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#it just got stained by raspberries

inkdrinkerworld · 1 month

Note

Hiii i just saw your post prision Spencer post with sunshine reader and im soooo in love with it (and in love with him too tbh) could you please do a pt2? Have a nice day💕

spencer and sunshine!reader have set routines on office days and spencer likes flirting pt 1 of their story 🤭

“Spencer Reid, prepare to have your mind blown!” You announce as you walk into the bullpen, your Mary Janes clacking against the tiles. You’re in a skirt today, Spencer supposes it’s because it’s a designated office day- there’s only three a month, but every time there is one, you come in an outfit Spencer would never even dream of.

Today you’re channelling your inner Elle Woods. He knows about her from Resse Witherspoon, but also from your innate love of the film and the fact that you forced him to watch it on the jet once.

You’re wearing a pretty black skirt, a grey top and a baby pink blazer that matches the pink socks you’re wearing and your eyeshadow that he just about makes out behind your glasses.

“With what?” He’s on his way back from the kitchen, your prized orca mug in one hand and his mug in the other.

This is your new routine; you and Spencer have coffee in the morning while you both work through your crosswords and then get started on filing away reports for the many serial killers you’ve either interviewed with Tara or put away with the team. It’s fun, and it’s always something to look forward to, especially on designated office days.

These specific mornings, you have time for a game you’ve fondly named, ‘Making Spencer Try International Desserts.’

Spencer can smell your perfume, you smell like you always do- orange blossom, coffee and lavender. It’s intoxicating, the way the scent just floats into him with every move you make.

“The season calls for it, so I got pavlova. It’s a New Zealand dessert and I got it with raspberries, strawberries and a passion fruit syrup situation to go on top.”

Spencer knows the informational side to everything in the world but he’s never tried some of it out, as you’d learnt on a night out for drinks, so you’d started the game as a way to help him get real world knowledge of fun things- the operative word being up for debate but he hadn’t objected yet.

He clears his desk, making space for the two little boxes you have in your hand. “They’re a little sweet for breakfast, but you only live once.” You open up the boxes and Spencer is shocked to see the mini pavlovas and the fruit sitting beside it in a clear container.

“Do you like these?” He asks, handing over your coffee to you and pulling his box towards him.

“I do, but they’re more of a picnic food to share in my opinion. Like you need to be having a bar-b-que or a garden party to have the full effect of these.” Spencer isn’t surprised by your enthusiasm for the dessert- your little stories about every one you’ve shared with him is enthusiastic for how and when to eat them.

You sneak into the kitchen and return with two spoons. “Okay, try to get a bit of everything on your spoon.”

Spencer does as you say, a bit of the berries, the passion fruit and the shell of the pavlova on his spoon as he takes his first bite. You sit in anticipation, watching him chew and swallow like it’s the most fascinating thing a person could do.

You try not to focus on the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows or the way his tongue pokes out to lick away some of the meringue at the corner of his mouth. Spencer catches the way your eyes widen at the action and suppresses a smile.

“What do you think?” You busy yourself with setting up your own perfect bite, willing your body not to give away any of your fluster at being caught looking at him.

“It was really nice, I like the different textures.” Spencer compliments, watching you take your own bite and letting himself smile when some of the passion fruit syrup and meringue stain your bottom lip.

Without really thinking, his thumb comes to your face, wiping away the stain easily. Your breath hitches and Spencer feels it, his smile widening even more. There’s a moment where you both just stare at each other, your breathing filling the silence- you’re fighting the urge to lean in and kiss Spencer and he’s fighting the urge to lick his thumb.

“You only pretend to be this coy man, don’t you Doctor Reid?” you ask finally, leaning back in the chair you’re in and crossing your legs. Spencer’s sure his brain short circuits for a moment, your thighs have been a source of his torture for months now, especially when you wear skirts and dresses.

“You know you only call me ‘Doctor Reid’ when you’re flustered?” he tries changing the subject, leaning forward a bit to get a little closer to you.

“You have a knack for topic evasion, Spencer.” he laughs, a soft, sweet sound and he shakes his head.

“I have a knack for you,” you can feel your heart pounding in your ears, more so when Spencer’s fingers wrap around the arm of your chair and pull you closer to his desk. “Where’s your crossword?”

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luveline · 6 months

Note

You are so talented I can’t even fathom it Jade! I seriously don’t know how you do it.

Idk if you’re taking requests rn for Spencer still bc I know you write him a lot but I love shy reader and post prison Spencer it’s so cute. I would love to see their relationship growing, maybe her realizing the feelings aren’t one sided by little things he says or does for her or how he reacts if she gets hurt.

No worries if not! Anything you write is a gift honestly. Happy New Year!

thank you sm angel, you're too kind<3 hny! ♡ fem!reader, 1.2k

cw violence and injury

You'll be fine, Spencer had said, patting you on the shoulder. Just trust me.

This is decidedly not fine.

You crouch low behind a raspberry chaise turned blood red in the poor lighting. When you entered the building moments ago, it was light. But now the lights are out and you can't tell your friend from foe; footsteps to your left could be Spencer where he'd followed you in, or they could be the UnSub.

I'm right behind you, he'd said with a borderline rogue smile. You think I'd let you get hurt?

Breath warms your ear. “Boo.”

The air gets stuck in your lungs as brutish arms grab you. Your gun points toward your own jaw and your pulse hammers so hard you freeze, a split second, the amygdala overwhelmed. Then the UnSub tries to grab your weapon, and everything you've been taught kicks in. You twist in his arms, throwing your head back out of the line of fire as multiple agents call to you to sound off, and kicking hard at the UnSub's legs, the subsequent soft spot between them.

You fall hard onto the floor, screaming as a weight lands on top of you.

Spencer shouts your name. “Where are you?!”

A hard palm hits you in the throat. Light bounces off of the UnSub's face as a teammate aims their torch in your direction, but you're wheezing and aching, your throat on fire and too overwhelmed to think. The hand that hurt you leaps for your gun. You hold onto it for dear life, even as he forces it once, twice into the soft of your face, leaving rings of flame behind your eye. You pull it hard from his hands and fling it across the floor out of reach, squirming under his weight, needing to be away, away—

You pull your knee up and kick wildly, a well timed blow hitting the UnSub in the face with a damp-sounding crunch.

“I don't have eyes on her!” Emily shouts.

“I do,” Spencer says. His torchlight floods your area as he shouts, “Stand down!”

You don't squeal, but it's not a very professional sound as you crawl backwards out of the way. The ring of fire behind your eyes feels ever so slightly above it now. The room is half gone. You wipe your eye and look down at your hand, dark staining your palm in a heavy smear.

“Oh,” you mumble queasily.

The power never comes back on, but you don't notice until after, when Spencer's dragged you outside to the front yard and lowered you to a soft patch of grass, an EMT beside him dressing your wound. “Did they get him?” you ask.

Spencer's brow wrinkles with his frown.

“Remember what we said?” The EMT asks.

“No?” You wince and hiss as he pulls the wings of a butterfly stitch closed over your eyebrow.

“You have a concussion. I'm trying to work out how bad it is.”

You honestly still feel like you're in the dark room. You reach out for Spencer's hand instinctively, needing comfort, a tether to the ground, and he clasps your fingers tightly. “You're okay,” he says steadily.

“You're smiling at me weird.” You glance over your shoulder at the cop cars and the flashing red-blue lights. “Did you get him?”

“Emily got him. Just after he got you.” Spencer looks like he might stand from his crouch, but he brings your hand to his chin instead, leaning on it showfully. “It's my fault, I'm sorry. I told you I'd have your back and I didn't.”

Your chest stirs with the memory of your panic. One moment you'd been underneath him, and aching, and now you're on the grass as the forensics bring in the floodlights, so bright it's like mini suns have come out on either side of the yard. You hang your head to hide from the light. The EMT tells you off.

“Does your throat still hurt?” Spencer asks you, pulling on your hand gently. “Answer me.”

“My head is swimming.”

Your memories fuzz over. When you look up again the EMT is gone. Spencer sits on the grass now beside you unhurried, your hand still clamped between both of his. His thumb rubs at your knuckles and the smooth stretch of skin beside them, apparently content to wait with you.

“She's okay?” Tara asks, seemingly having appeared from nowhere.

“Not enough medical. They're gonna look at Agent Walker and circle back. She might have to be admitted.”

Tara bends at the waist to look you in the eye. “You okay?”

“I'm fine. Are you okay?” you ask.

“I'm doing better than you. That's gonna be a terrific bruise.” She smiles at Spencer reassuringly. “Emily wants you. I can sit with her, she'll be in good hands.”

“She'd be in great hands,” Spencer says simply, “but I don't care. I'm staying here. Please tell Emily she can come here if she needs to talk to me. I'm not going anywhere until they've finished looking at Y/N.”

Tara grins. “Your funeral.”

You're slowly starting to feel like yourself again, or more aware of yourself at the very least. Spencer's touch is melding from comforting to heart-rending, his nearness a heat. He looks stupidly good-looking considering what you've just been through, the FBI vest tight on his chest, his sweet brown curls falling into his eyes as he plays with your fingers.

“I must look awful,” you realise suddenly, a stone's throw from tearful.

Spencer doesn't glance up at first. “You look beautiful, but the bruise is…” He looks at you through dark lashes. “It's a tragedy.”

“What?”

His small smile fades. “How are you feeling? Are things clear, or would you say that I'm out of focus? You're having moderate to severe concussive symptoms.” He shakes his head. “And the bruise is mottling already.”

“I'm sorry.”

Spencer laughs softly. After a pensive moment, he brings your hand to his mouth. Maybe he kisses it, maybe he doesn't, but the touch brings a sacredness to his promise, “I won't let that happen again. You trusted me to keep you safe.”

“I trusted you to tell me if I was ready, and I was. I remembered how to get out of it. I'm still here.” You fluster after you've spoken, feeling brash.

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face. “You are. You did amazing.” He removes one hand from yours. A featherlight touch coasts down your cheek, brief and encouraging nonetheless. “It's going to be a really bad bruise.”

“Oh, well,” you say tiredly.

Spencer's turn to go quiet. He holds your hand on his thigh. “I could kiss it better?” he offers in a murmur.

You laugh and steal your hand back, unable to take all his attention at once. “Funny, Spencer.”

He gives you a warm smile. You can't tell if he's kidding or not about the kiss, but his devotion to you while you're hurting is real. You're not sure where that leaves you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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lovebugism · 11 months

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Eddie x Gareths sisterrrrr????? Like Romeo and Juliet type stuff where Gareth is like my sister is NOT dating you

thanks so much for your request, anon!! i had so much fun writing it!! there isn't much conflict with gareth, but i hope you like it anyway! jealous!eddie x girly!reader (1.6k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Gareth picks you up from the mall at six o’clock sharp.

You say goodbye to your friends, all of them wearing the same tank top and pleated skirt duo you’re in, before getting into the passenger seat of his pick-up truck. You’re dressed too nicely to be sat in such a beaten-up thing. Too pretty for it, too.

“Wanna get something to eat?” the boy asks as he pulls out of the parking lot, talking over the Dio song blaring on the radio.

He’s wearing his usual flannel vest over a tattered Metallica tee. The former is riddled with various vintage pins fitting for a metalhead. Down to his skull necklace, ripped jeans, and dirty sneakers — the two of you couldn’t be more different.

You flip down the visor and use the mirror to put on a swipe of glittery lipgloss. You feel almost naked without it. “Slurpees?” you offer before smacking your mouth to spread the sparkly glaze.

“That’s so not dinner,” Gareth laughs as he shakes his sandy curls.

You arch a manicured brow in his direction. “Got a better idea?”

“Nope,” he concedes, popping the ‘p.’

He’s got too much of a soft spot for you to deny you of anything. Perks of being the youngest sibling, you suppose.

You feel butterflies fluttering like crazy in your stomach, their wings brushing the edges of your ribcage as he pulls into the gas station — and it’s not because of the $1 Slurpees. Your stepbrother’s best friend, Eddie Munson, usually deals drugs in the back parking lot on weekends. Like the absolute dreamboat he is.

It’s been days since you last saw him. Six of them, to be exact, but it’s not like you’re counting or anything.

While Gareth waits in line to pay for your drink and his food, you decide to quell your yearning. It’s much more like a hunger, though. Whatever innocent crush you used to have is far more salient now. You miss Eddie like a dinner you didn’t get to eat — noticeably empty, weakened without his smile to bring you back to life.

You round the corner to the back lot and find him flipping through a wad of cash. He leans against the brick wall with one dirty sneaker kicked up against it. Despite the middle of summer head, he hasn’t yet forgone his leather jacket and dark denim jeans duo. He looks killer, as usual — so you could only imagine how he’d look out of them.

When he hears the sound of footsteps scuffing against pavement, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze is halfway hidden beneath his fluffy bangs before he turns to face you wholly.

He grins at the sight of you, and you fill whole again.

“Hi, Teddy,” you greet with a smile, stained blue from your raspberry Slurpee.

He rises on both feet and tucks the money into the back pocket of his baggy jeans. His head tilts to his shoulder as he looks at you, too cute for his own good. “Whatcha doin’ out here, princess?”

Your stomach flutters at the nickname you’ve heard too many times to count.

“Came to see you,” you shrug innocently, curling your smile around the straw of your drink.

Eddie beams, brows raising in amusement and cheeks reddening at your answer. He hopes you’re too far away to see his cheeks glowing as pink as they are now. He’d just blame it on the summer heat, anyway.

“Really?” he lilts, voice light and airy with mirth.

You shrug as you swallow down the fruity slushy. “Gareth brought me for Slurpees.”

“How sweet.”

“Right?” you hum with a blue-tinted smirk, slowing when you finally reach the boy. His weed-tinged, woody musk envelopes you completely — he might as well be embracing you. “Best brother ever.”

Gareth isn’t really your brother, despite how often you call him that. You’re related by marriage, not by blood. You’ve known him your entire life, though, so you figure you might as well be.

Eddie knows this, so he smiles and takes a rather dramatic step back from you. “And that is exactly why I have to stay approximately three feet away from you at all times, princess.”

“Why’s that?” you squint at him.

When you take another step closer, he takes two more back.

“‘Cause he’s been threatening to beat my ass about dating you since we were thirteen.”

A smile quirks the right side of your lips. “Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” you lilt.

Eddie’s brows raise at the mischievous inflection in your words. This time when you step towards him, he stays in place. “You’d really do that to him? To the ‘best brother ever?’”

You take another daring step towards him. Your chin tilts up to look at him in your ever-shortening proximity. “I’ve done far worse things than think his best friend is hot, Teddy.”

“Yeah?” the boy coos, chocolate eyes dancing with amusement as his chin dips to his chest to peer down at you. He makes the mistake of looking lower — at your breasts in your pretty little tank top and the silver of your stomach showing beneath the hem. He wants so desperately to hold you, despite everything that tells him he shouldn’t. His best friend, namely.

“And what’s that, princess?” the boy croons to you.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you blink innocently up at him, then shrug. “Sorry.”

Eddie knows he shouldn’t be jealous, but he is.

You’re not his, but god, you were so good at making him feel like you were. You were around so often, always so sweet in your way — sometimes, it felt like you really did belong to him. The thought of his girl with someone else makes him feel like puking.

Jealousy radiates from him like steam, palpable enough for you to feel.

You grin.

“Don’t worry, Teddy,” you singsong, taking another goddamn step closer. Eddie knows he should be taking a thousand more backward, but your chest brushes his torso and he forgets how to walk. “I only have eyes for you.”

The boy swallows through a tightening throat. He nods for a moment, trying to work up the courage to use his voice. He’s scared that it’ll break, and he’ll lose all cool points with you. And he’s the rockstar, the older brother’s best friend — he can’t possibly have that.

“Good to know,” Eddie finally nods.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, though. Might have to find some other metalhead to give me attention.”

Your smile widens when his jaw clenches, honeyed glaze hardening at the thought of you finding someone else. Your heart flutters when you realize that he sees you as his. He’s already been yours for a long, long time.

Gareth calls your name from a distance, muffled and far away. It’s nearly inaudible, but it knocks Eddie from his stupor all the same. “You should go, princess.”

“My parents usually go to bed around nine. Gareth’s usually sucking in the ceiling by eleven,” you maunder suddenly, wide eyes sparkling with roguishness. “If you park your van a few houses down around midnight, no one will be the wiser…”

“You want me to sneak into your bedroom?” Eddie laughs softly to himself. He hasn’t done that since he was sixteen. He thought he was over chasing girls like that. Turns out, he wasn’t really. Not when it came to you, at least.

“Uh-huh,” you hum with a firm nod, lips wrapping around the red straw of your slushy right after.

“And what’s in it for me, huh?”

Truth be told, Eddie couldn’t give a shit. He already knows he’ll be at your house at 12 o’clock sharp, climbing up your trellis like some kind of offbeat Spiderman. He just wants to hear you tell him something, anything — a wish for him to go on for the next several hours while he’s stuck dealing in the heat, thinking about you.

You don’t answer him with words.

You rise on the tips of your toes, holding onto your Slurpee with one hand and using your free one to cup his cheek. You usher the boy softly towards you as you press your mouth to his. And it’s not the most heated kiss in the world or anything — just a languid, honeyed thing that makes your lips lock like they were made to do it.

Eddie’s idling hands rise to your waist. His ringed fingers squeeze the bare skin of your sides as he sighs against your mouth. You taste cold and sweet — like blue raspberry and ice and lipgloss — his savior in this heat. The tip of his nose smushes against the side of yours, desperate to melt with you entirely. He thinks it might be close to possible, having you so close in the sweltering summer evening.

He’s breathless when you pull away from him.

“More of that,” you answer through labored breaths. “And maybe a little extra, if you’re good.”

Eddie doesn’t bother denying his want for you anymore. Fuck it, he’ll just fight his best friend. He can take a punch if he has to, but he’s not sure Gareth could even throw one — especially not at the boy he’s known for practically half his life.

“Your bedroom’s the last window on the light, right?” Eddie asks through rosy, kiss-bitten lips.

“Yeah,” you grin, backing slowly away from him. “I’ll leave my light on.”

He nods until the words catch up with him. “Okay.”

“See you then, Teddy.”

When you turn the corner for the main parking lot, Eddie can finally breathe again.

The air is noticeably less sweet without you around.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #bug's summer fic fest!

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lxvebun · 3 months

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heart shaped kisses RE edition

synopsis: how Leon kisses you/ different types of kisses

content: Re2r!Leon/ Re4r!Leon x gender neutral reader. Some fluff but mostly hurt/comfort. Little bit of blood. Mention of plagas leon and the outbreak. Around 500 words. He's deeply in love with you<3 english is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes!♡

D*rk content blogs do not interact! (*a)

Other heart shaped kisses fics (multi) leon m.list

resident evil 2 leon

Oh my, His kisses are as sugary sweet, and warm as he is. they're always excited and eager and a frequent daily occurrence. From the moment you open your eyes until you close them again in his arms, rest assured he will have pressed kisses to every area of skin available and comfortable for you. It never fails to make your heart beat a little faster and for your mind to blank out for a split second especially when his kisses trail down from your lips to the corner of your mouth, down to your jawline before he's pressing a feathery kiss on your neck right below your ear. He "Ruins" the moment by blowing raspberries into your skin♡ :)

His kisses were always consistent in feeling, passion, and delicateness, right up until September 30, 1998. And can you blame him? With telephone lines being cut and no way to reach you through the mess of car wrecks, fires, and infected, he wasn't even sure if you were still breathing. The utter relief and desperation he channeled into his kiss when he finally got you in his arms again was overwhelming, the blood and dirt staining his skin didn't even matter, you both just needed to breathe in eachother, caress the pulse points on your necks and feel each others heartbeat thump against your chests, just to make sure this wasn't some sick, infected fever dream, just to make sure both of you were here and alive

Re4 leon under the cut

Resident evil 4 leon

Now slightly older and slightly more worn down his kisses are still as warm and sweet as before but a lot more serious, a lot deeper even for casual kisses and he holds you so close you can almost feel his heart beat against yours through your ribcages. It's passionate and breathtaking but under all that when his lips touch yours you can sense a feeling of uncertainty laced into it. Worries and thought's he's usually good at surpressing making it's way to the surface. Is this going to be the last kiss you'll ever share? when he gets called away on a mission he can't decline, will you wait for him, or is the distance too much to handle? do you understand that his love for you is so strong, and runs so deep and never-ending, even if he turns into an abomination with poison running through his veins and a new sense of bloodlust coming from a sick infected mind he would still recognize you, he would still protect you until he's permanently put into the ground?

this Leon's kisses last a lot longer, he doesn't want the moment to end and he doesn't want to feel you pull away along with your warmth and sense of comfort, and perhaps by pulling you so close to him, he can make you linger just a bit longer on his skin. just long enough for the initial worries to subside just for a moment as his thoughts of horror fade away into images of you and the way the sunlight kisses your skin or how the stars reflect in your eyes, it's an addiction, you're addictive…..he's not just going to leave it at just one kiss that's for sure.

Buns notes: I feel like I forgot to edit something in this so if something is incredibly out of place lmk💀🩷

Thank you for reading, angel!<3

#re2 leon x reader #re4 leon x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy x you #re4r!leon #re2!leon #re4!leon x reader #re2!leon x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon x reader

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levisrations · 2 months

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I’ve been in a baby fever mood lately so here’s more Dad! Levi content.

Feeding your baby solids for the first time. Pediatrician gave you the green light that at 6 months kid can start eating solids. You were so excited to make those little meals for your son. Searching online for recipes and buying ingredients. You’re both very adamant your baby gets the best of the best.

You’ve got hemp seeds, chia seeds, all the vegetables and fruits. Levi in particular wants to avoid pre- made baby food. It’s better to do it from scratch. He even got those pouches to put in home made purées for the baby. Shopping has become more expensive since but you both know it’s worth it.

First day of baby led weaning was nerve racking and exciting at the same time. Exciting because you get to cook these mini versions of healthy meals like these tiny muffins made with applesauce and little pizzas. Nerve racking because well, choking hazards. You’re both prepared with CPR certifications since learning you we’re expecting a baby. Can’t be too safe Levi says.

For breakfast, oat pancakes and greek yogurt with some raspberries. You set him in his little high chair with his bib as Levi sets the plate down and makes sure it suctions to the table. Your baby looks at his plate confused at first but immediately has a firm grip on a pancake and puts it in his mouth. You were both watching him like hawks to make sure he doesn’t just shove the whole thing in his mouth

“Is that good bud?” You’re so happy he seems to like the pancakes. “Try a berry” you ask as he puts half a soggy pancake down to try the other option. He immediately grabs a crushed raspberry and virtually inhales it. “Alright slow down little guy” Levi says with slight apprehension in his voice.

Your baby kicks his little feet in excitement. Mental note is made he loves raspberries, Levi might bring a whole carton just for his son.

First meal went smoothly. Baby ate all the berries and only a few scraps of soggy with baby drool pancakes left, overall a success. You wash the dishes as Levi gets the bib off and lifts his son out the chair unto his hip, cleaning the berry stains with a wipe. “Ey hold still you little brat” as your baby fights his father cleaning attempts.

Rest of the morning is spent teaching your baby to say mama or dada. He looked like he was about to start crawling anytime now with the way he scoots on his tummy. Levi seems nauseous at the idea, too many new things in one day for him.

#levi ackerman #levi #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot #levi aot #dadvi #levi fluff #levi ackerman fluff

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emmyrosee · 11 months

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“Can I have a taste of yours?”

Pausing his walking through the loud streets downtown, Iwaizumi chuckles as your fingers gently tug the hem of his shirt, the slush in his paper cup slowly turning into juice the longer it lingers in the summer heat. He looks down at the blue raspberry treat before back at you, a small ring of pink settled on your lips and staining your tongue.

He told you that you should just get blue raspberry. You told him to shut up.

“I vividly remember saying that we should get a large and share,” he says, tossing an arm over your shoulders and keeping the cup in his free hand. “But nooo, you wanted strawberry.”

“I’ll give you some of mine if you give me some of yours,” you negotiate with a smile, and he snorts softly before shaking his head.

“I don’t need some of yours, I have my favorite flavor here.”

“Our favorite,” you coo, and he scoffs playfully. Your fingers move from his tank top to link with the fingers that are draped over your shoulder, and he squeezes them happily.

“I feel like this is a damn trap,” He says, and you snicker. “Is this your silly ass way of asking me to switch?”

“When have I ever done that-“

“I will pull out the receipts, don’t even start.” You laugh at his threat, rather than try to deny it further, because there’s a very clear video on Hajime’s phone if you, using your puppy eyes to switch meals with Matsukawa of all people, during his last visit, and he obliged with a sigh and a shake of his head.

Truly got everyone wrapped around that little damn finger.

“Haji,” you giggle, and he quirks a brow and tips his head back down to you. “Your lips- they’re blue.”

He goes cross eyed for a moment, as if to try and see the tint of blue, before letting his tongue hang out of his mouth where he finally does see the dark blue stain on his tastebuds. You laugh at the sight as he pulls his tongue back in, now smiling down at you.

“Yeah? Well your tongue’s all red.”

You mimic his actions with your own tongue, smiling at the red, almost pink stain that litters your own tongue.

“We could make purple?” You offer, wiggling your eyebrows and making him roll his dark eyes.

“There’s kids here.”

“So?”

You clearly don’t care that you’re in public, and admittedly, he doesn’t either. And there’s something about the way youre cheekily looking up at him, a bite of your lip and a ‘come get me’ bat of your eyes that do, inevitably, have him leaning forwards to encase you in a kiss. Your arms toss around his neck and keep him as close as you can get him, and he grunts in approval for the simple little control. At first, he keeps the cold cup away from your hip, but he knows you love to be held, and he’d be a dirty liar if he said the way you’d shiver against him wouldn’t be exhilarating.

His chilled hand and cup comes down to settle against you, and the little gasp you pant forces him to growl hungrily and tug you closer.

You taste like strawberries, familiar and sweet with just a hint of sugar, your lips are cold but your mouth is warm, and it has his head spinning every which way because it’s you.

There isn’t a time when kissing you doesn’t do that to him.

With a whine as he slowly pulls away, you chase his lips with tiny little pecks and bites of his lip, trying desperately to keep the moment and affection going.

“Any luck?” You whisper, doey eyes looking up at him as you pant needily. Dark eyes flick to your lips, and even though there’s a small tinge of blue to your lips, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Nah,” he says softly. Then, he gives you a grin and rests his forehead against yours.

“Maybe we gotta try harder.”

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rowretro · 2 months

Note

Yandere!demon! heeseung x human! Reader( Please?)

TOOTHPASTE MOJITO

✧warnings: Yandere/toxic themes, kidnapping, marriage, blood, violence, explicit stuff mentioned, somewhat sexual(?), alcohol consumption

❁synopsis: Heeseung, a demon of many demons that roams earth, bored. His eyes then land on y/n. The girl who was disgusted by her raspberry mojito, and proceeded to order more mojitos. That's when Y/n saw hell....

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Heeseung smirked, his hands stained with blood, as he stared at the limp body before him. Another day another slay, demon edition. He literally slays them. Could you blame him? I mean what did the drunkard expect? trying to steal his wallet. He didn't stand a chance. Heeseung groaned as he went to his mansion, maids slipping off his coat and placing his shoes aside, as he walked in. The man's rich, anything he wants he gets, money, shoes, cars anything.

But he was missing one thing... a wife. Sure he'd sleep with some girls now and then when he's bored, but none of that satisfies his loving for love. True love, the kind of love one'd find in any movie, a shoulder to lie on, a person to turn to and feel comfortable. The man checked himself out in the mirror, a branded leather jacket worn over his black button down shirt, and trousers to match it. He slipped on a Rolex of the many he owned, followed by some jewellery.

The man walked into the party, fitting in as Jay threw an arm over him "Thought you'd never come, I assume you're here for the girls?" Jay asked as Heeseung snickerred "not this time- I got some time off of work so I decided to drop in... where's the bar?" He asked as Jay pointed it out. The man sat down at the stool, beside him, he could see the back of a girl, her dark hair somewhat covering her bare back, she was dressed is a shimmering, short black dress.

So far she seemed like a hottie to him. "Ack- disgusting... It tastes like grass-" she complained turning around to the bartender. Heeseung got a the full view of her face. Fuck was she beautiful. Her eye makeup really did suit her, purple glitter reflecting blue, lips so plump and kissable, her nose slightly big, but really added a stunning touch to her pretty face. "Can I get a mojito with Ice... make it really minty" she said as Heeseung frowned at her.

As the bartender walked off to prepare her drink, Heeseung turned to face her "Minty mojito?... that'd taste like toothpaste in alcohol- its already minty as is why ad more?" He questioned as she giggled "Toothpaste mojito.... not a mint lover huh?" she asked then she froze "Wow... Jay knows so many attractive men but damn." she added quite boldly. "He seems to know very pretty girls... none as pretty as you though, can't believe he gatekept you from me... Heeseung." He introduced himself. "Y/n.... " she said with a smile

If only she knew there and then that he's a goddamn demon. Literally. She thought she was just drunk, one second she was at the party, the next in a luxorious bedroom with a fine man. That morning she realized, the man did the impossible, he literally teleported her. She saw him really murder a man. She looked under the blanket. No sign of pain, hickeys or anything, she smelled nice, dressed in a man's jumper, presumably Heeseungs.

Oh how stupid she felt. Thinking it'd be easy to sneak out of a demon's home without being caught. Acting cool, walking out as the guards assumed she was just some slut he slept with. "Where do you think you're going sweetheart?" he asked, her back against the wall, as his body trapped her. "uh... home? I need to feed my bunny" she excused as he just laughed.

"Oh baby how drunk were you?... you ARE home... and I fed your bunny see? *he said with a smirk pointing at the little white rabbit that rested comfortably in a more spacious cage". It was too much to process. did she move in with him? did something happen? are they in a relationship? "yes, I guess, and Yes.." he answerred without missing a beat, red eyes staring into hers. "Did I say that out loud?..." she asked as he smirked.

"As you can see darling, I'm a demon, I know everything you think about. When I first laid my eyes on you... thought I'd just let you stay in my bed one night.... then you talked to me and fuck." He groaned, holding her heart at his chest "feel that?! Im in fucking love with you baby, I fucking wanted you... no I fucking needed you. so here you are." He said with a smirk "You're crazy. Im not into you Heeseung. You can't just kidnap me, and my bunny and say im you're in love with me. Im leaving." She claimed confidentally

"That's where you're wrong. You're mine, you're not going anywhere and you won't need to, everything you need is in this mansion. If I want something sweetie.. I get it. How about you think twice before your decision, sure you wouldn't want to anger a demon... I KNOW you're smarter than that." He simply said. He's right. Only an idiot would do such a thing, she really had no choice... She was in hell and there's no going back....

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(so sorry to all my readers, Ill try work on the series's too, yes my blog is wet now- its no longer a dry desert)

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deanbrainrotwritings · 5 months

Text

— TWO HEARTED

SUMMARY : playing pretend, doing risky things, improv, Valentine’s Day is more than “unattached drifter Christmas” now.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), tiny bit of trauma/PTSD thoughts, public sex, fingering, car sex, p in v, oral sex, cum play, breeding kink

WORD COUNT : 4.8k

A/N : i see stars song title. this fills the “I don’t believe in love at first sight, but goddamn look at you.” square for my @jacklesversebingo card. I really had fun with this one 😂 xxxxxx

Dean was on the hunt.

Not the typical monster hunt.

It was Valentine's Day, “unattached drifter Christmas,” as he jokingly told Sam a few times in the past. His mission tonight: pleasing the ladies who were out looking for a fun night. Or just one special lady. Whoever caught his eye, whoever was the most interesting to talk to, the most fun to be around. Someone as lonely as him, someone single, someone who would let him in for just one night.

Sure, maybe the suit he was wearing gave false pretences to the women he’d approach or the women who approached him. He knew the consequences of doing that, he could get robbed by the girl he’s with while he’s asleep, or maybe they’ll turn out to be Amazonian women who questionably get themselves pregnant without him knowing, and send their daughters to kill him… He’d rather forget that and the phobias that that made him start to have.

Still, he liked to have fun. And no one in the over-expensive bar knew how embarrassed he was to be so overdressed, but the scotch helped with making him feel a little more comfortable under the gaze of a few women who were instantly eyeing him, hoping he’d make a move.

The lights were white rather than yellow, somewhat bright, and the bartop where he’d ordered from was made of marble rather than wood. It was clean, there were no stains, no circular marks from the condensation of previous drinks left on the surface.

There were perks to these expensive places.

And there was already someone he had his eye on. Because she was funny without having to say a single word. It seemed she had other admirers as well. They sent her drinks and they’d smirk suggestively at her, and the bartender pointed to the man that ordered it for her. Even the bartender was amused. Every time she got a drink, she’d walk around, and hand the drink to the first woman that made her laugh. Each time it was a different woman and Dean only watched with a smirk on his face from the table in the far corner as the events unfolded.

The bright lights above where she sat atop a bar stool made her look celestial. Her hair shimmering brightly, hanging loosely over her shoulders, framing her face gorgeously. Her lucious, kissable lips were as red as raspberries, and the colour of her almond-shaped nails matched both the silk dress with a slit going up to her thigh, and her heels. Her skin looked perfect to kiss, perfect to touch, to bite, and mark. Her smooth, mouthwatering legs were crossed. He’s never paid attention to a woman’s shoes, but either her blood red heels made her look hotter, or she made those red heels look sexier.

Whichever was the case, Dean couldn’t stop picturing lifting her up, and having her legs wrapped around his waist while he fucked her. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like for her nails to scratch down his skin. Or what it would look like to have her red lips wrapped around his cock, leaving red kiss marks on his skin, her lipstick smeared across his lips.

Dean finally stood up and made his way to her. She was talking to—and laughing with—the bartender and one of the women she’d handed her drink to. His stomach knotted up as he got closer, his heart pounded in his chest, something he didn’t often feel when he was approaching someone he wanted.

She was way out of his league.

He had the intention of getting her attention, by extending a small, flirtatious greeting, but his mouth opened up, and nothing came out. His throat clamped up as he eyed her elegant hand playing with a napkin that had her lip stains, and he whimpered instead. She turned around to look at him with a polite smile on her face. Dean only smiled bashfully at her, choosing to order rather than making a bigger fool of himself until he regained the courage to finally talk to her.

“Uh, whiskey,” Dean smiled at the bartender when he came up to ask what he wanted. The mystery woman got along with the bartender because he was married, and the woman that she’d befriended so quickly was genuinely kind and funny. Dean was about to talk to her once more, but the bartender slid the glass of whiskey towards him, so he shut up once more.

He felt too observed. Too tense and anxious to formulate words.

But after about fifteen minutes, the mystery-girl's friend went to go pee and the bartender went off to start making drinks for a group of women that just got there. Dean finally relaxed and then he turned to her, momentarily admiring the side of her gorgeous face.

He didn’t know if it was just him or if there was actually some tension between them. She turned to look at him with a tiny smile, soft locks of her hair fell over her eyes, and Dean’s breath stopped.

Dean had barely collected himself when he smiled at her and said, “I don’t believe in love at first sight, but goddamn… look at you.” Dean was beyond mortified, an intense, fiery blush matching the redness of her lips erupted up his neck like a flare from the Sun.

She laughed softly as Dean stumbled for an excuse or an apology. “Does that usually work on women?” She asked, turning her body to face him, her eyes sparkling with joy and laughter. When she tilted her head, her hair moved with her, falling over shoulders breathtakingly. Dean was mesmerised, but her kindness made him feel at peace, if only a little.

Dean cleared his throat, willed himself to stop flailing by taking hold of his glass, his shoulders dropping humbly, “sorry, I’m a bit rusty.”

“Me too,” she admitted, biting her lip. White teeth sank into red and Dean gulped, trying to swallow down the anxiety that made his heart thunder.

“Seems like you don’t really have to try,” he reassured her, turning his body to face her as she’d done so. She looked away thoughtfully, and placed her arms under her breasts, lifting them up slightly. Dean forced himself to look away from them, and raised the glass to his lips, tracing the tiny chain resting over her collarbones with a tiny charm hanging from the centre.

“I’m too picky for my own good, I guess,” she sighed, playing with her lipstick-stained napkin. Dean inhaled, held his breath as he thought of what to say, then he exhaled a little laugh.

“Can I order you a drink anyway?” He asked lamley, licking his lips slowly, seductively. She dropped her gaze down to his tongue and she smiled.

“Sure,” she shrugged, sliding her arm out from beneath her breasts, much to Dean’s dismay. “Where were you sitting before?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder. Everything she did captivated Dean, but he forced his eyes away from her face, and followed her gaze.

“Table by the weird painting.” Dean pointed towards where he was sitting before joining her.

She hummed softly, then faced him again. “Wanna sit back there with me?”

Dean struggled to respond to such a simple question, but he nodded at her instead of opening his mouth, and making a bigger fool of himself. Thankfully, the bartender returned when mystery-woman locked eyes with him from a distance. It was then that Dean remembered he didn’t know her name.

The bartender smiled at her, then peered curiously at Dean. “Uh, I don’t know his name,” she laughs while looking into Dean’s daydreaming eyes, “but he’s gonna order me a drink.” It’s like the two of them have an inside joke, because the bartender snorts, and she’s grinning at him like she just caught the mouse she’d be toying with.

“What’ll it be, then?” The bartender asked Dean, smiling mildly. Dean thought for a while, he gazed at her: the cherry colour of her lips that hadn’t faded despite the deep colour on the napkin, the pinkish blush on her cheeks, the sexy scarlet of her nails, the soft rose dress slipping over her body, and the matching red heels.

“Raspberry martini.” The bartender nodded and turned away with his lips stretched into a gentle smile. “I’m Dean,” he told her to fill the silence. She moaned, low, and he knew she hadn’t meant it to be lewd, but that’s exactly how it felt with a jolt of arousal to his cock.

She gave him her name and the bartender returned with the raspberry martini, slowly sliding it to her with his eyes on Dean. Approval made the bartender step away with a smile, and Dean finally relaxed slightly, letting his gaze drift to her once more. She hummed softly at the drink, curled her fingers gracefully around the glass, and took a sip—enough to savour it properly.

After letting it settle in her taste buds, she pulled the steel pick holding three raspberries. The sweet alcohol dripped down her pretty fingers and Dean’s mouth went dry, but when she wrapped her lips around the first berry, Dean’s mouth watered. He shifted his leg a little, trying to get rid of the tight feeling around his crotch, and realised how hard he was as his sensitive cock pressed against the thin material of his slacks.

“Okay,” she said after chewing and returning the pin into the martini, “let’s go.” Dean blinked at her dumbly.

“Go?” He blushed, leaning forward a little.

“To the table,” she chuckled, hopping down from the stool. Dean cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck out of embarrassment for how eager he sounded. She didn’t seem to mind as she cupped her drink again, glancing down shamelessly at the small tent in his dress pants.

“Fuck,” Dean shuddered, drawing her gaze up to his. He observed her for a few seconds as he slid off the stool, staring down at her. Her nipples were pinched tight and poking through the thin cloth of her dress, her pupils dilated and pushed against the colour of her irises, she breathed unevenly, and was tightening her grip around the glass.

Dean carefully took her waist and pulled her close, her gasp only made him hornier. Dean leaned down to her ear, his stomach fluttering when she leaned into him. He slid his hand down lower to squeeze her ass, then slid his hand back up the silky dress to hold her waist, and rubbed the silky material between his rough fingers, pulling away just to watch her.

Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were a darker shade of rose.

“Careful,” Dean murmured, pulling away to guide her towards the table that he’d sat in earlier. She nodded, carefully sipped on her drink, and he smiled when he gazed down at her.

When they sat, she took the seat with the wall behind her, and he moved his chair to sit closer to her. He watched her closely, and she did the same to him, pushing the berries around inside the martini glass.

“Hard limits?” He asked, gently bringing his fingertips to her knee—the one exposed by the long slit. He felt her move her leg closer to his hand, so he rested it flat on her soft, warm skin, slowly sliding up the inside.

“Haven’t found any, yet,” she whispered, taking his wrist in her hand. Dean couldn’t help flinching, but he relaxed when she began to guide it up faster, higher between her legs. “At least none that apply to you,” she purred, allowing him to cup her pussy.

Dean could feel how warm and wet she was beneath the lace of her underwear and he moaned. She took the martini and took another sip, trying to act normal while he placed his hand inside her underwear, two fingers separating her drenched folds. He flicked her clit with his middle finger and played with the wetness that resided on her pussy.

“Did you come here for a good time with the ladies or to go back home with a guy?” Dean asked gruffly, watching her try not to squirm with a smirk on his face. He wished he could touch himself, or get her to touch him, but for now, he pushed his finger into her warm, fluttering walls.

“Mostly the first thing,” she murmured, spreading her legs for his hand to fit, “but then I saw you and I changed my mind.” Dean laughed, pressing his palm against her clit, slowly starting to pump his finger in and out of her.

“So, love at first sight it is,” he joked, moving his hand faster. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into her shoulder to hide her face from everyone else. She bit her lip and moaned softly, her cunt soaking his hand.

“Love? Too early to tell,” she teased. She offered him her last raspberry and he let her feed it to him. His mouth watered chewing on the partially sour fruit and he stared at her as she drank the rest of the martini, licking away some of the remaining salt around the rim.

“All I can think about is how good you’re going to taste,” Dean purred seductively, grinding his palm against her swollen clit. She grinned mischievously. “Wanna see my car?” He asked, pulling his finger from her warmth to massage around her clit.

As soon as they exited the bar, Dean wrapped his arms around her from behind, chuckling against the skin of her neck. He kissed her softly, inhaling the expensive perfume on her skin, as he manoeuvred her across the parking lot to get to his car.

She giggled and squirmed, moaning softly when he sucked at her pulse, and dragged his tongue upwards to her earlobe. His hands groped her body, grabbed her hips, squeezed her ample breasts, his fingers teasingly rubbing her nipples over the dress until they were pinched tight underneath.

“Can you feel how hard I am for you?” Dean murmured, his cock twitching when she cursed softly under her breath.

She turned around in his arms, teasingly bringing him down while walking backwards as carefully as she could. Dean held his breath, baited by her warm breath against his lips, only for her to move away, and lick his cheekbone.

Dean laughed loudly, and his hands slipped down to squeeze her ass, grinding his hard cock against her stomach. “How far is your car?” She whined, sneaking her hand down between their bodies to stroke his cock over his pants. Dean gasped, his hips thrusting into her hand, and grunted softly when she squeezed.

“Here,” he panted, pushing her up against cold, black metal. She turned back to admire the shiny car, the sleek, elegant lines of it while he trailed his mouth across her clavicle. He cupped her warm breasts in his bigger hands, ghosting his lips and scruffy chin along her cleavage until she shivered, and turned back to him.

She took his jaw in her hands, and moved his face up to hers. Finally, red lips pressed against his and made him breathless. He stood at his normal height, forcing her to tilt her head back, his fingers digging into her sides. He licked into her mouth, tasting sweet, salty berries and alcohol with a moan. She met his warm tongue in a dirty frenzy of passion and her lipstick smeared across his pillowy lips.

She lifted her leg up his thigh, and even over layers, it sent an erotic tingle along his leg that moved up to his swollen cock. His dick moved beneath his boxers for attention. He instantly took her soft thigh, sliding his hand up her hot skin and inside the slit, lifting her up until she stood on her toes to grind his aching cock against her core.

“Please, fuck me, Dean,” she whispered against his lips. With every word, her lips brushed against his, sending a spark of arousal across his entire body, making his muscles twitch and tingle. To his surprise, she crumpled the dress up to her waist, revealing red-lace panties. But she kept pulling it up, and his hands enchantedly followed the exposed warm skin until she got the dress off herself completely, standing bare before him in the parking lot.

“God, you are so hot, baby,” he murmured, taking the dress from her. He unlocked the door clumsily, lowering his mouth to her exposed breasts, relishing in her moans when he sucked on her nipples. She began grinding against his thigh and he moaned in approval. One of her hands held the back of his neck, keeping his mouth close to her chest, and the other rubbed his throbbing cock. He pulled away from one nipple to wrap his warm mouth around the other one, leaving it as wet and hard as the other.

Dean pulled her away from the door and opened it for her. She sighed shakily, shuddering in the cool air, and slipped inside wordlessly, facing him as he shoved his suit jacket off his shoulders. He ducked his head inside, and threw the keys, his jacket, and her dress into the front seat.

“I like your car, it’s somehow… almost as hot as you are,” she breathed, watching him climb inside after her, loosening his red tie, and shut the door behind him. She scooted up, but he gripped her thighs with a deep chuckle that made her squeeze her legs together.

“Thanks,” Dean murmured, “it looks better in here with you naked.” She smiled bashfully and laid back against the door silently, gazing at Dean who kissed her ankles, his warm lips moving up her calves. Her legs fell open as he moved higher, his eyes glued to her shimmering folds behind the red lace. Dean lunged forward, and pressed a kiss to her clit over her underwear, and teasingly traced the bottom of her underwear, tugging the ruined lace away from her soppy folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Dean groaned, his fingers grazing her warm slick, “I can’t wait to sink my cock into your pretty little pussy.” She moaned softly, cupping her breasts as she ground against his tantalising mouth. He pulled her underwear to the side and swirled his tongue around her entrance, moaning at the taste of her. His mouth watered instantly and he flattened his tongue up between her pussy lips to tease her clit.

“Holy fuck, Dean,” she gasped. She buried her fingers into his hair and wiggled her hips impatiently. Dean laughed against her and she whined when he pulled away.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he ordered, then plunged a finger into her dripping hole. She gasped, her cheeks red, watching him undo his belt with his other hand. She folded, and did as he asked, moving forward to bring her swollen clit against his palm, holding onto the seat to lift herself up and down on his finger. He curled it against her walls just right, pulled his belt out of the loops, and burrowed a second finger into the warm wetness between her legs.

Dean took her hip and brought her closer so he’s the one leaning against the door of his car. He worked her open with two thick fingers and she placed her hands on his chest, clutching his vest, spreading her legs wider for him. She moaned his name, and dropped her face into his neck, trembling as she lifted her hips up and down on his hand.

“Good girl, keep going,” Dean praised, feeling more of her arousal against his fingers, dripping down his hand. He felt her tighten around his fingers and she got breathier, sucking a mark in his neck as she rolled her hip against his palm. Dean pulled his fingers out of her and she pulled away to narrow her eyes at him.

“Why are you still dressed?” She panted, unbuttoning his vest to distract herself from the need to come. Dean stared at her lips hungrily, and forced his eyes up to hers to suck her juices from his fingers. “You got what you wanted, a taste of me,” she teased, then bit her lip, starting on the buttons of his white dress shirt as he slipped his fingers out of his mouth. “What do I get?”

“Did you know that every time your lips move, I picture them wrapped around my cock?” Dean trailed his fingers up her sides, and she halted, blinking at him with amusement. She sank her teeth in her plump lip, and giggled, finishing with the last button on his shirt.

“Let’s see what you’ve got then, pretty boy,” she smirked flirtatiously, tugging his shirts out from under his pants. She dropped a quick kiss on his forehead, which made Dean pout, but she shoved the white t-shirt up his chest, and began to kiss his chest.

She swirled her tongue around his nipples and Dean groaned, watching her swing her hair to the side as she kissed hard at his freckled skin. Her soft tongue lapped at his flesh, sucking marks on his twitching muscles, scraping her teeth down lower and lower.

Her red nails followed, sparking arousal as they brushed along his nipples, hooking onto his pants, popping the button out of the slit, zipping them down slowly. Dean bit his lip and lifted his hips up, allowing her to tug his slacks and boxers down his hips and thighs. Her hair tickled his skin and he shivered. She marked his hip bones with hickies, his pelvis, the v-mark leading to his cock. She stopped kissing him until his cock spring free, slapping against his stomach—red, leaking, and throbbing for release.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” she whispered.

She wrapped her red lips around the head of his cock and sucked without warning. Dean moaned loudly and choked on a gasp, clutching the leather seat as she gently stroked the rest of his cock. Her tongue moved along his glans and Dean whined, a shudder of pleasure shaking his body. She took him deeper and sucked harder, and then she nearly swallowed his cock whole. Dean choked on a loud, lustful moan, his hips bucking upwards into her hot and wet mouth.

Her red lips slid up and down his cock, leaving him slick with warm saliva, and Dean thought he might just cum at the sight of her. She moaned around him, the sound vibrated through him, blood rushed all over his body, making him hot and desperate.

He tangled his fingers in her hair and she reached in between his legs to fondle his balls. Dean nearly jammed his cock into her mouth and she whined, her jaw coming loose. Dean shoved her head all the way down anyway, and her nose pressed against the patch of thick, coarse hair.

Dean’s balls drew in and his body became tense, he expected his climax to ripple through his body, but she slurped up his cock, spit and precum connecting the head of his dick to her pretty lips. “God, fuck!” Dean grunted, his orgasm slowly and painfully evaporating.

“Dean,” she murmured, tugging his pants lower with his help. She straddled his legs, and leaned down to press tender kisses to his neck, biting at the stubble there, before tugging his ears with her teeth.

“Do you like these?” He murmured, pulling her panties to the side to slide his swollen cock through her slick cunt. She released a breathy moan, and began to roll her hips against his throbbing dick, coating him with her slick while his precum rubbed through her a slit.

“Yes,” she pouted, then smirked when he groaned in irritation, his eyes rolling back. She moved away from him, and quickly discarded her panties, before inching closer to him. “You collect underwear?” She mocked, dangling her ruined, red lace intimates in front of him.

Dean snatched them from her with a sarcastic laugh, then he turned serious. “No, but I can collect yours if we do this often,” he grinned mischievously, shoving her underwear into the pocket of his vest.

She bit her lip and hovered over his cock, hooking her thumbs under the shirt to keep it up on his chest. She looked at Dean expectantly and he snorted. She didn't have to say a word. Dean lifted his hips, and in a sharp thrust, he entered her delightfully wet and warm walls.

She let out a surprised cry of pleasure and ground down against him. He could feel her walls clench and unclench around him, then he lowered his hips, keeping her hovered so only the tip remained inside her, teasing his frenulum. Dean’s fingers dug into her hips and he slammed her over his throbbing erection, enjoying the sensation of her slick insides as he filled her up once more.

Wet and obscene sounds filled the small space every time he pounded his hips up into her and she ground down on him to create friction on her clit. Dean had a thousand dirty things to say to drive her crazy, but as the car shook with their efforts, the words got jumbled up in his brain, spilling out like water in a glass during an earthquake.

All he could do was moan with her, desperate, clinging to her so tightly all he could feel was her all around him. She lowered one leg to the floor of the car, opening herself more to him so that Dean’s cock slipped inside her fully, aching to touch every part deep inside her. He felt whole, warm, tingly, enraptured.

“Please,” she panted, “come inside me, Dean. Fill me up.” With a long, deep groan of her name, Dean’s hot cum spilled inside her, and her vagina squeezed him tight, her own sticky release coating his throbbing cock. She gasped and dropped her forehead to his cheek bone, chanting his name quietly, riding each other through their orgasms, meeting his every thrust.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a warm embrace as the thrust of his hips came to a slow stop, with both of them heaving. She finally relaxed in his arms, but lifted her face to breath exotically against his lips, a smug smile on her red lips.

“How was that, sweetheart?” Dean asked fondly, moving away stray strands of her hair before bringing her down for a kiss. She moaned softly against the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, before lifting herself up so he slid out of her. Dean could faintly feel their release dripping over his cock and thighs, but the gentle scrape of her cherry-red nails down his chest took his mind off it.

“So goddamn good, baby,” she praised him softly when she pulled away. She gave him a short kiss and sat on his tummy, a mixture of their fluids spilled from inside her, and pooled over his navel.

Dean reached down to play with the puddle of their release, then he thrusted his finger up into her—slick and all. Dean smirked when she groaned, but lowered his gaze to stare at her tits as she attempted to catch her breath.

She moved away from him, ignoring his pout, and his shameless, salacious stare. She leaned over the front seat to pick her dress up from the front seat, giving Dean a full view of her glistening vulva and the mixture of their spendings dripping out of her.

“What if I get you pregnant?” Dean bit his lip, struggling to pull his boxers over his wet cock—trousers bunched with underwear. She sat with her dress in her hands, her eyes glazing as she daydreamed. Dean remained quiet with her, focusing on getting his clothes back on in the tight space of his car. He pulled his pants up his legs, lifting his hips to zip them back up. “Funny story to tell the kids,” he grinned, but beneath his amusement, there was a little bit of hope and tenderness. “Here,” Dean pulled her underwear from the small pocket of his vest and handed them over to her.

“Thanks,” she smiled, watching him button his shirts up. She stood as best as she could without hitting her head on the roof of the car, turning around, and shaking her ass a little. Dean stared at her jiggling ass with a smile. His green eyes flickered up to hers when she turned to face him with a grin after pulling her soiled panties up legs, keeping their cum inside her.

“This would be a funny story,” she agreed with a laugh, making Dean smile. She found her place back in his arms, resting her head on his chest. Dean rubbed her back soothingly and closed his eyes, humming softly when she began tracing random shapes on his chest. “I love you, so much,” she mumbled, nuzzling into his chest, inhaling the scent of him.

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#dean’s 45th birthday celebration #jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction

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itstheghostofmypast · 7 months

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7/Eleven

Hongjoong x f.Reader

Genre: Fluff (pure birthday fluff)

Warnings: None

A/N: I should've been reading research papers but Hongjoong's birthdate had me tripping. It's short but it's sweet❤️ Please remember to show some 🫶 if you like it.

"7/Eleven?"

"Mhmm." smiling at him, she tossed him a bun, "It reminds me of you." Propping down next to the man, in her swivel chair, one that he had got especially for her, for whenever she'd want to drop by his studio.

Baffled at the sudden confession he stared at her then the bun, "I...is it because of my birthdate and the name?" he asked, before gently ripping the bun in half, letting out a soft gasp when the raspberry filling inside began to ooze out, dripping onto the leg of his pants.

Clicking her tongue she reached for a tissue nearby and began to wipe off the jam from his leg, mumbling a "told you they were filled," before tossing the tissue aside and turning to poke the red stain on the blue denim.

"I said you remind me of 7/Eleven because it's my favourite store! It has everything, from food to snacks, to drinks, to tea to little trinkets!"

"Somehow..." Taking half of the bun he pressed it to her lips, her mouth instinctively parting, welcoming the tangy taste surrounding the soft texture of the bun, watching her chew he continued, "That explanation confused me more" he whispered, swiping the excess jam off the corner of her lip with his thumb, only to bring it back to his lips and taste it, humming in delight.

With a frustrated groan, she grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, the armrests of their chairs bumping into each other, "Man, you are so slow" whining she interlaced their fingers, with her free hand she reached for the remaining bun, and copied his movements, pressing the bun against his smirking lips.

Arrogant bastard.

With a little huff, she pressed the bun, making sure to make a mess with the jam, spreading it all over his lips before shoving the whole bun in his mouth. He jerked at the sudden roughness, letting out a low whine, since his dominant hand was occupied - held captive by her- he reached to wipe off the filling with his free hand, swiping at it with his index finger and then pressing it against her frown, "Okay, elaborate so my dumb brain can understand." With that he slipped the finger past her lips, watching her with great intent, letting her clean his finger with her pretty little mouth, pulling back with a loud pop, once she was satisfied.

"Didn't anyone tell you to not play with your food?" he mused, only for her to roll her eyes and glance down at their laced fingers.

"What I meant was, that it's a comfort store, it's bright, it's warm when you feel cold and cool when you feel hot. It has food that makes your heart swell with joy, and the store itself is like your companion. I've had so many lunches alone, and that store's always been my friend, one that never let me down" She paused to glance up at him, admiring how his cocky smirk had turned into a gentle smile, eyes boring a certain kind of softness that was only reserved for her, "Exam days or days where I just wanted to give up, I'd end up there, I don't know, I guess I was just drawn to it all, the low buzz of the fridges, the way the air carried a certain warm buttery scent to it, even if I didn't eat anything there or didn't need anything, I'd just be there, like I am here..." whispering she brought his hand closer, pressing a gentle kiss the back of his hand, "So, my birthday boy, you are my 7/Eleven, my companion, one who bought me a special chair for his studio, one who lets me eat here, lets me drop crumbs all over his desk, one who lets me sleep on the couch at odd hours of the night because I don't want to go home to an empty apartment."

Letting out a content sigh he smiled at her, the tips of his ears turning pink at her little confession, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he turned around staring at the screen, letting out a, "Let's finish this quickly so I can treat my girl to a proper birthday dinner."

"Shouldn't I be giving you a treat, birthday boy?" she asked, now cleaning up the crumbs off his desk, earning a small nope from him.

A comfortable silence settled between the two as she leaned back in her chair, watching him type away, admiring the way the light reflected off his well-sculpted face, his giant glasses adding a touch of cuteness. Only to notice the boyish little smile that had her heart doing flips, one that he had given her when he had first confessed to her.

What she didn't know was that her little surprise visit was probably the best gift he had received today, one that he would cherish for years to come. It's not like this was the first time she had told him how much he mattered to her, but perhaps he was on the softer side today, perhaps his birthday made him feel more special, and perhaps she made him feel special.

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444rockstargf · 3 months

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I want Clyde walking up behind you at a crowded show and fingerbanging you while no one notices. I want that spur of the moment, he's not sure where you're putting his hand but when you look back at him and rest your head on his shoulder, he goes for it.

you are a damn genius.

"i was at coachella, leaning on your shoulder." | clyde

coachella: woodstock in my mind. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999@josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl @romanroyapoligist@auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @vanlisbon @lankysimp @livingdead-reilly@imoonkiss @lankysimp @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt @mommymilkers0526

female!reader x clyde

word count: 1.4k

contents: fluffy stuff, clyde being sweet (as usual), fingering, public sex, clyde being a whore

you stood amidst a heavy crowd, the booming of the bass nearly being strong enough to send you to the ground. the night sky was illuminated by the bright, flashy lights, almost making it look like day.

you looked through the crowd, looking for that one familiar face that had left you for the washroom a few minutes ago. but it was impossible to see anything in this mob. you attempted jumping to catch a glimpse of the performers on stage, but you were suddenly swooped off of your feet by a pair of strong hands, effortlessly placed on his broad shoulders as you yelped.

you looked down, seeing his grinning face as he laughed at your predictable reaction. “sorry, doll. did i scare ya?” you rolled your eyes, your skirt lifting a little as you wrapped your legs around his neck to strangle him. “you could’ve given me a heart attack, dumbass. i thought i was getting kidnapped.” he snorted out a laugh, lifting you up again and setting you back on the ground.

he holds out a cherry-red slurpee to you, taking a loud sip from his blue-raspberry one. “i found a slurpee stand on my way to the bathroom and got you one. you’re welcome.” you accepted it, scrunching your nose a little. “you didn’t take this into the bathroom with you, right?” he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “what do you take me for, a slob?” you both laughed at the obvious question.

you took a sip of your drink, the crushed ice hitting your teeth and making you wince. clyde’s attention had shifted to the stage, the crowd beginning to get rowdier as the music crescendoed. people bumped and thrashed into you, making you lose your balance. you slipped backwards into clyde’s chest, him luckily able to catch you by your waist.

“shit!” looking down at your skirt, you saw a very conspicuous and unappealing red stain, your slurpee being the culprit of this crime.

“jesus. you okay?” he asked. you pouted, lifting up the skirt’s fabric slightly to examine the mark. you showed it to him, frowning. “my skirt’s ruined. i wore it just for you but now it looks like my period came to say hello.” he laughed at your comment, gettiing down onto his knees and pulling a wet wipe out of his flannel pocket like it was nothing. he was weird like that, always having exactly what you needed in that dusty little pocket of his.

“nothing a little care can’t fix.” he gently dabbed at the stain, transferring the red juice to the wipe in a matter of seconds. he looked up at you, his almost doe, blue eyes staring up at you. from this angle, he looked like prince charming. cleaning up your messes just like a good boyfriend should. you patted him on the head, making his cheeks flush a little. “good boy.”

he stood up, bowing playfully. “anything for you, princess.” goddamnit. why did he always have to be so charming? as messy as life got with him sometimes, he was the perfect mix between witty and seductive, the alluring combination causing heat to pool in your core every time. even now.

you swallowed hard as you turned away from him a little, looking down at your skirt. he had been so close to your exposed thighs just now, his warm breath on them feeling like heaven. and you saw exactly when he snuck a quick glimpse up your skirt, his blue irises being telltales for when his pupils swallowed them whole. but at least he tried to be sneaky about it, even though he failed miserably.

you called out to him, trying to catch his attention over the roaring music. “hey clyde, i think you missed a spot!” he brought himself down to your level, bringing his ear to your lips so he could hear you better. “what?” you rolled your eyes, not feeling like dealing with his poor hearing at the moment. you stood infront of him, pressing your body into his and bringing his hand down to your thighs, his fingers just teasing the rim of your shirt.

your breath got a little heavy as you slowly brought his hand underneath your skirt, his fingers now touching the lacy fabric of your panties. clyde seemed confused for a moment, but he’d learned how to read your little gestures and quickly got the message. he gently grazed his fingers over your clothed clit, which throbbed in response to his touch.

he snickered a little, sneaking his fingers underneath the fabric and slipping your panties to the side just enough to let a few drops of wetness trickle down your thighs. you whimpered quietly, but he didn’t stop. he used his thumb to massage slow circles onto your hard pearl, his index and middle finger teasing your dripping wet lips.

you moaned quietly, gripped onto his arm to hide your embarrassed face. but to your luck, everyone around you was completely oblivious to what was going on. then he slowly pushed his fingers into your tight hole, making your knees go weak. you nearly collapsed, but he caught you, whispering into your ear and making every hair on your body stand up. “easy there, princess. i’m just gonna have a little fun with my favourite girl…”

he carefully thrusted his fingers in and out of you, using his other hand to cover you mouth as sweet little noises slipped from it. he began to pick up his speed, starting to fingerfuck you rapidly as your warm juices dripped down his fingers.

though the music was loud, you could hear how wet you were. and you knew he could too. “oh my god… are you always this wet, or are you just a slut for risky shit like this?” he laughed, but you were falling apart inside. his fingers tore through your bruised walls, his palm slapping against your base each time he pushed himself back into you.

your knees were practically jelly by now. you were holding onto him for dear life, your head leaning back onto his shoulder as his thumb massaged hypnotic patterns onto your pussy. he curled his fingers a little as he fucked you, making you scream out uncontrollably. you had drawn the attention of a few, but no suspicion.

god, he was good. his methods were so effortless, yet mastered. like he had been practicing them for a moment like this but didn’t care enough to actually find out if he was doing the right thing. he just went for it, and that’s exactly how he got your legs shaking, back arching as his hands muffled all the sinful noises that came out of you.

“m’gonna c-cum, clyde..!” he didn’t understand a single word you said, but he got the message and fingered you with all his strength, veins popping out of his hand and arm from his aggression. but he did all this with a straight face, just watching the show like every other citizen.

you were a screaming, crying mess. your pussy throbbed and convulsed around his, desperately chasing the orgasm that he was delivering you. cum poured from your core all the way to the ground, leaving a white puddle underneath you. your heart raced as your body heated up in that moment of pure bliss, you and him being the only people in the world right now.

you felt a waterfall flowing out of you, and that did it. you clung to him, you body sinking to the ground as you came and squirted all over his fingers. he released you from his death grip, leaving you to regain your balance as you came down from your orgasm.

it had been more powerful than you’d expected, probably thanks to the thrill of doing it in a setting like this. you slipped your sodden panties back into place, stepping away from the puddle underneath you before looking up at him. he was licking his fingers like he just finished the best meal of his life, which was you.

he caught your gaze, his expression turning sour. “goddamnit. my rings are gonna rust from that.” you snorted out a laugh. “should’ve taken them off beforehand.” you picked up your slurpee from the ground, taking a long sip as he gave you a playful slap on the chest. “like i knew that you’d get horny in the middle of a show.” you both laughed at that, clyde bringing his lips to yours and giving you a deep kiss. you were able to taste to blue raspberry off of his lips, and you were certain that he could taste the cherry off of yours.

author's note: ii've got another clyde request coming out tonight. stay tuned yall!

#444rockstargf #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #smut #clyde rory culkin #clyde electrick children #rory culkin clyde #electrick children clyde #lana del rey #lust for life #coachella woodstock in my mind

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wittlesissyb4by · 7 days

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It was such a pathetic sight. Ryan was squishing in his chair, crinkling in his ridiculous diaper, and blowing raspberries between bites of mushy carrots.

I can’t believe how far he’s come, or, rather, how far he’s fallen. Ryan used to be a pompous, chauvinistic asshole who got a little too big for his own britches. If he wasn’t trying to impress his holier than thou attitude upon anyone he could in public, he was doing it at home with me. I was beneath him. I was nothing but a 50’s housewife expected to cook, clean, and pick-up after him. Oh, and to be there to please his tiny dick for almost a full 30-seconds…

I was tired of it, sick of being nothing but a vending machine for him to call on, only to be left thankless and underappreciated. Things had to change.

So, I started off small, slipping various hormones and chemicals into the food I was ordered to cook for him every night. When he was sleeping, I’d put on a little hypnosis for him to listen to after I popped my earmuffs in.

The effects were gradual at first. He started complaining about his nipples hurting. I’d find wet stains in his underwear, and he’d whimper and whine about the tiniest things (okay, maybe that wasn’t much different than before…). Soon I noticed him constantly needing to have something in his mouth. It started out with just his fingernails, then a toothpick, a plastic cap, and–when I started taking those away and he’d (literally) cry–he would resort to sucking his thumb.

He was actually giggling with delight when I brought home a pacifier. That was when things really started kicking in. He’d come home from work with wet underpants, and would wake up in soaking sheets. So, obviously, it was time for diapers. He protested at first, but soon I’d come into the living room to find him humping and crinkling on the floor, drooling all over his thumb. Where he used to bark at me to bring him a beer when he got home, he was now begging and pleading for a bottle of ‘milkies’ with his wittle baby voice.

He learned to address me as Mommy, to say ‘pweez’ and thank you for every little thing. He even agreed to let me bring home other guys. Real men for me to play with. There was a time where he’d try to act all macho in front of other men, now he’d get on his knees and suck their dick if I told him it was his ‘ba ba’ for the day.

He has no problem dressing like a girl, in fact, he kind of throws a fit if all his pink tutu’s and rompers are dirty and he has to wear a blue onesie. I used to let him hump his huggies as much as his little heart desired, I’d rather him pump his pitiful load into pampers instead of my pussy while I pretend to enjoy it–but then I took that away as well. He still whines and cries sometimes for me to let him out of his chastity cage for ‘cum cums’, but those are a thing of the past now.

It’s funny, he used to think he was so smart, he’d belittle everyone around him for not knowing the most random of facts. Now? He’s practically a braindead, bimbo baby. I mean, look at him. He’s blowing raspberries with muck in his mouth and drooling down his bib, smiling the whole time. He doesn’t seem to mind that he’s sitting in a heavily soiled diaper, in fact, he’s mushing around in it like a happy piggie playing in the mud.

I wonder if he understands that all of his money is now in my account. Sure, I’ll drop the hypnosis and send him out to work, only to make him snap back into it as soon as he’s home so I can tape him back in a diaper. Ryan–or Rylie–as she’s now called, is not even close to a man anymore. Her little dick is caged and diapered, right where it belongs. Now excuse me while I shovel more slop into her babbling mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a custom caption I did for one of my lovely supporters on SubStar! If you would like one of your very own, consider subscribing to the Silver tier or higher!

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l0veu-somuch · 7 months

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nct dream as boy/girl dads ... 👼🏻⭐️

mark who still maintains his insane working hours and practicing late into the night even when he has his two favorite girls waiting back home (and it makes him feel terrible). he comes home when it's way past your daughter's bedtime and you're always still waiting for him even when it's three am in the morning. when the day breaks his daughter thinks she's being very quiet but she's quite clumsy as she steps all over his legs while she climbs onto the bed to wake him up. he blows raspberries onto the baby's cheeks as he trudges into the kitchen, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder as a thank you for the pancakes.

renjun who simply cannot contain his excitement when his daughter's painting is selected for an award in the school art competition. he brags about her drawings all the time to his parents, his friends, the elderly woman who bags his groceries. he says she got it from him. it's quite right. he cheers the loudest when her name is called, even blinks some pesky tears away (something you make sure to make fun of when you're in the car later on) when his sweet girl comes up on stage to accept her certificate and take a picture, in the dress she picked out with his help because it's a very special day.

if you ever asked jeno what he kept in his bag then you would (or would not) be surprised at the endless amount of candy and sugary treats he pulls out of it that he keeps for both himself and your daughter. it's clear where she got her sweet tooth from. usagi transforms into sailor moon on the television screen, your daughter astrode on his lap, each of them holding a pink spoon and taking turns scooping bites of cookies 'n cream and macademia into their mouths. you collapse onto the sofa with an exaggerated sigh once you finish dishes duty, your head falling into the unoccupied crook of jeno's neck. your daughter swings a spoonful of ice cream towards your mouth, calling it a reward for working hard "because daddy always does it" and you accept with a giggle.

donghyuck drums his fingers on the steering wheel to the soundtrack of moana, occasionally peeking to the back to check on his sleeping girl tucked into the car seat. he keeps a hand nestled into her soft locks as he steers her towards where you said you'd be waiting at the department store, making a very important decision on whether you should get the white or sage green kitten heels for your cousin's wedding in jeju next month. your daughter then pops on a pair of oversized celine sunglasses, and it's too funny and adorable that the salesgirl was giving the three of you the stink eye for making such a ruckus in the store. he pays for it anyways, because he'll probably steal it for himself for when he has to be at the airport at early hours to leave for an overseas schedule or concert.

jaemin tries his best, really. he just can't help it when he sees luke sitting by his son as he draws on the coffee table. you can't expect him to bake the chocolate chip cookies, watch for stains on the oak from your son's oil pastels and feed all three cats at once. he doesn't know how you do it. luckily the cookies don't burn in the oven, he puts down parchment so the oak table is safe, and all cats are soothed by your son's magic touch and gentle pressing hand. when you notice a speck of oil pastel in their furs later on you only sigh and make a call to the salon to get them a bath, noticing their claws have been getting too long to the point they can mar your precious boys' skin.

you raise a hand to shield your eyes from the blaring sunlight, the piercing rays making chenle and your son look like mere sillhouettes as they zip around the court, the boinking sound of the basketball echoing in the park that's not too crowded for a friday morning. you can tell he's being much more gentle and a lot slower than he usually does for your son, fixing his stances and the grip of his fingers on the ball as he demonstrates a three pointer. your son joyfully claps everytime he shoots, and he ruffles his hair as a thank you. he calls out to you, demanding his congratulations kiss, but there is no way you're even going to come close to two very sweaty boys under the sweltering august heat.

your son actually prefers jisung to read him the bedtime stories he keeps in his shelf. he tucks him into the crook of his arm, whispering gently of the boy who discovers a treasure box in the forest and goes on an adventure with his pet hamster. his voice is too low to catch over the running of the sink as you remove your makeup, secretly wishing your son would fall asleep faster so that you can brush your teeth together. you watch from the doorway as he very carefully detaches himself from your son's side to slip the book back into its place on the bookshelf, tuck the sheets up to his chin, and place a gentle kiss to his forehead before he clicks the star shaped light off and his arm comes up to circle around your waist, pressing you against the wall to collect his kiss that tastes like peppermint toothpaste and your scent he can never get enough of.

#nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #mark #renjun #jeno #haechan #jaemin #chenle #jisung #mine

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acourtofmishapandmistakes · 28 days

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Under Summer Stars

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: In Under the Summer Stars, the scene unfolds at the illustrious birthday celebration of Tarquin, set against the picturesque backdrop of the Summer Court. As the night descends into a playful chaos of laughter and drunken antics, the story centers around the heartwarming and sometimes chaotic experiences of a pregnant protagonist, you, her close-knit circle of friends, and their significant others, as well as your mate, Azriel. From navigating the complexities of motherhood and friendship to rekindling sibling bonds with Tamlin and igniting old flames, this fic covers a lot of ground. Amidst the revelry, unexpected moments of vulnerability and hilarity ensue, leading to a night that promises to be unforgettable.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activity and brief nudity, along with pregnancy.

Word Count: 5.2k

Authors note: This includes only info from ACOTAR and does not include any background from Crescent City. Also, this is my first more lengthy fic so please read with that in mind! As much as I read, and reread this, there are bound to be typos so if you see them.... no you didn't.

“My love, you can't exactly camp out on the couch all day,” Azriel says. I glance up at him with a package of raspberries neatly arranged on my very pregnant belly. With a grand gesture towards the pile, I pop another berry into my mouth. “I’m not just hanging around—I’m busy making a baby here.”

Azriel grins as he snags a berry from my fingers and eats it himself. I shoot him a playful scowl, the kind meant more in jest than anger, and focus on devouring the rest of the berries.

“I do appreciate you taking a break from your hectic schedule to grow our little one,” Az jokes, his hands gently caressing my belly, “But we've got plans tonight, and you need to get ready.”

I let out a heavy sigh and dramatically flop my head back over the chair’s armrest, letting my hand, still holding a berry, dangle to the floor. “I really don’t wanna go,” I moan, while Azriel steadies the berry basket that's perilously close to sliding off my bump.

“You have to,” he chuckles softly.

“You can't make me,” I shoot back, my head still draped lazily over the back of the chair.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Azriel retorts, picking up the basket of berries and giving me a quick kiss on the forehead before taking them back to the kitchen.

I hear the tap running as he starts on some dishes—my ever-busy, nesting mate, who’s more prepared for this babe than I am, while we still have three months to go.

“What are you wearing?” I call out, curiosity peaking.

“What?” he yells back, sounding puzzled.

“Your outfit,” I clarify, pushing myself up with a grunt and swinging my legs around. While I still had time, this belly was proving to be a real hassle.

Azriel calls back, “Um, pants, a sweater and socks?”

I shuffle my way into the kitchen where Azriel stands, washing a plate with a tea towel casually thrown over his shoulder. “I mean, what are you wearing out tonight?”

Azriel dries a plate with the towel, then hangs it back over his shoulder before leaning casually against the kitchen counter, his palms resting on either side. His fingers tap rhythmically against the surface as he considers his wardrobe for the evening. “Probably the black button-down, slacks, and boots,” he decides with a nonchalant shrug.

I respond with a noncommittal “hm,” and swing open the fridge to scout my snack options. My hand lands on a jar of rhubarb jam. I pop the lid off and swipe a finger through the sticky sweet contents, humming in delight as I taste it. Azriel's chuckle floats over from the sink.

“It’s just not fair,” I complain, scooping another dollop of jam and licking it off. “You toss on anything that isn’t stained, torn, or stinking, and you’re gala-ready.”

Azriel, still busy with the dishes, throws a playful retort over his shoulder, “Are you suggesting I wouldn’t look good in a dress?”

I replace the jam in the fridge, leaning against it as I try and ponder that image. “Oh, you’d be stunning, no doubt. But let’s be real, the choices for females? Endless. Short dresses, long ones, off the shoulder, petticoats, sleek lines, just the right amount of lace…” I trail off, knowing he's smirking without even looking.

He finishes up, turning off the water and tossing the towel onto the counter with a flick of his wrist. I sigh, grabbing the towel to fold it neatly on a cabinet knob. Azriel rolls his eyes but his expression softens as he draws me close by my hips. I rest my chin on his chest, looking up into his hazel eyes that crinkle with amusement.

“What?” I inquire, feeling his hands smooth a stray hair behind my ear.

“You’re gorgeous, whether in ball gowns or in nothing at all,” he says earnestly.

“You’d think I'm gorgeous in nothing,” I retort, half-teasing. “You’re feral.”

He presses a soft kiss to my nose. “Only because I love you.”

I close my eyes, basking in the warmth of his words. “I love you too. But I still have no clue what I’ll wear tonight. Nothing fits since you knocked me up.”

He steps back, feigning offense. “Hey, it takes two to tango, particularly the naked tango. It’s not like I was alone in this.”

I glance down at my swollen belly, half-joking, “Well, you’re the responsible one. Should’ve warned me about the perpetual sweat and swelling.”

Azriel chuckles, striking a mock-serious pose. “Nothing fills me with more hope for our baby than hearing their mother call me,” he gestures to himself, “the responsible one.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “I’m sure you have something, love,” Azriel reassures me, nodding towards the lavish extension we jokingly call 'the second closet.'

I scoff, a smirk teasing my lips as I walk past him, giving his chest a light tap. “Guess I’ll just have to try on everything,” I tease, pausing in the doorway with a sultry glance over my shoulder. “You know, strip down, wander about in the buff, slip into something, despise it, peel it off...” My voice trails off, my smile growing more provocative as I catch the shift in his gaze—lips captured by teeth, eyes deepening with interest. “I might just need a second opinion.”

Azriel’s response is a deep, throaty sound that rumbles through the room, his playful side unfurling. “I’m certain I could be of assistance,” he quips, his tone laced with promise as he begins to close the distance between us.

Before he can reach me, I slip into the hallway, my steps light and teasing. I hear his footsteps quicken, a hint of urgency as he follows me up the stairs to our room, anticipation building with every step.

______________________________________________________________

By the time I settle on an outfit, Azriel has left me breathless no fewer than three times, each interlude accompanied by a chorus of compliments—beautiful, stunning, irresistible—every synonym for 'ravishing' that he can think of. The silver lining to this pregnancy, aside from the obvious, has been the noticeable spike in our libidos. Azriel's hands are seemingly glued to me, and barring the occasional wave of nausea or the fact that my toes have become a distant memory, I'm game for his advances nearly anytime, anywhere. It was actually our rampant escapades that clued us in on the pregnancy before Azriel noticed the shift in my scent—we were both equally wild, seeking out secluded spots in the River House, shadowy alleyways in Velaris, and once, rather riskily, an old woodshed in the Autumn Court while Rhys and Eris were busy hunting nearby. 'Feral' might be an understatement—I was downright voracious.

Emerging from the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing behind me, I find Azriel sprawled across the bed, as naked and carefree as ever despite our looming engagement. He flashes a lazy grin. “Round four?” he proposes, propping his head on his palms against the headboard.

“You're the one who insisted I get ready,” I remind him with a chuckle, tossing the towel onto the bed and striding toward the closet.

As I delve into the sea of clothes, Azriel's voice floats in, tinged with mischief, “And then you stripped, and suddenly, I stopped caring.” I can't help but laugh, sifting through hangers as I search for something that will accommodate both my bump and the sweltering heat of a Summer Court party in August. I wanted a word with whomever planned the date for this.

I pull out a floor-length, champagne pink silk gown that gleams with a light pearlescent chiffon cascading down the front. The dress, cinching just below my breasts, seems ready to accommodate both myself and the growing babe. The slit running up the side promises a hint of breeze on what I accept will be another warm evening. As I touch the fabric, memories of wearing it to Nyx’s first starfall flood back—Azriel and I, not yet mated, laughing under the twinkling lights while Cassian, wine glass in hand, serenaded the night with a mix of folk songs and his own tipsy renditions.

Slipping the gown over my head, the bump causes the hem to rise slightly, creating an unintended high-low effect. Nothing a good pair of heels can’t fix. I reach behind to fasten the top but struggle with the buttons. "Az," I call out softly.

"Yeah?" His voice drifts from the bathroom, mingling with the sound of running water.

"Can you come here for a second?" I ask.

Azriel appears, his hair tousled and falling into his eyes, which light up as he sees me. “You still have that one?” he remarks, a touch of nostalgia in his tone.

"I haven’t worn it in a while, but it seems to still fit, right?" I motion for him to help with the buttons at my neck, which he does with practiced ease. He stands behind me, and we both gaze into the closet’s full-length mirror. He wraps his arms around my waist, gently lifting the weight of my belly for a moment. I lean back against his shoulder, relieved by his support.

"Just like I said," he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "You look beautiful." He eases the weight back down and sweeps my damp hair over my shoulders, leaving a kiss on my temple. "Half an hour," he reminds me before disappearing back into the bathroom.

I take another moment to smooth the dress over my bump, admiring the silhouette from the side.

Azriel returns from his bath, towel-drying his hair with a shake that reminds me of a playful puppy. I'm securing my hair into a low braided bun, trying to keep as cool as possible. I pull two strands to softly frame my face, catching glimpses of Azriel in the mirror as he parades, unabashedly bare, back into the closet.

From the depths of the closet, Azriel's voice floats out playfully, "Hm, what to wear, what to wear—so many options." His mock contemplation sends a chuckle through me as I clasp on a pair of simple pearl earrings.

He emerges moments later, his black shirt hanging open, pants secured, and socks in hand. "It was a tough decision," he remarks, catching my eye in the mirror as he settles on the edge of the bed to slip on his socks. "But I managed to pick the perfect ensemble." He flashes a cheeky grin, and I roll my eyes playfully as I fasten a silver necklace with a tiny blue sapphire pendant—echoing the color of Azriel’s siphons—around my neck, adjusting it to rest just right.

Turning back to him, I see Azriel buttoning his shirt, meticulously placing his siphons into the custom slits designed for them. I step closer to assist with securing one on his left hand.

Giving him a thorough once-over as he completes a slow twirl for my inspection, I adjust his shirt slightly, smoothing my hands over his shoulders. "Do I look great?" he asks, half-jokingly.

"Beautiful," I reply, grinning. "Can you grab my shoes for me?"

He strides over to the blanket chest at the foot of our bed, retrieving the tan, two-strapped heels I'd selected for the evening. He juggles them in his hands, skeptical. "My love, there's no way you're going to keep these on all night."

I shoot him a defiant glare before setting the heels on the floor and sliding my feet into them. "I plan to."

But as I lean forward to fasten the straps, my belly firmly intervenes, making me pause and push a strand of hair behind my ear. I look up at Azriel, who's barely concealing his amusement. "Little help?" I ask, sheepishly.

Dropping to one knee, Azriel secures the straps for me, his fingers gentle. He plants a kiss on my thigh and mutters, "I’m not carrying these all night."

I nudge him away playfully, marching back to the closet to grab a pair of flat sandals. I hand them to him with a mock-serious tone. "Here, ask Rhys to stash these in a pocket realm in case I need them."

Azriel laughs softly, tucking the flats under his arm as we head out of the bedroom together.

______________________________________________________________

We converge with the rest of our group at the River House where Rhys and Feyre have arranged to winnow us directly to the Summer Court. Unlike Rhys, Azriel encourages me to maintain my normal activities during pregnancy, thus making winnowing an accessible choice. Cassian, Nesta, Rhys, Feyre, Azriel, and I begin our descent from the manor, with Elain cradling Cassian and Nesta’s baby girl, Nyx playfully tugging at her dress and waving eagerly to his parents. Feyre sends Nyx a blown kiss, which he theatrically catches and presses to his lips before launching one back her way. Rhys places a hand on Feyre’s lower back, open to the breeze from its low cut to bring her focus on our departure. Lucien appears in the doorway, his son perched high on his shoulders, as they wave us off. “We’ll be back later!” Cassian bellows toward the house.

Lucien shouts back with a teasing tone, “No rush! And be on your best behavior!”

Cassian responds with a vulgar gesture and Elain slaps her hand over Nyx’s eyes to shield him from it. After enduring a pregnancy marked by relentless morning sickness, Nesta found solace in the ocean's breeze. She spent much of her time at Tarquin’s castle, situated atop a cliff with sweeping views of the sea. Tarquin, empathetic and familiar with the challenges of parenthood, graciously readmitted Cassian into the Summer Court, with the strict caveat that Nesta keep him in sight at all times.

With an arm slung around Rhys, Cassian is the first to be winnowed, followed swiftly by Feyre and Nesta, and then Azriel and me. Although I can still manage the winnowing process, a twinge of motion sickness usually follows. Nonetheless, I prefer it to flying, which only prolongs the discomfort. As we materialize on the steps of the Summer Court palace, Azriel steadies me with gentle hands at my waist as I lean forward, taking a deep, stabilizing breath.

“You alright?” Azriel inquires.

I nod, the fresh ocean breeze helping to soothe my senses. Once assured of my steadiness, I take a moment to absorb the breathtaking view. Tarquin has chosen his "Summer House" for his hundredth birthday celebration—an amusing choice given its grandeur. Situated on a cliff opposite his main castle, easily visible across the bay, this secondary residence is no less opulent. Sandstone columns and marble steps lead to grand doors beautifully inlaid with blue and pink seaglass, while orbs of faelight suspended in fishing nets add a whimsical touch. With the sun dipping below the horizon, the sky is aflame in vibrant shades of pink and orange, creating a spectacular backdrop as we ascend the steps.

As we proceed, Azriel casually hands my sandals to Rhys, who offers me a knowing smile before they vanish into a pocket realm.

The grand doors swung open, revealing the entrancing melody of a live band in the foyer. The interior of the house matched the exterior in opulence, with a domed glass ceiling that bathed the marble floor in the sunset’s spectrum. Seashells were intricately embedded in the floor, and the familiar columns from outside now stood amidst streams of crystal-clear water that seemed to flow through the hall and cascade down the stairs. As we advanced, I marveled at the pearl mosaics adorning the high ceiling, a grandeur that left me nearly speechless.

Pulling gently on Azriel's arm to draw him closer, I whispered conspiratorially, “I want to change the theme of the nursery.”

Azriel chuckled, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “It took Cassian and me a week to paint it the color it is, and you mulled over those two shades of yellow for three weeks beforehand.”

Cassian's voice floated from behind, tinged with mock horror, “If you’re asking me to paint again, you’re on your own.”

At the top of the grand staircase, the crowd below melded into a vibrant tapestry of colors and movement. Feyre, in her flowing turquoise gown, descended gracefully with Rhys by her side, navigating through the crowd with practiced ease. Azriel and I followed, his hand a constant presence on my hip, grounding me.

I scanned the sea of faces for a particular one, but as the crowd parted, I found myself face-to-face with Tarquin instead, his smile broad and slightly tipsy.

“Look who brought in the bats!” he exclaimed jovially.

Rhys clapped Tarquin on the shoulder, wishing him a happy birthday. He then picked up a glass of champagne, offering one to Feyre, and they toasted to Tarquin’s continued health. After the brief exchange, Tarquin turned his attention to us. Azriel exchanged a firm handshake with him, while Cassian, standing slightly behind Nesta with his hands on her shoulders, received a more personal summon.

“Cassian,” Tarquin slurred slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief, “I want to show you something.”

Cassian looked down at Nesta, who responded with a nonchalant shrug. He then followed Tarquin out onto the balcony, his curiosity piqued. Azriel watched them leave with a guarded expression.

Nesta, catching the look, nudged Azriel gently. “Just go make sure Tarquin doesn’t throw him off,” she urged.

“On it,” Azriel replied briskly, striding after them with a determined pace.

Nesta grasped my hand, weaving us through the bustling crowd, muttering how she was going to need a stiff drink to get through this night. Since the birth of her daughter, Nesta had been grappling with intense separation anxiety, rarely managing a few hours away. She and Cassian had attempted a weekend trip getaway and she made it only four hours before returning in tears, taking her young babe from my arms and sobbing into her jet black hair. Since then, Nesta had promised she was going to stop being “mama” all the time and start being herself again.

We reached the bar located near the grand staircase, where a fae female was expertly crafting cocktails. Nesta ordered a “Seabreeze,” and I opted for a lemonade.

“I can’t wait until you can drink with me again,” Nesta said, picking up her drink. The swirling glitter within the blue liquid looked delicious and I found myself licking my lips as I watched her down it. “You’re the only one who can keep up with me when we dance.” She said before ordering another.

“Not too much longer,” I responded, caressing the babe within me.

Nesta looked at me thoughtfully, the blue glitter swirling in her glass, “I want you to have a girl, so Elora can grow up with a friend. Not surrounded by Feyre and Elain’s boys.”

I smiled at her, I had asked the healer to keep the baby’s sex a secret from everyone but Azriel who, as spymaster, kept that information under lock and key.

My gaze returned to scanning the crowd, and finally, I spotted the familiar broad shoulders and gleaming blond hair of my older brother. I tugged at Nesta’s hand, leading her over toward Tamlin. As he sensed my approach, he turned swiftly and enveloped me in a hug.

“Careful!” I cautioned, a mix of surprise and laughter, before he gently set me back down on my feet.

Tamlin scanned me from head to toe, his eyes alight with surprise and mirth. “I didn’t know you’d be here!” he shouted, his speech slightly slurred from the drinks.

“I wasn’t sure I would make it, but I figured why not enjoy myself before the baby arrives,” I smiled back at him.

Nesta, still holding a subtle grudge against Tamlin for the whole “cauldron fae thing”, glanced at her nails and offered a cool, “Hello Tamlin.”

Tamlin, ever the optimist about winning back some favor, took her hand and kissed it—a bold move he’d likely reconsider sober. “Nesta, lovely to see you. You look stunning.”

And stunning she was in her pastel green gown with its daring neckline and slits, revealing her long, toned, cream colored legs— her dress, much like mine, but tailored to hug her figure perfectly. “You’re drunk,” Nesta quipped, pulling her hand away with a laugh.

Tamlin’s smirk widened. “Only a little. I would’ve paced myself had I known my favorite sister was coming.”

“For what? It’s not like she can party hard right now,” Nesta pointed out, gesturing towards my pregnant belly.

Realizing his faux pas, Tamlin’s eyes widened, and he awkwardly placed his hands on my stomach. We were never a family that embraced often, and his sudden affection felt out of place. “I forgot!” he exclaimed. “Hi, baby!”

Trying to stifle her laughter, Nesta shot me a look that triggered my own snort of amusement.

“Tam, maybe it’s time for some water,” I suggested gently. “It’s still early, and you’re already peaking.”

Shaking his head, his blonde locks falling into his eyes, Tamlin pulled me into another hug, elongating the word “great” as if to emphasize his point. “I’m great,” he insisted.

“I just miss you, that’s all,” he murmured, his voice muffled by my hair. “I miss the name-calling and our hunting trips. Remember those?”

“Like asshat and idiot?” I replied, finally managing to extricate myself from his grip. His nostalgia often painted a rosier picture of our past than my own memories did.

In a moment of pause, he suddenly asked, “You promise you’ll bring my niece to see me?” he asked earnestly, searching my eyes.

“I promise, Tam, though I’ve told you—I don’t know the baby’s gender yet.”

“It’s a girl,” he slurred confidently. “I’d bet on it.”

Nesta joined in, “You could make that bet. Rhys and Cassian think it’s a boy. Feyre and I are betting on a girl.”

Attempting to high-five Nesta, Tamlin found no takers and ended up clapping his own hand. “Hell yeah, team girl!”

“Where’s Lucien?” he then asked, trying to shift the topic.

“Home with the kids,” I informed him.

“That old man,” Tamlin scoffed, his drink sloshing dangerously. “Has one kid and thinks he’s too good for a night out.”

Laughing, I couldn't help but tease, “Tam, you’re really drunk.”

“Am not,” he protested weakly. “You’re drunk.”

“Sure,” I agreed, rolling my eyes indulgently.

He squinted across the ballroom, waving vaguely. “Gotta go see a guy about a thing,” he declared, stumbling slightly as he made his exit after a quick, affectionate peck on my forehead.

As he sauntered off, Nesta and I couldn't contain our laughter. “I haven’t seen him this plastered in ages,” I noted, reminiscing about our younger days spent lounging by the lake in the Spring Court.

Catching her breath, Nesta added, “He’s actually tolerable when he’s like this.

I wiped a tear from my eye, still laughing, though each breath was a bit strained around the edges due to the baby pressing up against my lungs. Just as I managed to catch my breath, I heard my brother's boisterous shout, "Who do I have to screw to get a screwball around here?" Sending me into another peal of laughter.

Nesta, pulling herself together, wiped the smeared eyeliner from under her eyes and snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter.

My laughter seemed to stir a frenzy of activity within me; I placed a hand over my stomach as a particularly vigorous kick landed just under my lungs, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over slightly, laughing through the discomfort, while Nesta leaned in with a worried look. "Are you alright?"

"Totally fine, the little one just got a bit too excited," I assured her, patting my belly. Nesta reached out, asking to feel the kicks, and when my baby delivered another strong jab, her face lit up with a mix of awe and amusement. "Certainly strong," she remarked.

"Unfortunately for me, yes," I agreed, sharing a knowing smile.

Her eyes filled with nostalgia. "I so miss that."

I gently placed my hand over hers. "I try to remind myself I’ll miss it too. Usually I do a good job, until she decides to kick my bladder and I end up pissing myself."

Nesta chuckled, her hand instinctively resting on her own stomach where her little one had grown not so long ago. I squeezed her hand affectionately. "You doing okay?" I asked, noting the slight tension in her expression.

She offered a tight-lipped smile, her eyes betraying a hint of her inner struggle—the pull to return to her child who, despite adoring her father, seemed to reserve her deepest affections for her mother. "Just say the word, and I’ll fake a headache, or actually wet myself, and we can bolt."

Nesta shook her head slightly, more to reassure herself than me. "No," she paused, then stronger, "No, this is good for me. I know she’s fine."

I squeezed her hand again, offering a gentle reassurance. "Just because she's okay doesn't mean you have to be," I reminded her softly. Nesta wiped a stray tear from her cheek, still clutching her champagne, before quickly finishing it off with a relieved smile.

"I am glad I can do that again," she said, nodding towards her empty glass before setting it on a passing tray.

Together, we continued weaving through the ballroom, exchanging pleasantries with various courtiers—some of whom were so tipsy they scarcely remembered who we were. Throughout my pregnancy, I'd never been offered so many drinks that I had to politely decline. It seemed every mother and elder fae woman felt compelled to touch my stomach, causing my little one to energetically respond.

Every so often, I bumped into my brother, and we playfully stuck our tongues out at each other. However, as we mingled through the crowd, neither Cassian nor Azriel crossed our path. Eventually, we found Feyre, just as a Summer Courtier excused themselves from her company. She gave them a warm, promising touch on the shoulder before turning to face us. With a deep sigh and a quick roll of her eyes, Feyre shot back her drink—a twirling pink concoction that made her wince from its potency.

"Having fun?" Nesta inquired, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

Feyre, still recovering from the fiery liquid, nodded. "Absolutely. I love playing the diplomat at other courts. I can't really start drinking until everyone else is well into their cups." She then snatched Nesta’s wine glass and drained it. "Can't afford to make a fool of the Night Court."

I chuckled to myself. Feyre might have been slightly tipsy, but as High Lady, she only truly relaxed around family. After many evenings spent with her, I knew her tolerance was notably high—we'd even had a shot contest when I first came to live with them. In my enforced sobriety over the past seven months, I had observed the high fae's love for maintaining a facade of sobriety, despite obvious inebriation.

"Have you seen Az or Cass?" I asked, scanning the room.

Feyre glanced around, her brows knitting slightly. "No, I haven't, actually. Not since they stepped out onto the balcony with Tarquin."

"Where's Rhys?" Nesta chimed in, her voice laced with mild irritation.

Feyre threw her hands up, nearly clipping a waiter bustling by with more drinks—which she quickly commandeered. "Don’t know. He wandered off somewhere when I was chatting with what's-her-face. Haven't seen him since."

"Fantastic," Nesta remarked dryly, "We’ve been here an hour and the boys' club has already managed to vanish on us."

While Nesta and Feyre chatted, I slipped into a corner to send a gentle pulse through our bond. Receiving no response, I intensified the signal, only to get a slight jolt followed by Azriel's slurred, "What's up, pretty lady?"

I turned back to Nesta and Feyre with a grin. "They're drunk."

I messaged Azriel again, asking, "Hi my love, where are you?"

His chuckle echoed down the bond, "Beach."

Realizing that was all the information I was likely to get, I informed Nesta and Feyre, "They're on the beach."

"They left?!" Nesta half-yelled, frustration mounting. "I want to leave!"

Seizing our hands, she led us through the crowd, up the stairs, and out the door. Outside, her braid loosened, hairs springing free as they often did when she drank. Spotting a sign for the beach, she marched us in that direction. Feyre, slightly tipsy, giggled and leaned on me as we followed Nesta.

Reaching the sandy path, Nesta kicked off her heels and hiked up her dress, staggering forward. Feyre and I quickly followed suit, Feyre removing her own shoes and then helping me with mine before we continued on with Nesta, the tall seagrass swaying in the night breeze.

The pathway was lit by fae lights, and the cool ocean wind caused goosebumps to rise on my skin. Feyre held my hand for balance as we walked, with Nesta leading determinedly ahead.

When we finally reached the beach, Nesta scanned the bonfires for our mates. Feyre, losing her footing in a dip, fell onto the sand with a shriek of laughter. I couldn't help but laugh as she lay there, the sand clinging to her dress and hair.

Her laughter contagious, Nesta turned and joined in, stumbling over to help Feyre up as the wind pressed her silk dress against her legs. Without warning, Feyre threw back her head and called out, "Rhysand!" Nesta shouted “Cassian, get your ass over here! I want to go home and drink without clothes on!” This promptied laughs from other partygoers.

When Nesta tried to yell again, I quickly covered her mouth, accidentally getting sand in her mouth, which she spat out as Feyre howled with laughter.

Down the beach, Rhys's voice called back, "Feyre Darling!" Pointing in his direction, Feyre declared, "That one's mine," and staggered off toward the boys.

Nesta, wrapping an arm around me, leaned on me as we followed. Soon, Feyre charged into Rhys, sending them both into the sand, while Cassian's laughter boomed over the crashing surf, nearly toppling him from his driftwood seat. Tarquin, adding wood to the fire, doubled over with laughter.

Nesta settled next to Cassian, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the ocean. "Hi Ness," Cassian slurred, pulling her into his lap and showering her with kisses despite her protests. "Stop, stop," she laughed. "I'm supposed to be mad at you."

"You can't resist me!" Cassian declared, landing another sloppy kiss.

Meanwhile, Azriel sat in the sand, a bottle of wine in hand, his smile lighting up as he saw me. Dropping beside him, I laid my head on his shoulder. "Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," I replied, seeking a kiss which he tenderly delivered, his lips tasting of sweet strawberry wine.

Azriel stashed the bottle in the sand, wrapping one arm around me and lazily stroking my stomach with the other. Together, we took in the serene scene—Feyre and Rhys wrapped in each other's arms, Cassian and Nesta chatting with Tarquin, all of us enjoying the moment.

There, with Azriel and our soon-to-arrive baby, I soaked in the beauty of our world, filled with anticipation for the new life we were about to welcome.

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astro-b-o-y-d · 4 months

Text

Triangulum - Chapter 1- Return to the Falls

— — — — — — —

“Tree. Tree. Billboard. Gas station. Telephone pole. Tree. Billboar—hey, that one’s got a whale on it!”

The clink of metal to glass echoed through the nearly-empty bus as Mabel pressed her cellphone against the window. “I wonder why they always use whales as mascots for things like car washes?” she inquired. “It’s not like they can actually drive cars or anything! They’re too big to fit through the doors!”

Such a question drew an amused chuckle from the person on the other end of the phone. “I think the thought process there is, like…you use water to clean cars?” they guessed. “And whales live in the water? And then they figure everyone can make the rest of the connection from there.”

From the seat besides Mabel, Dipper looked up from his journal. “Whales are also filter-feeders,” he pointed out. “They filter their food through something called baleen plates, which kinda look like the flappy, hangy-down brushes and sponges in a car wash? Maybe that’s one reason.”

He pointed the tip of his pencil at Mabel. “Also, you know Dev can’t actually see the billboard over the phone, right? …Adding onto that, how are you getting a signal this far out in the woods?”

Mabel moved the phone from the window and pressed it tightly against her chest. “Through the power of love!”

“Yeah, well, I’m almost positive that the ‘power of love’ isn’t gonna make your phone magically grow a video screen and a high-quality internet connection.”

With a scowl, Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Almost positive isn’t completely positive, Mr. Negative!”

She punctuated her remark with a raspberry, before turning her attention back to her phone. “Sorry, Dev, you know how Dipper is,” she said fondly. “The big dorkus always has to apply logic to everything.”

“He raises a good point, though,” Dev replied. “I wouldn’t’ve made the connection between baleen plates and car wash sponges on my own, so I’m glad he had all that off the top of his head.”

A laugh, before their tone grew more accusatory. “Almost as if someone’s in the middle of researching whales for a certain reason.”

Dipper shifted in his seat, his gaze suddenly and intently focused on a stain of unknown origin on the back of the seat in front of them. “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“...Diiiiip, you promised we’d look into that story about those sky whales off the coast together!” Dev whined playfully. “We were gonna make a whole night of it once you guys got back, with a red yarn board and everything!”

“I swear I was going to wait!” Dipper insisted. “But, like, listen…we’re gonna be spending all summer with our great-uncles. And they’ve spent the last few months sailing around the world, hunting a bunch of cool, paranormal beings out there on the open seas.”

He pressed a hand to the back of his head. “And I thought…you know—”

“—you thought sky whales might be one of the things your uncles saw out on the ocean, and you wanted to learn as much as you could to look all cool and smart in front of them,” Dev finished for him. “Especially in front of the totally awesome, Multiverse-jumping—studier of all things weird and strange��Stanford Pines?”

A beat. “…The one you promised me you’d get an autograph from and I’m totally not using this as an excuse to remind you about that?”

This earned a laugh out of Dipper. “Subtly noted, but it’s just…they’re gonna have so many stories about the places they’ve been over the past nine months,” he elaborated. “The most exciting story I have is that Phoenix incident, and it wasn’t even a real Phoenix!”

Dev let out a groan. “Ugh, don’t remind me! Whose bright idea was it again to smuggle a chicken into Science class?”

“I guess that’s one mystery we’ll never solve,” Dipper added with a look of disgust. “But what we did learn is that burnt feathers smell like someone lighting their hair on fire in a barn.”

“No kidding, I’ll never get the smell of stale hay and dirt outta my nose.”

“This is why pigs are the superior livestock,” Mabel said, punctuating her point with an indignant harrumph. “No stinky feathers!”

Dipper nudged her with his elbow before he set his journal and pencil down on his lap. “Weren’t you complaining a month ago about how Waddles is too big to smuggle into school anymore?”

“That’s not his fault! It’s the fault of society and their inability to stop body shaming everything!” She pressed her hands, phone and all, against her cheeks. ”Especially the most adorable wittle piggy in the entire world and his fat wittle piggy tummy~!”

This earned a laugh from Dev. “They’re just jealous they can’t be him, I bet,” he agreed. “Either way, Dip, it’s no worries about the sky whales thing. Just means I’ve gotta start stocking up on new research material for when you guys get home.”

There was a light tapping sound from the other side of the phone, as if Dev were tapping the speaker with their finger. “And it means that you owe me one!” they insisted. “Which you can easily pay off by spilling all the deets about what went down up there last August!”

The twins exchanged a mirrored look. “Dev—”

“Come on, Dipping Dots, you can’t leave me hanging forever,” Dev begged. “I know it was more than just some weird weather patterns! Just…just give me a hint at least! Was it ghosts? Aliens? …Alien ghosts?”

Dipper shot his sister a look, one that she returned with an understanding nod. “Dipper, stop trying to steal my boyfriend’s attention with your nerdy-nerd talk!” she said, loud enough for Dev to hear. “I wanna get as much talking time as I can with him before we get to town!”

With a smirk, he gave her ribs another nudge with his elbow. “Hey, Dev was a part of the Paranormal/Supernatural Club before you two started going out!” he pointed out. “So technically—aha, stop!”

His words dissolved into laughter as Mabel retaliated by putting as much of her weight on him as she could. “Technically, schmechnically, you can’t do nerdy-nerd stuff with Dev if you’re flat as a pancake!” she said, her body vibrating with giggles as she smushed against him.

“Dev, help, I’m being smothered!” Dipper called to the phone, between bouts of his own laughter. “Tell Mabel she’s cute or something!”

This earned another laugh from Dev in response, one warm and full of affection. “Mabel Syrup, could you please stop trying to kill my best friend and Paranormal/Supernatural Club co-president?”

Smiling wider, Mabel straightened herself upright in the seat and held the phone in her ear. “We~ell, since you’re using that nickname, I guess I can be merciful today!”

With a dramatic gag, Dipper pointed a finger at his throat in disgust. “Ugh, I said call her cute, not break out the pet names.”

“It’s not my fault she’s as sweet as her namesake.”

“It’s not her namesake!”

“Boys, boys,” Mabel interrupted with a giggle. “As fun as it is to both flirt with my boyfriend and annoy my brother at the same time, I do think we should circle back to the point Dip made earlier about my cell reception.”

She held the phone back up to her ear. “Since we’re almost at the Falls anyway, you wanna go ahead and hang up before the majestic oaks of Oregon do it for us?”

Dipper raised a finger. “Technically the trees around here are mostly firs and birch trees.”

“Oaks, Oregon…I wanted the words to sound all samey-samey,” Mabel pointed out. “And firs doesn’t start with an O.”

“...Neither does majestic?”

“Yeah, we can hang up for now,” Dev said. “I’m sure you guys probably wanna spend the rest of the day settling in, but if you don’t mind talking later tonight—”

“Uh, of course we can talk tonight~!” Mabel interrupted excitedly. “Not only that, I can introduce you to my Grunkles if they’re finished settling in by that point, too! And I’m sure Soos and Melody will want to say hi—ooh, and of course you can meet Candy and Grenda when we have our inevitable ‘Back In Gravity Falls’ sleepover—”

“Okay, maybe we slowly ease Dev into the weirdness that is Gravity Falls and everyone in it?” Dipper suggested. “Besides, I’d like some time to talk to them over the summer, too!”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Dev said. “The first thing, not the second. Are you forgetting who sought you out to join your club in the first place? And brought his own research material to the very first meeting?”

Dipper gently pulled the phone towards him. “Are you forgetting who’s actually been to Gravity Falls in the first place?”

“No, but I’m also not forgetting who’s keeping all the juicy details about what happened last summer to themselves,” Dev pointed out in return.

“Okay, okay,” Mabel said, pulling the phone back. “No more nerd talk about nerd things, you’re wasting all my minutes! Use your own minutes for that!”

She returned it to her ear with a wide grin. “But we can figure out a proper talking schedule later,” she said sweetly, then paused. “...After tonight though, because you already said we could talk and no take backs!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dev assured her. “Love you.”

“And I looooove—” Mabel wiggled her finger with a mischievous look before booping it against the screen of her phone. “—you~!”

“...Did you boop the phone?”

“Yeah-huh~!”

“Bye, Dev!” Dipper called as well. “...I know you two are having a moment, but I wanted to say bye, too!”

“Bye to both of you!” Dev replied. “Talk to you tonight!”

There was a click as the call ended and Mabel pressed the phone against her chest. “Ehehe, I love them!”

“So I’ve gathered,” Dipper said with a smile. “What’re you guys at now, seven months?”

“Seven months, and seventeen days~!” Mabel clarified, with a closing slap of her flip phone and a delighted kick of her feet. “Can you believe it? Last year I would’ve gone through at least seventy guys in that amount of time! Now look at me! Miss Lady-In-A-Serious-Relationship-With-One-Of-The-Best-Guys-In-The-World over here~!”

“You know that number’s a wild exaggeration, right?”

“You’re a wild exaggeration,” Mabel retorted, with a nudge to his shoulder. “And I like how you couldn’t even argue the ‘one of the best guys in the world’ thing, because you know it’s true! Well, he’s the best guy whenever he’s actually in guy mode, of course. Otherwise he’s just the best significant other! But right now, he’s the best guy in the world!

With a wide grin, she snaked an arm around Dipper’s shoulder before once again smushing most of her weight against him. “Except for thiiiiis best guy in the world, of course~!” she said, words slightly muffled from how her cheek was squished against his arm. “Who knows he absolutely doesn’t count when it comes to me talking about the best guys in the world, because it already goes without saying that he’s the best guy in the world!”

She gave him a squished little smile. “He knows that, right?”

With a warm smile of his own, Dipper gently pushed her back to her side of the bus seat. “He knows that. Although ‘best guy in the world’ is starting to sound like a fake sentence.”

“Haha, yeah,” Mabel agreed with a giggle. “I used it a lot, huh?”

An oink beneath their legs turned their attention to the underside of the seat in front of them, where a fat, pink hog peered up at them with a lazy tilt of his head.

With a squeal of utter delight, Mabel reached down and scooped him up in her arms. “Aww, we can’t forget about the other best guy in the world~!” she cooed, cradling him like a baby. “Are you having fun crawling around and eating all the abandoned wrappers and gum stuck to the underside of the seats?”

Waddles let out another oink and contently buried his snout in the bend of her arm, as if he considered himself nothing more than a simple lap dog. Despite his own amusement at the sight, Dipper raised an eyebrow at his sister. “Seriously, you should probably stop letting him do that before the driver gets fed up and makes us walk the rest of the way.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Mabel insisted. “This bus is probably the cleanest its ever been! If anything, the driver should be thanking Waddles for helping him out!”

After giving Waddles’ body a shake for additional emphasis, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Isn’t that right, you big, pink angel? You even missed your chance to say hi to Dev because you were too busy being the most helpful piggy around!”

“Too bad we couldn’t use him as a distraction,” Dipper said, and reached for his journal again. “You know Dev’s as crazy about him as you are.”

Mabel’s smile fell, and she tightened her embrace around Waddles’ body. “Right…”

Dipper’s hand froze less than an inch from the journal, and he gave her a sympathetic look. “The squishing me was a nice touch,” he said with a halfhearted smile of his own. “Really took his mind off the Weirdmageddon topic…”

With a sigh, he flipped it open to the page he’d been writing on and picked up his pencil. “You know, we could just ask Mayor Tyler if we can bend the rules a little bit and we can tell our buddy back home about what happened last summer.”

Mabel leaned her body back towards the window, her head hitting the glass with a light thump. “What if he doesn’t believe us?”

“Who, Mayor Tyler? I mean, if we promised that Dev wouldn’t go blabbing it to other people and told him about how obsessed he is with the town, he’d probably understand—”

“Dev, Dipper,” Mabel clarified. “What if Dev doesn’t believe us?”

“Have you met the guy?” Dipper asked. “Out of anyone back home, I feel like he’d be the first one to believe us. I mean, are we forgetting that this is the same person who swears up and down that they've kissed an alien before?"

A pause. "Before following that claim up with ‘but I’d rather kiss Mabel before kissing a thousand aliens’ like the hopeless romantic he is?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Mabel’s mouth, but disappeared just as quickly as it threatened to appear. “I mean, he does say that all the time. But…”

“But?”

Mabel let out an uncertain hum, but any further response was cut off by the sound of faint crackling from the bus’s loudspeaker. “Attention, passengers, we are approaching the city limits of Gravity Falls, and will be arriving within the town itself in a matter of minutes,” the driver’s voice rang out cheerfully. “Just in case anyone was interested in peering out their window as we passed by the welcome sign, for sentimental reasons.”

The twins shared a mirrored look before quickly scooting over to the window, just in time to see the familiar sign that marked the town’s border whiz past the bus.

It was a fleeting sight; one that came and went within seconds. But their silence continued for a just a bit longer after it passed, even as the endless line of trees finally began to melt into familiar homes and buildings.

Still keeping her attention fixed on the view outside, Mabel’s hand instinctively found her brother’s and gave it a light squeeze. “We’re back…”

Dipper nodded, squeezing her hand in return. “We’re back.”

They remained still, letting themselves be lost in the thrill of finally being back in that old, familiar town for just a few minutes longer, before the realization that they needed to be ready to exit the bus motivated them to finally move and start gathering up their belongings.

“Okay, since we’re now officially back in town,” Mabel began, setting Waddles aside so she could pull her bag to her lap. “What’re you looking forward to the most this summer?”

“Hmm, hard to say,” Dipper said, reaching for his own. “I mean, last year I spent most of the summer trying to uncover the mysteries behind the journal’s author, then spent the remaining time after that with the author himself!”

He unzipped the front and stuffed his journal inside. “Guess I’m just looking forward to spending more time with Grunkle Ford again, now that he doesn’t have to stay down in the basement and deal with all that Bill stuff,” he said. “I know I wanna tell him all about the stuff me and Dev have studied together, and—ooh, I really wanna introduce him to that DDnmD podcast we started listening to recently—”

“Hey, that was what I was looking forward to, too!” Mabel said delightedly. “Well, not the nerd stuff but the ‘spending time with Grunkle Ford’ stuff! You got to spend so much time with him last year, and I barely got to see him at all!”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Well, this year I’m determined to spend as much time with him as I possibly can! You know a guy who puts that much effort into his journals has to be a pro at scrapbooking!”

She reached into her bag and pulled something out with a wide grin, before holding it up for Dipper to see. “I even made him a personalized sweater, so he has another one to wear besides his red one!” she explained, pointing to a smiling picture of Ford on the front. “See? I knitted a happy little picture of him—” She moved her finger to the next one. “—and this one’s of the six-fingered hand that was on his journals—”

And finally her finger landed on the stitched writing at the bottom. “—and this part says ‘A-FORD-able! Not like ‘affordable’, but like ‘adorable with Ford!’’ …I was already halfway done when I remembered ‘affordable’ was already a word, so I just added that last part instead of undoing everything.”

While she stuffed the sweater back into her bag, Dipper added: “I think I’m also looking forward to just spending time with Grunkle Stan in general, too. I mean, sure, we got to spend a lot of time with him last year.”

He waved his hands. “But he was hiding such a big secret, one he had to deal with by himself. This year, he’s got nothing to hide!”

Mabel held up both pointer fingers. “Right! Because the something he had to hide is gonna be right there next to him! And the thing that was hiding no longer has to hide in any way!”

She smushed them together with silly little noises for emphasis. “And since Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are getting along now, it means we can all spend time together like one big happy family!”

Satisfied with her own amateur pantomime, she dropped her hands and returned to her belongings. “Speaking of which, who did Grunkle Stan say was going to be greeting us at the bus stop?” she asked. “I know Soos and Grunkle Ford will be there, but I really hope Candy and Grenda can make it!”

She beamed widely. “Grenda said in her last letter that she’s been taking up wrestling, and that she learned a move that could possibly snap me in half! Although Candy discredited this claim with the fact that she only got a fractured disc when Grenda tried it on her, but you know what they say: practice makes perfect!”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “You guys can’t just hug each other?”

“We can hug as she’s breaking my spine in two!”

With a shrug, Dipper slung his bag over his shoulder. “Well, to answer your original question; yeah, Ford and Soos are gonna be there. Other than that, I’m not sure. Your friends being there is something you’d know more than I would, and I can’t think of anyone else who would come.”

He tapped a hand to his chin as he thought hard for a moment. “I know Soos and Melody wanted to throw that welcome-back party for us tomorrow, though. So maybe they’ll only have a small group of people at the bus stop today. You know, to give us time to get settled in without being bombarded by a billion people?”

Mabel stuck out her lip and gave the seat in front of them a defiant slam with her fists. “Boooooo, I want to be bombarded by people! I wanna be able to give out at least three-dozen hugs before Grenda snaps me in half like a twig!”

“I once again ask why you guys can’t just hug each each other.”

“Bombardment!” Mabel chanted, slamming her fist in rhythm. “Bombardment!”

There was another crackle of the loudspeakers over their heads as the driver spoke again: “Attention, passengers; this is a follow-up to the previous announcement, but there might be a bit of a delay in getting you to the next stop.”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a curious look, before Dipper cupped his hands around his mouth. “Why?” he called towards the front of the bus.

“Has the traffic here gotten that bad in nine months?” Mabel added.

Another crackle from the intercom. “See for yourselves, kids.”

At the driver’s suggestion, the twins scooted out of their seats and into the aisleway, remaining bags in hand and Waddles at their heels as they made their way to the front of the bus. As they came to a stop near the bus driver’s seat, their eyes grew wide at the sight that awaited them in the street below.

To the eyes of an unknown tourist, it would look like nothing more than a dozen garden gnomes stacked atop each other before a collection of golf balls spilled all over the road.

To anyone who’d spent enough time in Gravity Falls, however—

“For the last time, Franz; either you cross the street quickly or we’re letting a car run you over.”

At the front of the collection of golfballs—or more accurately, small persons by the name of Lilliputtians who happened to strongly resemble golfballs—a blue ball crossed their arms with a sour look towards the gnome at the top of the pile. “And we’re telling you for the last time, Jeff, we’re going as fast as we can!” he argued in return. “It’s not like we can just stack ourselves on top of each other like you gnomes can!”

“You’re golf balls!” The gnome, Jeff, pointed out irritably. “You can roll!”

Franz scoffed and placed his hands on his hips. “Oh, so just because we happen to look like golf balls, you think we can roll everywhere?” he asked. “What about you gnomes, huh? Without linking up to each other, I’ll bet you couldn’t go more than a few feet without getting winded!”

Jeff crossed his own arms with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, well, you’ve never seen Shmebulock run after six nosefuls of mushroom spores.”

His point was emphasized by an enthusiastic “Shmebulock!” from one of the gnomes at the bottom of the snack.

From the bus, the twins shared a knowing look before Mabel turned to the bus driver. “You know what? You can just let us off here, we can walk the rest of the way.”

“And we’ll see what we can do about clearing the road for you,” Dipper added.

With a shrug, the driver opened the doors to the bus and the two headed down the stairs; Mabel bounded out the door and onto the sidewalk with a delighted laugh while Dipper followed behind with more reserved steps.

Despite their different methods of stair descension, their smiles were equally bright as they looked to the smaller beings still crowded in the middle of the road. “So, what do you think’s going on?” Dipper asked.

Mabel turned back to the bus steps and reached out to grab Waddles, who had slowly and piggishly ambled down the steps after them. “Not sure, but isn’t it wild to see both groups just…out in the middle of the street like this?”

“Right?!” Dipper said with enthusiastic agreement. “It’s like—not even five minutes back in town and we’re already getting a taste of peak Gravity Falls weirdness!”

After setting Waddles down to the sidewalk, Mabel clapped her hands together with just as much gusto. “I know, isn’t it great?”

“I’m warning you for the last time, Jeff: get out of our way before we knock your bearded butts down like rolling pins!” Franz insisted firmly. “You wanna see how fast we can actually roll? Keep pushing my buttons and you’ll find out!”

The twins exchanged a look. “Right, we should probably do the thing we got off the bus early to do,” Dipper said. “Otherwise we just made getting to the shack harder for ourselves for no reason.”

“Well, at the very least you can add ‘breaking up a fight between golf ball people and gnomes’ to the list of cool stories to tell Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford,” Mabel pointed out. “I’m almost positive they haven’t had a chance to do that yet!”

Dipper let out a laugh. “Weren’t you just saying a little bit ago that almost positive isn’t completely positive?”

With a laugh of her own, Mabel pushed a lighthearted fist to his arm before turning her gaze to the groups bickering in the road. “So how are we doing this?”

A shrug. “I mean, smartest method would just be to ask them why they’re fighting.”

“Very true!” Mabel said. “And who knows? Maybe if we know why they’re fighting, we can help them work it out peacefully.”

“Or we can at least distract them long enough to get them outta the road,” Dipper pointed out. “Then if they wanna continue the fight on the sidewalk, we just start heading for the shack.”

“That is also something we can do~!”

She cupped her hands around her mouth and called loudly: “Hey, boys! What’s with all the commotion and bus blocking?”

“Yeah, none of you are more than two feet tall, and you should probably get out of the road before cars realize they can just run over you,” Dipper added helpfully.

From his spot in the road, Jeff let out a scoff. “Maybe on our own, but we gnomes could always just—”

He fell silent, the delayed realization of whom he was speaking to finally settling in as he looked to Dipper and Mabel with wide eyes. And he was not the only one; the attention of both gnomes and Lilliputtians alike were now focused solely on Dipper and Mabel.

“Well, shiver me timbers, amongst other pirate-y exclamations of surprise!” One of the pirates piped up. “The Saviors of the Falls be returned to us at last!”

“The Hugelings are back!” A knight Lilliputtian added excitedly.

The rest of the group (both gnome and golfball alike) let out similar exclamations of delight, their crosswalk argument momentarily forgotten as they all hurried to the sidewalk to greet the twins.

And once the bus driver took advantage of the cleared road to continue onwards, the commotion was enough to also draw the attention of other nearby townsfolk. Townsfolk who—Dipper and Mabel observed as they got a good look around—were not quite as human as they had been the year prior.

A fair number of them were still clearly human; Tad Strange could be seen purchasing a loaf of bread through the window of a nearby store, while the man known as the ‘Free Pizza’ guy was taking a leisurely stroll just a short distance up the road.

But there was also no mistaking the mermaid in a small, mobile tank at an outside table for the nearby bistro, pulling her attention from her waterproof phone long enough to look their way.

Or the Abominable Bro-man stepping out of a nearby Jeep, the remaining three Bro-men still seated in the vehicle and pumping their fists in the air as they chanted his name with fraternal unity. A chant that quickly melted into the twins' names when the original Bro-man pointed them out with a look of pure, righteous elation.

And there was certainly no missing the flock of Eye-Bats resting comfortably on the nearby powerlines alongside a group of ordinary woodpeckers, or the Woodpecker-peckers that had taken up residence upon the original birds’ backs.

While the peckers and pecker-peckers showed little interest in the kids, one Eye-Bat shifted its attention down towards them with mild curiosity, before turning to the nearest Woodpecker-pecker and shooting a burst of energy from its cornea. In a flash, the miniature bird had been transformed into solid stone, the extra weight causing the powerline to sag beneath the original—but otherwise unbothered—Woodpecker.

As more townsfolk—human and supernatural alike—also turned their attention towards the kids, Dipper cast an amused look to his sister. “You still in the mood to get bombarded by a bunch of people?”

Mabel giggled in response, and carefully picked up one of the Lilliputtians for a hug. “I don’t know what point you’re trying to prove, this is awesome! It’s like our own little welcome parade!”

“Well, if this isn’t a delightful delight of a sight~!”

At the sound of another voice, both turned their attention towards a thin man approaching them from further down the sidewalk. His overall demeanor was riddled with giddiness and a cartoonish banner that read ‘Mayor’ was displayed prominently across his chest. “Dipper and Mabel Pines! I was wondering when you two would finally get back to town!”

He waggled a finger at them. “And here I thought I’d have to wait until tomorrow night to say hello to you kids again!”

“Hi, Mayor Tyler,” Mabel said, giving him a wave with the arm that wasn't wrapped around the Lilliputtian, before using it to gesture to the rest of them. “I see someone’s been having a busy nine months~!”

Dipper nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s so cool to see the gnomes and everyone else just…wandering around the town like this!”

From where the gnomes were gathered, Jeff let out a smug little chuckle. “Hear that, Franz? We got a personal shoutout and everything.”

Franz turned to glare at him. “You know he was only using you pointy-hatted jerks as an example!”

“I’ll make an example outta you, you round son of a—”

Their heated exchange from before returned in full swing as the two groups began to argue again, the Lilliputtian in Mabel’s arms leaping back down to join the fight with balled fists and a collection of gnome-targeted obscenities.

In response, Mabel’s gestured arm shifted to a pointing finger. “Oh, right, they were fighting in the middle of the street and blocked our bus.”

With a sigh, Tyler pressed a hand to his forehead. "Again?"

Near his foot, a French Lilliputtian piped up with a mighty: "Sacré bleu!"— one that likely translated out to "Again!"—before he hurled his body at the nearest gnome.

While they watched this unfold, Dipper looked back to Tyler. “So is this, like…normal for them?”

“I’m afraid so,” Tyler replied wearily. "They simply cannot stop butting heads no matter how I try to clear the air—oh, hold on, I worry they might start biting if I don’t do something—”

He moved towards the center of the combined groups, carefully tiptoeing between the small golf balls with an ease that implied he had done this countless times before, and came to a stop near both Franz and Jeff. “Now, boys, you know we’ve talked about this no less than a week ago!”

Franz pointed a finger at Jeff, eyebrows furrowed. “He was trying to rush us again—”

“—and I was pointing out how, again, they can just roll across the crosswalk!” Jeff argued in retaliation. “I just don’t understand how they’ve got the ability to move that fast, but then get mad at people for pointing out they have it!”

Franz shook a fist at him. “Oh, I’ll show you fast, with how fast I can ram my hand up your—”

“Okay, gentleman,” Tyler interrupted quickly, and took a knee so he could be closer to them. “Jeff, you know what I’ve said about antagonizing the Lilliputtians. If you and your boys can’t play nice, I might have to resort to—well, looking elsewhere for a crossing guard!”

“Wh—aw, come on!” Jeff protested. “That’ll be the fifth job we’ve lost in a month! Do you know how hard it is to nab the attention of a potential queen if we go back to being a bunch of unemployed chumps?”

Franz rolled his eyes. “Yeah, pretty sure it’s not the lack of a job they hate about you.”

“Why, you little—”

Jeff launched his entire body at Franz as the two of them began to squabble again, and Tyler reached out to grab them both by the back of their shirts. “Hey, come on now! I’m a fan of a good fight as much as the next guy, but you’re setting a bad example in front of our special guests—”

This earned a shrug from the twins. “I mean, we really don’t care,” Dipper said.

“One of them tried to kill us, the other tried to marry me,” Mabel added. “We’ve kinda already seen both of them at their worst already.”

“Need some help?”

A familiar voice from behind—followed by a massive shadow enveloping both of them in shade—turned both twins around, only for them to be greeted by the sight of a tall Manotaur towering high above them. But what really grabbed their attention was the teenager seated on his left shoulder, smile wide as she hopped down to the sidewalk in front of them.

Her hair was much shorter than the last time they had seen her, just barely peeking out from beneath the faded hat that she had swapped with Dipper for her own. And her original green flannel shirt had been exchanged for an unbuttoned red one over a white tank top.

Despite the differences in her appearance, however, there was no mistaking who she was—and her old hiking boots had barely touched the pavement before the twins rushed to embrace her in a joint hug. “Wendy!”

With a laugh, Wendy slunk an arm around each of their shoulders to hug them in return. “And here I thought you squirts would beat me up to the Shack,” she said, moving her hands to playfully noogie the tops of their heads. “What’re you doing all the way down here?”

Mabel gestured to the small crowd before them. “Well, our bus had to stop because—”

“Oh, for the love of—” Wendy interrupted with a sigh, before looking over to Tyler. “Are they fighting again?”

From where he stood—desperately holding the two leaders at arm’s length to prevent more blood from being drawn—Tyler’s expression melted into a look of relief. “Wendy! Thank goodness you’re here!” he said. “Uh, would you and Chutzpar mind—”

She crossed her arms with a miffed look. “You know, people are going to think it’s unprofessional that the mayor has to keep getting help from outside sources to solve the town’s issues—”

“Wendy, please?”

Wendy rolled her eyes, and looked up towards the Manotaur beside her. “Whaddaya think, Big Guy?”

“Many months ago, I would’ve encouraged the idea of using violence to solve one’s problems,” Chutzpar said stoically. “And I still would, were it not an inconvenience to Mayor Tyler.”

He held up a finger. “Punching out your feelings is not inherently a bad way to solve some issues, but there is a time and place for it,” he continued. “And right in the middle of town where people are looking to enjoy their day isn’t the right time nor the right place! So KNOCK IT OFF or I’ll knock YOU OFF!”

He punctuated the last sentence with a warning stomp of his left hoof, one strong enough to rumble the sidewalk beneath everyone’s feet. And once he was finished, he looked to Wendy hopefully—as if he were expecting her to praise him for his answer—and she gave an approving nod before looking to the crowd: “You guys chill now, or does he need to do that again?”

Thankfully the fighting had immediately ceased at Chutzpar’s warning stomp, both gnome and Lilliputtians alike trembling in shock. “H-hey, that’s a really rude way to get someone to stop doing something, you know!” Franz said irritably.

“Yeah,” Jeff piped up in agreement. “You can’t just use your Manotaur buddy to push us around like that!”

“Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll stop fighting when Tyler asks you to stop first,” Wendy said. “Besides, it worked, didn’t it? You guys are actually agreeing on something and have chilled out a little bit, right?”

Franz and Jeff exchanged a skeptical look, before they both turned away in disgust with halfhearted mutters of “I guess so.” and “Whatever.” in unison.

“Guys...”

Jeff crossed his arms. “Fine, I guess it doesn’t really matter how long they take to get across the street," he said defeatedly. "Besides, the longer we man the cross work, the more chances we get to snag attention from potential queen candidates."

“And I guess we could speed up a bit when we walk,” Franz added. “We’ll probably have to now, if we wanna make it to the sticker store and back to the golf course before our lunch break is over.”

Tyler clasped his hands together. “There, you see? Problem-solving!” he said delightedly. “Now, let’s clear off the sidewalk and give Dipper and Mabel some breathing room, okay?”

With only a small handful of grumbling, the gnomes and Lilliputtians shuffled back towards the crosswalk. Once they had properly dispersed, Tyler stood up to full height again and clasped his hands together. “Thank you so much, Wendy, you are an angel in lumberjack’s clothing~!”

Wendy crossed her arms again, expression souring at his compliment. “I meant what I said; you’ve really gotta get a handle on doing stuff like this by yourself,” he said. “The town’s not gonna take a guy who can’t even break up a fight between some gnomes and sentient golf balls seriously.”

Tyler chuckled nervously and once again pressed a hand to his forehead. “Well, regardless, your help is always appreciated!” he said, with a look to Chutzpar. “And thank you once again for all your help, big fella. I’m actually glad I caught you, I was actually on my way over to the lumbermill to discuss Thursday’s plans with Dan—”

This earned him an annoyed scoff from Wendy, while Chutzpar simply nodded. “Yes, that is the reason we were on our way to see you—”

“I was on my way to the Mystery Shack.”

“—why we were on our way to see you, before we made our way to the Mystery Shack,” Chutzpar continued, paying no mind to Wendy’s interruption. “I come with a message from him. And a gift.”

He looked to Wendy, who gave him a nod far more halfhearted than his own, before he held out the small object he had been carrying in one of his mighty fists.

It was a small, wood-carved animal (a bear to be specific), and it was clear that every notch in the wood had been carefully sculpted with care. A care that Tyler recognized with a look that was far less whimsical than his usual demeanor, and more of a genuine tenderness as he took the carving in his hand. “Oh, that darn man really knows how to spoil me rotten, doesn’t he?”

His smile widened as he looked back to Chutzpar. “You said he also had a message for me?”

Chutzpar nodded and reached into his pocket for a small stack of index cards. After taking a moment to shuffle them, he cleared his throat and began to read: “‘I am looking forward to Thursday. I was wondering if you would wear the panther shirt to dinner that I bought you in that two-for-one special. Panthers are powerful, and could tear a puma to—”

He casually flipped to the next index card, before gripping the entire stack tightly with both hands and ripping it in half a powerful yell of: ”—SHREDS!!!!’”

He held his stance for a moment, before slipping back into a more relaxed pose. “He specifically requested that I rip them up when I said ‘shreds’,” he explained. “It was an opportunity to be needlessly loud and violent in a healthy fashion, so I was in full support of the idea.”

“Aww, a show of force and a clever pun?” Tyler said, pressing his hands to his flushed face. “He really does know what I like~!”

He gave Chutzpar a wink. “Well, you be sure to tell Dan that I will certainly be wearing the panther shirt on Thursday!”

“Super,” Wendy said, her tone deadpan. “Can we go to the Shack now?”

“Of course, sorry for holding you up,” Tyler said with a laugh. “I suppose I should be getting back to work as well. This town’s not gonna mayor itself, after all~!”

“It might if you don’t learn how to break up fights without help,” Wendy muttered under her breath.

Tyler gave the group a little wave with the hand that held the wood carving. “Oh, and welcome back to town, Dipper and Mabel~! Can’t wait for the party tomorrow!”

With that, he turned and headed down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the group, leaving Wendy to turn her attention to the twins. “So, you guys need a second to unpack everything that just happened, or are we good to continue on to the Shack?”

Dipper and Mabel shared a look, before Dipper took the initiative: “Yeah, so I have about a dozen questions—”

“What are the gnomes and Lilliputtians and all the other creatures doing walking around town?” Mabel interrupted quickly, with a wide gesture of her arms. “What’re you doing with a Manotaur? And why’s he giving Mayor Tyler gifts from your dad?!”

Dipper pointed to his sister. “Actually yeah, she covered pretty much all the questions I had,” he said, turning his full attention to her. “Except for the last part, because I feel like that’s pretty obvious, Mabel.”

Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Duh-doy, I know it’s obvious. I just want to know when it started being a thing,” she explained. “I don’t remember hearing about it in any of the letters we got.”

Wendy made a face. “Yeah, it’s…kinda new.”

“They have been dating for four months,” Chutzpar pointed out.

“It’s new,” Wendy said flatly, before giving a shrug to the twins. “Anyway, the other stuff’s pretty easy to answer. Wanna swap stories as we head to the shack?”

“Yeah!” they answered in unison, before Dipper looked further up the road. “Kinda wish we’d asked the bus driver to stick around, though. The walk to the shack from here’s going to take forever.”

Wendy looked up at Chutzpar with a smirk, and he nodded knowingly in return. “Sounds like the two of you require a ride.”

Before either twin could question what he meant by ‘ride’, they suddenly found themselves being scooped up from the sidewalk and settled onto his muscular shoulders.

Wendy watched with a smile as they adjusted themselves. “You two chill up there?”

From the left shoulder, Dipper gave a thumbs up. “All good!”

Doubling over in a fit of giggles, Mabel reached over and grabbed hold of Chutzpar’s horn to steady herself. “Oh, this is way better than taking the bus~!”

Wendy let her gaze fall to the sidewalk below, where Waddles was staring up expectantly. “And while he’s got you, I’ll get—”

She bent down to pick him up, lifting him with just as little issue as his owner, and adjusted him until he was situated comfortably in her arms. “Woah, buddy, you feel a lot heavier than fifteen pounds this year!”

“I’ve fed him only the finest of leftover table scraps,” Mabel said proudly.

“And he used to sneak into my junk food stash at least once a week before I found a way to stop him,” Dipper said, giving Waddles a pointed look.

Waddles gave him a proud snort in response as Wendy took another quick glance at the sidewalk again. “Alright, no bags or any other random pets that you might’ve picked up since last year?”

“Bags are in our arms,” Dipper said, giving his a pat for good measure.

“And sadly no,” Mabel added in a solemn tone. “Mom said owning Waddles is like owning three pets in one. She says it as a compliment, because that just means he’s three times as lovable. But like we said before, he also just eats about as much as three animals so she don’t see any reason to get a fourth.”

This earned another proud snort from Waddles and a laugh from Wendy. “Sounds like an okay to begin walking, then.”

Chutzpar nodded, the sidewalk rumbling with every thunderous step he took as the group began their trek towards the winding trail on the edge of town.

— — — — — — —

“Mr. Pines, there’s no need to be so nervous.”

“What makes you think I’m nervous?”

From beside Soos, Grenda raised her hand. “The fact that you’re pacing in a circle so much, you’re practically digging a new bottomless pit with your feet?”

Candy turned to her, eyes bright with inspiration. “Ooh, if there are two of them, maybe they could be advertised as twin bottomless pits!” she said, holding up a finger on each hand. “Twin pits for twin pairs—“

She brought her fingers together with a smile. “—of twin Pines!”

Grenda let out a loud cackle, and gave her shoulder a hearty slap. “God, Candy, save some of that genius for when Mabel gets here!”

While Candy rubbed her now-sore shoulder with a wince, Soos gave the two of them a thumbs-up. “But I’m adding that to the list of attraction ideas when we get back to the shack. It’s a good one, dude.”

Stan looked down at the thin dent in the gravel that he’d worn down with his shoes, and crossed his arms with a gruff sigh. A sigh that was interrupted by the familiar sensation of a six-fingered hand on his shoulder.

His mouth curled into a smile as he locked eyes with the hand's owner, a near-identical set of features to his own staring back at him. “They raise a good point, Stanley,” Ford said. “Mostly about the nervousness, not the second bottomless pit idea.”

At that, he gave the girls a thumbs up. “But that is some impeccable wordplay, Candy!”

“My name gives me plenty of chances to make puns in everyday conversation,” Candy informed him with a smile. “It’s second nature to me at this point~!”

Stan tsked at that, although his smile didn’t disappear. “And who’s to say that pit-idea of theirs ain’t exactly what I’m doing?” he said. “Building some kinda new, twin-themed shack attraction with my feet?”

Candy held up another finger. “Shack-traction!”

“I said, stop! You’re gonna use up all the good ones!”

While the girls chattered on, Ford turned his gaze from them to Soos. “Actually, Soos, don’t you and the girls want to go, uh—” A pause. “—discuss that second bottomless pit idea further?”

Grenda ceased her attempt to give Candy a noogie of approval, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Why? He already said we’d—”

“Don’t worry, Dr. Pines!” Soos interrupted quickly, taking each of the girls’ hands in his own. “I’ll keep ‘em busy!”

Ford gave him an appreciative nod, one that Soos returned with a smile as he lead them away; not too far from the bus stop, but far enough to give the older men some space.

Once the three of them were at a distance that would make eavesdropping impossible, Stan playfully nudged his brother’s arm. “Real subtle there, Poindexter.”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” Ford said, as he turned back around to face him. “And even if I was, it’d be a lot more convincing than you’re trying to be about not being nervous.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m the King of Subtlety! Or are you forgetting the New Jersey Lil' Wise Guy Subtlety Competition of 1956, where I took first place?”

“It was 1957,” Ford corrected him. “And I distinctly remember you quite literally taking the first place medal and attempting to pawn it off to one of the customers in the shop. Which failed, because you were three.”

Stan pressed a hand to his forehead. “Was it? Could’ve sworn it was—” With a huff, he waved it away. “Whatever, so maybe I’m a little nervous about seeing my great-niece and nephew again for the first time in nine months,” he said with a halfhearted shrug. “So what?”

“As I’m sure we’ve discussed at least two dozen times on the ride back to town—”

“Three dozen.”

“—there’s no reason to be nervous about seeing Dipper and Mabel again,” Ford finished. “If all the letters they sent to the Mystery Shack are anything to go off, they’re just as excited to see us as we are them.”

Stan waved his hand again, this time with the addition of a scoff. “Oh, I’m not worried about all that,” he explained. “I know the kids love us, and I know as soon as they step off that bus, I’m gonna put on the tough-as-nails, no-nonsense Grunkle act and pretend I wouldn’t erase my own mind for ‘em again if they needed me to—”

“Don’t joke about that.”

A shared look of somberness crossed their faces for a brief instant, before Stan’s gaze fell to the ground again. “It ain’t us I’m worried about,” he repeated. “They headed outta this place only a week after we barely managed to save it from going to heck in a handbasket. Barely managed to save them…”

His gaze returned to Ford. “Just don’t want them comin’ back to a whole boatload of new things to be worried about, you know?”

The hand on Stan’s shoulder moved to Ford’s own hair, which he pushed back with a tired sigh. “Don’t I know it. I’ve had this pit in my stomach for about two weeks now, both from the excitement of getting to spend the full summer with my great-niece and nephew and—”

He paused, before letting his hand fall back to his side with a weak laugh. “Well, I guess it was inevitable that our return to town would be accompanied by some…complicated emotions.”

Forgetting his own nerves for a moment, Stan’s attention immediately snapped to his brother. The shift in Ford’s features was subtle, as it always was whenever the topic of Bill came up in passing. But the pain behind Ford’s eyes, a pain that held the weight of the past thirty-plus years, and the way his entire body tensed from the memories that Stan could only assume made up that weight—

Stan shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh. “Psh, listen to me gettin’ all worked up over the kids, when I should’ve been asking if you were alright.”

Ford looked to him, eyebrow raised. “Wh—no, that’s not the point. The point is—”

He was cut off by Stan slinging an arm around his shoulders, his knees buckling slightly from the extra weight. “The point is we’re both stressed,” Stan said. “And if we’re both stressed, then the kids are gonna end up stressed as well and that’ll just have the opposite effect of what we want. Like that law. You know, from that one guy?”

With his free hand, he snapped his fingers thoughtfully as he racked his brain for the answer. “Somethin’, somethin’, every action’s got a reaction and it’s opposite?”

An amused smile spread across Ford’s face. “Are you referring to Sir Isaac Newton and his laws of motion?” he asked. “Those laws by that world-renowned philosopher?”

“Hey, you’re the one that finished high school, Smart Guy, you tell me!”

Satisfied with his answer, he shifted the arm around Ford’s shoulder to pull him into a proper headlock. Ford attempted to slink out from beneath his brother’s embrace with a laugh, but unfortunately the past forty years had done little to weaken Stan’s technique and kept him locked as firmly in place as it had during their childhood.

On the other hand, three decades of wandering the Multiverse had provided Ford with a few defensive maneuvers of his own. Combined with spending the past nine months on a fishing boat together, it had taken little time for him to readapt to his brother’s attempts at rough-housing—

His gaze fell to Stan’s exposed ribs, to which he delivered a light—yet firm—jab with his elbow.

—and even less time for him to find the most effective methods of countering them.

Sure enough, Stan released him with a surprised yelp, one that melted into a fit of rough laughter as Ford effortlessly slipped out of his grasp. “Cheap shot.”

“I believe you’re the last person to talk when it comes to fighting dirty, Stanley,” Ford replied with a smug grin.

“Oh, I’ll show ya dirty—”

The laughter doubled as the two of them spent another moment attempting to one-up the other in lighthearted fisticuffs, until the distant, rumbling sound of tires against asphalt pulled them back to reality. And if the sight of the approaching bus alone hadn’t been enough, Grenda’s boisterous cry of “THE BUS IS COMING!” as the rest of the group hurried back to rejoin them would’ve done the trick.

As they straightened themselves out again in preparation to greet the kids, the brothers exchanged another look. One that clearly displayed their shared nervousness that even rough-housing hadn’t completely eliminated.

It was Stan who broke the awkward silence first, mouth curling into a halfhearted smile. “Guess we’d better give that Newton chump a call, huh?”

Ford managed a weak smile in return. “You realize you’ve wildly misinterpreted the laws of motion and their relation to the situation at hand, don’t you?”

“And you realize you’re a giant nerd, right?” Stan countered.

“Well, regardless of misinterpretation, you do raise a good point,” Ford said. “If we’re both stressed, then the kids are bound to pick up on it and get stressed in turn.”

He inhaled slowly, and exhaled slower. “It’s a new summer. A chance for everyone to start over.”

“You know it,” Stan said, lightly touching his knuckles against Ford’s arm. “And hey, uh—that doesn’t stop at summer. We don’t have to do anything alone ever again, right?”

They exchanged a look, silently lingering in their shared understanding for a moment before Ford spoke again: “You’re right, Stanley. We don’t have to do anything alone. Not now, not ever again.”

The two remained still for a moment more, before Stan reached over to give him a nudge. “And y’know, if that doesn’t work, I’m pretty sure I saw some kinda zombie-summoning spell in one of those nerd books of yours.”

He crossed his arms. “I know we chucked them down into the Bottomless Pit, but I also know for a fact that you’ve got one’a’those smart-guy photographic-memories and could probably recite it off the top of your head.”

“Are you suggesting I use necromancy to summon Sir Isaac Newton?” Ford asked, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “To prove his first law that you seem insistent on misinterpreting?”

“I mean, I ain’t telling you to give him a kiss on the cheek or nothin’,” Stan said.

Their smiles widened in amused unison as the bus finally slowed to a stop, the creaking of the brakes echoing loudly through the forest around them. Almost as if they were announcing the long-awaited arrival of the teenagers on board to anything within earshot.

And as the group watched, the older adults with tense shoulders while Soos and the girls all leaned into each other with excited anticipation, the doors of the bus slid open to reveal—

“Are you all looking to get on?”

—nothing more than the bus driver.

Candy blinked in confusion. “Have Dipper and Mabel turned invisible since we last saw then?”

Stan’s brow furrowed, balling one hand into a warning fist as he stared at the driver. “Yeah, pal, what gives?! Where’s our kids?”

“The ones from earlier?” the driver asked. “Oh, they got off somewhere in town. There were a buncha golfballs and gnomes in the road, said they’d take care of it and for me to just go on ahead without ‘em.”

He pressed a hand to his chin. "Good kids, though! The bus floor's practically sparkling thanks to that pet pig of theirs!"

“Did they tell you if they were going to walk the rest of the way or not?” Ford asked.

“I believe that’s what they said,” the driver said. “But seriously, is no one here going to get on?”

A varying chorus of ‘No’s earned the group a closed door, before the bus continued onwards down the road. After it eventually descended down a hill and out of sight, Grenda’s shoulders fell. “Aw, man! I was gonna pile drive Mabel into the ground as soon as she got off the bus! Now our whole ‘Welcome Back To The Falls’ greeting is ruined!”

Candy patted her arm sympathetically. “I am sure she would’ve appreciated the effort regardless.”

“Of course she would!” Grenda lamented, her loud voice booming through the nearby wood. “She’s an angel who appreciates when we go the extra mile!”

“Back in town for five minutes and they’re already getting caught up in some kind of weird shenanigans,” Ford said, swelling with pride. “They’re a couple of Pines, alright.”

Stan slapped a hand over his eyes, and dragged it down the rest of his face. “Yeah, a pair from your side of the family, maybe.”

It was said in exasperation, but there was an undeniable fondness in his tone. One that transferred to his expression as he turned to the rest of the group. “Alright, on one hand: the kids know the way to the Shack like the backs of their own hands and they’ll probably get here just fine on foot,” he pointed out. “On the other—”

“Getting here could take a while and none of us want to wait that long to see them again, so we go and meet them halfway?” Soos guessed.

“You got it.”

From beside his brother, Ford shot a glance down the road from whence the bus had came. “Looks like halfway might be closer than we think.”

He pointed a finger for emphasis, and the rest of the group followed his gesture to the sight of an approaching Manotaur coming up the road. One that was delightfully conversing with the two thirteen-year-olds seated on each of his shoulders, and the sixteen-year-old walking beside him.

A conversation that had been clearly happening since the four of them had been back in town, Dipper and Mabel’s attention fully fixed on Wendy as she continued to speak: “—and after everyone teamed up during Weirdmageddon, the vibes of the town just kinda shifted. As if a lot of the weird stuff in town suddenly realized: ‘Hey, we’re not much of a mystery anymore so there’s not really a reason to keep hiding’, and the people in town realized they weren’t as weird and terrifying as they originally thought.”

She pressed a finger to her temple. “Combine that with the Society of the Blind Eye going belly up and leaving no one around to go blasting memories out of people’s heads—” Then pressed her hands together and laced her fingers for emphasis. “—everyone and everything just kinda started mushing together over time.”

“Manly Dan caught news of us Manotaurs when we were forced to relocate our Man Cave,” Chutzpar added. “Impressed by our manliness and feats of strength, he offered us jobs in his lumberyard. We told him we’d only accept if the toughest combatants from his family defeated us in battle.”

“And you guys lost to him?” Mabel guessed.

“Not to him.”

Chutzpar cast a gaze down at Wendy, and the twins followed suit in the hopes of further elaboration. “Originally, it was just going to be Dad and my brothers in the fight,” she explained. “Not because Dad didn’t think to ask me; I was at work at the time and happened to come home just as all of them were getting their butts handed to ‘em on a silver platter.”

“It was a mighty battle of strength and determination,” Chutzpar said in a faraway tone. “They fought well, even if their efforts were inevitably in vain.”

“Nearly in vain,” Wendy corrected. “But then I showed up and volunteered to finish the fight.”

“And they let you?”

“Of course not, the big meatheads all laughed at the idea of fighting a girl. But then I punched one of ‘em in the gut, and suplexed another into the ground, where he got stuck by his horns.”

This got a laugh out of her. “Taking down the rest wasn’t too hard, since Dad and the others had already worn most of 'em down. But even if they hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been difficult. Their fighting style was all punch, no technique. Even an amateur could’ve taken all of them down with a few well-placed hits.”

She shrugged with amusement. “That was also why Dad wasn’t able to win against them; he fights the exact same way. It was just lunkhead against lunkhead out there, swinging fists wildly until at least one of ‘em hit something. And unfortunately for my lunkheaded family, they didn’t have as many fists as the Manotaurs to keep swinging around. Until I showed up, at least.”

While the twins giggled at the visual image, Chutzpar gave a stoic nod. “The Manotaurs lost the battle that day, but it was a loss we hold with pride,” he said, with a shift of the arm that held Dipper. “One that taught us that—between her and the things you taught us last year, Destructor—we have plenty to learn about what it means to be men.”

He gave his chest a hearty thump. “And that sometimes that manliest men among us are actually girls!”

Dipper raised a mildly-confused eyebrow at Wendy, who shrugged in response. “Eh, they’re still a little confused but it’s better than where they were last year,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Not to mention being called the Manliest Man in Gravity Falls kinda hits in a way I’m not complaining about—”

“Kids!”

At the sound of another voice hailing them from further ahead, Dipper and Mabel turned their gazes forward to see their welcome party hurrying towards them from the opposite direction. Grenda and Candy were bringing up the rear with Soos, while Ford was keeping a steady pace in the middle.

But at the very front of the group, Stan was charging towards them with a speed and passion that couldn’t be matched by anyone else.

Except perhaps by Mabel, who had quickly jumped down from Chutzpar’s shoulder at the sound of his voice and began to sprint towards her great-uncle at Mach speed. “Grunkle Stan!”

It was a miracle that the two of them remained standing, with how hard they crashed into one another in a bone-crushing embrace; Mabel linking her arms around Stan’s neck like a spider monkey while he spun her around with a hearty belly laugh.

Only for that miracle to shatter when the embrace of two became three as Dipper caught up to them, and all of them tumbled to the ground in a mess of laughter. “What, are you kids tryna kill me before we even get to the Shack?” Stan asked, slinging an arm around Dipper’s body. “I don’t remember the two’a’you being this big last year.”

Mabel let out a little giggle and pressed her hands to his face. “Yeah, well, you weren’t this hairy last year!” she pointed out in return. “I mean you were still really hairy, but now you’ve got a full-grown beard!”

“Sure do!” Stan said brightly, and patted the hair covering his chin. “Ol’ Poindexter and I made a decision early on that if we were spendin’ our days as men of the sea, then we were sure as heck gonna look the part!”

Mabel pressed her own hands to her mouth, stifling a laugh. “You sound like Dipper at Hanukkah! He was soooooo excited to show Grandpa Shermie his beard~!”

The last word was said with clear amusement, and Dipper shrank a bit before slapping his hands over his face. “Mabel, come on, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, didja grow one too?” Stan asked, peering at him. “Come on, Slick, let’s see those Pines genetics at work.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dipper nervously lowered his hands and Stan leaned closer to examine the few, noticeable hairs on his chin. “I know it’s not much,” Dipper explained quickly. “But it’s more than I had last year! A-and Mom says that I’m bound to get more as I get older!”

With a proud laugh, Stan reached up to ruffle his hat. “You kidding? That’s more than I had at that age!” he said. “You be proud of those few hairs, and don’t let your sister steal ‘em for her scrapbook.”

“Too late,” Mabel said brightly. “I stole both one from the chin and one from the shin~! He has some there, too!”

Dipper gave her a pointed look, before turning back to Stan with a more confident smile. “I’d be more annoyed at her for that if she wasn’t right,” he said, and held up his leg. “Because look, I got so much on my legs, too!”

“Woa-hoh, get a load of Mister Big Man over here!” Stan said, and brought him closer for a noogie. “Those genetics really are kickin’ in early for you, huh?”

“He’s not the only one they’ve kicked in for,” Mabel added. “Or should I say—”

She kicked out one of her own legs with a cheeky grin. “—kicked~!”

There was a moment of pause, before she gave her leg another wiggle. “You get it because—”

“Mabel also got leg hair,” Dipper clarified. “If that wasn’t obvious.”

“I tried shaving it at first, but it just made my legs soooooo itchy,” Mabel said. "So now I just have built-in leg warmers!”

“I’d suggest the fire method, but it’s far more effective at removing facial hair than body hair,” a voice behind them said. “Also something tells me that your parents wouldn’t be too happy if we sent you back home with burns on your legs.”

The trio looked up to see Ford standing before them, a hand outstretched. “Room in the dirt for one more?”

A series of grins were exchanged before three hands reached for Ford’s in unison and pulled him down to the ground with them. “It’s good to see you again, Grunkle Ford!” Dipper said.

“Especially since we actually know you exist now!” Mabel added. “This time last year, we still thought Grunkle Stan was you! And then when we did find out that you were you and he was him, we only got to spend a little bit of time with you!”

Her arms moved from around Stan’s neck to Ford's, her spider-monkey grip once again unbreakable as she hugged him tight. “But this year, we get to spend aaaaallllllll summer with both our Grunkles!”

Ford’s smile widened and he slinked an arm around her as Stan piped up with: “That’s right, Pumpkin! No more mysteries or weird demons or monsters or anything that’s gonna get in the way of me spendin’ time with you kids and my brother!”

“Well, I mean, a monster here and there’s not a bad thing—” Ford begin, just as Dipper finished with a: “I wouldn’t mind a mystery or two, honestly.”

The four of them doubled over in laughter as the remaining party from both directions finally caught up to them. “Aww, you guys are having a cuddle pile in the dirt without us?” Grenda piped up unhappily.

“Candy adds a dash of sweetness to every cuddle pile!” Candy added.

“Or did the squirts knock you down ‘cause you’re older than the dirt you’re sitting in?” Wendy chimed in, as her and Chutzpar also came to a stop.

“Watch it, Corduroy,” Stan said, pulling his arm out from around Dipper so he could point a finger at her. “Just ‘cause I’m not your boss anymore doesn’t mean I can’t ask Soos to fire you.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow in Soos’ direction. “Would you fire me if he asked?”

“Uh…” Soos shifted uncomfortably in place. “Do I really have to answer that?”

This got a disbelieving “Wow.” out of Wendy and a delighted cackle out of Stan, one that was cut short by a grunt of pain as he shifted in place. “Ow, maybe we should get up outta all this dirt and gravel,” he muttered. “I got rocks in place I don’t wanna mention in front of a bunch of impressionable teenagers, my brother, or Soos.”

Soos offered him a hand. “Maybe we can move the cuddle pile to the Shack, then? Then Melody can join us!”

With a look of disgust, Stan took his hand and pulled himself to his feet. “Pass. Last thing any of us needs is for you two to start making kissy faces at each other.”

“Keep that in mind,” Wendy muttered with a grin.

“Soos does raise an excellent point about making our way the Shack,” Ford said. “The sooner the kids get settled in, the sooner we can exchange stories.”

He emphasized the last word with a knowing look to his brother, and Stan’s mouth spread into a wide grin as he offered his own hands to the kids. “Hey, yeah! You squirts wanna hear about the time your Grunkles tore the head off a Kraken along the coast of Texas?” he asked with a wink. “‘Cause lemme tell ya: when they say everything’s bigger down there, they mean everything!”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a unanimous “Yeah!” as they were also pulled to their feet—

“Nope! I said I was giving Mabel a proper ‘Welcome Back’ pile drive, and I’m gonna do it!”

—and Mabel was immediately brought back down to the tampered dirt path by a charging Grenda, any pain from the impact momentarily drowned in a fit of giggles as she hugged her friend. “Oh, it’s just as spine-shattering as I hoped it’d be!”

“Don’t forget Candy, for a dash of sweetness!” Candy piped up, as she flopped over the other two with a laugh. “I made that pun already, but it was so nice, I had to say it twice!”

“Agreed, it was hilarious!” Mabel agreed, arms going around both of them in a tight embrace. “Ugh, I missed you girls sooooo much! I’ve got loads to tell you since my last letter—ooh, also I’ve got a phone now!”

While Mabel attempted to fish her phone out of her pocket, Wendy cast a smirk to the adults. “Anyone wanna bet that we won’t get to the Shack until nightfall?”

Chutzpar looked down at her. “I respect a show of friendly violence, but should I intervene again?

“You know you don’t have to listen to me,” Wendy said, folding her arms. “I’m not, like, actually in charge of you guys or anything.”

“I’m aware.”

“And I don’t take any bets I know I’ll lose,” Stan said, and snapped his fingers at the girls. “Hey, come on, I know we’re all excited to be seein’ each other again.”

He pointed a finger at Grenda, which shifted between her and Candy. “But I already told you two that I need at least one night without wondering if a family of bats moved into my attic, or if you girls are tryin’ to break the sound barrier with your squeals.”

“Seconding that,” Dipper piped up quickly. “I would also like a buffer between now and the inability to sleep in my own room, please.”

The girls let out a disappointed chorus of ‘Awwwww’s as they untangled themselves and returned to their feet. “But Grunkle Staaaaan, I missed my people!” Mabel argued.

“And her people missed her!” Grenda added, squeezing her close.

“Never said you couldn’t hang out with ‘em after tonight,” Stan pointed out. “Plus there’s that party tomorrow—”

“Oh, yeah!” Grenda said excitedly. “We can catch up at the party!”

“We can catch up on stories while we tear up the dance floor!” Candy added with an excited wiggle, before she raised her fists to the air. “And remind this town who the real party animals are!”

She let her arms fall again. “Plus my parents said that I needed to come home after we said hi to you, anyway,” she explained further, then added as an afterthought: “Hi, Mabel!”

With a giggle, Mabel replied: “Hi, Candy!”

“And I got my pile drive in, so I guess I did everything I wanted to do today,” Grenda added with a shrug.

While Stan leaned close to Ford with a quiet: “I’d point out that it was more of a tackle than a pile drive, but also I don’t wanna be out here longer than we hafta be.” (earning a “Smart call.” from Ford in return), Mabel tightened her grip around the other girls. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess I can wait another day to hang out with my beeeeest friends in the whoooolllllle world~!”

Candy’s gaze moved over to Wendy and Chutzpar. “By the way, we saw that Dipper and Mabel got a Manotaur ride up here,” she said. “Is there an option to catch a Manotaur ride back to town?”

“Ooh, me too! Me too!” Grenda added. “Wendy, make him give us a ride!”

“Once again, I’m not in charge of the Manotaurs,” Wendy pointed out, with another look to Chutzpar. “It’s up to you, pal. You offering rides back to town?”

Chutzpar held out both hands for them to take. “Small girls who greet their friends with violent pile drivers are worthy of a ride,” he said, before raising an eyebrow at Wendy. “But will you be alright getting home?”

“I can always hitch a ride from someone,” Wendy assured him. “Or—”

She reached into her pocket for her phone, and glanced at the screen for a moment. “—yeah, or I can just spend the night at the Shack if I really need to.”

“Aw, what?” Grenda said unhappily from Chutzpar’s shoulder. “How come you get to spend the night and we don’t?”

“Good-bye, girls,” Stan said, and gave Wendy a pointed stare. “Tell the big guy to go.”

“I’m not—” Wendy started to say, then shrugged it off and gave Chutzpar a wave of her hand. “Go ahead.”

Chutzpar gave her a nod in return, and turned back towards the direction of the town. “Let’s make haste, small female children,” he said, and began to walk. ”I have a response from Mayor Tyler to deliver to Manly Dan about their Thursday plans.”

“We are teenagers now, you know,” Grenda pointed out with a mild huff of indignance. “Or at least I am.”

“Ooh, is the response a loooove message~?” Candy added delightedly. “Are the plans a date?”

“Oh, you know it—!”

Chutzpar’s voice echoed through the wood with amusement, the volume only matched in power by Grenda’s laughter as the trio drew further and further away from those who had stayed behind. Eventually though, even their powerful baritones could not be carried such a distance, and the forest around the group fell silent again.

Silent, until—

“So, we’re not gonna question the big man-cow thing?” Stan asked. “We’re just acting like he’s been here the entire time, then?”

Ford shrugged in response. “He was clearly a Manotaur, and one that seemed to be on good terms with Wendy and the kids,” he said. “Didn’t see any reason to question his presence.”

“He’s visited the Shack several times,” Soos chimed in as well. “Also he was staying with us in the Shack during Weirdmageddon.”

“Did he?” Stan said. “Huh, feel like I should remember that.”

“I also met him and the rest of the herd last year,” Dipper added, just as Mabel chimed in with her own: “The Manotaurs work for Wendy now, and also Manly Dan is dating Mayor Tyler!”

Wendy made a twirling motion with her finger. “What they all said, minus the ‘working for me’ thing. They’re part of my dad’s logging crew now, and even if they listen to me when I ask them to do stuff, I don’t want anything to get weird with that.”

“And the part about your dad and Mayor Tyler?” Stan asked, an eyebrow raised.

Wendy’s expression shifted for half a second, before her usual, disinterested grin took its place. “Hey, here’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say: let’s stop standing around and doing nothing, and get to the Shack so I’m not late for my shift!”

Soos raised a hand. “Uh, but Wendy, I’m your boss and it’s your day off—”

“Race you knuckleheads there~!”

Wendy took off like a shot before Soos could finish his point, taking great care to lightly plap a hand against the heads of the younger twins and deliver a loving fist to the arms of the adults as she zipped between them and ran towards the direction of the Mystery Shack.

With a laugh, the younger twins sprinted after her in a rush with cries of: “Wait for us!” and “How are you running that fast with a pig in your arms?”

The adults watched them go for a moment, before Soos turned to the Stans: “...We don’t actually have to run all the way back there, do we?”

Stan, who had been watching Wendy and the kids race ahead, pulled his attention back to Soos. “Absolutely not,” he said flatly, and pressed a hand to his back. “Especially not after the kids knocked me down like that.”

He winced as the three of them began to follow after the kids at a much slower pace. “Gonna be feeling that for at least a few days.”

“Well, at least it’s a sign that we won’t have to give Sir Isaac Newton a call,” Ford pointed out with a smile. “With the way the kids tackled you, there’s zero doubt that they’re thrilled to be back.”

Once again, Stan mirrored his smile with one of his own. “Yeah, well, if they keep on bein’ that thrilled, you’re gonna have to bust out that necromancy spell to talk to me.”

Ford’s expression tensed for a moment at his brother’s joke, but any unease passed just as quickly as it had come when the sight of the familiar old cabin peered into view ahead of them.

#Hayley Writes Triangulum #Gravity Falls #Triangulum The Fic #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #My Writing #Long Post #(There's more characters but those four are on the poster so they get tags)

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hearted-anon · 1 month

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Pillow fights!

Words: 1287 Note: For @seungsluvv T/w: None, it's raining cats and dogs ain't it? Lee(s): Know, Seungmin Ler(s): Minho, Seungmin

"Come here, Kim Seungmin!" Minho screeched as they both ran around in endless circles in the bedroom, akin to animals chasing their tail. Lee Know gripped the fluffy pillow tight in his hands, darting after the bolting puppy that had his own pillow too. To Chan's sleepy thinking, courtesy of his overworking behaviour that got his fair share of punishment, he decided to put Seungmin and Minho in the same room, which turned into a massive pillow fight.

"Get away from me hyung!" Came the reply of the running vocalist, who threw basically everything that was soft, wouldn't hurt anyone but would definitely disrupt his balance of chasing him down. Gasps and grunts came from Lino as he struggled with the amount of pillows thrown at him, although most were dodged from his fast reflexes that were thought to be inhumane.

"I'm going to catch you- ARGH!" The cat let out a cry when he was toppled onto the pile of pillows he finally got past, just to be knocked down back into them. Seungmin tackled him as hard as he could, using his fluffy shield to protect them both from the pain of their strength. Straddling his waist, Seungmin lifted the pillow above his head, as if wielding a silver sword in his hands, ready to emerge victorious in this battle with rose red blood staining his weapon, a confident smile on his face.

“Get ready to say goodbye, hyun- GAHAHAHA!” The younger’s once prideful words were cut short as fingers shot to his hips in an instant, kneading the hollows aggressively as the older panted heavily. Seungmin let up with a deafening squeal, his arms crashing down with his pillow that bounced off the floor reluctantly, tugging at the cat’s fingers. He howled in laughter as Minho regained his strength, eyes darkening with vengeance that screamed revenge.

“You thought I’d lose? Lee Minho, losing?” Lee Know scoffed, his voice heavy in sass as his hands worked happily to defeat his mini self. If anything, their only weakness was knowing each other inside out, including how to bring them down from their high horse. The younger nodded rather aggressively, swallowing down another breath in an attempt to regain his strength to no avail. That was a terrible mistake on the puppy’s behalf, another howl emitted as a finger thrusted into his navel, slipping sneakily under his shirt to wiggle and scratch all over in the soft skin.

“NOHOHO! WOHOHORST SPOHOTS ARE CHEHEHEATING! YOHOHOU CHEHEATER!” Seungmin shook his head rapidly at the sensations that quickly took over his lower tummy, digging his heels into the soft pillows that provided no ground to relieve all the shocking sensations. Lino simply chuckled slowly, smiling mischievously as none of the sensations that the younger wanted to stop, stopped. He pondered if this was revenge for forcing Lee Know to admit dogs were better than cats previously, having been quite the ‘cheater’ last time, now revenge being served to him quite coldly. The puppy panicked internally through his hysterics, he had to act fast, not wanting to surrender to Minho in the slightest, he would dig his grave which he was currently doing before that happened.

“Cheating? You call your hyung a cheater?!” Lino finally sounded in feigned anger, narrowing his eyes into slits which paused Seungmin’s thinking. Within a split second, a ring in Minho’s ears vibrated from the sheer scream that the younger one let out when a raspberry was placed below his belly button, his finger still occupying that space. The puppy kicked out through his howling, head tossed back onto the pillows that provided no comfort to him.

“AHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAP STOHOP STOP!” Seungmin pleaded breathlessly, unable to think straight through the roughness of the torture he was put through. His thoughts clouded through the electrifying sensations, his hair sprawled out over the floor through his thrashing. Minho didn’t let up, determined on hearing his trumpets of victory, and would not stop until he heard it. Although in a blurry haze, Seungmin’s hands mustered up the last of his strength to dig harshly into Lino’s waistline, as roughly as he could through his desperation.

“YOHOHOU LITTLE-! ARGHAHAHAHA!” Lee Know fell backwards with a squeal of his own, the tables finally turned in Seungmin’s favour and to Minho’s dismay. Gasping for air heavily, the younger was quick to throw himself back onto the cat, squishing his nimble fingers into the cat’s v-line without an ounce of regret. His fingers trembled, his face still an incredible bright red from what he was put through, now hungry for his revenge.

“Little what? You’ve had your fun hyung, unless you can’t handle what you dish out? What a shame.” It was quite bold of Seungmin to taunt so teasingly, considering that he was put in the same vulnerable position mere moments ago, laughing his little head off. But he was going to take his revenge, in every way possible, and no matter what. Lee Know could only cackle to his heart’s content, clawing at the younger’s hands to get them off his pudgy skin to no avail.

“YOHOHOU SHUHUCK! LEHEHET GOHOHO!” Minho squealed out, getting more and more desperate with each passing second that the unrelenting fingers stayed put on his waistline, kneading and massaging roughly into the skin that drove him absolutely insane. His smile lines were prominent through his boisterous laughter, his jaw open slightly to let out all the cackles he needed to.

“Hmm…admit defeat..” Seungmin hummed thoughtfully, which wasn’t really that thoughtful considering he replied almost immediately, almost sarcastically thinking to give the older the hope of being let go. The puppy grinned down at the cat who was in ticklish hell, his eyes crinkling up as his smile spread apart his teeth slightly, creating an open mouthed smile that was made to melt anyone’s heart that even saw it. Seungmin was no different, sighing in adoration as Lee Know squealed for mercy when his fingers hit the middle of the sensitive line of skin, slamming his head onto the floor, narrowly avoiding the wood and landing onto the pillow.

“NO! NEHEHEVER!” Minho screeched, his arms lifting up Seungmin’s fingers for a split moment to breathe, before eventually tackling the puppy on the floor. Out of energy, they both stared at each other for a moment, in an almost uncomfortable silence that would make anyone shiver. But as one said, ‘disturb the normal, comfort the weird’, as the next moment both of them bursted into soft giggling, tossing playful insults about their smiles and flushed cheeks and ears. Pillows were thrown, attacks were made, eventually both of them laying in the middle of the room, panting with tears of mirth streaming down their faces as they laid still on the shared mattress.

“Thahahat was soho fun…” The younger breathed out slowly, earning a hum of agreement from the one beside him. He squeaked when arms wrapped around him comfortably, warm breath hitting his scalp as Lino buried his face into Seungmin’s scalp, taking in the scent of his shampoo. Their eyes lidded next to each other, the aircon that circulated throughout the room calming their nerves after the war had finally ended. Breath stilling, pillows and blankets engulfed them in a safe and warm embrace, the once loud shrieks and squeals were replaced with quiet breathing, the two troublemakers cuddling up next to each other as if their life depended on it, as if the moment they let go they’d sink into a pit of darkness that separated the two forever.

Of course they didn’t wake up like that, of course they pushed each other away the next minute, after all, only they knew each other inside out…

#..?#yes #lee!know #ler minho #lee!minho #ler know #ler seungmin #lee seungmin #skz tickle #stray kids tickle #kpop tickle

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somewhatclear · 3 months

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something that would always be around

logue & vesta | 2k words

Logue didn’t feel much of a grown-up, when he had spent all day making a doll of his own brother because he was lonely.

a while ago, the lovely nubstarion came up with the headcanon that logue was the one making the little stib doll you can see on staeve's character sheet, and this is me running with it.

hope you enjoy my take on this bit of backstory for the brimstone siblings (posted with @velnna's permission ♥ as always, thank you!)

Edit: according to word of god ™️the brothers are about 13 and 17 here Edit 2 electric boogaloo: you can read it on ao3 now

He'd been putting the last stitches in the back of his Little Big Brother’s neck, to better secure his head to his body, when Logue’s actual big brother’s voice piped up from nowhere, startling him half to death.

“What have you got there, chickie?”

Nita often scolded him for being loud and attracting too much attention, but Vesta could be very silent when he wanted to be. He just didn't care to. Their sister sometimes didn't see that, but Logue did. He saw everything.

Well, almost everything. He hadn’t seen Vesta creeping from the side, just then.

Logue’s hand slipped. The needle went through his fingertip, and a tiny drop of blood welled up to the surface of his skin. He quickly lifted it out of the way and into his mouth — it didn't hurt, but he didn't want it to stain Little Big Brother. Not after all the effort he'd put in making him.

“Oh, shit.” Vesta was quick to crouch in front of him and grab his wrist, to check the damage. “Are you hurt? Let me see.”

Logue shook his head. He’d pricked himself a million times, it was fine.

“Are you sure?” Vesta grinned. “Don’t you want me to kiss it better?”

Logue rolled his eyes.

Vesta snickered, raised his hands in mock-defeat. “Alright, alright, I know you’re all grown-up and crap now.”

Hearing those words made Logue wince. He didn’t feel much of a grown-up, when he had spent all day making a doll of his own brother because he was lonely. Abruptly self-conscious, he shifted the his little project off his lap, hoping Vesta wouldn’t—

“So, what have you been up to? You've been hiding down here forever.”

Logue sighed. Better get it over with.

He pulled the doll back onto his knees, finished to stab the last couple stitches in the fabric, secured the thread with a double knot and severed the excess with his teeth. Then he shoved it at Vesta, making a show of tidying up his sewing supplies while he waited for his brother’s reaction with trepidation.

Vesta was silent for an eternity, turning the toy over in his hands.

“This is really well made,” he praised, quiet and careful.

Despite the embarrassment, a warm bubble of pride swelled in Logue’s chest. It didn’t look like much, but it had taken him a lot of time to put the thing together, from stealing the right fabrics and thread, to figuring out how to piece the parts together. He was glad he could always trust his brother to recognize his efforts.

“The little fella looks kind of familiar,” Vesta pointed out, raising the doll next to his face. The resemblance wasn't particularly uncanny; that hadn't been the goal and Logue wasn't that skilled a toy maker. But the colours were right, and the little bits of silvery thread he'd embroidered on its pointy little ears were the same number as Vesta's new earrings.

It definitely was a Little Big Brother, right there.

“I don't see it,” Logue quipped, very seriously. “His shirt is clean. Doesn't have holes. And he's more handsome.”

“You little—”

Vesta jumped him. Logue snickered as he got pinned down and playfully roughed up, then let out an actual shriek of laughter when his brother’s hands found their cold way under the hem of his shirt. He tried to swat them away from his vulnerable sides but Vesta always was a cheating cheater who cheated, and kept blowing raspberries onto the ticklish spots on his neck. Fits of twitching giggles made Logue’s legs into jelly.

They weren’t little kids anymore. Logue should have gotten angry at Vesta for still treating him like a baby, but he didn’t. He couldn't.

He'd been so excited when Nita had sent him on a supply run—he’d been looking forward to it. Finally, they thought he could take care of himself. They thought he could be trusted with the important stuff. He'd done so well the first time, Nita actually said she regretted not giving him things to do much earlier, and Logue could swear he’d grown taller by a handspan out of sheer, smug vindication.

He had always known he could do it; but he hadn't expected how miserable a time he was going to have, out there. He always excelled at sneaking around, at not being seen, not being heard. That had been his job, when he'd tagged along Vesta.

As soon as he stepped out of the shadows, his tongue tied itself up, and people looked at him, and he wished his brother was there.

If wishes were horses.

“Stop!” Logue wheezed, pretending he couldn't easily knock Vesta over if he wanted to. “Mercy!”

“We'll see!” The effect of his angry scowl was ruined by the laughter spilling from his lips. “Who's more handsome?”

Logue freed one shoulder from under Vesta, and gave him an exaggerated shrug.

“You're on thin fucking ice there, chickie.”

Vesta untangled them from the messy pile of limbs they had fallen into, and offered Logue a hand to help him sit up. He also saved Little Big Brother from the neglected corner he’d been knocked to during their tussling, and brushed dust off his miniature shirt and pants with a careful hand.

His shoulder pressed against Logue’s shoulder.

“Who's he for?” Vesta ran his fingers through Little Big Brother's thread hair, poked at the little ink freckles on his cheeks, pulled at the tiny ears. “A secret admirer of mine I don't know about?

Logue snorted, and shook his head.

“Wow, alright, rude. Planning to make a pretty copper selling cursed effigies for my exes, then?” He let his head drop against Logue’s shoulder. The warmth seeping through Logue’s shirt felt comforting. Solid. Safe. “I'm not stopping you, to be clear. If you are making good money I want a cut, though.”

Logue shook his head again. Took a deep breath. “Me.”

Vesta, the big silly, gasped dramatically and turned on him with big, round eyes and a wobbly lip. “You want to curse me?”

“No!” Logue scrunched up his nose and shoved him, stealing the doll from him. “He's. For me. For. Because. It’s. He's —”

Vesta’s hand came up to the nape of his neck, gripping gently.

“Easy, chickie. Deep breath. Start over.”

Logue swallowed thickly, closed his eyes. “I have the words. It's just stupid,” he snapped, and elbowed his arm away. He was angry that Vesta was babying him now.

He frowned down at Little Big Brother’s little doll face, and found that he couldn’t keep it up. He was kind of cute. Logue had managed to keep the stitches around his applique grey eyes small and tidy, and you could barely tell they were sewn on at all. He didn’t quite have an expression, but it was charming and funny. Just like Vesta.

Logue took a deep breath. He started over.

“He’s for me. Because I miss you.”

“Oh, Logue.” Vesta wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in a hug, crushing him against his side and rubbing his shoulder. “Chickie, I'm not going anywhere.”

“I know that. It's just. It's been hard. Out.”

“Out,” Vesta said, wonderingly. “On the supply runs?”

Logue nodded.

Vesta hummed. “Too many people?”

Logue shrugged one-shouldered again, but he was relieved. Vesta got it, because he knew him—Nita loved him and she cared as much as Vesta did, Logue knew that, but she didn’t understand.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured Vesta before he could say anything—because Logue also knew his brother, and he could almost hear his brain click around the problem, looking at it from different directions, pulling it apart and putting it back, searching for a solution. “I’ll be fine, I just need to. Adjust.”

His hand accidentally twitched around Little Big Brother.

Vesta’s eyes softened. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Logue squeezed the toy again, with more purpose.

They sat in silence for a while, then his brother shifted next to him.

“Do you remember—? Maybe not, we were pretty little,” Vesta started. “I don’t even know why we were out by ourselves, I think I sneaked out and you just followed me as usual… just like a baby chick.”

He lifted his hand to pet and ruffle his hair, but Logue swatted him away with a half smile. Nuisance. Always touching. He gestured for him to continue.

“But anyway—we were out, and I figure I was trying to get us back home? I remember I took your hand and we started walking.” Vesta’s eyes went a little unfocused as he concentrated on the story. “You were perfectly content to just go wherever, until we got to the marketplace.” His cheek creased up with a fond smile. “You gave a look to the crowd and just. Stopped. You didn’t even make a scene or anything, you were just. Nope.” He stiffened and held his arms along his sides, mimicking him freezing up. “I had to pick you up and carry you the whole way back.”

“I remember you carrying me. When I was little.” Logue shook his head. “Not that one time, though.”

“Yeah, I started carrying you everywhere for a while, after that. I don’t think I ever let you touch the floor when you were four or five.” Vesta snorted, then his face went a little more serious. “I was terrified. I thought I had gotten you hurt, somehow.”

Logue frowned.

“You were perfectly fine, obviously. We were kids, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He shrugged, pushed his fringe back in a nervous gesture. “I don’t know why I’m thinking about this right now. I guess what I’m trying to say is — I’m so, so proud of you, you’ve grown so much. You’re at least a whole chicken, now.”

The only appropriate reply to that was shoving him again, really, so Logue did. But his face hurt with how hard he was scrunching it up to stop himself from crying. He ended up wrapping his arms around his brother’s waist, burying his face in his chest and letting him hold him. Vesta’s purring was always so loud.

“So,” Vesta asked when Logue finally let him go. “Does the little guy have a name, or…?”

“He’s you.” Logue didn’t want to admit that he’d been just thinking of him as Little Big Brother. “Little Vesta?”

“Little—” Vesta’s face twitched in the sort of expression he made when he was trying not to laugh. “Are you sure? Isn’t it a bit—?”

Logue grimaced. He did hate knowing his brother so well sometimes. “No.”

Vesta couldn’t keep himself from laughing. “Your face! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I promise I can be mature about it.” He made a show of wiping the mirth off his expression with a pass of his hand. “Proper introductions, then.”

He solemnly took Little Big Brother’s little arm between two fingers, and moved it up and down like he was doing a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Little Vesta.” He cracked up a little, but he recovered quickly. “Be nice to my little brother, he’s a good one. He deserves a good buddy. Are you up for the job?”

Little Big Brother, guided by Vesta’s grip again, made a little, solemn salute. Vesta nodded back, even more solemnly.

It was entirely silly, and maybe Logue should have been embarrassed by the fact that his older brother was taking the whole thing so seriously—but it was a silly serious. Just like Vesta. It worked. It made Logue’s chest a little lighter.

He tucked Little Big Brother against his stomach, and leaned against Vesta’s shoulder again. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, chickie.” Vesta pressed a kiss to his hair, and squeezed him back, purring back in full force. “You’re going to be just fine.”

#staeve #baldur's gate 3 #self

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