#just a doodle but i poured my heart into it for them

[spiderzlover]

SMALL CUT i love them so much😭😭😭

[dancing-with-stars]

this is planet j1407b, the exoplanet with the largest number of ring systems ever discovered.

[daycourtofficial]

A Valentine for You

Summary: Nyx learns about making valentines at school and convinces you to make one that accidentally ends up in Azriel’s hands

Author’s note: doesn’t this sound adorable any plot with Nyx is sure to be the cutest thing ever also this might just be the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written happy valentine’s day babes hope you all enjoyed my valentine’s fics 💕

Warnings: none, sentient house ships you with Azriel

Nyx came bounding down the stairs, yelling your name as he came in, his wings flapping as fast as his legs. He wasn’t quite large enough to support his weight, but he could get a little extra spring in his step as he ran.

He ran straight into your arms, launching himself into your torso. You laugh at the boy, his backpack comically large on his small frame.

“How was school, Nyxie?” You ask, carrying him into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around your neck as you start to grab the plate of cookies you had hidden earlier. The two of you start munching on cookies, and he gets the entire front of his shirt covered in cookie crumbs. You wipe them off, trying to clean him a bit.

“We learned about Valentine’s day.”

“And what did you learn about it?” You ask, pinching his cheeks.

He swats at your hands, “I don’t know it’s about love and stuff, but I made these cards for everyone.”

He wiggles out of your grasp, putting his bag in the ground to rummage through it. He pulls out a stack of cards, each one colorfully doodled and covered in varieties of glitter, bead, and macaroni noodle the world has never seen.

He shows you each card, going through the message he wrote for each person. You caught a glimpse of one that he snatched away and said, “no peeking! That’s for you!”

“And this one is for Uncle Cassian - I wrote ‘be better’ because he always tells me that.”

You stifle a laugh at the ominousness of receiving a valentine from a child that just tells you to be better, but he continues.

“And this is my one for - wait, where’s my card for uncle Az?”

He frantically searches through the pile, and then moves towards his bag to rifle through it again in hopes of finding it.

Tears start lining his eyes, concern that his favorite uncle will feel unloved on Valentine’s Day for not receiving a card from him.

“Hey, Nyx, how about we make one now, yeah?”

Nyx sniffles, but his wings perk back up, “yeah. Will you make one for him too? It’ll be extra special if he gets one from you!”

You stall, “I haven’t written one in a long time, Nyx. What do I do?”

“My teacher said you can put your feelings in it and your wish will come true! That’s why I asked auntie Nesta to fight with the Valkyries.”

Nyx has no idea of your minor crush on his uncle, how every look of his is burned into your soul. You also can’t deny his little request, so you decide to make one and just destroy it later in the evening. Your crush on him was getting embarassing, and you knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere.

You find yourself writing an incredibly heartfelt valentine, pouring all of your feelings onto the page. You even write Az’s name on the cover of the heart shaped paper. You’re ready to burn it in the fire and make a new one that just says “happy valentine’s day”, when Nyx spills his juice all over the table and on himself.

He starts gettjng upset, a little boy who hates being dirty, every inch his father in that regard, and you rush to pick him up and whisk him away to bathe him.

Unbeknownst to you, while you’re bathing Nyx (and he cries anyway about being wet), Azriel walks into the townhouse, finding the heart shaped paper on the table. Seeing that it’s addressed to him, he assumed it was from his nephew. He had been making valentines for everyone at school, and Azriel was curious if he would make one for his uncle. He knew the little boy was saving it for the holiday, but he couldn’t resist looking inside to see what the card says.

The card in front of him is leagues better than anything Nyx could make, not just in quality but in the content inside.

Hi Az,

Nyx explained to me how they make valentine’s cards in school and how you’re supposed to declare your love, so here I am, a girl in a valentine, wishing desperately you felt the same way about me. Maybe I should give up on this hope you’ll share my devotions.

But hey, I need to get it out, so here it is. I am hopelessly in love with you, will you be my valentine?

He scrutinizes the signature on the bottom, certain that one of his brothers forged it in an attempt for him to confront his feelings.

His heart is soaring at your words at the end, but it quickly fills with dread as he rereads and rereads your words.

“Maybe I should give up on my devotions”?

He can’t let you get over him, not when he’s been trying so hard for the past few months to just tell you how he feels, each time the words unable to come out. The past month every time the two of you had been alone, the words would creep onto his tongue, begging to be let out, but he would shove them down, deep where no one could hear them.

He tucks the card into his jacket, trudging up the stairs to begin plotting his response.

The bath with Nyx pushed the valentine from your mind, but the thought of the card invaded all of Azriel’s thoughts as he paced through his room that night, trying to plan out his next move.

-

Most of the holiday goes by uneventfully. You enjoy walking the street of Velaris, seeing the hustle and bustle of males and females alike trying to find a gift for their beau.

The streets are filled with flowers, money exchanging hands. Most customers leave with at least one bundle of flowers, one female leaving with as many bundles as she can carry.

Your mind races with thoughts of Azriel, wondering if he was doing anything this holiday. In recent years you can’t think of him having any plans, in fact the past three or four he had spent the holiday with you.

You wander home to the House of Wind, moving through the house to drop your market finds off in your bedroom. You come to your room, finding an envelope underneath a rose on your vanity. You walk over, smelling the rose and it smells both flowery and like cedar. The scents linger on the card as well, as you pull it out from the envelope.

You’re expecting a card from Nyx, because he refused to show you your card yesterday, but instead you find your name delicately written on the front of the card in Azriel’s tiny, near script.

You sit in a chair, opening the card to find the entire page full of words.

Dearest,

It’s the holiday of love. New love, old love, rekindled love. I have been trying for weeks on end to get the words out, but I find no excuses holding them back today.

I yearn for you. I yearn for our stolen moments in crowded rooms, I yearn for your gaze meeting mine, a conversation without words, just the colors of our eyes mixing.

My favorite day of the week is Sunday, because I pretend like I haven’t spent the whole week in anticipation of being next to you on the couch in the library. We spend the afternoon reading, discussing our books aloud. Eventually you settle more and more into your seat, your legs stretching across my lap.

I will pretend it is casual for me to place my hand on your calf, as if I am not calculating every movement so as not to scare you. My favorite Sundays are when you fall asleep while reading, because I know you feel safe enough with me to put all your faith into me that I will keep you safe while you slumber.

I know the worst parts of myself, the parts that so many would find difficult to put up with. And yet you have shown nothing but kindness to those parts.

My heart is yours, and if that means only getting glimpses of a life with you, I will cherish them for all time.

Eternally yours,

Azriel

You are awestruck at the words in front of you. You read the card several times, soaking in the cadence of his words, hearing the words in his deep voice.

Mor and Feyre had been trying for months to get you to say something, and a flicker of annoyance passes through you thinking about how vindicated they’d feel at this card.

You jump up, thinking why the hell am I sitting here when a male just confessed his undying love for me? He yearns for me, and you him. You fling open the door, only to find that someone, you assume Azriel, scattered a line of rose petals from your room down the hall.

You follow it, leading you in a trail directly to the library where you and Azriel have spent so many nights staying up, neither of you wanting to leave the other’s company.

You open the doors to find the room covered in flowers. Daisies on roses on lilies, their colors creating no matching scheme. Reds, blues, whites, purples fill your eyes until they land on hazel.

“Hi,” you tell him, all the bravado from the note he left leaving you as you stand in front of him.

“Hi,” he whispers, stepping towards you. Nerves coat that one word, and he clears his throat, willing his voice strong and steady. “Did you get my card?”

You smile, eyes lighting up, “um yes, yes I did. It was lovely, thank you.”

Your mind can’t think of anything else to say. He professed his love for you and all you can do is thank him? Your feet move forward on their own, but your mouth opens again.

“I never knew you were so talented with words.”

The two of you are drawing closer to each other, magnets coming together.

“You got to read my three hundredth draft, so I hope it was worth the read. I’ve never had to resort to such words before, never thought anyone deserved them.”

You breathe in, his scent invading your system. His words a clanging in your mind. “I-um, are these for me?”

You gesture to all the flowers filling the room, unable to linger on his words of devotion, and he chuckles, “yes, they are.”

You make eye contact once again, “they are beautiful, thank you.”

This is uncharted territory, unknown lands. You don’t know what to say, what he wants to hear.

“They reminded me of you.”

Your eyes peer into his, sincerity looking back at you in a midst of hazel and gold. You think of his words in the letter, his sign off eternally yours, and ask the question you’ve been wondering since you began reading the letter the first time.

“Did you mean it?”

You wring your hands in front of you, looking down in fear of seeing rejection in his eyes. You don’t notice him step closer until he’s taking your hands, holding them gently in his own.

“Every word. I have more words, but I thought those got my point across well enough. I was inspired, actually.”

One of his hands removes itself from yours, but his other hand quickly moves to hold both of your hands. He pulls a familiar red card from his jacket, and your cheeks turn the same shade as the card in mortification.

You start opening and closing your mouth like a fish, shock and confusion making words impossible.

“How did you- where did you-what-“ is all that’s able to come out before he’s chuckling and cutting you off.

“I found it on the table yesterday.”

You gasp, “I had to bathe Nyx and I forgot all about it!”

He places the card back into his jacket pocket, his eyes not leaving yours as he moves.

“Did you mean it?”

It’s his turn to be insecure, to be nervous. Vulnerability was not something the shadowsinger did lightly, and he knew your answer could destroy him.

“Every word. I have more, if you want them.”

Echoing his own words back to him, he smiles.

“I’ll take every word you give me as gospel,” he tells you, inching closer to you.

“Kiss me.”

He cups your face, your hands pressing against his chest. His lips gently brush your own, tentative, gentle. You put your hand on the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. He responds immediately, moving his hands around your back to pull you into him.

You’re panting, your lungs wanting air but the rest of your body wanting him. The room is loud with the sounds of your lips connecting and reconnecting, breathy moans escaping from both of you.

You have no idea how long you’re swept up in kissing him until your brain begins working again, and a question comes to mind. You pull away from him, a groan leaving him as you do so. You only make it a few inches from his lips when you find the words.

“How did you get all of these in here without my noticing? Also what if I had come in here before my room?”

The whole time you were talking, his gaze is focused on your mouth, and he even moves forward slightly, as if the urge to kiss you was overwhelming him. Once you finish speaking he kisses your lips again before answering. “You almost caught me in the city, but I hid behind a massive bundle of sunflowers. And I may or may not have asked the house to lock the doors for you.”

To reiterate his point the house locked and unlocked the doors behind you.

“How’d you do the rose petals?”

“What rose petals?” He asks, the question breaking his eye contact with your mouth

“There were rose petals lining the hallway, telling me to come here.”

“I thought you knew to come here because of the letter.”

Confusion lines both of your faces until the house dumps a giant pile of rose petals onto the two of you.

You both laugh at the message the house was sending, and you laugh even further as Azriel begins kissing you and the house makes a big deal of locking the doors again.

You both laugh as you kiss him again, and he picks you up, laying you down on the bed of rose petals before lying on top of you.

“Who knew the house was such a romantic?”

[ghosts-and-glory]

Just curious!

In your AU, does Narinder have to openly come out as trans, or is it just generally understood even early on that he was trans?

If he does have a coming out, who do you think he told first? What were his siblings initial reactions?

How old do you think Narinder would have been when he realized?

When did the lamb learn? Was it common knowledge by then? Did they effectively look up at their God and go "ayo, nice battle scars, sick as fuck, anyway" and move on?

Also are we gonna see more little Narinder, and what got him all fucked up?

I am so invested in your story, but this aspect in specific I am latched onto like a tick. You cannot get rid of me. I am THIRSTY for knowledge.

Additionally, if in some hypothetical, little child Narinder met a young Lamb, do you think they would have been friends?

Totally not based on the time my brother came out to me and because I have the emotional bandwidth of a sea cucumber was just like “okay, cool.”

I’d say he’s around 12-14. In my heart Nari was one of those trans kids who the second he had the slightest understanding of gender was like “something ain’t right here chief.”

Fighting for my life trying to find a way to colour doodles in a way that doesn’t take ten years or look like shit.

More ramblings under the cut.

My Lamb is also non-binary so it’s not much of a deal to them. Dying on my casual trans rep hill. I don’t care if it’s not period accurate, I simply choose not to recognize transphobia.

Narinder gets slowly poisoned through his life. For the other Bishops, chaos, famine, disease and war will all eventually end in death, and dead men can’t worship. As a god of death he is to preach the glory and beauty of dying but, ironically, can’t die himself. He feels at odds with his family and trapped by life and this mentality slowly warps his view of the world and destroys him over hundreds of years.

Simply put he allows toxicity to pour and warp over toxicity. He lets it twist and compound his mind and it happens so slowly no one notices.

For the Lamb and Narinder theoretically meeting as children I honestly haven’t through much on how I’d characterize The Lamb as a child. My heart wants to say yes they would get along. My source is I made it the fuck up.

[cupidseok]

hiii, do you think you could write about how riize would confess to their partner? the members are soo different from each other so i really wonder how it’d be for each member!

how riize would confess

AUTHOR'S NOTE happy early valentines to everyone seeing this <3 posting this early as i'll be away for cny,, happy cny to those celebrating too !

🩰 — SHOTARO invites you to his dance practice

shotaro who was over the moon when you told him that you thought he looked the coolest when he was dancing. so he decided to ask you to come watch him practice for his upcoming performance. he has never invited someone over to watch him dance before. dance was something he held so close to his heart.

he wants to impress you so badly :( but because he was nervous, he didn’t do well. you questioned him when you noticed how shotaro looked so tense and stiff. you knew shotaro was an amazing dancer, so you were concerned that he wasn’t feeling well.

“i’m nervous because someone i like is watching me.”

🗒️ — you find a post-it note on your desk from EUNSEOK

ever since you and eunseok have been assigned as seatmates, he has never stopped doodling little doraemons on the corners of your notebooks and worksheets. even when you slapped his hands away and asked him to stop ( because you actually wanted to pay attention ! why was he disturbing you >:( ) he would only softly laugh at you before proceeding to doodle on post-it notes and then passing them to you at the end of class.

one day, his doraemon looked a little different !! it had a little speech bubble that said, “i like you.” your heart almost stopped when you read it, but you knew eunseok liked to play little pranks on you, so you just ignored him.

“why are you not replying to my doraemon ? do you not like me ?”

proof that eunseok is picasso reincarnated :

📓 — SUNGCHAN has made a scrapbook for you

“for you,” sungchan mutters as he shoves a scrapbook in your hands. it definitely wasn’t the prettiest scrapbook you’ve seen; the pages were unevenly cut ( was that a coffee stain ? ), the photos were haphazardly glued and the stickers were plastered without any regard to a colour scheme.

hugging the scrapbook to your chest, you knew he probably spent weeks or even months on this, pouring his heart out on each and every page. jung sungchan was built for sports, not arts and crafts. you could tell by the remnants of glue stuck on his fingertips and specks of glitter under his left eye. but you, you were built for arts and crafts. and it touched you that he was willing to step into your world.

“if the time and effort i spent on the scrapbook isn’t enough to show my love for you, i’ll say it verbally too. i love you.”

💌 — you've received a love letter from WONBIN

heart pounding, cheeks flushed, tightly clutching his love letter, so many thoughts were rushing through wonbin’s head. was the twenty-fifth draft better ? his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to recall what he wrote on each draft. no time to think; you were here already.

you flashed him a soft smile and his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red ( he felt like he was burning up ). “hey wonbin, why did you ask to meet m-” he swiftly pressed the now slightly crumpled love letter into your palm and quickly retreated before you could even respond. he couldn’t bear to see your reaction.

hi, this is wonbin. i like you, if it wasn’t already obvious enough. and i’m so sorry if this letter shocked you; i just needed to get it off my chest…

☀️ — SEUNGHAN brings you on a picnic

you remind seunghan of the sun. you were bright and burning like the sun at noon; your ambition was something he greatly admired. however, he wished you’d stop burning yourself away. that was his job – to keep you from shining too brightly and giving too much of yourself away. you were also soft and gentle like the sun in the morning, always willing to care for others and always so kind and forgiving to those who do not deserve it.

but when you’re seated next to him on the red and white checkered mat, he concludes that you remind him the most of the sun during the golden hour. beautiful, warm and fleeting. except he wishes to stay by your side forever.

“the sun is setting so fast.”

“it is, isn’t it.”

“i wish the sun would never set. i don’t want our time together to come to an end.”

🐵 — SOHEE gifts you a cute memento

“monchhichi !” sohee looks up from his book at the call of his nickname. ah, you were here to disturb him again. “what are you doing ?” you peeked over his shoulder. his heart almost fell out at the close proximity. did you truly have no idea of the effect you had on him ? or were you doing this on purpose ?

“i have something for you.” sohee stuffs his hand into his backpack, digging around. he pulled a monchhichi keychain and dangled it in front of your face. “monchhichi !” you let out a gasp of surprise. “did you really buy this for me ?”

“i’m going back to my hometown for a couple of weeks. i got it in case you’ll miss me.”

how monchhichi looks like just in case anyone doesn't know :

🎧 — ANTON has sent you a mp3 file

anton <3 

hi :) i made this for you. attached – mp3 file.

you sat down in front of your computer, still drying your wet hair. you had seen his message before you showered, but you felt too nervous to open it right away. heart fluttering in anticipation, you clicked on the file he sent.

folder 1 : songs i wrote for you

folder 2 : a playlist of songs that reminded me of you

folder 3 : my message to you

mouse hovering over folder 3 after you’ve listened to folders 1 and 2, you thought that anton was truly an angel sent from heaven. to love someone so deeply, to compose a song for them, to make a playlist for them.

a robotic computer voice read out, “folder 3, my message to you. now playing.”

your surroundings slowly fading as you focused on anton’s voice, “hi. you’ve probably listened to the other two folders already, right ? if you haven’t, you better listen to them first before continuing…”

© cupidseok — do not copy / repost / translate my works

[simphornies]

Artistic desire [Husk x Shy!Reader] Fluff

A/N: This was a request sent by a lovely follower. I'm not particularly good at writing shy characters but I did my best. Hopefully this suits your taste.

Word count: 3.4k (3,481)

Warnings: none unless you count mentions of mommy and daddy issues

You were a bit of a social recluse. Your parents fucked off and died somewhere in one of the seven rings when you were a teenager and since everything is basically free, besides drugs and sex, you just stayed in your parents’ manor. The only person that really checked up on you everyday was Charlie. You crossed paths when you were younger, rode through the emo phase together and now you’re both older.

Before her hotel opened up, she was eager to tell you of all the plans. Every. Single. Plan. Of course, you didn’t mind the chatter through the phone. You enjoyed something that filled up the empty halls in your home. You helped her redesign a bit but after a while, you were in a pit of…the opposite of an art block?

You spent every waking moment, painting and creating art. If you thanked your demon parents for anything, it’d be the part where their powers passed onto you naturally. Your mother was a beautiful muse, perfection in keeping everything aesthetically pleasing. Your father painted his muse at every given moment. You didn’t necessarily hate them per-say but you sure as hell didn’t love them. The moment you kept something out of place, an inch off the center, your mother scrambled to fix it.

She didn’t yell or bother with correcting you, she would just obsess with the finer details. Your father never stepped up for anything other than painting. Hell forbid you switch up his paints and he’d be locked in his room all day. Finishing piece after piece.

You didn’t take after any of their obsessive traits. Instead you embraced the messy lines, the off-centered pieces. You embraced the imperfection and impurities that came with hell itself.

And that is exactly how you ended up in Charlie’s Hazbin Hotel. She convinced you to take your artistic abilities to brighten the place up. With the surprising help of Alastor, you chose compromise on the color palette. The fabrics, the decor, the lights, the curtains, the rugs. It was all your choosing. And when Alastor decided to phase in a bar with Husk included, the odd placement of green itched your brain in a good way.

The bar wasn’t the only thing that got you going. A surge of inspiration waved through your entire being the moment you saw him. The moment you heard his voice you wanted to capture it in art. There wasn’t a passing day where you didn’t sit at his bar, eagerly waiting for his next story.

At first, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with you considering how well you got along with Alastor. But that opinion quickly faded the more you hung around him. Every time he’d tell a story, he noticed you always doodling in delight, listening to every detail. You didn’t participate in conversations much but he could tell you were listening to the whole thing. Your legitimate interest in his stories warmed his heart a little bit more than he’d ever admit. He soon realized that you two were probably the most sane demons in the entirety of the hotel.

“The usual?” He asks. You nod and continue to fill your sketchbook with drawings, the act visible to him by the way your eyes shine. He poured three glasses for you both. One glass of whiskey for him, a glass of champagne for you, and one of your old paint cups with water. He handed you your drink in a champagne glass and your cup next to your sketchbook. Last time he handed that to you, you accidentally drank the paint water.

You quietly thank him as you gleefully kick your feet in the empty space under you. The chairs hoisted you up enough for you to not touch the floor when you sat, something he found admirable. He hummed as he cleans a couple of glasses left over from when Angel was drinking.

Oh how he wished to take a peek at your drawings. He would never try to ask, he learned from one of your small conversations together that you said it’s like a diary. And he’d be damned if he pried into that. The only time he’ll ever get any information from people is when they’re absolutely fucked up wasted. He watched as your face was unbelievably close to the book, the sound of your pencil against the paper was soothing to him. Oddly enough, it was never complete without it.

“Hey, Y/N? Could you do me a big big big favor? Pretty please?” Charlie speaks up, breaking the silence between you two. He sighs and starts to stock up his shelves knowing that you were probably going to get hoisted away now. He feels the weird shift in his chest that made him realize he was actually in love with you this whole time.

“Yes, Charlie?” You looked up at her as you put your pencil down. “What can I do to help?” Your voice was smooth jazz to his ears. He wanted to hear you speak more. And he hated when other demons talked to him. But your voice. He’d fight in a war with the exorcists to hear you speak to him more. He secretly wished you said his name instead.

She gives you a guilty grin, “So, I was trying to make a sign for Sir Pentious and well…”

“It looks a little bit like vomit!” Nifty chimed in, unashamed.

Charlie laughed nervously, “I may have chosen the wrong green…Would you mind, helping me out?”

You smile, “Of course.” You get up, following Charlie and Vaggie to the opposite side of the lobby to give aid in their color struggles.

Nifty continued her cleaning and while she did, she realized that you had left your sketchbook wide open. Of course, as it is in Nifty’s nature, she snatches the book off of the bar’s countertop, just out of Husk’s view and takes a look at the page it was open to. She gasps and runs over to Angel and Alastor, eager to show her finds.

“My my. What a wonderful find you’ve got there, Nifty.” Alastor grins. He was not much of a lover but he sure as hell enjoyed seeing his little pet get flustered. And perhaps he’s been more tolerant lately so he figured he can have a bit of happiness in this hotel.

“Oh. My. Fuck.” Angel stares at the sketches you have of Husk. The two pages were filled with him and just him. Him cleaning the glasses, him fixing his hate, him with his wings out. Some were obvious direct sketches from his day-to-day life but the others were all from your mind. There was one of him in a fancy suit. One with his hair slicked back the way he briefly mentioned it during his stories of being an overlord. Angel stares at the page a bit longer before looking over at Alastor who shared his mischievous grin.

While you were painting the sign with Vaggie, Charlie is pulled to the side by Alastor. “Charlie, my dear. You would say that you are a lover girl at heart, would you not?” He asks.

“Uhm. Yes. Yes I am, Alastor.” She answers with confusion in her voice, “Why?”

“Why, Nifty had some groundbreaking finds just a moment ago that I believe I should be sharing with you.” He smiles widely as Angel hands her the open sketchbook.

“Somebody,” he whispers, “Got a little thing for Whiskers~”

Charlie takes one long look at the page and was about to start squealing in delight until Alastor puts a finger up to her lips. “Ah ah, my dear. Now’s not the time for that. Wouldn’t it be best that you talk about this with her in private.” He suggested.

“You’re right! Ohhhh my gosh! This is amazing!” She grins, “I’ve known her in all my years here in hell and I have not seen her take a liking to anybody. I’ll definitely talk about it with her!”

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

The sign for Sir Pentious was up in congratulations for his arrival and his development. Everyone was cheering him on by the bar. You scout around for your sketchbook, swearing you left it by Husk. He wouldn’t be the type of guy to take personal things like that.

Just as you were about to ask him where it was, Charlie quickly drags you into a spare room, filled with excitement. Excitement that drove you a bit nervous.

“Charlie? Is there anything you need me to do here?” You ask, scanning the empty room around you.

She simply could not contain her excitement. “It’s come to my attention that you, my lovely lovely friend, may have a teeny tiny crush on someone.”

Oh fuck.

“Haaaa. What?” You ask, trying to contain your composure. “I don’t like anybody. That’s funny. Hah hahhh…” You nervously laughed.

Just then, Charlie hands you your sketchbook. “Nifty found it and well…you left it open to your most recent sketches…of Husk!” She squeals.

Your face turns a bright red as you swiped the sketchbook out of her hands. “Charlie! Oh fuck, please don’t tell me you told him.” You were every shade of red possible in hell out of sheer embarrassment.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t take that adorable opportunity away from you and him!” She hugs her shorter friend, “So. Tell me all about it! When did it start? When did you know?” She gasps in excitement as she thought of more questions to bombard you with, “Why? How did you find out? What do you like most about him?”

“W-well I…” You stutter, hugging your sketchbook close, “I’m not sure when but I just know that, these last couple of weeks he’s been…um…you know. Kind of inspiration? My…muse. If you will.”

Charlie loved your answers and continued to ask more questions. “So when are you going to tell him?” She gasps, “Oh my gosh—You guys should totally go on a date!”

“A DATE?” You choke, “Fucking hell—Charlie. I cannot bring myself to do that. You’re the only person I can talk to without stuttering too much and you want me to go on a date with the very demon I like?”

The answer was yes and before you know it, you and Husk are getting pushed out of the hotel with a pile of cash in both of your guys’ hands, courtesy of Charlie. She somehow got you both into matching outfits. A dress with hearts on the collar with a white and red pearly necklace to match. Husk was somehow, probably by Alastor, shoved into his overlord suit and tie.

“You motherfuckers better not fuck up my bar! I worked all day to keep shit organized!” He yelled at the closed door, “I’m talking about you, Angel Dust!” He scoffed and fixed his sleeves.

You couldn’t bear to look dead at him. You safely got peeks from your peripheral. On one of your attempts, the two of you made eye contact for a brief second. You immediately looked away, muttering an apology under your breath.

“Are you gonna stand there staring at nothing or are we going?” He elbowed you gently.

“Oh! U-Uh. I’m not quite sure…where we have to go.” You admitted.

He rolls his eyes, “Thrown into battle blind, huh?” He chuckled before moving in front of you, “Take my hand. Can’t have other demons fucking with our artist.”

You look at him, memorizing the way his grin sat on his face. A light blush forms across your cheeks as you take his hand. He walks with you down the city and into the nearest fancy club in your area.

“Ah. I think this is gonna be a little…”

“You scared?” He grins, “You’ll be fine. You’re with me. I’ll fuck shit up if I need to.” He flashed you his playing cards, edges as sharp as can be.

You sigh and nod, walking in with him. He sat you down at a quieter side, as quiet as a famous club can be. You both share a bottle of whiskey, your sudden interest shocking him.

“You know, that art thing you do is mesmerizing.” Why did he have to bring that up now? You internally groaned. “It’s like magic whenever you put whatever’s in that brain on paper.” He stirs his drink with a claw, looking at you. You swear you see a bit of sparkle in his usual dull eyes.

“Th-thanks, Husk.” You stutter. The way his name came out of you warmed him up more than his drink. He wanted you to say it again so badly. "I’ve seen you do magic too y’know.” As much as he paid attention to your work, so did you. You have endless sketches of him playing with cards, fucking around with Angel’s hand with a smooth move so quick one could barely catch it without attentive eyes.

“Ohhh,” He leans in a bit, a teasing grin plastered on his face, “So you watch me that close, huh?”

You choke on your drink, spitting a bit out, “Wh-what! No.”

He chuckles a bit, leaning back, “Cut the act, Y/N.” He closed his eyes, putting his glass up to his lips, “Alastor told me already. And Nifty. And Angel. And Charlie, you know she can’t keep a secret well.”

You were a mess. They told him and they didn’t tell you that they told him? You’re definitely messing with their rooms later. But how much did they tell him? You can’t pinpoint it. “I-” You coughed, trying to clear up your throat from your near death experience via literal drowning in alcohol. “I can’t help that you’re just…nice to draw.”

You turn away, a bit ashamed and definitely flustered. He was quiet, watching you intently as he sipped on his drink. “I like drawing anything I like.”

Now it was his turn to choke a bit but you didn’t catch it. He wiped his mouth, “So you like me then, right?”

You turn to face him not expecting his face to be so close to yours. A little shift and you two would fall into a kiss. You weren’t able to read his face well. He had a blank expression. You stare at him, face red.

“It’s okay, fucker. You know how it is,” He elbows you, laughing a bit before grabbing your hand to drag you out of the club. “I’m the bartender that knows everything about everybody.”

He rarely used his wings, unwilling to accept his demon form. But tonight, he stretched his wings out. “What’re you-”

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” He looks at you over his shoulder, holding your hand a little tighter. You nod in response.

Without a second thought, he pulled you close to him, hugging you to his chest. You blinked and you were off the ground, soaring through the air. He held you close, careful to not let you fall.

“I want you to see something. Something I doubt anyone’s ever shown you.” He keeps his head up, unaware of how starstruck you’re looking at him. You were also too scared to look anywhere else.

He flies as high as he can, stopping at a certain point before holding you in his arms in a bridal style way. “Look around, Y/N. Take it all in.” He speaks softly. You look around and from where you guys are, you can see the entire Pentagram City. Your eyes are filled with a breathtaking view of the city you grew up in. He smiles at the sight of your interest, “As much as I fucking hate this place. It’s not bad when you can’t hear the chaos going on down there from up here.”

“It’s beautiful. I…I have to paint this.” You state, wishing you had your book with you. You rest your head on his chest. After a while you feel him fly towards a high point at the edge of the city, landing on a mountain. He doesn’t let you down as soon he lands though, he didn’t want to ruin your adoring looks at the view.

Your face is lit up with admiration, you feel at peace. It was quiet but a soothing kind of quiet. Your ears caught onto a different sound while you rested on his chest. Is he purring?

You look up at him, “Thanks for the ride, Husk.” Smiling warmly, you cupped his face in your hand. You swear you felt him lean into it. He puts you down gently before putting his hand over yours, returning your warm smile. “Can I ask you a question?”

He purrs softly, the vibrations reverberating on your hand. He nods. “Is it okay I…pet you a bit. You’re just so fluffy.” He went from looking at you with his eyes half shut to wide open, in disbelief. “I-It’s for my art! My drawings.” You laugh nervously, “You know…reference…” It was half a lie, which he is aware of, you actually do want to capture his soft looking fur in your drawings but wanted to know exactly how dense or fluffy it is.

He laughs, closing his eyes as he sat on the ground with you following after him, “You’re lucky I like you, Y/N. Go for it.”

He hated when people treated him like a cat but for you, he’d make an exception. He’d make multiple exceptions for you. You begin to stroke the top of his head, making sure you remember how it feels in your palms in case you never get the chance to do this again. His purring grew louder as he leaned into your touch.

You began to pet his cheeks, getting a closer look at his face, taking in every detail. From his heart shaped nose, to the way his eyebrows fluffed out of his face. He slowly opened his eyes, peeking at you. You were too mesmerized by how unbearably handsome he is to see him inching closer.

He grabs your hand on his cheek, “I could kiss you right now.” He could what? Before you got a chance to react he pulled you into him, his lips crashing on yours. You yelp before giving in and melting into him. The kiss didn’t last too long but it felt like hours.

You stared at him as longingly as you did dumbfounded. “Look, babe, I notice everything about you. Everything you do.” He holds your head in his hands. “I see the way you light up when Charlie brings you paintings. How you paint with that focused look. You’re one of, if not, the only demon with sense in that hotel and respect my boundaries. You’ve never pushed my buttons once. And I truly, truly appreciate it.”

You lean into his hold, holding his face in return, “I understand you a lot more than you think, Husk. I know it’s silly but I find comfort in you. I love the way your voice sounds. I love watching your magic tricks. I love the way you effortlessly make a drink without even looking. And I love the way you fight. You fill me with so much artistic desire and you get me out of the toughest art blocks out there.”

“And you help me stay calm when everybody gets on my nerves. I’ll take a fight on for you any day, babe.” He rests his forehead on yours, “Who would’ve thought my cold little heart could be warmed up in hell of all places, huh?”

He shifts and rests his head on your lap as you continue to pet him, humming softly as you did.

"And who would've thought I'd be able to get the grumpy bartender to purr in my lap?"

You two enjoyed the rest of your night together. He actually stole a bottle for you two and you both drank the night away.

.

.

.

“You think Y/N’s ruffling his feathers? If you know what I mean.” Angel laughs followed by a quick slap on the back by Vaggie. “Ow! It was just a joke. God, tits.”

“Oh I believe Husk is having a wonderful night.” Alastor grins, aware of what the soul he owns has done, “And might I say, he is quite the charmer. Truly a hidden gem. Under all that gruff he is but a little kitten.” He hummed, teleporting away into his tower.

Charlie was so excited and had set up a congratulations sign on the wall for when you two return. She was happy her dear friend finally found comfort in somebody.

[bubblergoespop]

redacted headcanons wooo

some angsty, some cutesy, some whatever idk

elliott makes sunshine sleepy when they’re around him. not because of his powers but just because he makes them feel comfortable and safe. and being around him relieves them of the fear of having any nightmares again, because he won’t let it happen.

as the rest of the damn crew ages, gavin mimics the way they all age. wrinkling his skin, fading the colour from his hair, etc.

i don’t know much about plants but they can get sick right? like viral infections or something? anyway, one day, the plant that anton's love gave him was looking extremely wilted and anton sobbed practically everyday and poured his heart and soul into helping it until he was able to get it to recover again.

vincent was secretly envious of how well lovely seemed to be coping with their turning. not anymore though.

lasko's partner sleeptalks. lasko was shocked the first time they did it around him because it’s such a contrast to how quiet they are when awake.

sweetheart was in a rush to get to work one day and accidentally grabbed one of milo's shirts instead of their own. when they came home later on, milo realised they were wearing his top. ofc that awoke something in him and, since then, he’s had sweetheart put on multiple fashion shows in which they try on his clothes.

lasko's partner is the type of teacher who gives their students stickers and sweets, and they also doodle on any written exams when they mark them.

porter wasn’t alone when he was turned. he was with someone he cared about. and they cared for him. but they didn’t get turned. his maker murdered them and that’s why porter says “historically” it doesn’t turn out well for those who care for him.

the asset helps take care of anton's plant. they find actual biological life fascinating, and they can stare at a plant for as long as they like since it won’t get annoyed or uncomfortable like a human does.

gav stayed at the damn campus for longer than usual once and freelancer was left home alone with the time to over think and they ended up crying themself to sleep over their mortality and gavin’s immortality. gavin had no idea until they woke up the next morning. when they looked at him, he felt their core ache.

ever since angel tried on davey's clothes for the first time, david’s gone out of his way to hide angel’s clothes at times and/or “forget” to wash them with the rest of the laundry. and then he goes “oops guess you’ll just wear one of my shirts in the meantime…” with the stupidest smirk on his face ever

porter gets regular nightmares. from the trauma of his human life, the time with his maker and/or from the things he’s done for william. it’s the reason he says sleep won’t bring him peace, even though for most people, it would.

[buckysgrace]

I’m crying over your daddy Billy story. I want so bad for Billy to have some happiness. He never got that and it’s so sad.

He deserves all the happiness!! I know, poor baby boy :(

Here is a lil blurb for my upcoming singledad!Billy x reader series <3 Just some cuteness hehe

"Daddy!" Theo came rushing off, damp blonde curls stuck to his forehead and his cheeks red from how fast he was moving, "Wook, wook!" He shouted gleefully; his goggles unable to hide the excited glint in his blue eyes.

At four he loved the beach just as much as Billy did. Then again, most of Theo’s interests aligned towards Billy’s. He liked reading, cars and sports in the same way. Billy had become quite the storyteller as well; as Theo had a small curiosity towards scary things. Theo usually ended up in his bed anyways and never seemed too scared of anything he said.

He was definitely more creative, however. He always carried around a little notebook, making messy doodles and sketches of different things he thought were cool. Which meant Billy spent a lot of time at the library trying to find out what they were for the little rascal.

"What is it?" He asked as he sat forward, leaning off of his seat a bit. Theo moved a little awkwardly in his scuba slippers but insisted that he needed to wear them when he conducted his research. Which consisted of him ducking his head into the water and looking below. Billy had just been with him but had turned away for just a moment to grab the sunscreen again.

"A cwab," The little boy pronounced proudly as he held up his palm, proudly showing off the little creature in his hands, "He nice." Theo replied as he used his other hand to pet at it.

"Careful," Billy observed, "It'll bite ya." He teased, tickling lightly at the little boys sides to get a loud laugh from him. He didn't mess with him too much, afraid that he would make the crab lash out.

"No," He giggled as he shook his head, "He's nice." He reasoned, proving a point as he bent his head low to kiss the top of the shell. Billy moved forward a little bit, paranoid that he'd have to pry a crab from his sons lips.

"Very nice," He confirmed with a nod of his head, his heart warming at the way Theo smiled proudly at him. He was certainly his little twin. The only features that he gained from his mother was the plump curve of his lips. Everything else as Billy, "Should we take him back to his home?"

"Yeah," Theo said thoughtfully a moment later, "Bye bye little buddy." He said, still petting at the crab before he rushed back towards the water. Billy followed behind him, watching the way Theo gently dropped his little buddy into the water.

"See anything else?" He asked as he knelt towards Theo's level, offering him a water bottle as he began to ensure that his skin wasn't too red. Theo gulped it down messily, sliding his tongue inside of the rim of the bottle as it poured down his chubby cheeks. Billy winced, a little glad that he had his own bottle. Theo was adorable but he didn't like sharing germs with him either.

“No,” He responded as he held his little hands on his waist, making Billy chuckle at the way his soft belly stuck out. He was a chunky little thing for sure, “Ice cream?” He asked instead, fluttering his thick eyelashes up towards Billy in a desperate urgency. Billy grinned, knowing he couldn’t tell the little boy no.

Theo held onto him anyways, gripping his arm and smiling brightly as he rubbed his wet cheek against Billy’s bare arm. Billy couldn’t recall ever hugging his dad, or if he had; he’d been too young to remember.

The thought of Neil made Billy frown and he quickly covered it up by kissing the top of Theo’s messy curls. He had never imagined he’d do this well on his own, but he had. He was proud of himself and his son. Even if he was a little booger sometimes.

“Go get the beach bag and your journal,” He directed, laughing at the way he took off, “And be careful!” He shouted a second later, unsure if Theo could really hear him over his own childish giggles and hollering. Billy walked after him, sure that the little boy would crash once they got back to the car.

[sunraies]

Cupcakes and Rainstorms

Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings - fluff, enemies to something, kissing. Rafe has a crush.

Getting stuck on the side of the road in a rainstorm has an unexpected outcome

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The sudden downpour came out of nowhere. The joys of summer rainstorms. One minute, the sun is shining, and then suddenly, the sky becomes dark and grey.

It was just your luck that the heavens opened while you were making a delivery to the Figure Eight. You father's beat up, bakery van was never good in the rain.

The white van with a smiling cupcake tended not have the ability to break in the rain. You begged your father to upgrade it as the business grew but he insisted it worked perfectly fine. The rusted, cupcake smiling, piece of shit.

Sure, it had memories from the days when the bakery first opened but it wasn't worth your life. You should have just biked the five dozen white cupcakes to the obnoxious white themed party.

What 14 year old held a white themed party, anyway?

You had pulled over to check the directions and got stuck in a muddy puddle, which was more like a bog with a stupid little white dress on. No way could you risk trying to push the fucking, heap of junk in the rain.

You had phoned JJ for help but had no luck and it wasn't worth trying the others. If JJ didn't pick up, the others wouldn't. Whatever shit he was getting up to, they were definitely with him. You sent an SOS message to the group, but they could take hours.

Hitting your head on the stirring wheel, you groaned in tune with the horn. Stuck between Figure Eight and The Cut with your phone battery dead. Maybe you should have called a tow truck before JJ.

With the horn blaring you didn't hear the roar of the motorcycle. It was the sharp knocking on the driver window that caught your attention.

"Holy shit!" You yelled, jumping and holding a hand over your heart.

Stood outside your window in the pouring rain, white shirt soaked through was Rafe Cameron.

"What the hell, are you doing?" You rolled down the window as he frowned at you.

"Oh, that's a shame. I thought I found a dead Pogue"

You could have sworn he looked concerned for a moment before realising it was you.

"Sorry to ruin your fantasy" you grumbled, ready to roll the window up on him but his hand stopped you.

"It's pissing it down," He pointed out, like you couldn't tell.

"And?"

"Let me sit for a bit"

You raised an eyebrow at him, watching the rain drip from his hair as the fabric of his shirt, which made it more and more see-through. He noticed you looking, and a small smirk appeared.

"Come on, my bike is laying in the mud, and this shirt is expensive."

You glanced in the mirror, noticing the motor bike thrown down in the bog like puddle. Had he really been that concerned?

"Fine, but you're phoning for a tow truck." He was already running round to the passenger side.

He made a shivering noise as he slammed the passenger door shut and shook himself. "You didn't call a truck?"

"Dead battery" you held up, your battered and broken phone.

It had a cracked screen and worn-out case, but you loved it. The lock screen was of the gang on the beach, and tucked in the back was a post-it with a doodle from Kie.

It was your father's stupid cupcake, smoking a joint, and the knife stabbed into the icing.

"So we're stuck." Rafe tried not to smile at the doodle as you throw your phone upside down on the dashboard.

"We?" You looked over at him.

Taking in his appearance more. He really did have a body like a Greek god, clearly visible with his shirt clinging to his toned torso. He had a face like an angel when he wasn't scowling.

"Don't have my phone on me, sweetheart" He shrugged, patting his pockets to prove a point.

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Who the fuck, doesn't have their phone on them?"

"Didn't think I needed it"

After some silence and the annoyance of him huffing while playing with random things in the van. You snapped,

"Would you stop that?"

"Stop what?"

"Breathing so hard"

"I'm just breathing"

"Well, stop"

"I'm sure you and your little friends would love that"

"I wouldn't be complaining"

"Wow. Ouch" He scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "Didn't know you could be so heartless"

"Guess we don't know a lot about each other"

"I do" He muttered, so quitely that you barely caught it.

"Oh really? Let's see what the Kook King, thinks of a Pogue 'peasant' like me"

The rain was still hammering down on the windscreen and making a tinny sound as it bounced of the roof of the van.

He scoffed at you again. "I wouldn't say peasant. What with your father's business and all"

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he wouldn't reject the idea of being called Kook King.

Your father's bakery had become so popular in Outerbanks that custom had even spread the main land. He had more than enough to move, upgrade, and even buy a house in the Figure Eight, but he didn't want the change. Everything he was gaining was going into a collage fund for you and your future.

"Thanks, I guess"

Uncomfortable silence fell again as the rain didn't ease.

"Why did you stop?"

"Stop what?" He asked again.

"At the van"

He shrugged "I knew it was your father's"

Rafe didn't look at you as he quickly added at the same time as you, before you even asked why.

"Fucking smiling cupcake"

You actually laughed at the timing. Little did you know, he hated the cupcake as every time he saw it around, he hoped it was you driving.

In the cute polo shirt with the cupcake logo and shorts that hugged your butt. The baseball cap with the same logo, worn backwards and your white, now grey, scuffed up converse.

You bounced around, smiling and wishing good day to people as you delivered the elite of the island. Music blaring out of the rust bucket or taping away on your phone, nodding as you picked the next track before hopping on your bike.

The first time he saw you around was about a year ago. Sure, he'd seen you with the Pogues, but he really noticed you when you had come to Tanneyhill.

It wasn't even an actual delivery. You had been popping by to pick Sarah up for John B bringing a small box of baked goods with you. Wheeze actually hugged you when she saw you at the door. She loved the cupcakes.

"You scared me, you know?" He played with the ring on his finger.

"How?"

"When I saw the van, and the horn. I thought

...." he sighed as you watched him. He looked so vulnerable as he swallowed.

"I was dead?" You frowned, you were going to snark back about how fucking morbid that was before he shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.

"So you throw your bike in the mud? Wow, dramatic much? " You chose a lighter topic, which actually made him laugh.

🧁

"Hey, hey," you hit his hand away from the box of perfectly iced cakes. "Don't eat those!"

"We have been sat here an hour." Rafe pointed out his watch.

Your eyes went wide, shit, shit, shit. An hour. You were an hour late. An hour of money lost. An hour of no one coming to rescue you. A hour of -

"I'm sure, Wheeze won't mind"

Wheeze? What the hell, did he mean Wheeze? His baby sister.

Oh, you were going to kill, Jeremy. The dipshit had put Tawney Hall on the delivery notice. No wonder you couldn't find it. If you known you were delivering for the Camerons you would have never pulled over in the first place.

"Wheezie, wanted a white theme party?" You found that hard to believe.

"Rose wanted" He corrected as he grabbed a cupcake from the box again.

You hit his hand a moment too slow, causing the cupcake to go flying and land on his drying, white shirt. You laughed and covered your mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry." You tried to be sincere, but the laughter didn't help.

"I told you this was expensive, baby"

He shook his head at you, he looked annoyed but there was a twinkle in his eye. God, had they always been so blue?

He dipped his finger into the icing before making you gasp as he ran it down your nose.

"Rafe, no, no" You laughed and put your hands up but was not use.

Soon, you both ended up covered in icing and crumbled cakes.

His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath fan over your lips. You had ended up with your back against the door as Rafe fitted perfectly between your legs. His hand cupped your neck as you held his shoulder.

His eyes darted from yours to your lips and back again. He swallowed a few times as your heart beat loudly in your chest.

"Kiss me"

It was a whisper, but he caught it and took only a moment before his lips collied with yours. He tasted of vanilla icing.

You broke suddenly apart as the familiar tune of The Twinkie's horn sounded so close by.

[ilovechuuy4]

My Baby Here on Earth, Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth. So, when it Comes to be My Turn Could You Shine it Down Here for Her? ✧.*

Girl Dad!Boothill

Warnings; none!!

A\N; the number of times i see that boothill was canonically a girl dad w/ an adoptive daughter breaks my heart. Cause he didn't even get to watch her grow up it makes me cry so hard every damn time. (Boothill watched his daughter’s life be taken in front of his own eyes when his planet was nuked. She had just started to walk he didn't even have the time to make a gravestone cause of the IPC demolishing the entire planet 🙁) BUT ANYWAYS ENJOY THIS UNTIL I POST REQUESTS. (D/N is daughters name)

Headcanonsˏˋ°•*⁀➷

• He adores his daughter; he's doing anything and everything she wants even if it means he's dressed in a princess outfit.

• Boothill always, I mean always reads his daughter a bedtime story before she falls asleep and sometimes, he falls asleep with her.

• Despite Boothill being a 'robot' or having mechanical body parts, his daughter still loves to take marker and stickers to the metal and draw doodles / put stickers on him.

• Daddy daughter dates / dances are Boothill's entire thing. He's not going to miss the chance to go to his kid's school for a fun dance. He also takes his daughter on multiple fun 'dates' and outings

• 'Competitive' game nights with each other. Playing player against player games with his daughter and purposely loosing so she can be happy.

• Boothill isn't a strict father, but he does have his rules such; as no sugar before dinner (obviously), schoolwork before screen time, no cursing until a specific age etc.

• When his daughter was getting her ears pierced, she got scared so he got his pierced with her, so she wasn't as scared and now they wear matching earrings.

Scenarioೃ⁀➷

There Boothill sat, in the couch that rest dead center of the living room. His little girl sitting on one of his legs, his right arm draped over her as she drew on his metal arm with paint pens. Small doodles with fun colors, the paint pens were scattered on a little tray that always lays in the man's lap along with multiple sticker sheets. There was a soft smile on his face as he watched her color in her doodles. Her tongue stuck out from between her teeth as she focused on staying inside the lines.

He chuckles softly, adjusting his position for something more comfortable for the two of them. "You're not hungry yet, munchkin?" He asked, his southern accent overlapping his words as he glances down at his rainbow-colored arm and then at her. "Not really papa. But goldfish do sound good." She murmurs, not taking her eyes off her drawing.

He smiles, his hand rubbing her back gently. "Alright then, let's go get you some goldfish, baby doll." He said, gently removing the tray of stickers and markers before standing up, her in his arms. He struts over to the kitchen, placing D/N onto the counter as he gets out a bowl to pour the goldfish in. He opens the cabinet where there was the Holy Trinity of all sorts of Goldfish.

There was the rainbow colored ones that were supposed to be all the same taste, but his daughter insisted they tasted different. Pizza goldfish, cupcake goldfish, double chedder goldfish, s'mores goldfish and more. It was like the entire cabinet was full of them but it really wasn't, he just knew that his little girl liked them so much. "Which type do you want?" He asked her, he watched as she pondered her answer.

"The rainbow goldfish!" She said with a bright smile, watching as her dad grabs a the bag of goldfish and poured her some. "Eat up, munchkin." He said, placing the bowl beside her on the counter. She smiled as she starts eating them, she glances at her papa with a bright smile, her mouth slightly full of goldfish. "I love you, papa!" She said all giggly. "I love you too, sweetheart." Boothill says with a soft smile, gently kissing her forehead.

[marshmallowprotection]

You could hear the soft sound of humming coming from behind the couch as you poured over your notes. You were trying to decide what you were going to do with the most recent patch of flowers you had planted in the garden. They were coming along nicely, but you knew once they sprouted, you wanted to do more with that area to bring it to life.

Your parents assured you that you could do as you pleased to spruce up the B&B, but with Saeran and Ray's help, you felt like you were on the path to the right direction.

Still, all the same, your notebook was filled with notes and doodles of different garden designs and none of them were clicking. You needed a break.

Curiously, you glanced over the shoulder of the couch to see Ray with that determined look on his face as he reached to dust another knick-knack from the bunch. His maid uniform swished as he put his upper body to work to get those hard to reach places. You knew he worked as hard as he did because he took pride in it, relishing in the fact that he could brighten someone's day.

Even if his uniform twirled with every sway of his hips. He hadn't yet realized you were watching him, but you were okay with that. Out of all the people who stared at him, you were the one he welcomed, his scars didn't frighten you. They never did. You were happy to know he survived his hardships and found you in the end. Being close to him... it was a blessing.

He didn't mind getting his hands dirty if he could help someone smile and it inspired you to do the same.

"Hey, Ray," you called over to him in a soft voice. He was spooked by the loudest of sounds and even though you told him he could wear a pair of noise cancelling headphones, he felt more comfortable letting them rest in his locker until the end of the workday. "Do you think you could join me?"

He glanced back at you, smile growing from ear to ear, "It's not time for my break yet, do you think that would be okay?"

"Ray, there's no guests this weekend. Why don't you enjoy some time to relax for a change? Sure, we need to get out work done, but we do not need to break our backs today," you reassured him. You beckoned him to join you once more and he relented, hopping from the stool he set aside so he could bounce around the couch.

You patted your lap and despite the heat on his face you could sense without having to glance at him, he sprawled across your lap and let the fabric of his skirt crinkle around his hips and across the couch. It took no time for you to wrap your arms around his waist and beam at him, "That's my favorite maid... Of course, I'm the only one who gets this special treatment."

He let out a soft squeal and buried his face against your throat. God, he knew what he did to you just like he knew what you did to him on a good day. Neither of you had to pretend or hide your desires when your hearts connected like magnets. "You're my favorite gardener."

You couldn't help but to tease him. "Aw, you're just saying that to me because I'm good with my hands, Ray."

"Could... could you remind me how?"

That was an awfully cheeky response.

"I suppose that's only fair, you did show me how you could clean my tired muscles the other day," you brushed your lips against the side of his head. "It's your turn to learn how good it feels, my Ray."

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

Keith’s eyes burn. His shirt is soaked through and cold, and Lance is a dead weight in his arms, making his limbs dead and heavy.

Keith barely registers any of it.

As the slowly rising sun gently rouses the rest of his team, the music of the birds and the bugs dragging them from the slumber, he thinks of each of them in turn: do you know what happened to him? Do you know how badly he’s hurting?

He cuts his glance to Shiro, who sits criss-cross-applesauce on his bedroll, eyes closed and head tilted towards the sun. A small smile graces his face, and it grows as Pidge complains about everything in general and Hunk repeats everything she says in a muppet voice. Maybe Shiro understands. He —

Keith swallows, rough from the dryness of his throat. Even thinking the word sends a stab of fear through his heart, a shot of adrenaline through his veins.

Lance. Dead. Not ‘nearly’, not a close call, but — dead. Gone.

He died.

“Everything alright, dear?” asks a voice, startling Keith out of his thoughts and right out of his skin, too. Coran crouches beside him, looking immaculately groomed and put-together in his ridiculous blue silk pajamas despite the fact that Keith literally saw him roll right out of his bedroll and onto the hard ground not two minutes ago.

Truly amazing, that man.

“Fine,” Keith says, half-shocked by the hoarseness of his own voice. He glances down, looking at his right hand man, face streaked with tears, scar-covered hands clenched tightly in the fabric of Keith’s sleep shirt.

Keith deflates, sighing as he slumps forward. “Rough night,” he admits. “For…both of us.”

It’s stating the obvious. As much as Lance is visibly not okay, even in sleep, Keith doubts he looks so hot, either. He feels like the fear and hurt is pouring out of him in waves.

Coran doesn’t look surprised. He reaches forward slowly, as if waiting for Keith to stop him, and brushes gentle fingers through Lance’s hair. The movement shifts the strands, clearly showcasing the white roots.

Coran frowns, something like disappointment clouding his green eyes. Keith doubts it’s directed at either of them.

“I’ve had my suspicions for a while,” he murmurs, hand stilling in Lance’s fringe for a moment before shifting to gently trace the shape of his cheekbone, the high point of his temple. His touch is gentle, wary, wracked with guilt.

Paternal.

“Lance has been…off. For movements. He usually comes to me, if he’s hurting, even if he he just wants company. But he’s only withdrawn from all of us.” He pulls away, almost as if he has to force himself, and straightens out, stretching his legs. He looks back to Keith once he’s settled, and his expression is grim.

“I think it’s high time we show him we’re not going anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees softly. “I don’t —” He looks at Coran, helpless and desperate. “I don’t know what to do, Coran.”

“I’ll gather the team,” the advisor assures. He runs his hands through Lance’s hair one more time, and then presses a kiss to his forehead before getting to his feet. He walks over to Shiro and leans in close. Keith doesn’t keep watching to see Shiro’s face crumple. He’s not sure he can handle it. Instead he drops his gaze back down to Lance’s sleeping face.

Over the night, one of the lightning scars has crept up the side of his neck and curved over his jaw, just like Lance had said they’d been doing.

Keith feels it when all of them really get it. He can feel the air turn sharp and electric, almost, the way you can taste it before lightning strikes. Tangy, almost. Ozone and petrichor.

It’s not a nice feeling.

Allura approaches first. She hurries over, like she’s worried something will happen if she doesn’t make it to them in seconds, but she stops right in front of them. Keith can see her bare legs out of the corner of his eye, covered in doodled pen marks of flowers and stars. She hesitates for a second, pink-painted fingernails tapping her knee, then she falls on the ground in front of them faster than Keith can blink. She pulls her knees up to her her chin, long braids falling down her shoulders. The rest of the team hesitantly sits next to her.

“I didn’t realise,” she blurts eventually. Keith flicks his head up to meet her gaze head-on, and he realizes that tears are dripping steadily down her cheeks. He’s never seen her look so upset. “I knew he was — I felt that he was hurt, that it was serious. I knew the blast was dangerous. But I didn’t —” her face crumples, and she hides her face as if she’s ashamed. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should have checked harder. I was stressed, but that’s no exc—”

“It’s not your fault,” comes a firm voice. Lance shifts in Keith’s hold, dragging himself upright and blinking the sleep from his eyes.

He doesn’t pull away, though, shifting until he’s comfortable and then leaning back onto Keith’s chest. One of Keith’s hands is clenched tightly in his.

“I’m so sorry,” Allura begs. “Lance, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry —”

“Allura,” Lance insists again. His voice is stronger, less reedy. “You didn’t — I made that choice, ‘Llura.” He reaches forward with his free hand and gently pries Allura’s apart from where they’re clenched together, squeezing gently. “I knew what was gonna happen to me.”

“Did you?” Hunk asks quietly. Keith feels Lance tense slightly before forcing himself to relax. “Did you choose to — to die?”

Lance doesn’t say anything for a moment. And then another moment, and another. Keith feels a drop hit his hand.

“I was scared,” he admits, voice as low as a whisper. “I am scared.”

Keith feels his chin tremble, the memory of Lance pacing back and forth, hands clenched in his hair, rambling in his terror flashing fresh through his mind. He squeezes Lance tightly.

“It is scary.” Shiro hunches in slightly, angling his head to catch Lance’s eyes. He smiles, a mix of sad and comforting, when Lance’s brown eyes meet his. “I was scared, too. Felt like the pins and needles you get when you come in from the cold, but all over, and it didn’t end until it didn’t. And then I was just scared.”

“…Oh.” Lance looks stunned, like he’s realizing for the first time that he’s not alone, actually. There are people who love him, someone even who knows exactly what he went through. “I — oh.” He relaxes back into Keith’s hold. “Okay.”

“We love you, Lance,” Pidge says in a small voice. Her face is streaked with tears, too, but her eyes are determined. “I love you. A lot.”

Lance’s lips quirk up. “Love you too, Pidgey.”

They all stay there, for a while. The sun has long since risen, but they all watch the sky anyways, tracking the pale green clouds, just sitting silently with each other, happy to be together and alive.

“Thank you,” Lance whispers, too quiet for anyone else to hear. Keith glances down. Lance looks back up at him, smiling softly. His eyes don’t look fragile, anymore. It’s a relief.

“I would do anything for you.” It’s a little more than he meant to say, but he can’t help himself. Not with Lance’s eyes glowing amber in the sunlight, Lance in his hold, Lance alive and better than he was yesterday.

Lance’s smile gets a little wider. “I know.”

Hoping he’s reading things right, Keith leans in close, pausing millimetres away from Lance’s face, glancing down at his lips. He means to say something smooth, something charming, a one liner in a teen movie. But he can’t think of anything. “I want to kiss you,” he blurts out instead, like a dumbass. Immediately he winces, but Lance only laughs. He hears sniggers from the rest of the team, as well. His face reddens.

Lance’s hand moves up to rest on Keith’s cheek. “Well, chop chop then, Mullet.”

Keith doesn’t waste anymore time. He moves all the way in, pressing their lips together softly. Lance tastes of salt. Keith knows it’s from his tears, but it makes him think of the ocean. He kisses Lance again, because he can’t help himself.

“We got all the time in the world, Keith,” Lance murmurs against his lips.

“Let me kiss you anyway,” Keith begs.

He feels the curve of Lance’s grin. The rest of the team has gone conspicuously silent.

“Yeah. Okay.”

[heart2beom]

⭒ ⋆ welcome to my blog!! i attempt to write silly little fics for my ults? which is txt! my main inspiration lie in early 2000s romcom movies with silly tropes and very...unnatural progression. still, they're enjoyable and fun! which is exactly what i hope my writing serves to be for you!

📁 ; send me a doodle ^^

HEART2BEOM MASTERLIST!

⎯ 🖇️ wonder what i'll post? check out my wip!

⎯ 🖇️ 700 event!

💭 f; fluff a; angst c; crack/comedy m; mature ★; personal fave

┆彡 YEONJUN

╰┈➤ cliché . (f, c) ⎯ 3.6k words

after yeonjun hears you referring to him as someone who's like a brother ...he tries his hardest to make you see him as a potential boyfriend.

or in which you're perplexed at all the movie hangouts your friend has been initiating.

╰┈➤ open the door, mr. choi! . (c, a)

going up to yeonjun's dorm, the man you believe to be a complete tool, and asking to use his shower isn't very fun.

┆彡 SOOBIN

╰┈➤ how to tame a fake blonde . (c, f, m) ⎯ 5k+ so far

a romcom office series; in which you're a huge romantic at heart but the shitty men you attract leaves you with countless failed relationships. then, you meet choi soobin. in an elevator. he isn't interested in you, he finds you annoying, and he clearly has zero respect for you, so why the hell are you so bent on making him like you?

┆彡 BEOMGYU

╰┈➤ a lost bet! . (f, c) ⎯ 2.2k words

you lose a bet to beomgyu and out of everything you'd think he'd ask of you -- money, to pour freezing water on yourself out in the snow, hell, you thought it'd be more likely for him to ask you to jump off a cliff and survive than telling you to take him out on a date.

╰┈➤ call you later . (c, f) ⎯ 3k+ words ★

beomgyu swears women fall at his feet and he's in fact, single by choice—what better way to prove this to you than collecting the numbers of random people on the street? you're in on the little fun too, until you manage to get soobin's number. because suddenly, beomgyu's a debbie downer—for whatever reason.

╰┈➤ colon and a parenthesis . (f, a) ⎯ 2.6k words

getting played has got to be the worst feeling ever. for you, you go through that heartbreak every other month. and now you're wailing on your best friend's shoulder again, for the hundredth time, ruining his hoodie. again.

┆彡 TAEHYUN

╰┈➤ second lead syndrome . (f) ⎯ 0.5k words ★

taehyun, your neighbor, has been helping you out with beomgyu, the best friend you've been in love with for your entire life. when you finally score a date, albeit taehyuns plan working, you're in crisis...because you start getting second thoughts.

┆彡 HUENINGKAI

╰┈➤ tba

HEART2BEOM FAQ!

⎯⎯💭 a made up faq to answer all the important questions

✰ do you accept requests?

half yes half no. i just don't make them my priorities, but i welcome any suggestions for inspiration purposes

✰ do you have a perm taglist?

nope, i don't plan on making one either.

✰ when will [insert fic] come out?

when it comes out!!! (dont believe me when i say theres a release date im a terrible procrastinator)

✰ do you write for other groups?

no, i'm only dedicated to writing for txt i

[yandere--stuck]

i saw rqs are open and im curious if you’d write more yan joker? i dont have any specific ideas in mind, i just rlly love how you write him ^^

I hope this is to your liking! ^^

Can be any Joker but I leaned a bit towards Arkhamverse!Joker

---

Moonlight poured in through the barred window of Joker's cell like how sight managed to slip through shaky fingers covering one's face. Joker had huddled himself into the corner closest to his bed where the most light was shed. He made swift, smooth motions with his arms, fingers flecked with red chalk dust.

He wasn't sure who had originally smuggled it in, not that it really mattered, but it had changed hands enough for The Joker to borrow (read: steal) it from Jervis. His cell was far too drab and colorless! He was sure ol' Jervy would understand. Being in this place really could make one go mad.

With a groan, the Clown Prince of Crime straightened up his back. It gave a few loud cracks and the man heaved a heavy sigh. This cell was far too cramped! It was an outrage! An outrage, he said! Two feet wide, and even then the bed took up most of the space, and what? Just barely over seven feet? Hell, his own bed was barely enough to fit him.

Not that he exactly had room to complain. He knew full well that, in the eyes of many, what he's done - and will continue to do - was beyond redemption. But, they still stuck him in this place to 'help' him. No space to move, barely any time outside, shitty food… So much for humane treatment.

It was funny. A smile rose to his lips. It was so, so funny. You'd laugh about it, he was sure. You always got the joke. 

He turned his attention back to his drawings. Big, gaping smiles, batmen made of blobs of red, harlequins with big hammers.

Joker's heart gave a twinge. He wondered how Harley was doing. It had been a long time since they allowed them to stay in the same cell block, so his nights had become a lot more quiet. A lot lonelier.

But among the other drawings that decorated his walls was a more consistent figure, consistent name. Doodled with hearts around them or drawings of clowns with heart eyes to the side. 

More than he wished for a bigger cell or Harley or Bats or a sudden explosion that caused hundreds of inmates to pour out and wreak havoc upon Gotham, Joker wished for you.

Joker sat back against his bed, knees tucked against his chest and back against the hard, rough walls of his cell. He slipped the chalk underneath his pillow and wiped the remaining red on his jumpsuit. 

Looking up, he watched as a cloud stretched over the sky, suffocating the moon and blotting out the sky, plunging his cell into darkness. A nervous, shaky feeling filled the Clown's chest. It was so quiet and so dark. Nothing for him to see, hear, nothing for his mind to clutch onto and distract him.

And most importantly, no you. Light of his life, treasure of his soul, oh, how awful they were for separating you from him. Not that that would stop him in the long run, of course, but it still hurt! Oh, where was he without you? And more importantly, where were you without him? Sure, he had his men observe you from the shadows, but they were idiots! They didn't know you like he did!

... Suddenly, a thought flitted into his mind and another smile graced his lips. It'd been some time since he last graced Arkham with a serenade.

"This song goes out to a special someone out there," The Joker giggled to himself. Laying his head against the wall of his cell, he began to croon, "Where, oh where, has my darling gone? Where, oh, where could they be?"

Memories of you flashed through his mind, making his grin grow and grow until his lips were near splitting from how happy you made them.

Green eyes twinkled with delight as the clouds passed overhead, light once again shining down on him. "We make such a great pair, when they laugh without a care…"

You really were magic, weren't you?

"With them, I'm a happier me…" He trailed off, voice soft and expression content.

Filled with warmth at the thought of you , granting him a bit of peace, The Joker laid down and allowed himself some rest. And he hoped that if he dreamed, it'd be of you.

[siren-serenity]

indefinite hiatus

hey everyone....I just wanted to state it loud and clear now that I'm currently taking a long break from Tumblr for a couple of reasons. some of these reasons may even seem familiar as you've probably seen other fanfic authors stating the same issue again and again.

lack of interactions

remember when I had my 'battle of the restaurant' event? when it came to requesting, everyone was sooooo eager to ask for stories to be written. but when I published them? barely any interactions. no likes, no reposts, barely a comment of 'thank you'. it was as if I was a robot, publishing pieces over and over again for nothing. all the hard work I poured into my event: gone.

this wasn't the first time though. every time I publish something, the like-to-reblog ratio is pathetic. no one wants to comment anything sweet or even just a silly ramble. where is the interactions? where is the liveliness that Tumblr is famous for?

2. burn out from irl

sometimes, I feel like I switch fandoms too quick and too fast for me to publish some works from previous fandoms. I started out as a twst author but now I'm into one piece and haikyuu and so many other fandoms that I feel like I have to write for them-

and then when I try to enjoy some anime, I realize that I'm barely feeding any readers with any content and then I'm feeling so much writers' block from the pressure I put onto myself. I understand that this is no one's fault, perhaps from my own perfectionist issues but it's still a problem I face day after day.

3. a new stage of life

nowadays, I'm in a position where I have more and more work poured onto me, leaving me barely anytime to write any content for my readers. it's honestly hurting me too, whenever I do my own IRL work and then start worrying about what everyone thinks about my lack of interaction in comparison to everyone else. I'm feeling more and more drained from this constant cycle of worry and manic stress

so, other than the lack of interaction, it's not really anyone's fault. please don't start getting depressed thinking you've utterly destroyed me into a million pieces (I promise I'm fine, I'm just working on myself right now). but please reflect on my works and how you interact with other fanfic authors on this website. Tumblr is a beautiful place with some of the most beautiful work I've ever seen and some of the most thoughtful pieces of writing and art I've been blessed with. don't let something like lack of engagement ruin what Tumblr is. please

a small thank you to all my mutuals who've kept me company for the past few months, year even.

@cloudcountry: you are my inspiration. my advisor whenever I'm lost, my biggest hype-man whenever I published something for 'battle of the restaurants' or just simple pieces of writing for the famous auburn x azul ashengrotto (priest siren for the win!!), and one of my earliest friends on Tumblr. thank you for making my time here so special and memorable, I'll keep a small place for you in my heart, always. please read her work and be nice to auburn!! she's a rare gem in Tumblr, super talented and super kind to everyone <3

@officialdaydreamer0: one of the best artists and horror writers I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. reading Irene's lore have never made me feel so much pity for an OC before yet I'm memorized by her intricate vocabulary when describing the horror setting. but in sharp comparison, her art and doodles are nothing but extraordinary. I wish I had Irene's ability to draw anatomy and clothing (!!!) as well as she does. but as a friend, thank you for being there for me. you were a constant anchor here in Tumblr so thank you for keeping me grounded. love you Irene!!

@hisui-dreamer: rinna!! she's honestly super cute and bubbly, her love for jade and her commitment into making her eel of jade was so adorable to see on every new post. not to mention her writing!! super beautiful and gorgeous pieces of work that I just want to gobble up everytime it appears on my dash. please continue enjoying her test work and whatever new fandom she finds in the future! rinna, thank you for being one of my best friends here in Tumblr, your sweet personality will always be remembered.

my first friend, @pastelclovds: thank you for being one of the best, if not (in my humble opinion), the best Dom reader blogs ive ever had the pleasure to find in Tumblr. as a Dom reader blog myself, your works are truly works of art because of how sinfully delightful each and every work is. although I may not be in the same fandom as you sometimes, the way you write the character's reactions are so perfect!! the imagery is so carefully crafted that I feel like watching rather than reading (in a completely good way!! if that makes sense??) please continue writing, we need more Dom reader blogs on Tumblr for starved people aka me. thank you for being there for me always, ame!! kisses and hugs to you, MUAH

to all my other mutuals, @ceruleancattail, @v-anrouge @merotwst (still waiting for my art hehe), @siphoklansan, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @savanaclaw1996, don't think I didn't forget you all!! I'm just feeling a bit drained rn to continue dedicating small paragraphs to each and every one of you (because you deserve the WORLD). thank you for sticking with my weird ass and being some of the best friends, if not, platonic soulmates on Tumblr ever. your works, whether art or writing, has always left me breathless in awe. keep shining, keep being who you are, and don't let criticism knock you down!! stupid anons who never have the balls to save things without the anonymous features!! I will fight them for you, give me a text!!! but love you all and thank you all so so much for everything,

to all my followers!! thank you for supporting me from when I first began (with cringe worthy smut works to fluff fics from one piece). idk how did you like my smut works from the beginning, it makes me cry when I reread them lmao. but all 700+ (WHEN DID I GO FROM 500 TO 700???) of you are gorgeous human beings that deserve to exist as your beautiful selves. please enjoy some of my moots works as well <3. but your support, from that one anon who sent me a paragraph on how beautiful my Jamil fanfic for mero's summer competition (whoever you are, YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING AND MORE!! IT MADE YOU CRY BRO I'M SO SAD I CAN'T FIND IT NOW) to some random comment about how sweet ace is (bc he honestly is), has made my day even better.

I'll still be here on Tumblr, but probably just lurking. I think I'm just too drained to join convos or be here 24/7 but I'll keep reposting pro-palestine posts and being here if someone sends me an inbox or a message!! thank you all for understanding <3.

one day I'll come back. I swear I will.

I'm going to blow you out of the water with my new writing skills (LIES I'M NOT GONNA GET THAT MUCH BETTER LMAO)!!! :)))

xoxo, siren-serenity

[simply-ozul]

yippe!! my first post yaaay :D

dont know wut to think of it so ill let you be the judge lemme know how you like it!

enjoy <3

Robin Buckley x Nancy Wheeler || just a fluffy oneshot ft. flustered Robin and adoring Nancy

Just a Lovely Thing Like You is Fine

Nancy was never one for huge gifts or gestures; she usually preferred spending private quality time with her loved ones at home, on a picnic, or even a walk through the park. It’s the little things, y’know? At least, for her it is. Seeing as she spent the majority of her teen years hunting and being hunted by interdimensional monsters and sociopathic murderers with unexplainable mind abilities.

However, it was a little different with one Robin Buckley. Nancy knew the girl was dirt poor, to put it simply. She couldn’t afford fancy gifts, or shiny jewelry, but Nancy didn’t really want any of that anyway. Despite this, Robin still insisted on proudly presenting things to her girlfriend.

She’d write her little letters with mixed phrases from different languages she’s learned over the years, giving little translations on the back of the page with little colored heart doodles all over the paper. She’d make little crafts that Nancy absolutely adored, and she knew Robin poured all her love and appreciation into the little lop-sided clay swan holding a little stick that was poorly shaped into a shotgun she’d given Nancy for her birthday.

Nancy placed it carefully on her bathroom sink so she’d be able to look at it during her morning and evening routine, smiling the entire time.

However, Nancy’s favorite thing Robin gave her was something so simple and cliche. Flowers. Nancy wanted to laugh at herself in disbelief sometimes. Flowers? Really Nancy?

But then again, Nancy could argue that the little adorable twist Robin put to it made Nancy’s heart swell, squeeze and melt all at once. She’d always show up to Nancy’s door, hands and knees covered in dirt while it had somehow smeared everywhere else on her body. She’ll never forget the first time Robin gave her flowers.

As soon as Nancy pulls open the door, her eyes widen in surprise. Robin. Sweet, sweet Robin. The shaggy-haired girl held a clutch of beautifully bright wildflowers in her hands, the stems uneven and slightly bent or broken in some areas. The taller raised the fist of color, eyes big and puppy-like as she looks at Nancy with a ducked head. The brunette can see the light dust a pink glowing beneath her freckles—as well as noticing the smear of dirt across her cheekbone.

“Um… I got you flowers.” She mumbles shyly, before straightening in a rush to continue. “And I know you’re not really a huge fan of gifts or whatever, but… I was walking home after dog-sitting and I noticed them in a ditch, and they were so colorful and felt like a perfect gift so I couldn’t not pick them, y’know? I tried to pick them as carefully as I could but it was really hard to hold and pick flowers at the same time, and I basically ran to your house to give them to you, and some of the petals fell off and I just,” Robin pauses, forcing herself to quit her babbling. Nancy can only blink, mouth slightly agape as she listens. “They’re pretty. They reminded me of you.” She finishes with a shrug, shuffling on her feet.

After an awkward amount of silence, Robin backtracks. “I get it, you probably think it’s stupid, right? I mean, wildflowers? They’re practically weeds and store-bought ones are so much prettier. Even then, flowers are such a dumb tradition anyway—“

“You picked them for me?” 

Robin chokes to a stop, head jerking a bit in surprise.

“I- yeah? Did you want ones from the store instead…?” She trails off with a squeak. The flowers in her hand sink as Robin deflates.

Nancy can’t help but smile, huffing through her nose. She finally pushes through the doorway, stepping in front of her girlfriend. She looks at her through her lashes. Her hand reaches up to brush against the tight hold Robin has on the flowers, and her fist loosens. Nancy gently pries the flowers out of the tense girl’s grasp, bringing them up to her face, partially to smell them as well as hide her face.

“They’re beautiful, Robin.” Nancy whispers. She can’t stop the giggle escaping her throat when Robin dramatically deflates in relief.

“Holy shit. I was worried you’d hate them or something. I spent like thirty minutes picking out the prettiest ones and now there’s dirt under my nails and it sucks big time, but it’s so worth it now that I know for sure you like them. I mean, you do, right?”

Nancy laughs, bringing her unoccupied hand up to caress Robin’s cheek. The fumbling girl pauses, breath hitching, unable to help herself as she leans into the touch. Pushing herself onto her toes, Nancy leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of Robin’s mouth.

“Thank you, Robbie. I love them.” Robin freezes, eyes wide and sparkling. Nancy’s brows furrow in concern; had Robin stopped breathing? She’s about to check when the lanky girl clears her throat and nods, rubbing her sweaty palms against her jeans while she looks away. Nancy bites her lip at the red that blossoms up from Robin’s neck to across her cheeks and nose, trying her hardest to keep her grin from growing. Her cheeks hurt, she doesn’t care.

“Good, good. That’s good.” Robin stutters. She looks shyly to Nancy once again, opening and closing her mouth for a moment. Nancy raises a perfect eyebrow questioningly. Finally, she squeaks out,

“Could you do that again?” Nancy laughs.