to do something with the grid!! any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

f1 masterlist

Max

It's Father's Day, and you're determined to make it special for Max. The morning sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains as you gently wake up your little one, Oliver. You both tiptoe down the hall to the kitchen, where you've prepared a simple but heartfelt breakfast: Max's favorite pancakes, fresh fruit, and a steaming cup of coffee.

Oliver insists on carrying the tray, wobbling slightly but managing to keep everything balanced. You lead the way, quietly pushing open the bedroom door. Max is still asleep, a peaceful expression on his face. Oliver climbs onto the bed, and you can't help but smile as he places a messy kiss on Max's cheek.

"Daddy, wake up! Happy Father's Day!" Oliver's excitement is infectious, and Max stirs, a smile spreading across his face as he opens his eyes.

"Good morning, my babies," Max says, pulling Oliver into a hug and then reaching for you. "This is the best way to wake up."

After breakfast, you all head to the living room, where Oliver presents Max with a hand-painted picture. It's a portrait of your family, with a rainbow in the background and everyone holding hands. Max's eyes mist over as he looks at the painting, his heart swelling with love and pride.

"This is amazing, Oliver. Thank you so much," he says, kissing the top of his son's head. "And thank you, love, for making today so special."

The rest of the day is filled with laughter and joy. You all head to the park, where Max and Oliver play soccer while you watch, capturing every moment on your phone. In the afternoon, you return home for a barbecue, with Oliver helping to flip burgers and Max manning the grill.

As the sun sets, you all snuggle up on the couch to watch Max's favorite movie. Oliver falls asleep in Max's arms, and you rest your head on Max's shoulder, feeling content and happy.

"I couldn't have asked for a better Father's Day," Max whispers, kissing your forehead. "I love you both so much."

Lewis

Father's Day morning comes gently, the sun's rays filtering through the curtains as you and your daughter, Amara, lie in bed, savoring the rare opportunity to sleep in. Last night had been a marathon movie night, with the three of you snuggled on the couch, laughing and enjoying each other's company until the wee hours. As the morning progresses, you and Amara tiptoe out of the bedroom, leaving Lewis to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

In the kitchen, you and Amara prepare a light and easy vegan lunch. The menu includes a vibrant quinoa salad with roasted vegetables, a fresh avocado and tomato sandwich, and a chilled fruit smoothie. Amara is excited, and you guide her hands as she slices veggies and blends the smoothie.

As the meal comes together, you set a tray with the food and a small vase holding a single flower that Amara picked from the garden. Together, you quietly walk back to the bedroom, the tray balanced carefully in your hands. Amara climbs onto the bed first, gently shaking Lewis's shoulder.

"Daddy, wake up! We've got a surprise for you!" she says, her voice filled with excitement.

Lewis stirs, opening his eyes to see Amara’s bright smile and your loving gaze. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, and grins as he sees the tray.

"Good morning, my beautiful girls," he says, pulling Amara into a hug and giving you a warm kiss. "This is an amazing way to wake up."

After savoring the delicious lunch, you and Amara present Lewis with his special gift. Amara hands him a small, wrapped box, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Lewis opens it to find a handcrafted bracelet, ring, and necklace, each piece intricately designed with tiny charms and beads that the two of you had spent weeks working on together.

"Wow, Amara, these are incredible," Lewis says, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you so much, sweetheart. And thank you, love, for helping her. These are truly special."

Amara beams with pride as Lewis puts on the bracelet and necklace, sliding the ring onto his finger. The rest of the day is spent in relaxed joy. You all lounge around the house, playing board games and sharing stories. In the afternoon, you take a walk in the park, where Lewis and Amara race each other along the path, their laughter echoing through the trees.

As evening falls, you all return home and cuddle up on the couch once more, this time to watch the sunset through the living room window. Amara eventually falls asleep in Lewis's arms, and you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

"This has been the perfect Father's Day," Lewis whispers, kissing your forehead. "I love you both so much. Thank you for making today unforgettable."

Charles

Father's Day morning begins with the sun gently illuminating your bedroom. You and your son, Lucas, had stayed up late the night before, giggling and making final preparations for Charles's special day. After catching a bit of extra sleep, you both decide to let Charles rest while you head to the kitchen to prepare his favorite breakfast: croissants, fresh fruit, and a strong espresso.

Lucas, eager to help, assists in arranging the food on a tray. You add a small vase with a single rose, a simple yet thoughtful touch. Together, you carry the tray to the bedroom, where Charles is still in a peaceful slumber. Lucas carefully climbs onto the bed, placing a soft kiss on his father's cheek.

"Happy Father's Day, Papa!" Lucas exclaims, his voice filled with excitement.

Charles stirs, opening his eyes to see Lucas's beaming face and your loving smile. He sits up, reaching out to pull Lucas into a warm hug and giving you a tender kiss.

"Good morning, my loves," Charles says, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "This is the best way to wake up."

After enjoying the delicious breakfast, Lucas announces that he has another surprise for Charles. He dashes out of the room and returns with a beautifully wrapped gift. Charles's curiosity is piqued as he carefully unwraps the present.

Inside, he finds a custom-made photo album. Each page is filled with pictures of the most cherished moments you've shared as a family: vacations, birthdays, holidays, and candid snapshots of everyday life. Lucas had painstakingly decorated the pages with stickers, drawings, and little notes, each one a testament to his love and creativity.

Charles's eyes well up with tears as he flips through the pages, reliving the memories. "Lucas, this is amazing. Thank you so much, my little artist. And thank you, love, for helping him put this together. It's perfect."

Lucas beams with pride, and you wrap your arms around both of them, feeling a wave of love and happiness. The rest of the day is filled with joyful activities. You take a family trip to the zoo, where Charles and Lucas marvel at the animals and share ice cream cones. In the afternoon, you return home for a barbecue, with Lucas eagerly helping to flip the burgers while Charles mans the grill.

As the sun sets, you all snuggle up on the couch to watch Charles's favorite movie. Lucas falls asleep in Charles's arms, and you rest your head on Charles's shoulder, feeling content and happy.

"I couldn't have asked for a better Father's Day," Charles whispers, kissing your forehead. "I love you both so much."

Carlos

It's Father's Day, and you and your daughter, Sofia, have been planning a special surprise for Carlos for weeks. The morning starts with you both sneaking into the kitchen to prepare Carlos's favorite Spanish breakfast: churros with hot chocolate.

Sofia climbs onto the bed and places a kiss on Carlos's cheek. "Happy Father's Day, Papa!" she exclaims, her excitement waking Carlos with a start. He blinks a few times before his eyes focus on the two of you.

"Good morning, mi princesa," he says, pulling Sofia into a hug and reaching out to you. "This is the best surprise."

Sofia announces she has another surprise for her papa. Sofia dashes out of the room, returning with a large, colorfully wrapped box. Carlos, his curiosity piqued, smiles as he accepts the gift from his beaming daughter.

"Open it, Papa! I made it just for you!" Sofia exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement.

Carlos carefully unwraps the gift, revealing a beautifully handcrafted model of his race car. The model is made from wood, meticulously painted in his team's colors, with fine details that capture the essence of his real car. Sofia had spent weeks working on it, sanding and painting each piece with your help.

Carlos’s eyes widen in amazement as he examines the intricate model. "Sofia, this is incredible! You made this all by yourself?"

Sofia nods eagerly. "Well, Mommy helped a little, but I did most of it. Do you like it?"

"I love it," Carlos says, his voice filled with emotion. He pulls Sofia into a tight hug. "This is one of the best gifts I've ever received. Thank you, my little artist."

The rest of the day is spent in high spirits. You all head out to the park for a fun-filled day of activities. Carlos and Sofia race their remote-controlled cars, laughing and cheering as they navigate through makeshift tracks. Later, you enjoy a picnic under the shade of a large oak tree, savoring the simple pleasures of being together.

You rest your head on Carlos's shoulder, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Carlos looks at you with love and gratitude in his eyes.

"This has been the perfect Father's Day," he whispers, kissing your forehead. "Thank you for making it so special. I love you both so much."

Lando

Father's Day morning starts with you and your son, Theo, preparing a fun and easy breakfast for Lando: banana pancakes with maple syrup and a side of fresh berries. After breakfast in bed, Theo excitedly announces he has a special surprise for Lando.

Theo runs out of the room and returns with a small, neatly wrapped box. Lando's eyes light up as he takes the gift from Theo's eager hands.

"Daddy, open it! I made it just for you! But mommy help me as well!!" Theo exclaims, his excitement palpable.

Lando carefully unwraps the gift to reveal a handmade keychain. The keychain is crafted from colorful beads and charms, spelling out "Best Dad" along with tiny race car and helmet charms. Theo had put his heart into making it, with your help guiding his little hands.

"This is awesome, Theo! I love it," Lando says, his voice full of warmth. He pulls Theo into a hug. "Thank you, buddy. I'll keep this with me always."

The rest of the day is filled with activities at Lando's favorite amusement park, where he and Theo ride all the roller coasters and enjoy the day to its fullest. Back home, you all enjoy a cozy movie night, snuggled up together, cherishing every moment.

Oscar

Father's Day morning begins with you and your daughter, Ava, preparing a simple but delicious brunch for Oscar: an egg omelette with spinach bell peppers onions and bacon with waffles and some turkey sandwiches cut into half’s with a fresh fruit smoothie. After the brunch, Ava eagerly announces her special surprise for her daddy.

Ava rushes out of the room and returns with a beautifully decorated scrapbook. Oscar's curiosity is piqued as he accepts the gift from his daughter’s proud hands.

"Daddy, we made this for you!" Ava says, her eyes sparkling.

Oscar opens the scrapbook to find it filled with drawings, photos, and little notes. Each page captures special moments they've shared: trips to the beach, family game nights, and candid snapshots of daily life. Ava had worked tirelessly on it, with your help organizing the pages.

"This is amazing, Ava. I love it," Oscar says, his voice filled with emotion. He pulls Ava into a hug. "Thank you so much, sweetheart. This is a treasure."

The day continues with a visit to a botanical garden, where Oscar and Ava explore the vibrant plants and flowers and even go into the butterfly garden. After that you guys go to a nice restaurant for dinner and go home ending the day with a lots of cuddles.

Sebastian

Father's Day starts with you and your son, Max, preparing a nice breakfast for him: honey and cinnamon pancakes with eggs, turkey bacon and fresh fruit. After enjoying the meal in together, Max reveals his special surprise for his papa.

Max runs to his room and returns with a large, carefully wrapped package. Seb's eyes twinkle with anticipation as he accepts the gift from Max’s excited hands.

"Papa, open it! I made it for you!" Max exclaims, his excitement evident.

Sebastian unwraps the package to reveal a handmade birdhouse. The birdhouse is painted in bright colors and adorned with tiny flowers and leaves. Max had spent countless afternoons working on it, with your guidance and support.

"This is wonderful, Max! I love it," Sebastian says, his voice brimming with pride. He pulls Max into a warm hug. "Thank you, my little craftsman. We'll put this in the garden together."

The rest of the day is spent outdoors, visiting a local farm and feeding the animals. Back home, they set up the birdhouse in the garden, watching for birds to come. The day concludes with a cozy evening watching The Incredibles 2, Max falling asleep in Seb's arms.

Jenson Button

Father's Day morning begins with the sun shining through the curtains and the soft sound of paws padding around the house. You and your two kids, Lily and Jake, are up early, ready to surprise Jenson with a day filled with love, laughter, and a few surprises from the whole family, including the dogs.

First, you all head to the kitchen to prepare a hearty English breakfast: baked beans, toast, and a selection of fresh fruits. The dogs, Storm, Rogue and Bentley, are excitedly wagging their tails, sensing the fun to come. You prepare a special dog-friendly treat for them to deliver to Jenson as well.

Once breakfast is ready, you and the kids carry the trays up to the bedroom, with Storm, Rogue and Bentley following closely, each with a small, wrapped gift tied to their collars. Lily and Jake eagerly climb onto the bed, placing kisses on Jenson's cheeks to wake him up.

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" they exclaim in unison.

Jenson groggily opens his eyes, a smile spreading across his face as he sees his excited kids and the delicious breakfast laid out before him. "Good morning, my little loves. This is the best wake-up call."

As he sits up, Storm, Rogue and Bentley jump onto the bed, tails wagging furiously. Jenson laughs as he notices the gifts tied to their collars.

"Looks like even the dogs have something for you, Daddy!" Jake says, grinning.

Jenson unties the first gift from Storm collar. Inside, he finds a personalized mug with "World's Best Dad" written on it and a picture of Jenson with Storm, Rogue and Bentley. "This is fantastic! Thank you, Storm," he says, patting the dog's head.

Next, he opens the gift from Rogue collar. It's a new set of golf balls with "Best Dad" engraved on each one. "Wow, Rogue, you know me so well," Jenson laughs, scratching Rogue behind the ears.

Jenson unties a gift from Bentley's collar. Inside, he finds sunglasses with "JB" engraved on it. Jenson smiles and gives Bentley a big hug. "Thank you, Bentley. This is so nice."

"Now for our gifts!" Lily says, handing Jenson a brightly wrapped package. Inside, Jenson finds a handmade photo frame decorated with seashells, featuring a picture of the whole family from their last beach vacation.

"This is beautiful, Lily. Thank you so much," Jenson says, giving her a big hug.

Jake hands over his gift next, a Lego set to build The Millennium Falcon. "We can build it together, Dad!" Jake says, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Awesome, Jake. I can't wait to get started on this," Jenson says, pulling Jake into a hug.

The rest of the day is filled with fun and adventure. You all head to the nearby park with the dogs, where Jenson and the kids play catch, run around, and even try their hands at flying a kite. Roscoe and Coco have the time of their lives chasing after the frisbee and each other.

In the afternoon, you return home to make a special dinner together. You gather in the kitchen, setting up a pizza-making station with various ingredients. Each of you gets a dough base to create your own unique pizza.

Lily goes for a classic margherita with lots of cheese, Jake opts for a pepperoni and olive combo, Jenson decides on a prosciutto and arugula pizza, and you make a buffalo chicken masterpiece. Storm, Rogue and Bentley are given their own special dog-friendly pizzas, which they eagerly gobble up.

As the pizzas bake, the kitchen fills with delicious aromas. You all sit around the table, enjoying your creations and sharing stories. The evening is filled with laughter, as you recount the day's adventures and enjoy the warmth of being together as a family.

After dinner, you all snuggle up on the couch with the dogs, watching one of Jenson's favorite movies. Lily and Jake eventually fall asleep, and Roscoe and Coco curl up at their feet. You lean against Jenson, feeling content and happy.

"This has been the perfect Father's Day," Jenson whispers, kissing your forehead. "I love you all so much. Thank you for making today unforgettable."

Daniel

Father's Day morning begins with a mischievous plan you and your son, Jack, concoct to wake Daniel up in a way he'll never forget. The two of you tiptoe around the house, preparing for the grand surprise. You and Jack decide that a good old-fashioned prank will be the perfect way to start the day.

You both set up downstairs, positioning yourselves in the kitchen with a delicious vegan lunch waiting to be served. On the count of three, you and Jack begin to scream and shout, creating a cacophony of pretend chaos.

"Dad! Help! There's a huge mess!" you yell, adding to the commotion.

From upstairs, you hear the sound of Daniel springing out of bed and rushing down the stairs. He bursts into the kitchen, his hair tousled and eyes wide with concern.

"What's going on? Is everyone okay?" Daniel exclaims, looking around frantically.

You and Jack burst into laughter, unable to keep up the act any longer. Daniel's confusion quickly turns to a smile as he realizes he's been pranked.

"Happy Father's Day!" you both shout, grinning widely.

Daniel shakes his head, chuckling. "You got me good! Whose idea was this?"

You and Jack exchange glances and remain silent, trying to stifle your laughter. Daniel raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Oh, so you're not going to tell me, huh?" he says, moving towards you both with a mischievous grin. "Well, I guess I'll have to get the truth out another way."

With that, Daniel starts chasing you around the house. Jack squeals and runs, but Daniel quickly catches him, lifting him up and starting to tickle him mercilessly.

"No, Mom! Save me from the tickle monster!" Jack cries out between fits of laughter.

You stand back, laughing as you watch the two of them. Daniel’s infectious laughter fills the room as Jack squirms and giggles uncontrollably.

"Alright, alright! I surrender!" Jack finally manages to say, still giggling as Daniel relents.

As things settle down, you guide Daniel to the dining table where the surprise lunch is laid out: a colorful spread of avocado toast, quinoa salad, and fresh fruit smoothies.

"Happy Father's Day, love," you say, kissing Daniel on the cheek. "We thought you deserved a fun wake-up call."

Daniel smiles, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in for a hug. "You two are the best. This is perfect."

The rest of the day is filled with laughter and love. You spend the afternoon playing games in the garden, enjoying the beautiful weather and each other's company. In the evening, you all snuggle up on the couch for a cozy movie night, feeling grateful for the special moments shared together.

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[not-magdi]

"Be my Valentine?"

Warnings: none :)

Summary: Lando surprises you on Valentine's Day.

Word Count: 1k

Reading Time: 4min 12sec

A/N

I am so sorry for not updating again, but life has been really stressful lately. I sadly can't promise you that it is going to be better a school is about to start again but I'll try.

Love y'all Magdi <3

February 13th, tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and you just ended a call with Lando, who was currently in Barcelona testing the new car. When he first told you he would be away for the 14th, disappointment and sadness were the only emotions you felt.   

Valentine's has been your favourite holiday since you were a little girl. It didn't matter if you had somebody or not. The pink hearts everywhere, the smell of roses in the air, and people all around being in love made it so special for you. 

And for two years, you got to spend Valentine's with the love of your life, Lando Norris. Although every day was special with Lando, he always made extra efforts for the 14th, such as preparing breakfast in bed, presenting flowers in a rainbow of colours, and gifting sparkling jewellery.

So, him not being here home with you this year crushed your spirits for tomorrow completely. Lando felt incredibly bad when he found out when the tests were, but nothing prepared him for how the spark in your eyes disappeared when he told you. 

Guilt was eating him up the entire trip to Barcelona. Even Oscar noticed and asked what was up. 

------

After you hung up with Lando, you decided to cuddle yourself up on your couch and do some self-care while watching some nineties rom-com. 

You knew it wasn't Lando's fault he didn't have a say in when the testing was going to be, but you were still really disappointed he couldn't be with you. 

------

Your stiff back and sore neck were the result of you falling asleep on the couch yesterday. The TV was still running when you decided to get up and make yourself breakfast. 

The second you unlock your phone, you are bombarded with posts of couples enjoying Valentine's Day together.  

Letting out an annoyed huff, you throw your phone on the couch and decide to take a shower, wanting to escape all that valentines crap for a bit. 

Afterwards, you felt way more refreshed and optimistic for the day. So you decided to throw on some of your favourite jeans and your most flattering top and head outside to the centre of Monaco. 

------

You spend your whole day wandering through Monaco, strolling through a few shops and taking a few breaks in some cafes. And even though you were still a bit mad at Lando, an addition to Lando's Valentine's present made its way into your bag. 

Your mood improved gradually throughout the day, but not hearing anything from Lando made it hard to stay positive. You texted him, "goodmorning ❤️" to show him you were not ignoring or mad at him. 

He reacted to your message, but it has been complete silence since then. You thought that maybe he was too busy, as he told you that today would be the media day, but not hearing anything from him hurt you were not going to lie.

------

And you were indeed correct in your assumption. Lando was incredibly busy today but not giving interviews and making content. No, he tried to convince Zak to let him fly home earlier today so he could spend some more time with you. 

"Oh, come on. Please Zak, I'm done with all my stuff, for what do you even need me here?" Lando begged his boss, quite desperate to let him fly home. 

Zak looked at him with a slightly tired expression. "Do you really have to fly home. I mean it's just Valentine's day."

Lando tried to put on his best puppy dog eyes. "It's really important for Y/N. I can't do that to her." 

That seemed to do the trick, as Lando is currently on a plane home to Monaco. He spent the whole flight on his phone, trying to make the time go by faster. A smile made its way onto his face when he saw you posted a photo of you sitting in one of your favourite cafes, enjoying the sun.

He felt so incredibly guilty after your call yesterday, already forming a plan for how he can make it up to you.

------

The second he touched the ground again, he immediately rushed to your favourite florist to get you the biggest bouquet of sunflowers he could find. 

The friendly old lady who runs the shop smiles as she sees Lando entering. You also visited her today, telling her your dilemma while buying a bouquet of pink tulips. 

So seeing Lando buying your favourite flowers made her happy for you, knowing you weren't spending the day alone anymore. 

------

You just came home from your trip, putting the flowers you bought in a vase and starting to make yourself some dinner. 

You were about to start eating when you heard the doorbell ring. Confused, you make your way to the front door. Looking through your peephole, you rip the door open in excitement.  

You couldn't believe your eyes when you saw your boyfriend standing before you. Well, you could barely see him between all those sunflowers. But what you could see. Was his adorable smile while he held a pink sign saying, "Be my valentine?" 

Rushing over to him, you tackled him in the biggest teddybear-hug, burying your face in his neck. 

"Hi baby." Kissing your head, Lando wraps one arm around you, squeezing you tight. 

"How-when, why are you here?" 

Chuckling slightly at your confusion, Lando answers, "Well I couldn't leave my girl alone on Valentine's now, can I? Besides, Zak couldn't withstand my puppy-dog-eyes." 

Laughing, you tilt your head, giving Lando a loving kiss while murmuring a sincere "I love you" against his lips.

"Mhm, I love you too, baby."  

------

After standing in your hallway like two teenagers, you ushered Lando inside, not letting go of his hand, wanting to have him near you all the time.  

You were now cuddling on the couch, your wrist decorated with a new bracelet, a sparkling "L" adorning its front. 

Lando broke the comfortable silence you two were basking in, "You didn't answer my question from earlier." 

You look up at him, confused. "What do you mean?" 

Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he says, "Will you be my Valentine?" 

Laughing, you take his face to kiss him, "Yes, Lando, I'd love to be your Valentine." 

------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !!❤️

[estellan0vella]

Fun With Hair Clips Older Brother Sukuna AU HFBU

The afternoon sun filters through the thin curtains, casting a warm, golden light over the living room. The atmosphere is filled with the cheerful sounds of the TV show Sofia the First, the theme tune is playing and Yuji is singing along. You sit cross-legged on the plush carpet, surrounded by an assortment of hair clips, ribbons, and tiny elastics. Yuji is perched beside you, his small hands eagerly working to braid a section of your hair.

Yuji is your little shadow, never straying far whenever you're around. His wide, innocent eyes sparkle with admiration and curiosity, and you can't help but smile at his earnest concentration as he attempts to twist your hair into a neat braid.

"Like this, right?" he asks, glancing up at you for reassurance.

"Exactly," you reply, offering him an encouraging smile. "You're doing a great job, Yuji."

He beams at your praise, his little fingers continuing their careful work. The bond you share with Yuji is heartwarming, a beautiful connection that blossomed naturally from the moment you first met him. His unconditional love and trust in you are evident in every small gesture, every enthusiastic hug, and every time he tugs at your sleeve to show you something new.

As Yuji finishes the braid, he reaches for a colourful hair clip and secures it in place, then looks at you expectantly. "Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," you assure him, and his face lights up with pride.

The two of you spend the next few minutes adorning each other's hair with clips and ribbons, laughing at the silliness of it all. You're in the midst of placing a tiny crown clip in Yuji's hair when he suddenly grows serious, his youthful eyes searching yours with a hint of worry.

"Are you gonna have a seizure today?" he asks quietly, his voice tinged with concern.

You pause, your hand hovering in mid-air as you consider how to respond. Yuji's awareness of your epilepsy is something you and Sukuna have addressed with care, explaining it in terms that a four-year-old could understand. Despite his age, Yuji is perceptive and sensitive, his empathy far beyond his years.

"I don't know, Yuji," you reply gently, setting the clip aside and taking his small hand in yours. "But remember what we talked about? If I do, you know what to do, right?"

He nods solemnly, his tiny fingers squeezing yours. "Don't be scared, make sure you're safe and call Suku"

"Exactly. And you're such a brave boy for remembering that. You're smart, just like your brother"

As if on cue, the front door creaks open, and the familiar sound of Sukuna's footsteps echoes through the hallway. Yuji's face brightens instantly, and he scrambles to his feet, running towards the door with a joyful shout.

"Suku! You're home!"

Sukuna appears in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow over the room. His sharp eyes soften as he takes in the sight of his little brother barreling towards him. He scoops Yuji up effortlessly, a rare, genuine smile tugging at his lips as Yuji wraps his arms around his neck.

"Hey, kid," Sukuna says, ruffling Yuji's hair affectionately. "Were you good for (Y/N)?"

Yuji nods vigorously. "We played hair salon! Look, I made her hair pretty!"

Sukuna's gaze shifts to you, his eyes lingering on the colourful array of clips and messy braids in your hair. A chuckle escapes him, a sound that's both amused and fond. "I see that. You're quite the stylist, aren't you?"

Yuji grins proudly, and Sukuna sets him down, his attention now fully on you. He strides over, his presence commanding yet comforting, and bends down to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

"You doing okay?" he asks, his voice low and laced with genuine concern.

You nod, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch. "We're doing great. Just having some fun with hair clips."

He smirks, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. "Yeah, I can see that. You look like a walking rainbow."

You laugh, the sound light and carefree. "It's all thanks to Yuji's expert styling."

Yuji giggles, his earlier worry forgotten in the presence of his beloved brother as he bounces around with his never-ending energy. 

The afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and play. Yuji insists on watching more episodes of Sofia the First, and you and Sukuna indulge him, enjoying the simple pleasure of spending time together as a makeshift family. At one point, Sukuna even allows Yuji to place a clip in his hair, the sight of the usually stoic man with a bright pink butterfly clip drawing peals of laughter from both you and Yuji.

As the day draws to a close, you help Yuji get ready for bed, reading him a bedtime story and tucking him in snugly. He clings to you, his small arms wrapped around your neck in a tight hug.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he murmurs sleepily. "I love you."

Your heart swells with emotion, and you press a kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, Yuji. I love you too."

You quietly close the door to his room, leaving it slightly ajar, and make your way back to the living room. Sukuna is there, waiting for you, his intense gaze softening as you approach. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close in a comforting embrace.

"You're amazing with him," he murmurs against your hair. "Thank you for being here."

You smile, resting your head against his chest. "I love being here. With both of you."

Sukuna's grip tightens, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. The love and protection he offers are unwavering, a constant source of strength in your life. With him by your side, you know you can face anything, even the uncertainties that come with your condition.

As the night deepens, you and Sukuna sit together in the quiet of the living room, the TV now silent. The bond you share, built on trust, love, and mutual respect, is a testament to the strength of your relationship. And as you close your eyes, feeling the warmth of Sukuna's embrace and the comforting presence of Yuji in the next room, you know that no matter what challenges come your way, you'll face them together.

The next morning dawns bright and early, with Yuji bounding into your bedroom before the sun has fully risen. You pull a pillow over your head, releasing a loud sigh as Sukuna grumbles from beside you but the sight of Yuji's joyful face soon has him reluctantly rising.

"Come on!" Yuji pokes you. "Get up"

"Give her a few minutes," Sukuna says, pulling the pillow off of your head. 

"Can we make pancakes?" Yuji asks, his eyes wide with anticipation.

You glance at Sukuna, who shrugs, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Sure, why not?"

"Call me when they're ready," You mumble, pulling the sheets up only for Sukuna to poke your sides. "No, you can't do this to me. It's cruel and inhumane"

"If I have to be awake so do you," Sukuna says. 

"Not how it works at all," You grumble, sitting up and pushing your hair out of your face. 

The three of you head to the kitchen, and before long, the air is filled with the mouthwatering aroma of pancakes sizzling on the griddle. Yuji stands on a stool beside you, eagerly helping to mix the batter and flip the pancakes, his laughter ringing out whenever he manages to flip one perfectly.

Breakfast is a lively affair, filled with chatter and laughter. Yuji's boundless energy is a constant source of amusement, and even Sukuna, with his typically reserved demeanour, can't help but join in the fun. After breakfast, you clean up together, Yuji insisting on helping to wash the dishes.

As the day progresses, you decide to take Yuji to the park, wanting to give him a chance to burn off some of his seemingly endless energy. Sukuna agrees to join, and the three of you set off, hand in hand, enjoying the warm, sunny day.

At the park, Yuji races around with boundless enthusiasm, dragging you and Sukuna from one activity to the next. You push him on the swings, help him navigate the jungle gym, and even join in a game of tag, your laughter mingling with his as you chase each other around.

Sukuna watches with a fond smile, his usually stern features softened by the sight of you and Yuji playing together. He joins in occasionally, his competitive nature coming out as he playfully tries to tag you or lift Yuji high into the air, much to the boy's delight.

Eventually, the day begins to wind down, and you all head back home, tired but happy. Yuji chatters away, recounting every detail of the day's adventures, his excitement evident in every word.

Back at home, you settle into a relaxed evening routine. Sukuna cooks dinner while you and Yuji set the table, the atmosphere filled with a comfortable, familial warmth. After dinner, you all curl up on the couch to watch a movie, Yuji nestled between you and Sukuna, his small hand clutching yours.

As the movie plays, you glance over at Sukuna, who meets your gaze with a soft, affectionate smile. In that moment, you're reminded of how much you cherish these simple, everyday moments. The love and connection you share with Sukuna and Yuji are what make life truly special.

Before long, Yuji's eyelids begin to droop, and you gently carry him to bed, tucking him in and whispering a soft goodnight. He mumbles a sleepy reply, already drifting off to sleep.

You return to the living room, where Sukuna is waiting for you. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you both settle onto the couch.

"Thank you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"For what?" you ask, leaning into his embrace.

"For everything. For being here. For loving Yuji. For loving me."

You smile, your heart full. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

As you sit there, wrapped in Sukuna's arms, you feel a profound sense of contentment. No matter what challenges come your way, you know that with Sukuna and Yuji by your side, you can face anything. Together, you are a family, bound by love and unbreakable bonds. And that, you realize, is the greatest gift of all.

[hey-its-jacob-lol]

JacobLOL and Kirb Presents: The Chaotic Route

*Our story begins in Equestria. Discord, The master and Lord of Chaos is up to his usual chaotic tricks annoying anyone and everyone all day long. He made the Apple family's orchard come to life and ran away from the farm. He made Twilight Sparkle's books fly around at such a fast speed that they all eventually knocked Rainbow Dash of the sky. He stuck Rarity's Mannequins onto the ceiling and he even covered Pinkie Pie's own home with a chocolate flood.

Anyway, eventually, the complaining eventually got so out of hand, or hoof, that Fluttershy had no other choice but to confront her friend.*

Fluttershy (rather annoyed): "Discccoord. What have you been up to?"

Discord: "Hoho! Why would you possibly want to know that Fluttershy? It's been pretty lacking, I must say."

Fluttershy: "Well, that's not what everypony else is saying. They're all coming up to me and complaining about the stuff you've done!"

Discord: *scoffs* "Like what?"

*Fluttershy then replied with all the antics that were mentioned earlier.*

Discord (awkwardly): "Ohhh right, that."

Fluttershy: "Yes. That."

Discord: "Oh, come on, Fluttershy! At least I didn't hurt anyone!"

Fluttershy: "No, you didn't directly. But you've could've cost both Rarity and Pinkie Pie their jobs! What would've happened then?"

Discord (muttering): "I wouldn't mind, I think I did worst to Applejack."

Fluttershy: "What was that?!"

Discord (realising): "Um, nothing!"

*Discord gave Fluttershy a big grin, and Fluttershy sighed.*

Fluttershy: "Look, Discord, I understand why you need to be chaotic. It's a part of your nature, and it keeps you alive."

Discord: "Why thank you for being so thoughtful, Flutter-"

Fluttershy: "HOWEVER... Surely, there's a better way for you to use your magic without getting on anyone's nerves."

Discord: "Hmpf! You think you know so much about being a Draconequus, don't you?"

Fluttershy: "I try my best, Discord. I try because I care about you and I know that you're now reformed, but don't forget, we do still have the Elements of Harmony, and even though it would give me a great amount of guilt, I'd have to seal you back into stone again if you were to ever go too far again."

*Fluttershy sighed as her eyes darted towards the ground. After a few awkward seconds, Discord eventually spoke up.*

Discord: "I think some ponies just need to accept that I'm still going to be somewhat chaotic."

Fluttershy: "That's not the point, Discord."

Discord (rather frustrated): "Then what is it then, Fluttershy?!!"

Fluttershy: "It's about me making sure you don't end up on the wrong side of things again, and it's also so you quit pestering my friends!"

Discord: "Oh, come on now, Fluttershy. You know they're used to it by now."

Fluttershy: "Well, maybe they are, but that doesn't make it any less annoying for them."

*Discord pouted.*

Discord: "You ponies are no fun sometimes."

Fluttershy: "It's not that we aren't fun, or that we don't enjoy your antics from time to time. It's just that there's a time and place for them. There's needs to be order at least at some points of the day. Y'know, like order."

Discord: "You mean the one thing I truly go against? You ponies really care about your harmony, don't you?"

Fluttershy: "I mean, it's been around our culture for so long, it's bound to."

Discord (muttering): "Right..."

*Discord lowered his head.*

Discord: "You do everything you can to fit in, and yet you still can't."

Fluttershy: "Discccoord. Don't be like that. I'm your friend and so is everyone else."

Discord: "But you don't know what it's like to be me and unless I actually turn you into a draconequus, which I don’t even know if that's possible, you'll never know."

*Discord then lifted he head, as he looked into sky.*

Discord: "That's why I enjoyed being around that jester, Jevil. He, too, was a creature of chaos. He understood me and my own struggles for freedom. Sadly, I haven't really heard much from them since I was kicked out of his little group while you and the others were fighting them."

Fluttershy: "Do you miss Jevil then?"

*Discord sighed.*

Discord: "Yes."

Fluttershy: "Well, why don't you try making up with Jevil? That could help make you feel better!"

Discord: "I suppose I could, if I really wanted to... Then again, the supposed 'Dark World' seems pretty fun too..."

*Suddenly, Discord gasped as a light bulb went off.*

Discord: "Sweet Celestia, that's it, Fluttershy!!! I know where I can go to continue being my chaotic self without interfering with the ponies duties! Oh, thank you, Fluttershy!"

*Discord hugged a rather confused Fluttershy.*

Fluttershy: "Umm... You're welcome?"

Discord: "Now, let us set forth for The Dark World!"

Fluttershy: "Wait, wha-"

*Discord, with Fluttershy in his arms, summoned a door that shun with a bright light onto the other side and with a now confident smile on his he jumped through the said, all while Fluttershy was tagging along with him.*

*Meanwhile, it was yet another day for Kris and her friends. That being a day of boring classes with Alphys and Berdly being annoying. Except for the fact that Berdly hasn't been seen at all for several days. Not that it bothered Susie or Kris, really. In fact, they couldn't really care less.*

*Anyway, everyone was pretty bored. There was nothing fun to do, and Kris, Noelle, and Susie could really only tolerate Sans for so long.* So, bored out of their minds, they decided to head to The Dark World, where our story truly begins... Once our teams switched outfits and found themselves in Castle Town, they were greeted by Lancer.*

Lancer: "Susie!"

*Lancer rode up to Susie and the others with a big smile on his face.*

@somedude111111

[nopointic]

when lisa said how everyone always says "time heals all wounds" when you lose a loved one or are hurt so badly you feel like nothing will ever be okay again, and she said that's a lie "time is the wound" i was like!!!!!!!

that's the fucking wound!!!!! that's why we feel distressed when we're looking back at memories and can't find that shirt we wore every other monday to a club meeting or that bracelet your grandma gave you. the smudged and faded writings in old books you've had on your shelf for ages. we memorialize EVERYTHING as humans. hell even animals do too!

we write letters and sing songs and we lay flowers and grin at laughs that sound familiar and get misty eyed at scents we catch walking through a crowded store. we cut hair and keep lockets of it and i've seen parents hold onto gowns they wore at the hospital while giving birth (my grandma still has the gown she gave birth to my mom in! she's 82 years old!!!!!!!!!! had my mom at 17!!!!!!) we are all made of memories and lisa is so right about how nobody should be forgotten.

the creature leaving flowers and writing beloved wife on her tomb! the gummy rings! the stitches she used to put him back together. the note folded like a football and she used her favorite pink gel pen! you KNOW she spritzed some perfume on that letter! you know lisa! we know her! cos weird shy quiet girls are her! (i am still selectively mute)

time is an open wound because we don't know how much we're gonna get. when he played the piano and lisa said you had a whole life. yes! people in the past had lives and fufilling ones! even if the final tombstone says something as fucked up unmarried or unknown, that use to be a vibrant soul! a person! like you and me.

lisa frankenstein may be corny or too campy to some, but it was everything my libra pink heart emoji with the yellow sparkles could ever want in a romcom.

someone literally ride or die for you, showing you their wounds, holding their wounds and saying i see and feel you and i'm gonna make this better, not perfect, but better, and i love you for loving and noticing me, and not throwing me away. for remembering me and picking me over and over even when i wasn't there. even when i didn't talk. when i couldn't talk. when i chose NOT to talk. you picked me? and loved me anyways? and got me?!

that is love.

and yes, lisa frankenstein is poetic cinema to me. sorry not sorry but it is. 5 stars. a million pink heart emojis.

a pair of gummy rings and tulle skirt in pastel goth colors with bold rainbow suspenders. this movie has my heart!

[luveline]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve doesn't really like the holidays, but he likes you. So, he makes some concessions. Rainbow lit, tinsel-covered, pine tree-smelling concessions.

6k words, christmas centric, fem!reader who celebrates christmas, mutual pining, gingerbread houses, mistletoe, ugly sweaters, friends to lovers, idiots in love, allusions to s4.

❆

Steve hates Christmas. He doesn't want to get into it and he won't, not when you love it the way that you do — quietly, and yet every movement hints at your excitement. 

Your hands are basically shaking when he lugs the new box onto the desk. It's adorable. 

"Thank you for doing this," you say, meeting his eyes and sending him one of your too-nice smiles. Kind that makes him nervous and sick and excited all at once. 

"I don't know why you're so eager. They're the same cheese-fests this year as last year," he says.

You lean over the counter enough for him to smell your perfume. "That's not true. You said you have The Christmas Star, right?" 

"Ten whole copies." 

He pulls open the cardboard box and digs for your desired tape. The case is cardstock and crisp with newness, and it squeaks as he pulls it up and displays it against his chest. 

You beam. "Yes. How much? Expensive 'cos it's new?" 

"Not with the employee discount," he says, placing the tape down neatly. 

Your smile turns shy. Steve has always thought you were pretty, in the same way he thinks that grass is green and stars shine at night, but lately you've turned to a sweetness that has his teeth aching if he thinks about it, all manner of terrible emotions flooding his idiot brain. Jealousy, protectiveness, and — he shudders — affection. Even now he's tempted to round the desk and make up an excuse to touch your arms, or your hands. Your face. 

"Thanks, Steve," you say softly. 

"Of course. There has to be one pro to working in this dump, right?" 

"Is it a dump? It looks super clean." 

He hesitates. "We had to fix it up. Holiday decorations are coming in tomorrow." 

"Make that today!" 

You both turn to see Robin struggling out of the back room, two boxes held in her arms and hiding her face. She stumbles to the desk and Steve leaps to help her, unveiling her grinning face. There's a meanness to her eyes that Steve abores. 

"Well, yesterday. Keith says they got here last night, which means today is officially the first day of Family Video Christmas." 

"It's November," Steve says, narrowing his eyes. 

"Thirty first!"

Robin pries open one of the huge boxes and thrusts both hands in unafraid, pulling out streams of green and silver tinsel like festive innards. Her eyebrows jump up. "Nice," she says appreciatively. 

"I almost wish I worked here." 

"You can stay and help," Steve says. 

Your laughter makes his chest hurt. "I can't. I have decorating to do all by myself next door." You straighten your Palace Arcade polo and your black, plain skirt. "Do I look okay?" 

Steve has a terrible lapse in judgement wherein he thinks about telling you exactly how you look, lips pressed together ready to make a 'b' sound, but he stops himself in the nick of time. Friends don't really do that. 

"You look fucking adorable," Robin says, having wrapped the tinsel around her neck in a makeshift scarf. She sparkles as she turns to Steve. "Doesn't she?" 

"Adorable," he says tightly. 

You scratch under your ear. "Thank you.” 

You promise to come back at the end of the day for The Christmas Star and escape before Robin can poke fun at your shyness. 

The door closes behind you and Steve buries his face in his hands. His cheeks are hot. 

"That was pretty bad. Better, though," Robin says, an air of genuineness about her that he knows she doesn't truly possess. 

Steve scrubs a hand through his hair, temper welled to the surface quick and uncomfortable as usual. He pushes it down and turns away from Robin and the glaringly bright Christmas decorations rather than say something snappy that she doesn't strictly deserve. 

"Maybe by Christmas you'll be able to look her in the eye." 

"Maybe by Christmas I'll have friends I actually like." 

"Points for quickness," she cheers. Steve can feel her moving to stand beside him. "But ultimately weak." 

"It could happen." 

"Could it?"

He rolls his eyes and starts to log The Christmas Star under his name for you. Employees get pretty good privileges, like reduced rates and nulled late fees. You could keep it 'til the 25th, if that's what you want. 

Robin drapes tinsel over his shoulders. "I really, genuinely think that, despite your bad posture, your hair, your clothes," — Steve scoffs — "and your dismal taste in movies, she likes you." 

He's so distracted by her (mostly) joking insults that he doesn't quite hear the end. Then, when it sinks in, his incredulity lends itself to a new target. 

"What?" 

"Steve," Robin says flatly. 

"She likes me?" 

"I think so. She's not coming in here every day for me." 

"How should I know? I'm not exactly a good judge of it." 

Robin taps her foot against his. They're overly familiar if not overly affectionate friends, and he relents in his bad mood, pulling the tinsel from his shoulders with a dejected sigh. 

"I doubt it. She was excited about the new movies." Not me. He doesn’t think you'll be back tomorrow.  

"Why aren't you excited?" Robin asks.

"You know I don't like the holidays." His agitation is clear in his annoyed hand gestures, fingers furling and unfurling. "Weeks of torture. Cranky moms walking around like somebody shoved a candy cane up their-" 

"Steve, that's like, ten percent of the holiday season! There's a bazillion other things to like about Christmas." 

He snorts. "Like what?" 

—

Steve doesn't know how she managed it, but Robin has someone orchestrated the older gaggle of their friends to sit down anywhere but next to him. When you arrive, late and full of abashed apologies, the only seat empty is the chair to his right. 

You collapse beside him and the December chill outside follows you. Cold emanates off of your clothes. You peel out of your black denim jacket and press the back of your hand to his. 

"Cold, huh?" you ask. 

He swallows around nothing. "Cold." 

Your touch lingers. If he were your boyfriend, he'd take your cold hands in both of his and blow on them generously. He'd rub your stiff knuckles until they were loose and your fingers limp. 

Robin opens her arms and a half a dozen boxes clatter into the middle of the table, upside down and on their sides. Steve turns his head to read the font, and then promptly sits up. 

"No," he says. 

"Steve," Robin pleads, already turned away to retrieve a wicker basket full of candy. "Don't be a loser." 

"Too late," Eddie says, painted nails digging into the cardboard flap of his box. 

"You don't want to make one?" you ask Steve. 

"Gingerbread houses are a little elementary school, aren't they?" Steve turns to Jonathan imploringly. "You agree, right?" 

"No," Jonathan says with a laugh. "Me and Will still make them every year. El's getting good at them, too." 

"Will made one with a door that opens last year," Nancy says, pride for her boyfriend's brother clear in her pert smirk. 

Steve rolls his eyes. "That's good for him, and I mean it, but why are we doing this? Tell me there's beer, at least." 

"Yes!" Eddie cheers, slapping his thigh. "Harrington, you're finally saying something I can get behind. I have a little something extra in the van, just say the word." 

"There's beer," Nancy says emphatically. 

Eddie pretends to die in his chair. You giggle like crazy at his dramatics and set about opening your box, fanning gingerbread walls and roof panelling out over the table. 

Steve feels old resentment for Eddie bubble up like it never left. He wants to be the one who makes you laugh like that, all sweet and secret like you're trying not to make a fuss but you just can't help it. The resentment fades when you reach across from him and open a second box, laying supplies out in front of him one by one. 

"I think we should be a team," you tell him. 

"That's not fair," Eddie says.

"Can it, Munson-"

"We can all be teams," Robin says, returning with a blessedly cold six pack, three piping bags, and a handful of metal tips. "You two, me and Eddie, Nancy and Jonathan." 

Steve doesn't miss her suggestive eyebrow wiggle, and neither does anybody else. You turn to Steve in confusion. He shakes his head vigorously in a rapid and untrue show of I don't know, arm weaving under yours to bring your attention to the bigger piece of gingerbread. "This is the floor, right?" 

Steve’s surprised by how good of a team you turn out to be. Your gingerbread house takes shape slowly. Steve holds the pieces in place and you apply the icing seams like caulking, smoothing the lines out with your index finger and licking it clean. You’re a picture of happiness, happy jabbering interspersed between singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio and warding off insincere insults sent your way. 

"My grandma can decorate better than that, and she's pushing ninety. She has glaucoma."

“Cut the shit talking, Eddie,” you warn, flicking him with a jellybean. It hits his neck, and his retribution comes in five more aimed at your gingerbread house. 

The sides wobble unsurely.

Steve frosts the roof, assuming it’ll be easy. It isn’t easy at all, and soon any cuteness you’ve made is ruined by his ugly hatching. He winces, then frowns, then glares, eyebrows furrowed in agitation. 

Jonathan and Nancy are the ones to beat. Both nerds, both neat. Jonathan’s an artist and it’s obvious he does this every year, their house made up of pretty white swirls and gem decorated doors and windows. They're bantering quietly, insincere declarations that make Steve jealous — not of Jonathan, exactly, but of their relationship as a whole. They fit together in a way Steve and Nance never had. They’re effortless. 

Robin and Eddie make a good go of it, surprisingly. Steve had expected Eddie to throw the competition before he could lose, and hates to be proven wrong. Dorks combined with too much imagination, their gingerbread house has become a sort of macabre scene with a dead gingerbread man outlined in the snow surrounding, and icing stalagmites rise under the roof’s overhang.

You pull your chair in as close to Steve’s as you can, your knee pressed into his thigh and your elbow glancing off of his bicep every time you place a jellybean.

“There,” you say, pulling back. “That looks awesome, doesn’t it?”

It’s a hot mess. Unbalanced, too much icing on one side of the roof and not enough on the other, you lean back into Steve’s chest, your skin to his skin and your hair smelling of jasmine, appraising the work you’ve made just as it begins to fall apart. The weight of the roof becomes too much and the walls split either side of one another, in both slow motion and fast. Steve sees it happen incrementally, and it’s too quick to stop. 

Your gingerbread house collapses. 

“Fuck,” Steve says. “Fucking fuck.”

You get second place. 

“It looked good when it was actually standing,” Nancy reasons, her lies obvious in her raised pitch, her queasy shifting. 

“It did,” you agree. 

Steve’s self-loathing abates ever so slightly. 

“Pity win,” Eddie says with a cough. 

You laugh like crazy, and Steve decides gingerbread houses are for kids. 

—

After the gingerbread house disappointment, Steve thinks things cannot get worse. He is swiftly proven wrong. 

It's his turn to host a party, Robin's idea, and Christmas crawls ever closer. When he closes his eyes at night he can see the faces of every annoyed mom asking for The Christmas Star. Carols play in his ears unbidden. He finds himself humming songs he hates out of nowhere and clamping his mouth shut hard enough to chip a tooth every time. 

You love decorations, and so he and Robin have spent the last hour making his big empty house something fit for a rom-com, wreaths and tinsels and rainbow flashing lights. You love Christmas music, and so the stereos dialled to a cruel thirty in preparation for your arrival. You love cookies, and so, to Steve's amateurish expense, plates of sugar cookies line the kitchen countertops, along with all the finger foods one could ever desire. 

Though in Steve's case, that's none. He hates Christmas parties, reminded of his parents' misaligned efforts to earn favour with equally pompous parents. He and Tommy would hide out in backyards with stolen booze, and when that got too cold they'd shuffle inside, warm in their chests and numb in their fingers. 

He frowns at the memory and wizzes it all away. Tommy was an asshole. Steve was an asshole, he still is. This party isn't for his parents. 

It's for you. 

Not that anyone can ever, ever know. 

"What do you think?" Robin asks, pulling at the edges of the sweater she's changed into. 

It's a movie reference he should understand, but doesn't. "I love it." 

She smiles. Rare for them to operate above dry sarcasm and quick wit. Christmas makes Robin squishy, like she's forgotten how shitty the world is, and Steve wants her to have a good time tonight. This includes being nice (which he should be more often, anyway). 

"Go change. She'll be here soon."

"Who, Nance?" 

Robin tips her head back. "Oh, yeah, Nancy. Definitely who I meant." 

He flips her the finger, putting an end to their Christmas niceties. She's still laughing as he climbs the stairs and barrels into his room. He doesn't bother closing the door even as he hears the doorbell ring. The pizza should be getting here around now. 

Steve doesn't rush. He’d left cash on the countertop. Robin can deal with it. 

He ducks forward and pulls his polo up the length of his back, hair puffed out like a cloud. He'd set aside his ridiculous reindeer sweater on the top shelf of his closet. Or, at least, he'd thought he had. He searches once, twice, and then gives in to his short temper and drops his face into his hands. 

Stupid Christmas. Stupid sweater. Stupid party.  

He hears your inhale like a whisper. Breath caught in your throat. 

"Steve," you say, sounding surprised. 

It's his room. He's not sure what's so surprising. 

You're standing in the doorway looking angelic, all things considered. Your features softened by powder, wearing a white Christmas sweater with dainty beaded snowflakes and a plaid skirt. You look pretty, and Steve's not one for dramatics but he wishes he was dead. 

"You look nice," he says pathetically. 

"You, too," you say. You clear your throat. "I mean. Uh-" 

"You okay?" he asks, pushing hair out of his eyes. 

Your smile falters. You look at his naked chest. Steve worries he's making you uncomfortable and turns as nonchalantly as he can to his closet again, says, "I can't find my sweater. It's…" He lifts a bundle of jeans up. "Horrifying." 

"I can help." 

You step into the room. Each footstep silent, you've already discarded your shoes. He looks down to your stockings and then up again, ignoring the blush that wants to emerge at the sight of your thighs. 

"It's brown, and it has a weird red thing hanging off of it. Rudolph's nose." 

You step close enough that he can feel the heat of your arm and run a hand down the shelves. It takes a couple of seconds at most and you've found it, pulling it from the pile carefully. He loves the way you move, each inch deliberate. 

You press the sweater into his chest. His hands come up, his fingers cover your own. 

When he's with you, Steve feels as though everything — every movement, every moment — is broken down into its finest details. He thinks he could draw your fingerprint if asked, each miniscule line embossed into his skin as you touch him. 

"Steve?" 

But that's ridiculous. 

"Thanks. I think I got tinsel in my eyes or some shit," he mutters, averting his gaze.

"You're welcome. Robin sent me to see what was taking you so long. I'll tell her it was a Rudolph related crisis." 

You stroke his arm. 

He loses his shit internally, hand reaching for your retreating figure as you turn your back. He doesn’t know why. Maybe he would’ve kissed you.

"Steve?" you ask, now standing in the doorway. 

He recalibrates, muddled. "Yeah?" 

"Get dressed,” you encourage. You give him a short smile, blinding, and laugh quietly as you leave. 

He's hopped up on hope as he gets dressed, a smile plastered over what had felt to him like a seasonal scowl. He's no idiot; arm-touching, your tinkling laughter. Maybe his crush isn't as hopeless as he'd thought. 

He smooths down his hair for much longer than necessary, listening as the door opens and closes and opens again, friends trickling in with happy hellos and complaints about the weather. It's cold but too wet for snow, and evidence of it trails in from the front door through the hallway where shoes lie discarded in clumsy pairs.

He picks over them and finds his friends, ones he made willing and otherwise, draped over his living room like old throws. Max and Lucas have stolen the couch where they sit laughing, clearly gossiping about something. The rest of the lunch club stick close by, bowls of snacks already claimed and in cross-legged laps. 

"Steve," Jonathan says, "what the fuck is that?" 

"Fucker," Steve says. He's the butt of too many jokes, then, and he glares at Robin even as she plates him some still-warm pizza. 

"Sorry," she mouths. 

You curl up on the couch next to Max. He appreciates the unlikely friendship you've formed, sort of a sistership. You only know her through Steve but he genuinely thinks you'd pick her over him, and that makes him like you more. 

That's all he does, lately. Finds new ways to fall in love with you. 

"That is the ugliest sweater I've ever seen," Max says.

Fucking Christmas. 

—

Steve's been in a bad mood since he came downstairs, and you're not okay with it. Despite your shameless meltdown in his bedroom at seeing him shirtless, you don't quit. You spend some time with Max on the couch, and when she seems a little less agitated you track him down. 

He's definitely hiding. 

"I think Max's glasses are hurting her nose," you say. 

Steve looks over his shoulder at you, and he smiles, the slopes of his face kissed by the open refrigerator light. "They'd hurt anyone. The lenses are like, five inches thick." 

“Poor girl,” you mumble, more to yourself than him. 

He turns back to the fridge and pulls out a two litre of coke. “You want a drink?” 

You shake your head. His hair looks incredibly sweet from this angle, and you don’t mean that in a condescending way. It curls toward the bottom of his neck, that tiny bit too long compared to his usual cut. His neck moves as his head swivels, and there’s ligaments, there’s muscle, the bump of his Adam’s apple, all of it commanding attention. You think about stepping forward to touch him, his neck, to curl your finger around the side of his throat and hold him in place. If there’s one thing about Steve lately, it’s that he’s always fucking moving. He can’t sit still. He looks between you and the empty glass in question, twice, a third time. 

“I don’t read minds,” he says eventually, near pleading. 

You decide some flirtation is in order. 

“I’m glad you can’t,” you say lightly, crossing what’s left of the kitchen tile between you to stop at his side. You pretend that you’d wanted a drink, taking a glass down from one of his cabinets so he can fill it for you. Something he could’ve done himself. You hope that’ll be clear enough for him — the blatant want to be close. 

It isn’t, unsurprisingly. 

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, I think…” You lower your voice,a private confession. “That sometimes what I’m thinking, it might be- Uh, telling.”

Poor Steve. That hadn’t come out anywhere as smooth as you’d anticipated. It’s harder to tell him now you’re confronted with him, his every detail. And Steve, sweetheart, angel Steve, he misses the mark. Forget different pages, Steve’s reading a separate chapter, and your flirtation reads as a deeply unromantic confession. 

“Is there something wrong?” he asks. 

“No,” you say. “Of course not.”

His eyebrows jump and his forehead crinkles. “You sure?” His protective tone melts into something softer. “Let’s hear it, whatever it is.”

Steve isn’t patient. You know that about him. His temper is short and fierce. You like how hot he runs, love his agitated pouting and his dark-eyed scowls — he’s handsome in every expression. 

He isn’t patient, but he tries. He’s kind, and if you wanted to sit and talk about the hypothetical that isn’t bothering you, he’d listen. 

“I actually wanted to ask if everything was alright with you,” you say gently. 

His hand wobbles, fastening the coke cap. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I’ve noticed you don’t really like Christmas.”

He smiles, and soon the smile catches, a shy lip bite that has you fighting with your hands to keep them where they hang at your sides. 

“You got me.”

Steve pushes the twin glasses of coke back and then turns around, resting the small of his back against the countertop. You step in front of him without thinking, head ducked to catch and keep his eyes. They’re such a lovely brown, light and earthy, potted with white dots from the fluorescent kitchen light like falling snow as his eyes slip down. You swear, Steve is looking at your lips. 

“Is there something I can do?” 

It’s a terrible time to ask because you genuinely mean it, you’re not just trying to cop a feel. He doesn’t smirk or laugh as you’d thought he would, he only smiles. 

“Thanks, but I’m good.” He tips his head back, criminal, neck arched and ever-enticing. “Fucking sick of this itchy straight jacket,” he groans, pulling at the collar of his sweater like he’s hot. 

He is hot. You’d both benefit from a sudden winter breeze. 

His head drops, eyes lit with confusion. “What? Something on my face?”

“Something,” you agree. 

You look behind you to check what you’d thought you’d seen was truly there. When it is, you turn back to Steve with a feigned concern. “Here, come step into better light.”

You hurry into the doorway, frowning. 

Steve frowns in turn and follows you. You give the game away without meaning to, looking up at the sprig of mistletoe pinned sloppily above you. 

He sees it. He lights up. The happiest he’s looked all month, Steve scrubs a hand over his face and into his hair, pushing it out of his eyes as he comes to meet you. Your stomach flips with excitement, because oh shit, he looks like he wants to kiss me. 

“Butler, I’m in need of one of your finest cokes, please.”

Oh, no.

Eddie bounces into view with a certified shit-eating grin, hair decorated with tiny metallic baubles. His sweater is surprisingly normal, a black and white knitted affair with reindeer and snowflakes. 

He comes to a stop beside you. “What’s happening?”

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look-

“Shit, hey! Mistletoe.”

Eddie opens his arms. You sigh, to his delight, and lean in so he can give you a chaste kiss on the cheek. You try to look at Steve and find your view blocked by a mass of hair.  

“Wow, sweetheart. And I thought we were friends,” Eddie says good-naturedly. 

You scrunch your hand in his sweater to push him away, not unkindly. Guilt gets the better of you and you pat the place over his heart. “We are.”

He makes a kissy sound and dives in toward your neck. Startled, you squeal, stumbling away from his rabid affection and back into the kitchen. He follows, though he doesn’t try anymore kisses. 

“Harrington! I wasn’t joking about the coke. Can I-“

“Help yourself,” Steve says. 

He sounds miserable. 

—

There isn’t time or opportunity to smooth things over with Steve that night. Actually, a week becomes two, and neither do you kiss nor talk about kissing. You want to explain to him what he probably already knows — you really had been standing there for him, hoping for a kiss, a proper kiss. 

He’d looked crushed. You don’t use the word lightly. Steve looked as though somebody had stepped on his chest and pressed all of their weight against his ribs. Frazzled, unhappy. You can’t get the look out of your head, and Christmas doesn’t feel so cheerful with the gap that yawns between you, an icy crevice. 

You try to explain and things get in the way. At the video store, you show up with a plate of apology cookies hoping for a second chance and suddenly the radio breaks and gets stuck blaring ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ like a storm siren. You meet up for games night with a twig of mistletoe in your purse hoping to be a tad more brazen about it and he sits on the opposite sofa, doesn’t take any pee breaks, effectively foiling your plan with inactivity. You ask him out for hot chocolate over the phone and he can’t come. 

“My parents are flying home. I gotta pick ‘em up from the airport.”

You don’t know whether he’s lying or not. His parents actually being home feels outlandish. If he is lying, he doesn’t want to see you, and if he doesn’t want to see you… 

He doesn’t like you. Not the way you like him. 

You worry you imagined the whole thing, his enthusiasm, his starry eyed smile. 

So you’re giving it one last shot. If it doesn’t work you’ll spend your Christmas heartbroken and sulking, but if it does you might actually get to kiss him. It’s a huge thing, and your hands are shaking with more than the cold as you bump up the small step to Steve’s front door. 

The green wreath hanging below the peep hole jitters as you knock, a fragrant twining of pine and cinnamon sticks. 

The door opens all at once.

“Hi,” you say, biting the tip of your tongue. “Hi, I’m, uh-“

The man who’s answered, who you summarise to be Steve’s father despite never having seen him, looks disinterested. “Steve,” he calls. “One of your friends.”

He walks away with nothing else to say, a dark brown liquid lapping at the sides of his small glass. You pull the wrapped box in hand closer to your chest, shifting from one numbing foot to the other as a small tumbling sound comes from upstairs. A pair of hinges squeal, and Steve is halfway down the stairs before he’s even looked up. 

He slows as he approaches the bottom. 

He’s in pajamas. Sweatpants, nondescript, but his too-tight shirt clearly of the Christmas variety. A snowman smiles over his chest. 

“It’s laundry day,” he says. 

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go out with you-“

“Steve,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is that… for me?”

The box in your hands is wrapped modestly. You hadn’t wanted to shove Christmas down his throat, trading reds and greens for a shiny silver paper pressed with fine glitter snowflakes. 

“Yeah. It’s for you.”

Steve stares at you. You stare back. 

“I’d invite you in, but…” He shakes his head. “Let me get my coat.”

Steve doesn’t close the door, to his father’s annoyance, deep grumbling echoing from the kitchen area. You watch him shove his socked feet into a pair of sneakers and scramble to grab his coat and a scarf. 

“Okay?” he asks, stepping out onto the path and closing the door behind him. 

You don’t answer, distracted by his hands suddenly held up, the scarf thrown neatly around your neck. He does a single knot and tucks it under your jaw. “Awesome,” he says. 

You walk down his street. Hawkins is half woods, and soon you’re weaving between naked trees, no destination in mind, not one unspoken feeling acknowledged between you. 

“Why do you hate Christmas?” 

It’s just dark enough for Steve’s clouded breath to show against the sky. “I don’t,” he says.

Your footsteps break over leaves so frosted they crackle. 

“I mean, I guess I do,” he says. “I don’t know. I think I want it to be better than it is.” He stops under a tree that’s clinging to its last handful of leaves and gives a low-hanging branch a playful shake. “I never enjoyed it, as a kid. Or, I don’t remember. I’m sure I liked it when I was still snot-nosed.”

“So, last year?” 

He chuckles warmly. “Exactly.”

You walk a little further, too awkward to hand him his gift. 

“I don’t hate it. But it’s cold, and everyone’s rushing, and the bad outweighs the good.” He sounds tired. 

He breaks your heart like that. 

You stop walking and Steve takes your cue, the two of you toe-to-toe, your sneakers dirty, his socks odd. One white and one grey. 

“I got you this because… um, I have something to tell you. I don’t think I can say it out loud, but- but I hope it adds something to the scale.” You extend the box slowly, your fingers stiff with the cold. “You deserve some good. You deserve a lot of good.” 

You laugh, flustered, and Steve joins in, chest lifting with it as he accepts his gift. 

He rips off the wrapping paper, at first carefully and then less so, shoving little pieces into his pocket as he goes. You take the bigger scraps from him so he can look at the box itself. 

Your gift is actually multiple gifts contained inside, and the first isn't technically a gift at all. The Family Video copy of The Christmas Star.

"Is this-" 

"I've been meaning to give it back to you. I'm sorry, I know it's not a real gift, I just figured- I mean, you've never seen it. I thought we should watch it, and that you'd like it if you did. Or maybe you'll hate it, and that would be fine too." 

He nods and moves to the next gift, lips twitching with an emotion he won't share. 

"That's your size, hopefully. I asked Robin but she didn't know. I kept the receipt." 

Steve smiles at you. "Would you hold this?" he asks. 

You put your hands out and take the box back, worried, but he's only unzipping his coat. Quick as a flash he's shrugging into the sweater head first. It's a simple thing, red wool, soft to touch. A Christmas sweater, though there's no decoration beside a tiny holly leaf embroidered at the collar in dark green. 

"This is fucking sweet," he says. 

You agree. He looks good. 

A shiver racks his spine. 

"Put your coat back on, you're gonna freeze," you say gently. 

He beams at you. "My dead body will be the best dressed in the morgue." 

"Don't joke about that!" 

He laughs and gets back into his coat, zip right up to his neck. He still looks cold. 

The third present is a gingerbread house kit. The fourth, a sprig of mistletoe. They're obvious now the sweaters in action, and Steve seems mildly confused by them. You leap to explain. 

"I thought, I mean- I want a do-over." You tilt your cheek toward your shoulder, scared and fond at the same time. "I wanted you to kiss me. I think you wanted to kiss me, and then Eddie," — you laugh loudly, cheeks burning with the cold — "was being himself. And Steve, I brought that stupid plant with me to Robin's house last week hoping we'd be alone, and to work the week before. But you're hard to pin down." 

You take a deep breath before continuing, eyes determined at his collar, "If you don't want to kiss me, that's okay. That's why I brought the gingerbread house, because ours was awesome before it fell apart, and I'm pretty sure Robin gave us a dud on purpose. We made something really cool together, and I think we can do it again." 

"I did want to kiss you. I do." 

You bite the inside of your lip, nose scrunched up in happiness. "You do?" you ask, and there's this feeling in your chest like you could burst, and all the cold shrinks into nothing. You're warm in your arms, your fingers, your fingertips. 

His hand comes up to his face briefly, shielding his eyes. "Am I obvious?" 

"Am I?" 

His exhale tickles your cheeks. "No," he says breathlessly.  "No, you're not." 

He says it like it's a good thing. A great thing. 

"Everybody else knows," you say similarly. 

"I know." 

He brings a hand to your cheek. It's cold, cold as your face, but he still winces and rubs at the apple with his thumb. "You're freezing," he says as he inches forward. 

His lips are warm. More gentle than you'd imagined, hesitant, and the box you're holding stops him from getting as close as you want him to get. He kisses you once, then he pulls away and kisses you again, his lips slightly parted. 

It's better than you'd thought it would be. His palm stroking your cheek, the pressure, the heat. Knowing he wants to kiss you now as he wanted to then. 

"No fucking way," he says, tilting his head back. 

You tip your head back too. Something wet falls in your eyelashes, a drop of rain. 

Not rain. "It's fucking snowing," Steve says. 

It's snowing. Because it's Christmas, and the powers that be are on your side. 

"Happy Christmas, Harrington," you say jovially. 

You're given another kiss in reward. Reward, or to shut you up. You're not sure. 

—

Steve is impartial to Christmas. He doesn't want to get into it but he will, because you love it. 

The snow — the snow, which had fallen thick and fine as powdered sugar, which you adore, and which makes coming to see you in the days leading up to Christmas near impossible. It's something out of a movie, Steve, seriously, and you need to appreciate what's happening. 

The music you play when he comes to see you, records on your record player and cassettes in your tape deck lying on your chest, knee to knee and thigh to thigh with him. Your quiet humming; you won't sing, but the small sounds alone are enough to make him want to kiss you (though everything does now). He can't hate Here Comes Santa Claus when you hum along under your breath, lips skipping over the skin of his bicep, your hand scratching a rhythm into his hair. 

Everybody knows Santa's coming, I don't see why they have to have a whole song about it. 

Are you jealous? I'll write a song about you. Or maybe I can steal one. You ever hear Santa baby? We can make it Stevie baby. 

Christmas music? Not his thing. You calling him baby? Fine, he can get behind it. At least until January. 

Christmas sweaters! He fucking hates them. They're ugly, they're scary, he doesn't wanna walk around with a pom pom on his chest thank you so much, but he has to allow them. Has to. If only so he can watch you get dressed with one eye hidden in your pillow and the other wide open. Thank little baby Jesus in the manger for Christmas sweaters so you have something to tuck into your skirt, so you have a reason to wear a skirt at all, and a reason to take one off. 

Christmas snacks he can get behind. Or, he can get behind this. You on the couch, a needle threaded in your hand. A bowl of popcorn in his lap, and your face as you lean back. 

He throws a kernel and it lands in your open mouth. 

You both holler, twin expressions of unadulterated joy, popcorn spilling over the sides of the bowl. You just look so happy, he climbs on knees to steal a kiss. A smiling kiss, the very best kind. 

"Aren't you supposed to do this stuff before Christmas eve?" he asks. 

"I've been a little busy." 

Steve digs his face into your neck so you won't see him blushing, hands curling around your waist in an impromptu hug. Yes, he supposes you have been. 

You kiss his temple sweetly. 

"Merry Christmas," he murmurs. He really, really means it. 

❆

thanks for reading! im so out of practice but hopefully this is okay!! i meant to post it yesterday but anyhow, i hope you enjoyed <3

[imonanotherlebel]

In Bloom Together

Chapter 1

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Pairing: Florist San x client reader

Warnings: WARNING, LOT OF LOVE AHEAD!

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞʚ・ ୨

The sun's gentle rays filtered through the petals, casting a warm glow upon San's flower shop. and in walks Y/N with the doorbell chiming like she's in some movie. She checks out all the flowers – roses, tulips, daisies – it's like a freakin' rainbow exploded in there. Smells nice, too.

A symphony of floral scents hangs in the air, making the whole place feel like a dreamscape. The vibrant colors of petals and leaves decorate the shelves, each bloom telling tales of beauty and grace.

Y/N's eyes widen, taking in the visual feast before her. It's a haven she didn't expect, a place that's like reality and fantasy had a lovechild. A soft smile touches her lips as she inhales the floral perfume, feeling a sense of calm wash over her.

San, a tall figure behind the counter, can't tear his eyes away as Y/N's fingers delicately trace the petals. His florist's heart knows a kindred spirit when it sees one. As she wanders deeper into the floral wonderland, he's captivated by her childlike wonder, a spark that lights up the shop even more.

Looking up from his work since the door opened, his eyes finally met Y/N's, and in that moment, he felt a subtle shift in the energy of the room. This wasn't just another customer; it's someone who vibes with the soul of his creations, a connection he didn't see coming.

"Hello there," San greeted, his voice carrying the warmth of a spring breeze. "Welcome to Blossom Dreams. Is there a particular flower that caught your eye, or are you in need of some inspiration today?"

"Heyy," Y/n responded with a cheerful smile, her eyes sparkling with a look that screams, "I love this place!"

And then, plot twist, as she takes a step forward, engrossed in the enchanting scenery, an unforeseen obstacle – a rogue flower pot – appears in her path. With an unforeseen twist of fate, she trips and gracefully stumbles forward.

But guess what? San's superhero reflexes kick in. San, quick on his feet, reacted instinctively. In a split second, he reached out, catching her arm to prevent a graceful fall from turning into a less elegant descent, saving her before the floor becomes her next best friend.

"Whoa, easy there," he chuckled, a genuine warmth in his eyes as he helped her regain her balance. "Wouldn't want the flowers to witness a grand entrance like that."

Y/n blushed, a combination of embarrassment and amusement. "Well, they do say a dramatic entrance sets the tone, right?"

San couldn't help but laugh, finding her lighthearted spirit contagious.

"Absolutely. I'm San, by the way, the curator of this floral wonderland. And you are?", He spoke, smiling so wide that his dimples showed.

"Y/n," she replied, her embarrassment giving way to a genuine grin. "I guess I'm the girl who tried to waltz with your flowers and lost."

San joined in her laughter, finding an unexpected delight in her presence. "Nice meeting you.", he said with a genuine smile, the words flowing like poetry from his lips. "Well, Y/n, consider it a unique initiation to my shop. Now, tell me, any particular blooms that caught your fancy?"

"So we're going to continue talking in poetry?", Y/n asked, giving him her Doe eyes which never failed to make any boy shut up.

Now it was San's turn to blush.

Y/n continued to grin, her eyes sparkling with genuine delight. "I usually buy flowers every Monday, and my usual shop closed down recently. This is like stumbling upon a hidden treasure!" Her fingers trailed delicately over the leaves of a blooming orchid as she spoke.

San chuckled softly, appreciating her enthusiasm. "I'm delighted you see it that way. Flowers have a way of revealing themselves when you need them the most. Is there a specific type you're drawn to?"

As Y/n explored the shop, her gaze lingered on a display of elegant lilies. "Lilies have always held a special place in my heart. They symbolize new beginnings, right?"

"Indeed, they do," San replied, his eyes gleaming with understanding. "They embody the language of emotions within petals. Let me create a bouquet that reflects the poetry of lilies for you."

"Thanks, San.", Y/n replied, loving the way his name came out of her lips so effortlessly. Her blush was well hidden from San as he was busy looking for the most perfect flowers for the bouquet.

"So Y/n....", he spoke in a soft tone.

"yes?"

"Is today a day for new beginnings for you, Y/N?", he asked, his eyes hiding a hundred questions he wanted to ask. Will you come here again? What is your favorite place to hang out around here? What is your ideal type? These were type of questions running through his head. But he managed to keep them to himself.

As the conversation unfolded, a subtle connection formed, like the first petal unfurling in the morning sun.

A subtle blush tinged her cheeks as she pondered the poetic notion. "Maybe it is."

As she continued to explore the shop, San found himself captivated by her every movement. Watching Y/N navigate through the blooms felt like witnessing a dance. Her fingers moved with a grace that echoed the delicate nature of the flowers themselves. There was something special about the way she interacted with each petal, as if she could understand the language they whispered. Oh man, She is not going to be just another customer. My heart is in trouble.

As he expertly arranged the lilies into a breathtaking bouquet, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the skill and passion San infused into his work. "Do you arrange all of these bouquets yourself?" she asked, genuinely intrigued.

A soft smile played on San's lips as he continued his work. "Yes, each bouquet tells a unique story. It's a way of translating emotions into a visual language. Nature has a way of expressing what words often fail to convey."

Y/n's eyes sparkled with curiosity, and San continued, "Every flower holds a story that is waiting to be shared."

The more Y/n conversed with San, the more she felt a sense of connection beyond the petals and stems. As she selected the lily bouquet, San shared anecdotes about various flowers, making the experience more than just a transaction—it was an intimate exploration of shared appreciation.

"These lilies symbolize purity and the quiet beauty that resides within us," San explained, presenting the bouquet with a gentle smile. "Perfect for someone who sees the poetry in every petal."

"Thank you," Y/n replied, the sincerity of her gratitude evident in her eyes.

"So, any special reason you're buying flowers each week?" San asked as she strolled toward the checkout, breaking the silence with an easy chat while slowly following her. Also trying to sneakily find out if she has a boyfriend.

Y/N chuckled, adding more cheerfulness to their conversation. "Nothing special, just treating myself. Flowers have this thing where they can turn an ordinary day into something extraordinary, you know?"

San grinned, resonating with the carefree joy she radiated. "Totally get that. They have this power to sprinkle a bit of magic into life."

Y/N nodded, paying for her blooms. "Exactly! They're like tiny happiness boosts you can carry around."

"Spot on," San agreed, presenting the carefully wrapped bouquet. "Hope these add an extra sprinkle of magic to your day."

"Thanks, San. Your shop is like a sanctuary for flower lovers. I'll definitely be coming back.", she said, genuinely happy.

San's heart skipped a beat, touched by her words. "I'll be looking forward to it. Mondays just got a whole lot brighter."

With her lily bouquet cradled in her arms, Y/n bid farewell, the doorbell chiming once again. As she stepped back onto the lively streets, San watched her leave, a sense of anticipation and a lingering fragrance of lilies in the air. This encounter was more than a sale; it was a blooming connection that held promises of more to come.

As the floral fragrance lingered in the air, and the flower shop seemed quieter in the wake of her exit. San's eyes followed her until she disappeared from view, leaving him in a contemplative state.

What just happened? San asked himself, placing his hand on his heart. He wasn't usually the type to be flustered, but something about Y/n made him feel some type of way. Her genuine appreciation for the flowers and the effortless way she connected with their stories left an imprint on his thoughts.

The doorbell chimed again as another customer entered, but San's attention remained tethered to the memory of Y/n.

His mind is stuck in a daydream, picturing those lilies he arranged now in Y/n's hands. The shop, once filled with bustling sounds and the rustle of leaves, now felt like a quiet haven where the fragrance of lilies lingered, mingling with his thoughts.

The new customer approached the counter, but San's focus wavered. His mind replayed snippets of their conversation—the easy talk, her eyes lighting up at the mention of lilies, and the genuine joy she expressed, the genuine happiness he felt after a long time. It wasn't just about selling flowers; it was the connection, the shared appreciation for the beauty that surrounded them.

"Hey, excuse me, could I get a bouquet of roses?" the new customer interrupted, snapping San out of his contemplation.

"Of course," San replied, his professionalism kicking back in. He skillfully arranged a bouquet of roses, all the while stealing glances toward the door, half-expecting Y/n to walk back in.

The new customer left with their roses, and San's thoughts returned to the unexpected encounter. He couldn't shake off the anticipation of her next visit. Would she return next Monday? The thought added an uncharacteristic flutter to his usually composed demeanor.

Maybe this is the start of something different, he mused, rearranging flowers absentmindedly. The rhythm of his work was now intertwined with the rhythm of his thoughts about Y/n.

Outside the flower shop, Y/n strolled through the city, the lilies in her arms. The fragrance accompanied her like a soft melody, and she couldn't help but replay their interaction in her mind. Little did she know, San stood behind the counter, equally lost in thoughts of her, eagerly awaiting the next chapter of their connection.

Y/n and San found themselves unknowingly entwined in a blossoming story—one that held promises of emotions yet to bloom and connections waiting to unfold.....

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

To be continued.......

@danihow I hope you enjoy this babes<3

[oliversrarebooks]

Fitz's Volunteer Part One: The Act

In which a vaudeville fan volunteers for Phantom Fitz's show, ready to play along with some fake hypnosis tricks. Because magic isn't real. Right?

Masterlist

November 1923

TW: mind control, hypnotic induction, mild humiliation, extremely self indulgent

You've always loved going to the vaudevillle. The songs and sketches, the dancers and acrobats, the comedians and the dramatic actors. It's such a good way to take your mind off your troubles -- of which you unfortunately have many -- for just a few hours and relax.

"...and that was the Astounding Flying Lloyd sisters! Give 'em a hand, folks!" said the announcer. "Up next is the mysterious and charming magician and mesmerist Phantom Fitz!"

You've seen this act before, and it was fun and very interesting. He calls up a volunteer from the audience and hypnotizes them into assisting his routine, teasing them and giving them mildly embarrassing bits of business to do. You know it's either a plant or someone told to play along, of course -- you're no gullible rube who believes in magic.

Still, it seems like it must be fun to be led around the stage, pretending to be in a hypnotic trance. It doesn't hurt that he's easy to look at, with a slightly wicked smile and a cheeky sparkle in his eye. What's the harm in being a bit of a fan of a vaudeville performer, after all?

"Now, I'm going to need a willing assistant from the audience to demonstrate my mesmeric power on!" he declares with a flourish of his cape. "Who would like to find themselves completely and helplessly under my power? Don't be shy. I promise I don't bite, unless you want me to." He gave a big wink to the audience.

Hands go up all over, and you briefly consider raising yours. But you'd be too shy to actually go up on stage and do those things, if you were even chosen to begin with. Fitz is scanning the crowd, probably looking for his plant.

But then his eyes stop right on you. He smiles.

Does he want you to volunteer? Why you?

You're curious now. Before you can think twice, your hand raises.

His smile gets much bigger. "You, there," he says, pointing. "Don't be shy, you're perfect for this. You're going to be a natural at following my instructions. I can tell." He beckons you forward, and with all eyes on you, you leave your seat and walk up the stairs onto the stage. As soon as you step up, he takes your hand. His own hand is freezing cold, but something about it feels oddly reassuring, putting you at ease, making it easier to block out the presence of the crowd.

"Thank you for volunteering," he says. That wicked grin is even brighter now that you're close to him. "What's your name?"

You tell him.

"That's a lovely name. Shame you won't be needing it for this performance," he says, leaving you wonder what that means. He reaches behind your ear. "Oh, you have something stuck in your ear, hang on." 

He's pretending to pull out colorful scarves, one after another, and you're pretty sure they must be coming out of his sleeves, but his fingers are so fast and nimble that you can't even quite tell when you're this close. "Not to embarrass you, but perhaps you should wash behind your ears better," he says, as a rainbow of scarves pools at your feet. The crowd is laughing.

You're not sure how to react, and before you can really say anything, he's pulled the scarves away and is leading you over to a chair center stage. "And now, if you don't mind having a seat, we can get down to the important business of molding you into the perfect assistant for me."

"All right," you say nervously, not sure what you're supposed to do. You had assumed this was a plant. Are you going to have to play-act being hypnotized? You've never been very good at acting, and you're worried you might spoil the act.

"Now don't you fret," he says, standing behind the chair and placing a soft hand on top of your head. "No one is able to resist my mesmeric powers for long. All you need to do is sit back and relax." He leans in closer, and you assume he's going to whisper instructions. Instead, he says, "Do you mind if I touch you like this? I need to keep your head steady in case you start to doze off."

"...No?" you say, surprised. Does he actually think you're going to fall asleep, that his hypnosis will work in truth?

"Good," he says, and produces a heavy brass pocketwatch, which he dangles in front of your face. It's finely made with a pretty face, and it ticks softly and rhythmically as he swings it back and forth before your eyes. "Now just watch the pretty pocketwatch, dear," he says. "Keep your eyes focused as it swings back and forth, back and forth. Focus on nothing else but the watch and my voice."

Wanting to do your best, you let your eyes follow the watch, and you feel something strange, starting at the top of your head where Fitz is holding his hand. It feels warm. Relaxing. Dizzying. Almost like sinking into a warm bath.

"Yes, that's right, you're doing so well," he encourages. "I knew you'd be so good at this. You're already starting to get sleepy, aren't you? So sleepy and drowsy. That's my mesmeric power starting to work on you, dear."

Of course, you're not actually going to start falling asleep on stage in front of an entire audience just because of a pocketwatch and a few honeyed words...

Of course you're not...

"That's it. Such a good assistant. Every swing of the watch making you sleepier and sleepier. So drowsy. So relaxed, so tired, such heavy eyelids..."

You shake yourself out of the daze you're falling into. What's happening? It has to be your imagination, but you actually do feel sleepy. You can't tear your eyes away from the watch, and it feels like Fitz's commands are sinking deep into your mind. This can't actually be working on you, can it?

"You're just so tired and drowsy, tired and sleepy. Your eyelids are so heavy, drifting shut, like they want to stay closed... getting sleepier and sleepier..." The hand on top of your head gently strokes your hair, and the drowsy daze intensifies, your head drooping forward before you catch yourself. "You're so drowsy that you're starting to fall asleep, dear."

It's hard to think through the haze. You can't see the audience very well past the heavy, swinging watch, but your mind is trying to alert you to the fact that you're being mesmerized in front of an entire crowd. It feels so real, so hard to keep yourself awake.

"You're getting so, so sleepy as I cast my magic spell on you," he says, and even though he's speaking loud enough for the audience to hear, he feels so close, like he's only talking to you. "Wouldn't it be nice to shut down those heavy eyes, to relax completely, and to listen sleepily to my voice speaking to you?"

You feel yourself nod. Yes, yes that sounds so nice. You're so drowsy and relaxed and everything feels so warm and good. It makes you feel especially nice to agree with what he's saying. Falling asleep and listening to Fitz just sounds perfect. But --

But -- !

Wait! You're actually falling asleep. You're actually following his commands. He's actually hypnotizing you. It's no trick, it's no act. He's putting you under his control up on a vaudeville stage, in front of a packed theater. Your cheeks flush, and you regain enough of yourself to flinch away from the pocketwatch. You should regain focus before it's too late and you fall completely under his mesmeric influence.

"Oh, dear," he whispers softly in your ear. "It's not the pocketwatch that's putting you under my spell. And I think it's a bit too late for you to resist."

A deep, irresistible drowsiness crashes through you. Your shoulders slump and your head tips forward as you struggle to keep your impossibly heavy eyes open. It's too late -- too late to resist -- you're being hypnotized --

"Shut your eyes, dear," he says, his hand petting you. "It's time to let your heavy, drowsy eyes shut, and remain shut, just like they want to, to relax and fall asleep and listen to me."

Any fight you had left in you has gone, replaced by a hazy feeling of bliss. Closing your eyes feels far too good to fight. Falling asleep and listening to Fitz's voice sounds so, so nice. Why even bother struggling against it? Why not just fall asleep...? 

"Good, good, you're such a natural at this," he says encouragingly. "Your sleepy little eyes want  to stay closed. They're far too heavy to open again. You might want to try, but if you do, you'll find that you can't. It's like they're glued shut. Can you try for me?"

Your eyebrows furrow as you try to open your eyes. Not only are they heavy, but they feel too relaxed to even respond to your commands. It's impossible.

"You can stop trying now and relax. You're doing so well. Such an ideal hypnotized assistant," he says, and you feel yourself practically glowing with the praise. "Now I'm going to have you imagine you're at the top of a staircase. Can you see it? There are ten stairs, and we're going to walk down each one of them, and with every step, you're going to go deeper asleep and deeper into hypnotic trance. Ten... nine..."

You can't believe how it feels to float in a comfortable cloud of sleep and relaxation, absorbing every word Fitz says. You could happily stay like this forever. 

"Five... your hypnotized mind is so obedient... four... it feels so good and natural to obey..."

You don't even need to stay aware of what's happening -- he tells you it's perfectly fine if you're deeply asleep, that you can still listen so carefully while you doze. He's so encouraging and kind and that hand on top of your head seems to just radiate delicious warmth.

"...and you're going to forget you name, dear. You're so deeply sleepy and hypnotized that you can't even remember your own name. It's hidden away in your mind, in a place where you can't reach, and it feels good to forget and sink more deeply into sleep..."

Mmm, yeah, it feels good to forget. Anything Fitz wants you to do is fine with you.

"...and when I count to three, you're going to open your eyes, slowly, so as not to disturb your relaxation. You're going to open your eyes, but you're going to remain deeply asleep and deeply hypnotized, and you're going to forget the audience and focus only on me. Three... remain deeply asleep... two... relaxed and hypnotized... and one... open your eyes."

Your eyes pop open so easily as if you weren't just in the deepest sleep of your life. Or maybe you still are? There's a fuzzy blur in front of you and you're not quite sure where you are until Fitz gets your attention. 

"How are you doing, my sweet little assistant?"

"Very good," you say, eager to please.

He grins, and you feel like a million bucks. "Can you sing a little song for us, just to prove to the audience that you're back in the land of the living?"

Well, of course you can. You can sing the song that's been trapped in your head ever since you heard it on the radio this afternoon. "Yes, we have no bananas," you sing out. "We have no bananas today!"

"That's perfect, dear," Fitz says, laughing. You hear other laughs in the distance, but they aren't important. "Now I seem to have dropped a penny. Would you mind getting on all fours and picking it up?"

You drop to your knees, carefully looking across the stage floor, but you don't see any sign of a penny.

"Never mind, I've already found it. You're very, very good at following instructions, though. I wonder why that is." He winks, and there's another loud laugh in the distance. 

Fitz offers a hand to pull you up, and you feel so wonderfully lovely as he does. "You've been such an excellent assistant so far, simply perfect," he says, letting you bask in the pleasure. "But I have to apologize, because I seem to have forgotten your name. Could you remind me?"

Of course you --

The word dies in your throat. It's at the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, you can't produce it. What is your name? You want to tell Fitz, but it's a complete blank. How could you forget your own name? Just as you feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, he smiles and cups your face so gently. "Shhh, it's okay. It's okay that you forgot your name. I don't mind at all. You can just relax and not worry about it."

What a relief! Another wave of sleepy, soothing calm washes through you.

"I'm just going to call you dear anyway, is that all right, dear?"

"Yes."

"So agreeable! Folks, you can't just find good help like this. You have to make it yourself." He releases you and steps back. "Now, just to prove what a hypnotized little thing you are, I would like you to do a trust fall. I'm going to stand here, and on the count of three, you're going to feel all your muscles give way, and you're going to fall backwards right into my arms."

"A trust fall...?" you say, a little apprehensive.

"You trust me, and you want to fall for me, don't you?" he says, with a wicked smile in your direction, and despite your overall relaxation, you can feel your heart flip. "Now then. Three... two... one."

It's so easy. On the count, your body just falls backwards entirely on its own, right into his strong, cold arms. He smells like fancy soap and floral cologne and stage makeup. Some part of you wouldn't mind staying pressed up against him longer. But he sets you upright to the sound of cheers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, my assistant is now utterly, helplessly at my command. Isn't that right, dear?"

"Yes, Phantom Fitz," you agree.

"I'm going to have you help me with a few magic tricks. You're such a good assistant that you won't need to think about any of them with your conscious mind. You can just relax and let me direct you, and with every command, you'll feel more deeply asleep and more deeply hypnotized."

You nod drowsily, and let him take you by the shoulders and direct you over to a card table. It feels good to be near him, to listen. He calls up a few more people on stage and you're shuffling and holding cards while he does some tricks you can't quite follow. It's so easy to follow his directions. So easy to focus and listen. 

"Can someone from the audience suggest a pose for my wonderful assistant?" he says. You hear shouts, but you can't take your attention from Fitz. "Oh, that's a good one. Yes, why don't you pose like you're a pretty ballerina?"

You stand on tiptoe and put your arms up in a circle over your head, doing your best to imitate a dancer. He looks you over, appraising you as if you're a statue, adjusting you here and there with a light touch. Finally, he laughs, picks up the line of scarves from the floor, and drapes it around you. "A brilliant work of art, don't you think?" he says to the crowd with a flourish. "This is the kind of statue that you can only see in the finest galleries of Paris, but I've brought it to you right here."

He bows, and then touches your arms so gently. "You can relax now, dear. You've made an excellent statue."

He then has you lay down on a table, his hands pushing your shoulders down gently, and you feel yourself being levitated in midair. There's some kind of platform underneath you and you stay absolutely still just as Fitz ordered. He waves a hoop around your body, and then gently brushes the hair from your face as you lay there, dazed and immobilized.

You look up into his gray-blue eyes. You're so helpless, entirely at his mercy. And that smile makes you feel weak.

You're lowered back onto the table, and he helps you to stand again, your knees feeling wobbly. He holds you up discreetly as he bows to the audience. "Please give a round of applause to my hopelessly mesmerized little helper!" he says, gesturing to you, and you can just see the crowd beyond your lidded eyes as they cheer.

Fitz takes you by the shoulders and is standing oh-so-close. "I'm going to wake you up now so you can go back to your seat, but you're still going to feel drowsy and hypnotized, and you won't quite know why," he whispers, barely audible over the noise of the audience. "Once the show is done, you're going to come find me backstage. You won't remember these commands, but you will act on them. Do you understand, dear?"

You nod. You feel so lovely that you really don't want to be woken up, but you like the idea of getting to see Fitz again. 

"And now you're going to wake up from my mesmeric power when I snap my fingers in one... two... three..."

He snaps his fingers near your ear, and the world snaps back into focus. A whole packed audience of people, men, women, and children, are laughing and cheering for you. You remember the things you did and said, how completely entranced you felt and how powerless you were to resist Fitz's commands. How you couldn't even remember your own name, and how you let him put his hands all over you...

"You feel fine after all of that, don't you?" he says with a smile.

Your momentary humiliation fades, but you're still so woozy, like it's hard to think straight. "Fine. Good, really. Like I've had a really good night's sleep," you say uncertainly.

He leans in to whisper in your ear. "You did an excellent job playing along."

"Playing along?" you can't help but blurt out. He can't possibly think that -- he must know what he did, what he's capable of --

"Here, let me help you off the stage."

You're not sure why, but you let him take your shoulders and guide you to the stairs as if you're a docile little lamb. You're so dazed, nearly tripping over your feet as you stumble back to your seat. 

"What was that like?" says the stranger in the seat next to yours. "It seemed so real. Did he actually have you under?"

You don't really want to admit to a perfect stranger that you were under an actual mesmeric spell. She'd think you're making it up. "No, it was just pretend," you say.

"I figured. You did a good job with it! I don't think I could pretend to do all those things if I were on stage."

You nod. You don't think you could, either, not if you actually were pretending.

Playing along...

You weren't, were you? It felt so real. You can hardly remember most of it, and you genuinely felt that you were in a deep, entranced sleep. You remember that all you wanted to do was agree with Fitz and obey his orders. Wasn't it actual hypnosis? Or are you just so weak-willed that you fell under the fake spell of a two-bit vaudeville performer...

Fitz has picked up his props and gone offstage, and a couple of comedians are doing a bit now. You watch without paying the slightest bit of attention. You're so tired after all of that excitement. So sleepy.

There's something you need to do after the show, but you can't quite remember what it is. You hope that you can remember when the show ends.

Masterlist >> Part Two

Thank you for volunteering for Phantom Fitz's show. Next time, we'll see what happens to our victim volunteer as they go to meet him backstage.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity

[weird-an]

It's the first pride Steve ever goes to. It's 1986, he's in San Francisco, far away from Hawkins and its horrors, walking along the street with Robin.

She grins and Steve can see it in her eyes, a new sense of belonging, a relief, a we're not alone, shining brighter than the sun. Behind them someone yells the theme: "Forward Together, No Turning Back".

He feels like there is a wound in his soul and now it's like the words pull the splinter out. He never wants to go back to Indiana again.

He turns around the corner, following the masses and he gets so distracted by all the shirtless guys, he nearly bumps into the one in front of him.

"Sorry," Steve says, his mouth hanging open when he comes face to face with Billy Hargrove. Who died at Starcourt a year ago.

Billy who blinks at him, blue eyes full of life and now- confusion. He's still rocks his mullet, only now he's wearing a pink scrunchie. He isn't wearing a shirt. There is a big scar just below his sternum, thin lines stretching from it towards his shoulders and abs like an exploding star. There is glitter on them, sparkling in colors of the rainbow.

Robin's elbow hits his side. Steve is staring, but he can't look away.

"Eyes up here, Harrington." Billy snaps his fingers in front of Steve's face. "What are you doing here?" he says accusatory like he isn't the one thought dead.

"Because I belong here," Steve snaps. It has taken so much time and nearly dying at the claws of Demodogs and the teeth of bats to break down the barriers of what he thought he had to do and what he wanted to. No fucking way he's going to let Billy say anything against that.

Billy stares at him, scars glittering in the sun.

"Same," he mumbles. Steve's pulse stutters for a few seconds.

Billy then grins boyishly at Steve, reminding him of the Billy who rubbed against him at practice and always stole his soap in the showers, the one he rarely got to see and never did against after the sad excuse for a fight at the Byers' house.

"Steve Harrington! As I live and breathe." Billy laughs and slings his arm around Steve's shoulder. "A fucking queer like me."

"Yeah," Robin interrupts. "How are you still breathing, Hargrove?"

Billy rubs his chest, one arm still around Steve. A bit of glitter stays on his fingers.

"No fucking idea," he says. "I just know I wanna get wasted tonight."

Robin opens her mouth to possibly ask a million questions, but Steve's mouth is faster. Even though he didn't plan on saying anything.

"Can I buy you a drink then?" he blurts out.

Billy nearly trips. Steve laughs into his ear. He made Billy Hargrove stumble. By asking him out. This is the best day of his life.

"Fucking unbelievable." Robin rolls her eyes.

There is a shade of pink on Billy's nose and it's not from the sun. "I promised Heather I'd at least make it to-"

"Heather?" Robin's face lightens. "Holloway? Is she alive, too?"

"You bet your ass, Buckley," a voice behind them says. "Let's ditch these idiots after the parade."

Heather winks at Billy, a similar pink scrunchie in her hair and popping a bubble gum with the same color.

"Bitch," Billy says without malice.

"But your best one." Heather blows him a kiss and grabs Robin's arm.

Billy grins at Steve. Steve grins back. He wants to kiss him on his thin blond mustache. Maybe he will, tonight.

Forward together, no turning back.

[lemonjestercoffee]

horses! horses! horses! horses!

i redesigned them! with my own hcs and species design quirks. also woe, height chart be upon ye

some notes for everypony:

Twilight Sparkle- i like gold on her design but not the absurd amounts everyone else gives her for some reason, so i made it an accent color. yes her magic is gold now too because of her eyes. her hair was also inspired by Mikan Tsumiki's cause i thought a more orderly version of her choppy mess would look good on Twilight, i was right. also glasses go brr, i think she looks cute in 'em

Apple Jack- while i love the long fetlocks people give her, i can't see her actually doing that because they'd be a pain to keep clean, so i did the opposite and had her shave her feathering off. i also put her hair up to keep it off her neck so she doesn't overheat while working. her cutiemark is my favorite part cause it's that family symbol where two adults and a kid make a heart, but i made it an apple instead, does a better job at showing her emphasis on family ties. no hat cause i like the idea of her hat being from her dad, and she doesn't want to mess it up wearing it daily so she wears it exclusively to special events

Rainbow Dash- i decided to make her less of a living lightening bolt and leaned more into her lazy side, going for the type of butch lesbian look that makes her feel like she wears tank tops and hangs out in the basement getting drunk and listening to rock. i wanted her to look like the only part of her she actually puts effort into maintaining is her wings

Fluttershy- i take great enjoyment in making Flutters a fucking lumbering giant compared to his friends (yes my Flutters is a guy), taking fluttertree and running with it. no notes aside from tall and green patterns and long hair and ooo pretty bronze jewelry. ig also his cutie mark is like- it was suppose to just be a paw and a butterfly but i accidentally made a parasprite with it, and instead of fixing it i just rolled with it and made it look more intentional

Pinkie Pie- THIS HORSE GAVE ME SO MUCH TROUBLE!! every part of my body was like "give her patterns! add things to her hair! it makes sense for her!!" but everything i did looked wrong and i couldn't get it to work. so i bit the bullet and made her really plain... and it worked. i don't know why but she just.... looks so much better with a really simple design, the hair texture does all the heavy lifting really

Rarity- of everyone, she's the one who'd have the long pretty fetlocks, and i decided to double down on that by not only making them so long you can't see her hooves, but also by making her have the longest and softest coat in general. she has the time and dedication to take care of such a high maintenance coat and she's gonna do it. it's even more impressive when you realize ponyville uses exclusively dirt roads. aside from that i think she deserves nice jewelry, and they use leather straps cause i think leather would be a ponyville fashion staple, she shows her hometown pride in her fashion

Spike- i thought it was weird he was so small the whole run, he should have had a growth spurt at some point imo, so i made him a bit bigger and more proportional to the older teen dragons, this is less of a redesign and more of a "make him actually grow up" thing, he's still small but not toddler small. this is the point where Twilight starts complaining about him sitting on her back cause he's getting too heavy. i also don't like how adult Spike ended up looking, but i haven't made a redesign of him yet

i have made an older alicorn Twilight design that i've been referring to as Ethereal Twilight, but i might hold off on sharing that for a while cause i have some funky hc lore ideas for the alicorns that i wanna refine a little before posting her. maybe i'll have older Spike drawn by then too, who knows

[fieldofdaisiies]

Paint and Bubble Baths

ship: Feysand type: pure fluffy drabble warning(s): none word count: 1k words summary: Nyx and Rhys decide to paint something for Feyre and it escalates a little

-all rights reserved -

"Rhys!" Feyre expresses, voice high-pitched and tinged with nothing but surprise. With her eyes wide open she stares at the scene that unfolds itself in front of her. There is nothing but colour, and mess —  a colourful mess and in it her two favourite boys.

Her mate, the High Lord of the Night Court, is sitting on the ground in her art studio and he, just like his son in his lap, is covered in paint…from head to toe. In this moment he looks so un-High-Lord-like, grinning from one ear to the other, his hair ruffled and no part of his body without colour.

"We are painting for you mummy." Little Nyx grins up at his mother, his eyes sparkling behind his in colour covered lashes. He grins from one ear to the other and claps his hands, still-wet colour splashing into every direction. Rhys behind him laughs loudly, nothing but pride reaching Feyre through the bond as his chest rumbles with delight.

The High Lady folds a hand over her chest, smiling at her mate and her son, her heart filling with warmth and love. "Oh Gods…" she breathes and looks at the painting in front of her mate and son. You can't really make out anything, but the thought counts. It looks like the two of them just splashed colour onto a canvas and they probably did, but the thought alone is so cute it brings tears to Feyre's eyes. 

"You painted this for me?" she asks again and crouches down on the ground, observing the painting. Her eyes trail over the canvas but she can't make out what it is supposed to be — there just is colour. 

"What did you paint?" she asks, trying not to laugh at the sight of their paint-splattered clothes and the colour on every part of their bodies. Nyx's romper that has once been a beautiful light blue, is now decorated with all colours of the rainbow.

It should be you in the art studio, he really tried his best. A lop-sided grin appears on Rhys' face when Feyre meets his gaze, chuckling. Well…she can't really make out herself in this painting but she will pretend she can. "Oh! You painted me," she then says, acting surprised.

Nyx hops up from his father's lap, beaming as he waddles to his mother. "Yes, mummy, this is you and brushes and paint."

"Of course, this is me!" Feyre expresses in a happy voice, reaching her hand forward to brush her thumb over her baby's cheek. Her heart swells with love for her two favorite people in the world and then she looks back at the painting. There is a mix of handprints, finger paintings, and splatters of paint on it which all merge and should create Feyre, she chuckles and the happy rumble reaches Rhys through the bond and makes his heart warm.

"And a little heart, because we love you so much!" Nyx happily steps from one foot to the other, his hands clasped in front of his body, beaming at his mother.

Beaming with pride, Rhys says, "We made a masterpiece because it is what you deserve."

Feyre is touched by her mate's words, and a single tear slips out of the corner of her eye. "We will put it up in the kitchen, yes?" She nods happily and Rhysand dips his chin. Of course, we will. 

With a happy smile on her face she embraces her little artist, not at all minding the colour.

"You both are amazing! I love it so much!" she says, feeling so incredibly happy and loved amidst her favourite boys. "But now we need to get you both cleaned up."

Laughing, Rhys gets up as well, picking up Nyx and lifting him into his arms. "Bubble bath?" he suggest to the little boy who immediately loves the idea, clapping his hands, giggling and chirping loudly. "Yes! Yes!" he cheers and looks between his mother and father. 

With magic they clean up the mess in the art studio and then walk upstairs to the bathroom.

Nyx laughter fills the room as he is trying his best to wipe away the streaks of color on his body after Rhysand helped him take off his tiny romper. He picks up his son then and carries him over to the bath that is already magically filled with water and bubbles and he carefully places Nyx in it. Obviously only after checking that the temperature is alright and won't burn him. 

Rhysand playfully squirts a little water from a duckling onto his son, helping him clean off all of the paint. Feyre joins him, sitting down next to the tub, a sponge in her hands. She wets it, pulling faces at Nyx to keep him distracted while she moves the brush over his head and cleans his onyx strands form the paint. 

Nyx giggles with delight as the fine mist gently falls upon him. The mother quickly joins in, turning it into a mini water fight, laughing as she spritzes some water on her husband too.

With each wipe and scrub, the colourful mess all over Nyx slowly disappears, but the fun doesn't stop. He laughs and giggles and so does Rhys who Feyre urges to also finally move into the tub to get cleaned up. 

And so father and son, the little baby boy now playing with the rubber ducklings while getting washed, sit in the bath and Feyre helps them get cleaned of the colour. 

"Next time you maybe should use brushes?" she chuckles and Rhys splashes a handful of water onto his mate. 

"We did use brushes," he grumbles, but has to laugh.

"But with brushes it is boring, it is better with hands!" Nyx waves his little hands in the air, demonstrating his points. 

Feyre laughs and leans forward to kiss her baby's forehead. "Of course, my love. Of course, it is."

As the two of them sit in the bath, Feyre still cleaning out colour from her son's hair and later from her mate's, the High Lord recounts how the little boy couldn't stop giggling and chatting and saying how much he loves his mummy when painting. 

"I love you so much, you two," Feyre hums, embracing her little baby boy in a tight hug when Rhys lifts him out of the bath and she wraps him into a big, fluffy towel. "My boys."

~~~~~~~~ tags: @girlinglass999 @autumndreaming7 @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[welcometo79s]

[repost because I got shadow-banned and I'm back now]

@clonemmunism got me thinking with their post about the war ending and the clones just making very bad fashion choices so here's my thought on what everyone would wear and my rating:

Hunter [4/10]:

Hunter doesn't really care about being fashionable. We got a glimpse of what he would wear in The Bad Batch and I don't think it's very good. He owns a couple of cute scarves but usually he just dresses like a less fashionable Cut Lawquane. And Cut is already pushing it. It's nothing too bad, he just looks like some farmer on Dantooine. No, the bad thing about Hunter is that he literally does not differentiate between clothes he wears going out and clothes he wears practicing knife throwing and juggling with. So most of his stuff has little cuts and tears in it. He also sticks to the type of clothes that Cut gave him, which is the only thing saving him from being a fashion nightmare. He did however try to pick absolutely atrocious clothes for Omega until Echo stepped in. Like he'd attempt to get her a pink shirt with a porg vomiting a rainbow on it and military khakis.

Echo [10/10]:

His outfits are top-notch, he just doesn't dress properly for the seasons. But hey, that's not what we're ranking here. Echo is a crop top guy. Crop tops in summer. Crop tops in winter. And he looks good in them. He wears regular black pants and a variety of casual jackets on top of the crop tops. Sometimes leather jackets, sometimes bomber jackets, sometimes parkas, sometimes open shirts loosely hanging over the tops. Gets matching accessories and high quality boots for his outfits too. Ends up getting himself a belly button piercing. Fashion icon.

Tech [6/10]:

He only has one outfit and it's beige suit pants and a white shirt that's stuffed into the pants. He owns multiple duplicates of the pants and the shirt. Leather shoes. The only thing he switches out about the outfit is that he wears a variety of funky bow ties.

Wrecker [4/10]:

I'm sure there's people on here who found Wrecker's beekeeper outfit from the Saleucami episode cute but it's not very fashionable, nor are the rest of his clothes. Fisherman hats. Crocs. The "my 50 year old dad on the balcony" shoes (those cork sandals). Ponchos and pants that don't fit together color-wise. Sooo many tie dye shirts. Those jeans fabric shorts with lots of cuts in them. The very short ones. Very rarely an elegant evening gown he looks really good in. That gets him an extra point.

Crosshair [5/10]:

He's the Hot Topic Brigade. He has a style and he sticks to it. Some people like it and some don't. Almost always wears a leather jacket. Buys all his clothes at the Star Wars equivalent of Hot Topic.

Fives [7/10]:

Usually wears black jeans and some black t-shirt with printed words on it. Sneakers. Jeans jackets, sometimes with fur. His outfits are good but he wears some of the most atrocious shirts known to mankind. On a good day you get "Viva la Clonevolution", "I'm a Republic War Crime" or "Enemy of the State". On worse days he might wear something that says "Sparkle on you crazy doggo!", "I eat cement", "I can't fucking do be do be do it anymore" (all real shirts by the way) or "Call me the Uwunator". The otherwise completely normal, nice looking outfit adds to the insanity. Sometimes Echo pretends he doesn't know him. It's the fact that Fives does this on purpose that really gets Echo.

Rex [1/10]:

Listen. The Bad Batch and Fives have the privilege of having Echo to be the damage control for their fashion choices. Now we're getting into the bad territory. Rex has so many of these white tank tops that you can see his nipples through. Sometimes there's hot sauce stains on them. He also has a fuzzy jacket that Fives got him as a joke. Rex does not know it was supposed to be a joke. At this point Fives is too intimidated to correct him. He wears light shorts that some rich kid would wear to the golf course under the tank tops. And cowboy boots. Also huge elegant statement necklaces on top of this. And that one stupid fisher hat that says "rexcellent" on it.

Hardcase [2/10]:

Listen the only reason Hardcase has more points than Rex is that Hardcase doesn't want to look fashionable, Hardcase wants to look fun and that he does. He joins Fives in the cringe t-shirt extravaganza. Would wear the ugly pink porg shirt that Hunter wanted to get for Omega. See-through jackets. Glittery heart sunglasses. Glittery silver disco pants that get wider at the bottom. Rainbow bracelets that work like rattles. He annoys everyone around him by shaking his hands to his "improv gospel". Red leather boots that go up to his thighs. Sometimes he wears them under the disco pants, sometimes over them. Fives loves his outfits. He's the only one. Sometimes Hardcase tries out a variety of colorful wigs.

Tup [9/10]:

He looks so cute. So many people hit on him. Lets his hair grow a little longer and starts wearing half-buns. Also a crop top guy, just a little shy about it at first. Wears earrings and looks really nice with them. Has delicate wrist tattoos, maybe some branches with flowers wrapping around his arms. Otherwise simple, normal pants and sneakers.

Jesse [3/10]:

Tup and Fives are carrying the 501st in terms of fashion. The rest are all fashion don'ts. Jesse is no exception. He also wears crop tops but his don't have sleeves or straps. It's just a strapless bandeau top hanging over his pecs. On top of that? Baggy oversized jacket with a comical amount of pockets that he always stuffs full of things. He's been stopped multiple times by the Coruscant Guard and searched as a suspect for being a spice dealer. He just has his pockets stuffed full of candy though. Baggy pants with equally as many pockets fading from blue into purple into red. The jacket is a dark green. Sparkly golden dance slippers.

Dogma [1/10]:

Big sun hats. Very tight leather pants that end just below his crotch area and then restart at the knee. The pants have two parts basically. The two parts are not connected. See-through sneakers. Frilly white shirts that some 18th century vampire would wear. Tie with little loth cats on it. All of this in combination btw.

Fox [10/10]:

I can do this in one sentence, look up "dark academia outfit men" on Pinterest and you get Fox's style.

Mayday [0/10]:

His isn't even an outfit, it's just a bunch of fabrics he bought just like that in the market and somehow wrapped himself in them. There's no shirt, pants, jacket or anything like that, they're just pieces of fabric wrapped around his body like towels. One of them he wears as a scarf. On a good day he looks like some type of monk. On a bad day he just looks like a mess.

Howzer [3/10]:

You know that outfit Sportacus wears in LazyTown? That's his style. He wears things looking similar to that.

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 16

Hello, darlings! I wanted to get this to you before I got too busy and forgot. My birthday is on Monday and I'm having a party on Saturday that I'm preparing for today, tomorrow, and most the day Saturday. I hope to get something out during that time, but I might not be able to get it up until Sunday.

Also I found out I was accidentally tagging @chaoticlovingdreamer twice! I don't think it did anything, but it was funny it took me this long to catch on!

Speaking of tagging, it used to be easy to tag from a copied list, just click on name, select drop down, move on to the next. But for some stupid reason I can't anymore and have to delete the last character in their username to get it to pop up. Is anyone else having this problem or is it just my life deciding to make it more difficult again?

Today for your enjoyment: communication, drunk Robin, and soulmate bonding!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

***

Eddie crowed inside when Steve blushed at his comment. “And for record, sweetheart, I could see us tangled in your sheets. Not just the hot sex but everything before and after. All I’m asking is to take it slow.”

Steve gulped. “I’ll go at whatever speed you need, Eds. Honest. You set the pace.” He gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze. “And if you change your mind tomorrow, I’m down for that, too. If you decide we’re better as friends, I’ll be your best friend, okay?”

Eddie smiled. “I think Jeff and Robin might take offense to that.”

Steve laughed. “Nah, nah, Robin is my platonic soulmate, that’s separate from best friend.”

Eddie grinned. “I guess Jeff is more like family then a best friend. All the guys are.”

“There you have it,” Steve said smiling at him, merriment sparkling in his eyes.

They walked hand in hand all the way the way to the Rainbow High Club. They were forced to let go to flash their IDs, but they stayed close to each other, blushing and smiling at each other every time they caught the other’s eyes.

Chrissy’s eyes lit up. “How have I never heard of this place?” she asked, trying to take in as much of the sights as she could all at once. “It’s amazing.”

“Who’re the DDs tonight?” Robin asked, gleefully rubbing her hands together.

Steve, Gareth and Mandy all raise their hands. Eddie pouted.

“Stevie, you’re not drinking tonight?” he whined.

Steve laughed. “I’m working on your tattoo tomorrow, sunshine. I am not working on you hung over.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

*

Now that Eddie and Steve knew where they stood with each other, that last barrier of tension vanished between them. They were laughing more freely. Touching more readily. Just having a blast knowing the potential for more was there waiting for them when they were willing to take that step.

Steve knew where the line in the sand was now and cranked up the charm to eleven. Just being a gentleman.

Eddie ate up the attention like a sunflower in summer following the sun. He felt that last bit of worry just clatter to floor like a chain coming off of a worn gate after so many years being locked away.

Jeff and Mandy ate it up on the dance floor, pulling Gareth with them as they got the shyer man to come out of his shell a little bit.

Brian even managed to get the DJ to play a little metal. Steve sipped on a Coke and laughed as he watched his friends get silly on the dance. He had barely finished his drink when Robin grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

He cussed her out but she just kissed his cheek and told him to move his hips for fuck’s sake.

His dancing was terrible, but he let himself join the crowd and sway to the beat.

Eddie said in his ear, “You know in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ being a bad dancer meant you were bad at sex.”

Steve snorted. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “So you know I’ve got to ask...”

“No, trust me when I say I tango better in bed than out of it,” Steve said with a giggle.

“You got receipts for that, big boy?” Eddie asked, dropping his voice low, startling a gasp out of Steve.

His giggle turned into a full on laugh. “You want a list of my very satisfied exes?”

“And their phone number,” Eddie teased back. “If you’re going to win me over Casanova, I’m gonna need references.”

“I think I can handle that,” Steve said in total seriousness.

Eddie pushed him away, a laugh stuttering out of him. “Get off, you menace. Jeez!”

Steve backed up, giving him the space. “You started it.”

“Sorry I forgot you were Mr Charm Everyone’s Panties Off in high school,” Eddie said rolling his eyes.

Steve chuckled. “I’ve still got it, I just don’t date much because I have to run a shop.”

Eddie leaned back in. “And honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve grinned.

*

At the bar a blond man with legs for days and a cocky grin leaned against the edge of the bartop with his elbows. Ink peaked out of the black tank top he was wearing and he had piercings in both ears and a snakebite piercing on his lower lip. He lowered his sunglasses as he watched Eddie and Steve on the dance floor. His bright blue eyes glittered with malice, the grin never leaving his face.

*

Steve got a giggling Robin up the stairs to their apartment and into her bed. He pulled off her jacket and shoes and rolled her under the covers. She made grabby hands at him when he stood back up.

“I’m going to get ready for bed and I’ll be right back,” he told her.

She pouted, but let him go.

Steve made a mad dash to his room, where he threw on his pajama pants and a faded band tee and rushed back to Robin’s room.

“Where you go?” she asked with a frown.

He shook his head and climbed into bed with her. She immediately latched to him like some kind of possessive sea creature. Like a an octopus or a barnacle.

“Why did you surround me with pretty girls?” she wailed. “All the pretty girls all at once.”

Steve snorted. Mandy and Chrissy were not ‘all’ by anyone’s stretch of the imagination.

“Mandy has a boyfriend,” he gently reminded her.

“Did you know she did ballet?” Robin whisper-yelled. “That’s why she has such long legs and great tits.”

“Yes, I was there when she told us,” Steve soothed.

“And Chrissy was athletic, too!” Robin continued. “Cheerleading is scary hot.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. “What does that even mean?”

“The...” she made a weird motion with her hands, “and the woo...” she threw her arms in the air, “and the ‘yay!’ That’s scary.”

He rolled his eyes. “The tumbling?”

Robin hit his arm over and over. “That, that! Yes. And the hot is the uniform. Have you seen the uniform?” she growled.

Steve laughed. “I was in basketball, yes. You know one of the two sports that has cheerleaders?”

“The skirt is itty-bitty,” she slurred, putting her hands together as close as they would go without touching. “And no sleeves! Bare midriffs too. And and the cute little socks!”

“Can’t forget the cute little socks,” he agreed.

She slapped his arm again, this time harder. “And don’t you dare try to change the subject. I see you.” She pointed at her eyes and then at him, nearly poking his eye out.

“I didn’t change anything,” he muttered, “you started talking and haven’t stopped.”

“I saw you run the bathroom after the concert, gig, thingy...” she frowned. “What is it called the every day one not the tour-y one?”

“Gig,” Steve said gently.

Robin slapped his arm again. “Don’t change the subject!” she hissed. “You got hella horny watching your boy sing!” She threw out her arms and did hit him in the face that time.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I will be better prepared next time we go.”

“You have the hots for Eddie,” she said leaning in close.

But before Steve could answer, Robin was out cold. Her low tolerance for alcohol knocking her out at last. He carefully untangled himself from her embrace knowing that her drunken snoring would be like a buzzsaw in his ear if he slept in her room.

He pulled his shirt off and slipped into his own covers a smile on his face.

*

The next morning he had coffee and the greasiest breakfast sandwich he could find ready for his platonic soulmate when she staggered out of bed and into the kitchen. He handed her a small glass of water and painkillers, which she took under his watchful eye.

“I feel like I should hate for this,” she muttered into her steaming styrofoam cup.

Steve grinned, knowing full well that if laughed, she would straight on murder him and he really didn’t want to go yet.

“Also, don’t think you dodged the talk about you rushing to the bathroom after the show,” she grumped. “Because that was a bit pervy even for you.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he chowed down on his own less greasy sandwich. “I was totally unprepared for how hot he was that close up,” he snarked.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “He did seem particularly out to get you with that little number he was wearing last night.”

“Seriously,” he agreed. “But I’ll know better next time, plan ahead, sit behind the table.”

She giggled.

He propped his head on his hands, elbows planted on their counter. “But enough about that. I want to talk about two lovely blondes making goo-goo eyes at each other all night.”

She pushed his arm causing him to almost smack his face into the counter as he lost the support.

“Shut up,” Robin hissed. “She did not make goo-goo eyes at me all night. I would have noticed.”

Steve laughed. “I noticed you didn’t deny making goo-goo eyes at her.”

She blushed, and took a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. “She’s so pretty and smart and how I am suppose to win her over when she so far out of my league.”

Steve came over and grabbed both of her cheeks in his hands. “Robin Eloise Buckley you are just as beautiful and smart and talented as she is. Just in a different way. I know right now you’re feeling morose because you have a hangover. So trust me in this moment, you are every bit as awesome as she is and if she doesn’t see that then we say?”

“Fuck that?” she whispered.

“I don’t think I heard you,” he said cocking the side of his head so he could tilt his right ear her direction.

“Fuck that,” Robin said with more conviction.

“There you go,” he said and gave her a fierce kiss on the forehead. “Now what I want you to do while I’m gone is watch the ‘Pride & Prejudice’ mini-series with that tub of Ben & Jerry’s I know you’ve been saving and when I’m done I’ll grab Chinese from that favorite shop on the corner, okay?”

She set the coffee down and gave him a fierce hug. “You’re the best soulmate a girl could ask for.”

Steve squeezed her back. “Hard same.”

She laughed. “You are such a dork.”

“Yes, but I’m your dork.”

***

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1@a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat

[tubapun]

How I think the Mane 6 would blog on tumblr

Twilight Sparkle; would have a huge tagging and side blog system for colors, themes, characters, theories, pairings, and 2 designated tags for her friends, one for their posts and one for posts that make her think of them. Does a lot of science and language posting, as well as magic. Vent posts about her studies in a very poetic way. Never hits post limit after becoming a princess cause she doesn't have the time

Pinkie Pie; only tags she uses are various emojis and keysmashes, but if you take time to translate them you find that the emojis do actually have a system and many refer to her friends. Reblogs basically everything and anything so long as it makes her laugh, hits post limit a lot and has a queue that will never empty. Occasionally you'll see the most amazing baked goods ever made with the caption "made this for funsies lmao 😂😂😋😋"

Rainbow Dash; tags her interests, which means she has a wonderbolts tag, a weather tag, and a daring do tag. Otherwise she just scrolls and reblogs with occasional commentary, fairly standard user. Lots of wlw stuff tho, and a sideblog full of frou frou stuff she likes but doesn't want anyone to know about. She posts stunt fails a lot, but not hers. Lots of fanfic links tho. Hits post limit once or twice a month, more on DD release months

Fluttershy; very aesthetic based, literal cottage core. But also occasionally you'll see death metal and chaos stuff pop up because she meant to put em on a side blog but just can't always remember. No ask box at all cause she can't deal with answering them. When she hits post limit she apologizes for disappearing the next day. Tag system is mostly about animals, which she'll sometimes tack on facts about

Rarity; has a whole fashion blog with tags based on fabrics, jewels, seasons, the whole nine yards. She also reblogs aesthetic food pics, mostly sundaes. She only answers mean anons cause she gets to crytype her answers and it's a fun easy way to vent. Has a sideblog that she uses to post stuff pinkie tags her in cause she's very fond of her but by celestia that's not going on her main. Doesn't hit post limit

Applejack; has posted once, a single picture of an out of focus apple with her reflection in it, very clearly trying to figure out how camera work. The caption is "apnle tiem" because she can't type with her hooves damnit, everyone else uses their fancy magic or wings or whatever pinkie does, and she doesn't care enough to learn now, she only joined cause pinkie looked at her real sad cause she wanted to follow all her friends