More Than Buddies

by Crowley

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Romance, Derpy Hooves, Sex, Original Character
Length: 7306

You have a crush on Ditzy Doo, but you'd never tell anypony...

You're a letter-sorting unicorn who works at the same post office as Ditzy Doo. Sure, you're both good buddies, but a small part of you wonders if you could be something more. One day, Ditzy gives you a gift...

Published 2012-01-12 11:43:05 UTC
Last updated 2012-01-12 11:43:05 UTC

Part 1

Ponyville. Canterlot. Fillydelphia. Ponyville. Cloudsdale. Crystal Empire.

Your job’s easy enough, once you get used to the unreasonable hours you have to get up in the morning. Just wake up at “stupid o’clock” - you know, that time when it’s technically morning, but it’s so stupidly early the sun hasn’t even been raised yet - and drag yourself downstairs to cook a warm breakfast and something to drink that’s usually just caffeine in a mug. Luckily your roommate sleeps like a log, so you can clatter all you want when you cook.

Canterlot. Appleloosa. Manehattan. Ponyville. Hoofington. Canterlot.

Once perked from the living dead, you trot off across town towards your workplace - Ponyville Post Office. You then sit down at your grubby little desk, then go through the pile of unsorted mail that was picked up from yesterday. A clear-cut, yet tedious task that was easy enough to learn.

Trottingham. Cloudsdale. Cloudsdale. Appleloosa. Canterlot. Fillydelphia.

Reading the town and cities that they were addressed to, you’d then sort each letter into various pigeonholes for the corresponding town. You’re especially useful due to how well you can sort letters; with a quick levitation spell cast at a bunch of letters at a time, you would then sort them into groups mid-float, then drift them all up to their respective shelves. Rinse and repeat. Magic; it’s a handy thing to have. It’s why they hired you.

Fillydelphia. Manehattan. Fillydelphia. Ponyville. Ponyville. Appleloosa.

You had a choice in your shifts when you first started. You remember the choice quite well. You could either come in early in the morning, a few hours before the Pegasus Delivery teams clock-in, and sort them right before they pick said sorted letters up. Or you could come in late at night, just after the last of the letters had been dropped off, and sort them the night before. You chose the early morning shift, working from six ‘til twelve.

Canterlot. Canterlot. Ponyville. Cloudsdale. Ponyville. Manehattan.

You tell them the reason for choosing the early shift was because you could spend the rest of the day snoozing in the afternoon sun. Not strictly true. The real reason was so you could have lunch with the Ponyville Pegasus Delivery team at the end of your shift each day, something that wouldn’t be possible had you chosen the later one.

And by team, you meant just one particular pony.

She was certainly… a unique pegasus, in appearance and behavior. If you could sum her up in just one word, it would be ‘cute’. Or perhaps ‘quirky’.

Crash! Shatter!

“Sorry! I didn’t see that desk there!”

Or maybe just ‘Ditzy’. Yes, that sums her up perfectly. And since she’s back, you take a glance at the time - the time that flies by faster and faster these days - and confirm that is nearly lunch, or as you call it, ‘grub then home time’. Good thing you’re almost done with those letters.

*******

“Take a seat, buddy!” She chimes as you meet her in the kitchen area. You pull up a chair next to her and produce your lunch; some fresh egg and cress sandwiches with salad. She always seemed to have her lunch at a different table than the rest of the Ponyville team. For the first week or so you were working there, you assumed it was because the other tables were full. Nowadays, you know you’re one of the few she isn‘t nervous around.

“So, Ditzy,” you smile, chewing on your sandwich, “How were today’s deliveries?”

“Great!” She grins, “It’s getting easier all the time, if you don‘t count a hiccup or two! Ooh, ooh! And I’ve got something for you! Here!”

With that, she reaches into her saddlebag and produces a small, brown paper bag, which she then plonks on the table in front of you.

“They’re all yours! Go right ahead!”

The surprise renders you speechless for a moment, “R-really? For me?” She nods her head widely back and forth. “Aw, Ditzy, you didn’t have to.”

“Oh, it‘s nothing major; it‘s just that I wanna say thanks! That‘s all.”

Pulling the brown paper bag towards you, you fix her an odd look when you think about what she said. “Say thanks? For what?”

Her cheery disposition fades by the slightest amount. Her eyes lower, one of them idly looking at her rear hooves under the table, the other at the table itself. You could even make out the faintest blush (is she embarrassed or something?) under the fine, gray furs on her face.

“Weeell… it’s just that you’ve been real nice to me since you got here. At least I think you’re nice. And I mean really super nice! So…” she perks up a little, gesturing toward the bag, “They’re my way of saying thanks!”

What she said was true; you remember the first lunch break you had since you started working at the post office, and you remember, with it being your first day, not knowing anypony there. You remember noticing the lonely, wall-eyed pegasus eating at a separate table all by herself. But what you remember the most is her child-like, bright-eyed smile when you sat down next to her and introduced yourself. From that day onwards, she would always call you her buddy.

There’s something about her you would never dare say out loud through. You couldn’t quite put your hoof on it; whenever she smiled at you like that, your insides would either flutter gently or skip completely. But deep down, the sobering thought of being ‘her buddy’ stopped you from going any further with her in terms of affection. What if she didn’t like you that way? If she refused, would she still hang out with you? Personally, your friendship with her is too important to risk asking her.

Pushing your train of thought aside, you currently give her a smile as you open the no-doubt thoughtful gift, and peek into the paper bag. You see… some sandwiches, a blueberry muffin and a juice box? You already brought your own lunch, sure, but you guess it’s the thought that counts. You also notice a small folded-up note next to the food. You levitate it out of the bag via your horn‘s magic, unfold it, and read aloud;

“To my little muffin; have a great day at school, good luck in your maths test! Lots of love, hugs and kisses, Mom.” After reading, you look back at her, not sure of what to say, “It’s uh… very motherly of you, Ditzy.”

Ditzy, on the other hoof, is not happy, “Can I see that for a second?” she snatches the bag out of your hooves, and peers into it herself. “Oh, nooo!”

You could hazard a guess at what just happened.

“This isn’t your present, this is Dinky’s lunch!” she wails at her own tragic incompetence, “But if Dinky’s lunch is right here, then Dinky must’ve gotten-”

*******

“-a bag full of chocolate muffins?!” Dinky asks herself as she opens the brown, paper bag that was supposed to contain her lunch. A small trio of ponies sitting across the school cafeteria table from her overhear the word ‘muffins’ and promptly turn their heads to listen in.

“But Mom knows I can’t have too many chocolate ones, or else I’ll get a tummy ache! Aw, what am I gonna have for lunch now..?”

“Cutie Mark Crusaders Independent Traders! Hooray!”

“What the-?” Before Dinky knows what’s happening, two odd fillies sit themselves at either side of her, the third filly - a yellowish one with a large cute bow in her mane - sits opposite the table to her.

“Are ya overstocked on baked goods, Miss? Then how would ya like me to take one of those pesky muffins off o’ yer hooves? In return, you’ll get this here juicy, freshly grown apple straight from Sweet Apple Acres!”

“I’ll give you my fruitcake bar for a muffin!”

“And I’ll trade you a sandwich and my milk carton for two of them!”

“Scootaloo, why would ya want two muffins?”

“Well, one for me, one for Rainbow Dash later!”

As they continue to haggle, Dinky smiles to herself. Looks like she’s going to have an ache-free lunch after all…

Part 2

Ditzy Doo sucks absent-mindedly on the straw of her juice box, her ears drooping to reflect her glumness and embarrassment.

“Aw, I’m such a screw-up,” she pines, “I was gonna give you some muffins I baked myself - chocolate ones, your favourite! - but I got ‘em mixed with little Dinky‘s lunch.”

“Now, now, anypony could’ve done that,” you lean in slightly, assuring her, “It was just a one-off mistake, these things happen.”

“Yeah, but not as much as they happen to me!” she sniffs, “Just today I’ve trodden on one of Dinky’s toys, went past the Post Office to Sharpquill Mare’s house ‘cuz he said he’d give me a lift to work, crashed twice on my mail round, dropped a cup of coffee over somepony’s desk, and now this!”

With that, she slinks further down her seat, still nursing the juice box, until her head rests awkwardly on the table. You place a hoof on her shoulder.

“Listen, Ditzy, I can see how stuff like that would get you down, but there’s a silver lining to most things. I bet good things happened today, too.”

She perks up ever-so-slightly. “Well, yeah! This cool pink pony at the sweet shop gave me a free sample of fudge for delivering her cookbook.” she then sits herself back up straight, “And Dinky managed to recite her six-times-tables his morning without a hitch, so I know she’ll do great at the maths test!”

“See?” you nudge her playfully, “There’s always a bright side to look out for. I mean, Sharpquill Mare telling you he‘d pick you up was a bit of a jerk move on his part, but he‘s a spoilt jerk anyway, no matter who he‘s related to. Don‘t let the little things get you down.”

And with that, you do something you know she loves; you light-heartedly ruffle her golden mane, causing her to smirk a little. Her pretty snout scrunches up for a moment, as if holding something back. And then she bursts out into a sweet, melodic giggle. A few of the ponies who were having their lunch on the other table glanced over at the scene, shrugged (they were used to Ditzy Doo being Ditzy Doo by now) and resumed their midday meal.

After her laughter dies down a little, she gives you a smile; a giddy, affectionate, and contagious smile that…

…that gave you that weird feeling again.

“Thanks, buddy.” she beams.

“Don’t mention it.” you can’t help but smile back. A minute or two quietly passes as you eat and talk together, the same way you did every other lunch break. This time, however, seems different. Your friend gives the impression that she’s on edge about something.

“Ditzy, you don’t have to worry about getting me those muffins,” you say, “It was really sweet of you to try, but it‘s the thought that counts more than the gift. We’re buddies, after all, gifts shouldn‘t matter.”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s not that…” she takes a deep breath and turns to face you, despite the lack of eye contact, “I just wanna ask… would you-? No, wait a minute. Do you like-? No, hold on.”

Her less-than-usual behaviour raises your eyebrow. Even more so when she places one of her hooves on top of yours in a caring manner. She then takes another deep breath and tries again.

“Uh… w- would you like to go on a d-”

WHAM!

The door to the kitchen bashes into the wall, nearly getting knocked off it’s hinges, as a wingless, hornless stallion marches into the room. He carries the air of somepony who would wipe his horseshoes on an orphan if he ever stepped in manure. Which is probably something Sharpquill Mare would do.

“Alright!” He announced to everypony there, as if summoning them for a royal visit, “Who’s the moron who spilled coffee on my desk during my break!?”

He stares down his snout at each pony, one at a time. Ditzy nervously lowers herself, taking another sip from her juice box to appear inconspicuous.

“Come on,” He continues, “I spent all morning on those papers, and now they’re ruined! Are you all telling me you didn’t see who did it? None of you?”

He pauses, hovering over your table for a moment, before cockily leaning on it, staring your friend up and down. Ditzy shies away from his privacy-invading stare.

“Or maybe you all know, and don’t want to upset the poor doofus…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you cut him off, “You can’t just assume Ditzy’s the cause of every little thing that happens. Did you see her drop any coffee?” Of course, you knew she did it - she told you not five minutes ago.

“Oh please, horn-head,” Sharpquill countered, prodding at your horn with his hoof, “I thought you unicorns were the smart ones! It’s obviously Ditzy who did it, who else would drop a cup of coffee - from a height - and have it shatter all over my desk? Maybe this is her form of payback for my ‘I‘ll give you a lift’ joke. Straight past her own workplace! Honestly, nopony else is that stupid and incompetent.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice Ditzy shifting uncomfortably at the words ‘stupid and incompetent’. The words that seemed to haunt her every other day. A small part of you sinks watching her contain her inner grief.

“I did that.” You blurt out. Almost every pony in the room falls silent.

“Pardon?” He eyeballs you cagily.

“I dropped the coffee on your desk. I, uh, was holding it with my magic and got distracted. Don‘t just waltz in here all high and mighty, hurting the poor girl‘s feelings when you didn‘t even see it happen. It was me.”

For a split second, Sharpquill becomes dumbstruck. His eyes flick from you to Ditzy, then back to you. Then he grunts under his breath, and regains his composure.

“You- you made that up.” he states flatly. “You’re obviously trying to take the fall for your… moronic girlfriend here.” he gestures at the blonde pegasus, who at this point is almost fighting back tears.

“Excuse me?” Hopefully he didn’t notice you gritting your teeth as you said that.

“Oh, don’t be coy, it’s visible from space. You clearly have a thing for little-Miss wall-eye, she’s the only pony you hang around with here.”

You open your mouth to talk back, but stumble over your words from the sudden allegation. “No I d- uh, wha…” you exchange a panicked glance with Ditzy, before giving up on any explanation and stuttering; “W- we’re friends.”

Sharpquill’s arrogant smirk says it all; it‘s almost like he could see inside your head.

“If that’s what you insist, so be it.” he rambles nonchalantly, “I’m just saying you’d make a cute couple; an apparently smart, mail-sorting unicorn such as yourself and, well…” he chuckles, as if he’s about to say some sort of joke, “Derpy Hooves.”

“Are you done yet? I have lunch to eat.” You return to your half-eaten sandwich, growing steadily impatient with his pompous insults.

“I’m just stating what I think, that’s all,” he coos, slithering away from the table. Then, with a murmur just loud enough, “I’ll leave you to get romantic with your retard now-”

Several things happen at once; the other ponies in the room gasp, while others stifle a cry of shock. Ditzy’s voice does something between a yelp and a whine as she buries her face into her forelegs, shaking uncontrollably. And in the space of a single second, you slam your lunch onto the table, leap up from your seat and find yourself standing eye-to-eye with Sharpquill.

“Call her that again, ya arrogant jackass!” you bark, giving him a hard shove, “I dare you!” The corner of your eyes spy a few mail-mares covering their mouths in shock at your outburst, but you don’t care. You can feel your blood boiling, pumping through your veins, especially the vein pulsing on your forehead, near your horn. Snorting, Sharpquill steadies himself after the shove.

“Ah, I knew it,” he declares to the stunned room, “I knew he had a thing for the wall-eye! All it takes is a little kick where it hurts and he shows his true colours! Ever heard of ‘no romance within the workplace’, horn-head? You could get fired for this…”

“Ditzy and I aren‘t together.” you snarl. If your eyes could shoot daggers, Sharpquill would have no head by now. “And if we were, it would be none of your business. Apologise to her. Now.” Your hoof absent-mindedly digs at the floor, ready for a fight. Hatred seethes in your stomach, your senses on edge.

“Not together, you say? I bet you’d like to be through.” Sharpquill’s words ring in your head as you glimpse back at your weeping friend. At this point, Ditzy’s head is buried into the lunch table, her front hooves covering her ears. She’s shaking from the insults, the hopeless situation, her wings covering her like a safety blanket from the cruel world.

Sharpquill leans closer, almost within your foreleg’s reach, “I bet there’s nothing more you want in than to play a quick game of ‘stuff the spaz’-”

THUMP!

Sharpquill is sent careening backwards as your right front hoof buries itself in his snout at a ridiculous speed. You hear one or two screams from the other mail-ponies as he collides with the table behind him.

A second or two later, he scrambles to his feet and lunges toward you at full gallop; the force of him crashing into you knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you can even think, your vision flashes white - a stinging wave of pain sweeps over the back of your head as it ricochets off the hard wooden floor. Another flash of pain blinds the left half of your face before you can recover from the first one. That would be Sharpquill’s hoof striking your eye. You raise your forelegs defensively in front of your face, taking in the brunt of two more strikes. You lash out blindly with your hind legs, hoping to buck him off, hoping to end his offence. It connects with a solid punt to his stomach, causing your attacker to back off, complete with a pained stagger.

You achingly pull yourself up from the floor, dizzy from the knocks to the head. Through your good eye, you can make out Sharpquill’s heavy panting as he leans against the nearest table; clearly your kick was to good effect. You paw at the ground with your hoof again, every hint of your body language dripping with hate, your horn lowered menacingly towards the one who would dare insult your best friend…

“What in the name of the Sun do ya think yer doin‘?!”

The gruff roar from the kitchen entrance causes you to crane your neck around. Your feel your stomach twist into knots when you recognise the black trucker cap, haggard muzzle and the crate marking on his flank. His name is Burl. Or, as you’re made to address him, ‘Boss’ or ‘Chief‘.

Sharpquill also notices, “Oh, thank goodness you’ve arrived, sir!” he ham-acts, “Your letter-sorting employee attacked me! I tried to defend myself, of course, but he was ruthless in his assault-”

“Shaddup, Mare, save it for my office.” Burl interjects, gesturing for him to leave the room. Sharpquill winced at the mention of his last name, not just for the gender implications, but for the cheek of being addressed in such a way. Pitifully clutching where you kicked him, he hobbles slowly across the room.

“And hurry up about it, or else I’ll dock yer pay.”

Suddenly, Sharpquill’s injuries ‘magically’ dissipate at the thought of him losing money. As he trots off towards Burl’s office, you hear him call back; “and just you wait ‘til I tell you who he’s been courting in work hours..!”

“I said zip it!” Burl turns back to you, “And you too, letter-sorter, let’s go.”

Before you leave, you turn to face a traumatized Ditzy. Everything she saw unfold, she believes is her fault. Her stupidity. Her incompetence.

Seeing her in such a heartbreaking state makes you want to scream. But that would probably only serve to scare her even more.

Before Burl grabs you by the tail and drags you out, you can only manage to utter two words;

“I’m sorry.”

Part 3

You sit outside Burl’s office, stewing in your own remorse and hating yourself more by the minute. You had been told to wait outside, since having you and Sharpquill in the same room would be a bad idea at this point. Not wasting any time smearing your reputation as payback for your fighting, the egotistical earth-pony followed Burl into his office, acting as overly dramatic as possible.

“Oh, it was horrible! I was just minding my own business, enquiring as to who spilled coffee on my desk, when all of a sudden…”

The door slammed shut behind him, before you could hear any more of his sordid slander. All you could hear from then on was the steady exchange of muffled voices from within. You’ve been waiting outside ever since.

“Sup, sortie.”

You look up. A familiar mail-mare, one who had seen the whole debacle unfold, looks back. She was somepony you’ve seen around quite a few times, a mane and tail of turquoise, and a golden-orange coat and wings. She calls you ‘sortie’. You call her Raindrops.

“Is Ditzy alright?” the first question on your mind. The pegasus’ face drops, regretfully looking at the floor.

“You deserve an honest answer, at least. She’s… been crying an awful lot since you got dragged off. She thinks it‘s all her fault.” Those words hit you like a kick in the ribcage. “But that’s why I’m here. I saw everything, so I’m gonna tell Chief exactly what happened. He’ll listen to me, I’m one of his longest serving employees.” With that, she raps on the door. A moment later, Burl answers.

“I thought I told ya to sit and wai- oh, Raindrops?” he stops mid-sentence when he discovers who it is.

“Chief,” she says calmly, “you don’t mind if I have a word, do you?”

Wordlessly, Burl opens the door further, letting her in with Sharpquill. The door shuts again, and the muffled conversation resumes, only this time with a third voice.

No matter how much you strain your ears, you can’t seem to catch every word they’re saying. Almost a minute of this passes, until you leap out of your skin at a sudden roar. A roar that you heard very well.

“…called her a WHAT!?”

Five short seconds later, the office door bashes open, complete with a certain earth-pony being flung outside. Once he lands (face first) on the floor, Sharpquill jostles himself upright again, shivering from the sudden startling flight. He made Burl angry. He doesn’t like Burl when he’s angry.

“H- h- how dare you! M- my auntie Mare will hear about this!”

“Yer darn right she’ll hear ‘bout it, I’ll be the one tellin’ her!” your boss bellows, “Get the horse-manure outta my post office before I tear out that mop ya call a mane!” At once, Sharpquill turns on his hooves and gallops out through the nearest exit, tail tucked between his legs.

“Expect yer last pay cheque in the mail!” Burl calls after him. Raindrops saunters out of his office moments later. “Thanks fer givin’ me all the details, it‘s just like him to lie through his teeth. Again.”

“No problem, Chief.” she turns her bluish eyes toward you, “I’ll go back and give Ditz some company. She needs it more than anypony else.” and then, she’s gone as quickly as she arrived.

“That clown, he thinks just ‘cause he’s related to the Mayor the world can bend over for him,” your boss grumbles, “Well he can kiss my hairy-” He then notices how you can’t help but smile at the bully getting his comeuppance.

“Dunno what you’re grinnin’ at, kid, you’re next.” Your smile drops, as if made from lead, “Get in my office, now.”

“But sir, you probably know everything by now.” you reason.

“It ain’t about the incident, it’s about somethin’ else.” He leads you into his cluttered office; boxes, envelopes and whatnot are scattered among the floor and on his desk, the blinds on his windows letting as little light in as possible.

“I gotta ask you somethin’ kid,” Burl takes a seat behind his dank, disorderly desk, “In fact, most of the ponies in the darn Post Office want to ask ya somethin‘.”

“Um,” Your eyes flick back and forth, “and what’s that?”

Your boss leans in slightly towards you, his eyes a subtle scowl under his trucker cap, his voice a low grunt. “Why are ya hurting poor Ditzy like this?”

“Wha- I- huh- what?” you visibly double-take at the accusation. “Sir, with all due respect, whatever Sharpquill told you back there-”

“Screw what I’m told, kid, I‘ve seen it happen with my own two eyes.” he growls, “Do you have any idea what Ditzy talks about when I’m supervisin’ her afternoon parcel-delivery rounds?”

Before you can even think of opening your mouth to answer, he cuts you off, “Three things: her daughter, muffins, and you.” Burl jabs his hoof in your direction, “And guess which one she talks about most?”

You have a good guess for that answer. “M- me?” you mumble.

“No; her daughter, then you. But that’s beside the point.” he pauses for a brief spell, letting it sink in, “Would ya like to know why she talks about ya so much? ‘Cause I sure know why. And I think you do too.”

You say nothing. You’re still trying to piece it all together. Maybe the knocks to the head earlier left you unfocused.

“Ya know what she told me yesterday? She said she was going to give ya a gift today. She was planning to bake ya-”

“-a batch of chocolate muffins.” you finish sombrely. “She knows they’re my favourite.”

“And why would she do that, ya think?”

“She told me it’s because we’re… good… friends?” those words fall from your mouth as your mind starts making more and more connections… could it really be..?

“We both know you mean more to her than that, kid.” he looks you right in your un-bruised eye, “She baked ‘em for ya ‘cause she was going to tell ya somethin’, and thought the muffins would make it easer for her to get the message across.”

The revelation came to you like a bucket of cold water. It all made sense.

The bag of muffins. How distraught she was when she got them mixed up and couldn’t give them to you. The gossip about you and her quietly rippling through the workplace. It was because Ditzy was planning something for you today. She was planning to confess her feelings to you. And you had no idea.

“Argh!” you’ve never felt so stupid in your life, “Idiot! You stupid idiot!”

“Uh, ‘scuse me?”

“Not you, Chief, me! I gotta go! I have to speak to her!”

You turn around and gallop out of your boss’s office at full pelt, and seconds later you find yourself slamming the kitchen area door open. Empty. Not a soul.

“Lunch was over ten minutes ago!” Burl catches up to you, “If yer lookin’ for Ditzy, she’s doin’ the afternoon parcel service with Raindrops!”

You shout a curse in frustration, something that would make a sailor-pony blush, and rush outside.

Please. Please don’t let it be too late…

Part 5 [Mature]

Author's Note

Author's note: It gets a little bit steamier between you and your beloved Ditzy at this point.
But then again, you probably already knew that.

Part 5 [Mature]

The door to Ditzy’s living room swiftly swings open, allowing both the pegasus and unicorn entrance. As soon as the door shuts, you find yourself pushed against it by two soft, stone-grey hooves. Your pulse had hardly any time to calm from your unexpected flight, your legs still trying to remember how to work on the ground.

Leaning your back against the door for support, you firmly hold her shoulders with your forelegs, pulling her ever-so-slightly closer to you. Ditzy’s lips meet with yours again, the sweet-tasting promises of what lies beyond them teasing your mouth. You were never one for taking risks in your life, especially when it came to something as important as romance. This time, however, is going to be different. This time you’re going to push the boundaries that much further.

Your mouth opens just enough within the kiss. The tip of your tongue edges forward cautiously, before licking, testing, her pursed lips. Be it from pleasant surprise or unexpected shock, the pegasus responds with a faint twitch when she feels your warm, wet request. For the briefest moment, you could have sworn her bright eyes realign perfectly from the feeling. A blink later, and they begin to drift again. Not that you’d know - her eyelids close before you can see anything else from them.

With a soft sigh, her lips part, giving in to the poking and prodding of your tongue. Pulling her closer, tighter to you with your fore-hooves, you explore the insides of her mouth, the taste reminding you faintly of syrup. A shiver of excitement rushes down your spine as her own tongue rises to meet yours, dancing, lapping, sliding against each other in short fits of arousal. You feel something light brush against your hooves. Something from behind Ditzy’s back. Her wings slowly and delicately unfurl as she presses her face against yours, trying to push herself deeper into your fiery, passionate kiss. Before you know it, her grey feathers have spread widely, proudly standing on end.

Pulling back from the kiss, she stops to look at you, close enough for her warm, gentle breath to be felt on your face. However, what catches your attention the most is that hungry smirk she wears, that stirring look in her extraordinary eyes. You understand what she yearns for; in fact, you‘re hoping to give her just that.

Your eyes flick towards the nearby sofa. That’ll do nicely.

A quick whisper into Ditzy’s ear is all it takes. She lies on the sofa, her back facing upwards, stiff wings raised and quivering in anticipation. You hoist one of your legs over her, facing her hardened, feathered limbs, her lower spine nestled between your hind legs. Deep sighs escape her as you firmly knead the base of each wing, working your way higher ever-so-slowly. Her breathing quickens by the time you’re up to her central coverts, your steady massaging causing her to grab the nearby cushion for support.

Catching her by surprise, you work your way down her wings again, pressing, rubbing her spine between each wing. Her gasp turns into a relaxed moan, her whole body trembles, complete with an involuntary flutter from the wings. You can’t help but grin as you quicken your pace, rubbing her feather-tips and enjoying the sound of her blissful cries as they rise in pitch.

Your hooves run up the ridge of each wing until you reach her alula; the point where Ditzy’s wing-structure ends and the feathers begin. Or as you know it better as, the most sensitive part of a pegasus’ limb. You notice her sharp intake of breath even as you brush it gently. Perfect.

Grasping the magic spot on your lover’s wings, you work your hooves over them as feverishly and furiously as possible. A screeching yelp of passion suddenly bursts forth from her throat, the following ecstatic screams might have even shattered windows if she hadn’t the foresight to bury her face in the cushion. Every muscle in her body goes wild, her hind legs can be felt kicking wildly. Every feather in her wings flex in pleasure. Her muffled shrieks of euphoria stir a lust aching to come out. Finally, the muscles in her wings loosen, and they droop to her sides in exhaustion as she gasps for air.

With a little effort, Ditzy rolls onto her back while she’s still under you. A moment later, you realise this puts you both in a very… suggestive position. She flicks an uneasy glance your way, which you reassuringly laugh off to hide your beet-red blushing; wing-fooling is one thing, but you feel it’s definitely too soon for something like… well… that!

Instead, you lie down on the sofa next to her, lavishing her with kisses once again. The clock ticks by as you both playfully exchange short, tender pecks on each other‘s faces. However, you notice a small pattern emerging in Ditzy’s kissing; first your lips, then another on your snout. Then the space between your eyes, oddly. Then the base of your horn, then th-

“Aah! Ditzy, wha… uh…”

You don’t expect her lips to take such a route, wrapping snugly around the tip of your horn. Nor do you expect the gentle sucking as she slowly slides her mouth up and down it. Your horn is one of the most sensitive body parts you have, and with your eyes shut, you can feel every last thing through it. The warm breeze of her breath between each sensual suck. Her hot, wet tongue sliding against it. The single, stray droplet of saliva trickling down from the tip of your horn to the base.

Doing your best to keep your breathing steady, you involuntarily writhe from the comforting experience. The temperature in your horn starts to rise, the recognisable tingling sensation coming back to you - telltale signs of magic gathering towards it. Perhaps Ditzy caught on to this as well; her tender teasing slowing down at the sign of the your arcane anticipation. Eventually, she stops, pulling her mouth away from your horn. Just as your build-up was becoming a challenge to keep under control.

“Is… is everything alright?”

She replies using her lips. Pushed up against your own again. You breathe a deep sigh from the corner of your mouth; a kiss from her is welcome any time. Meanwhile, her fore-hooves rise to your horn, massaging it from top to bottom, quickly and eagerly. The pressure mounts around your horn as she rubs, the passion reigniting between yours and Ditzy’s lips only serving to build it even higher. Just a few sparks break free from your horn’s tip, the release causing you to moan with pleasure into her mouth.

Taking advantage of your parted lips, her tongue slides in between them, mingling with yours again. If her deft hooves weren’t the cause of the incoming enchanted climax, her tongue certainly was.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your horn burning with the sparks and static spewing forth from its tip. You try to stifle a groan of ecstasy to no avail as the flow of magic lessens, pulling back from Ditzy’s kissing only for a moment, to take a brief gasp of air, before diving back in again.

When the last satisfying cackle of electricity finally dies out, you lie almost motionless next to the pony you love. Just you, her, and the sofa you both lie on, sharing this moment of perfection together.

You can’t tell how long you lie there with her, the sound of the mounted clock’s ticking accompanying yours and Ditzy’s breathing. Then after a while;

“That was… incredible,” you whisper into her ear. She responds with a slow, sleepy nod before nuzzling up to you. “How did you do… that… so well?”

“I’ve, um, had practice,” she mumbles, her wandering eyes closing bit by bit. “I used to date a unicorn. He really liked it when I did that stuff to his horn.”

You feel her cosy-up closer to you as she recalls her former coltfriend.

“But one day, I crashed while I was flying. Can’t remember how or why, but he didn’t like it when I did. He said I was too different after the accident.” she sighs deeply, knowing it’s all water under the bridge now. No point in trying to change the past. “I think… he ran away. But before he did, he gave me a gift.”

You gently place your hoof on her head, half-ruffling and half-stroking her mane to put her worries at ease. She loves that, after all.

“He gave me… my little muffin. My little Dinky. And she’s the best filly in the whole of Equestri- Aah!”

Ditzy bolts upright in panic, surprising you with her sudden fluster.

“Oh my gosh! Dinky! I’m supposed to pick her up after school!” she turns her head toward the clock on the wall and lets out a sigh of relief. “Ten minutes to four, I still have time.”

You hadn’t realised how fast the past three hours had been. Time flies when you’re having fun, you guess. You lift yourself off the sofa with Ditzy, and before you know it she’s already in the doorway, ready to leave.

“Ditzy, wait.”

She stops in her tracks, and turns to face you.

“Do you think your daughter would, y’know…” It’s hard to find the right words for this, “She’d probably not appreciate seeing a strange stallion hanging around her home all of a sudden, would she?”

“Uh… I dunno.” the pegasus shrugs, “She knows who you are, I’ve told her all about you, but-”

“-But it would be a big change in her life if I got too involved.” you finish. You imagine if you were a young colt, and your single parent started being with other ponies you hardly knew. Then you have an idea;

“Hey Ditzy. This weekend, if you’re free. Let’s all go to the park together or something.” You wrap a foreleg over her shoulders in assurance, “We’ll take it slow together. Maybe it’s better for little Dinky if she got to know me before I get too involved in her life.”

She wraps a foreleg over your shoulders too, and gives you a short, sweet kiss on the lips. “I think you two will get along just fine. This weekend? I’ll be there. Let’s talk more about it at lunch tomorrow!”

You finally pull off a laid-back smirk. “I’ll see you there, beautiful.”

Blushing at your remark (which was true - you waited so long to call her that) she walks out of the door and takes to the bright, blue skies. As you see her fly off to collect her family, you think to yourself how… wait a minute…

“Ditzy! The school’s that way!”

(Spoiler; you now have a thing for the wall-eye.) - Crowley

Epilogue

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Part 4

Ditzy Doo drearily lifts the last cardboard box into the pegasus-powered moving truck near the runway, her mood as heavy as her wings felt. She rejoins her workmate, who glances over the truck’s contents.

“Aw, Ditz,” Raindrops says as carefully as possible - she didn’t want her friend to be any more upset than she is, “I’m afraid you’ve put the packages in upside-down again. It says ‘this way up’ for a reason.”

The blonde mail-mare looks back at the boxes, the words "Ԁ∩ ⅄∀M SIH┴" clearly labelled on each of them.

Stupid Ditzy Doo. Incompetent Ditzy Doo.

“Sorry.” is all she cares to say. The other ponies exchange worried looks.

“You should take the rest of the day off, Ditz.” Raindrops nudges her, “I won’t tell Chief, I promise. You’ve been through a lot today.”

Wordlessly, Ditzy nods.

It’s not like they’d need me anyway.

“Ditzy, wait!” a voice carries over from the Post Office entrance. She lifts her head, turns around at the sound of her name, and gasps.

Your running breaks out into a gallop as you head towards the runway. Ditzy’s bright, beautiful eyes light up. She begins running toward you too.

You meet with her half way. Without stopping, she throws herself at you. You do the same, colliding in an embrace of forelegs, pegasus-feathers and warmth. Hugging each other. Nuzzling each other.

“Don‘t go. Please don‘t go.” her forelegs that wrap around you squeeze tightly as she buries her head into your shoulder. You squeeze her in return.

“It’s alright, Ditzy, I didn’t get fired,” you can’t help but notice the subtle scent of coconut in her hair, “I’m here to stay, buddy.” Loosening the hug, she lifts her head up to face yours, her eyes calmly taking in your own.

“Buddy?” she asks.

You nod. “Unless…” your faces slowly drift closer to each other, close enough to feel her sweet, warm breath, and drifting closer still. “Unless you want us to be something more…”

You trail off as her lips press against your own. Your mind shuts down, rests, as you melt on the inside, drifting away from your troubles. As each of your muscles slowly relax in a state of bliss, you push back into a kiss of your own, watching Ditzy’s eyelids flutter shut. You close your eyes too, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

All of this time, she harboured a love for you that flew right over your head. And right now, with her wrapped in your forelegs, sharing the kiss you thought you’d never have, it was worth every ridiculously early morning. Every hour of sorting envelopes. Every blow to the head (all two of them). And you’d go through it again just to kiss her one more time at the end of it all.

You know you’ve found somepony special, somepony who you’d never let go. Despite whatever any other voices would say about her, about you, she’s the only one who could make you smile with that perfect, carefree way. She’s yours, and you’re more than happy to be hers.

Your kiss breaks after… you don’t know how long. You turn your head towards the odd sound of hooves clopping against cobblestone. Raindrops, along with the rest of her delivery team, applaud at the open affection between you and your love, one or two of them throwing in a cheeky wolf-whistle. You both exchange embarrassed looks.

“Oops, I, uh, I forgot they were still there,” Ditzy blushes, “Sorry.”

You chuckle, lightly planting another kiss on her lips. “No worries, we’ll just go somewhere else. Somewhere quieter, somewhere-”

“Like my place?”

Whoa. You weren‘t expecting that, of all offers. That’s another thing you love about her - she’s always full of surprises. Trying to sound as laid-back as possible (and failing), you give her a cool smirk.

“Lead the way.”

Another surprise; without warning, Ditzy flares her wings and playfully tackles you, wrapping all four of her legs as tightly around you as possible. However, instead of hitting the ground, you find yourself drifting further and further away from it. When the realisation that she’s just plucked you from the ground, and is now flying you towards her home sinks in, you wrap your legs around her too. Because you love her, not just because you fear for your life.

How she was able to lift and carry a fully grown stallion was beyond you; maybe years of carrying heavy post-sacks and packages made it easier for her. Either way, you grow a little more hesitant to the idea when she does a sudden barrel-roll, twisting her flight path into a completely different direction.

“Oh, I just remembered!” She cheerfully exclaims, “My house is this way, not that way! Silly me!”

It’s gonna be an interesting trip, to say the least.