#I love every morsel of it 😘

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 44

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 44 all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

44. the god of death

As you savor the last days of early fall before bitter cold sets in, John seems way more interested in teaching you how to ride, than planning a wedding. You are perfectly fine with that. You studied up and took the permit test online the very next day. Most of it was common sense–or at least, you’d like to think so. A trip to the DMV in Clear Forks rendered you legal for the road. 

You go for rides together almost every afternoon, through the winding mountain roads, and down in town in higher traffic as well. You’ll be good and ready for your test come spring. You feel as though he has gifted you a set of wings, when you are flying down the highway together, the mountains looming majestically in the distance. Once you get the hang of it, it’s not hard to work the bike, it just takes focus–or you might die. 

Oddly–the risk seems totally worth it. Not just for your own enjoyment, but his too. You can tell that being on the bike soothes something in this man’s battered soul, and you’re rather honored that he’d share this hobby with you.

When the days get short and winter sets in, it’s too cold for the bikes, even with battery heated jackets, you fall into a new routine. John is usually the first one out of bed. Sometimes he wakes you with kisses and his beautiful cock before wandering down to the kitchen to make a simple breakfast for the two of you, usually eggs and sliced fruit with coffee. John disappears into his workshop repairing a set of first edition Beatrix Potter books, and you go to your studio, though true inspiration continues to escape you. You feel as though something is hovering just beyond your grasp; inspiration waits behind a curtain, if you could just find the right trigger to sweep it aside. 

After lunch you often sit together and read in the den with the fireplace burning. When the first snow falls it feels like magic, in that house with him. You make love on the couch and then watch the fat flakes fall through the window from under a soft blanket, John’s arms wrapped around you. Later you make dinner together, feeding each other tidbits while chopping up vegetables, bumping into each other on purpose just to steal a kiss. You close the evening with a glass of wine and sometimes a movie or a show, and sometimes you read some more. 

Sometimes, John looks at you with that smoldering warmth in his dark eyes, and you go to bed early.    

Life is so damn near perfect that it almost scares you. It really seems like the Camorra have convinced the idiotic young Dante to leave you alone, and a part of you deep down wonders if you could truly be so lucky? You know that John has not forgotten about him completely. He does not let you go to town by yourself, not even to the grocery store. This doesn’t particularly bother you–even something so mundane as pottering up and down the isles with your trolley is fun with this man at your side. You crack jokes in the wine aisle, and exchange kisses in the produce, and you’re sure everyone around you is rolling their eyes at your expense–you’re so in love you simply do not care. 

One morning John cuts up a pomegranate for breakfast, the juicy little seeds glowing brilliant magenta in the sunlight, and as he holds out one for you to try from his fingertips inspiration hits you like a shovel to the head. You accept the morsel between your lips, laving his digit clean with your tongue as you gaze up at this man in black towering over you: your lover, your protector, your captor turned your intended. Sensing the change in you, John tilts his head slightly, raven hair swinging into his midnight-dark eyes. You reach up to brush it behind his ear carefully, almost as though you are seeing him anew. 

“You like it?” he asks, and there is something fragile in his tone. Neither of you are sure he’s talking about the pomegranate. 

“I love it,” you assure him, putting him at ease. You tangle your legs with his under the breakfast table, further affirming your affection. But for the first time in a while, you cannot wait to get up to your studio.

You start with sketches, working manically to make a sort of storyboard, plotting out a whole series. You incorporate the symbols of the pomegranate and the narcissus, telling the tale of a girl who is snatched up from beside a Venetian canal by a God of Death–and how she falls in love with him. 

Though you work with your door closed, needing the privacy to create, you know John looks over what you’re making later. Sometimes he’ll place a pen or a sketchbook not quite where you left them, as though signaling that he’s been there. His most blatant admission comes in the form of a sticky note pasted like a caption below one of your gouache illustrations on thick paper, of a glowing girl clutching a bright white narcissus flower, gazing up at a man in shadow sitting upon a throne of skulls, “And the God of Death fell hopelessly in love.”     

Later, while you’re snuggled together on the couch with dog at your feet, he tells you, “If you make them on longer pieces of paper, I can bind them for you.” This quiet offer of collaboration on an art project fills your heart with a sneaking warmth that starts in your chest, and spreads all the way to your toes. 

“I would like that,” you admit, kissing his cheek sweetly. 

His next question comes quieter still; you see the worry written in those soulful dark eyes: “Are you still angry?”

You realize that the answer to that is complex. The truth is: you were, deep down, despite how good things have been. But putting all of it down on paper with ink and pigment has exorcized something toxic from you. Something that might have acted as a slow-leaching poison in your relationship, had you not administered these therapeutic paintings as your antidote. Something about reclaiming your story in the images drawn from your hand, and telling it the exact way you please, (with some stylistic embellishments borrowed from Hades and Persephone) acts as a healing balm. 

“Not anymore,” you tell him, and you mean what you say. 

John’s relief is a palpable thing; you feel the tension release from his body pressed against yours. It still has not ceased to amaze you, the power you seem to hold over this formidable man. But it goes both ways, and somehow, through blood, sweat, tears, and all the love in your hearts, you have managed to strike a balance together that makes both of you happy. 

Maybe you are young, but you are smart enough to know that is a rare and precious thing indeed. 

[sarahscribbles]

A request for your Big Follower Celebration, as long as I haven’t missed the deadline!

What about some dom!Loki with the prompts:

17. “Hands behind your back” and

20. “Breathe through your nose”

Only if it inspires, of course! 😘

Love you so much, Saz! And congrats on this milestone, you deserve allllll the love! 💕🍾

Anything for you, my sweet angel of a friend!! I love you so much!

𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟗𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The heavy tread of his boots echoed loudly against the sleepy stillness that had settled over your floor like a blanket. Each large step along the hallway to your bedroom was filled with more purpose than the last, making your heart thunder in your chest. He approached swiftly - each step quick and nimble - enough to tell you that the mission had been a success. 

And he was coming to claim his prize. 

You were still awake, wrapped loosely within cool cotton sheets and waiting for the first telltale sign of his arrival home - as you had been since the staticky message from Rogers confirming that they were only a few hours out from the compound. Sleep had evaded you, refusing to submerge you in its sweet oblivion until you were sure that Loki was safely back within the compound walls.

Ridiculous, though, to think that sleep had ever been on the agenda for tonight. 

With every step he took excitement pooled like lava between your thighs, the anticipation of what awaited you when he opened that door having you all but wriggling beneath the sheets. You could picture perfectly his approach along the empty hallway - cape billowing behind him on a phantom wind, dried morsels of blood and dirt marring his handsome face, eyes bright and blazing with the need to stake his claim on you.

Likely more than once. 

You swung free from the loose tangle of sheets, bare feet lightly hitting the floor at the exact moment the bedroom door eased open. Loki stepped almost soundlessly into the room, the soft rustle of his clothing being the only thing breaking the quiet. His expression was neutral, unphased, but his eyes betrayed him; a predatory glint shone in the depths of emerald green, exposing the storm that swirled fiercely within him. You noticed quickly that his leather was torn and shredded, his cape burned and tinged with ash, and his face a broken map of bruises, dirt, and partially healed cuts.

He looked feral. 

The final distance between you both was closed in a heartbeat as you gathered him in your arms, breathing in the scent of him like it was your favourite perfume. The familiar notes of leather and patchouli mingled with the acrid scent of smoke and death, but it was Loki - your best friend and your entire heart. 

His embrace was crushing, filled with the quiet longing of ten days apart, and you could feel his steady heartbeat thundering against yours. You shifted a fraction in his arms, enough that you could feel his lips press softly against your temple in the barest hint of a kiss.

“My sweet girl,” he said softly on a single exhale, an unmistakable note of relief in his smooth voice. His hand twisted easily into your hair, tucking you beneath his chin as he nuzzled into you, as though you were the single source of strength keeping him on his feet. 

You basked in the warm glow of his love, letting it seep in and fill every inch of you after so long without him, but even the innocence of your reunion had your body ache for him. Your legs longed to be wrapped around his waist, your fingers longed to explore every inch of his perfectly toned body, and your lips longed to tingle with the taste of his. After ten days without so much as a touch, your entire being cried out for him. With arousal pooling like liquid sin between your thighs, you rolled your hips experimentally against his, feeling him already half hard and delighting in the growl of approval that floated from his lips.

“Already, darling?” Loki teased, letting his hand slide down your back. The tips of fingers traced suggestively along your spine, making you shiver with anticipation beneath his touch.

His practiced fingers could play your body like an instrument and a single, teasing touch was enough to guarantee your willing submission. You would bend however he wished you to. 

You pulled back from the comfort of his chest to tilt your head back, feeling your heart jolt wildly at the wicked glint shimmering in his eyes. A sure promise of mischief and debauchery that made your core thrum with need for him. 

“I missed you,” you replied simply, sliding your hands from his waist to squeeze his ass. 

You heard his sharp intake of breath at the same moment the devilish smirk curled across his face. Loki grasped your chin between two sinfully long fingers, holding you still while he kissed you so fiercely you feared your knees would buckle beneath you. It lasted for little over five seconds, but when his mouth left yours his eyes were blown wide with lust.

He didn’t release your chin, but gently jerked your head back. The small action was enough to have something stir to life in the depths of your stomach.

“On your knees, mouth open,” he ordered quietly, letting his thumb trace over your lower lip.

You inhaled a broken, stuttering breath, swallowing thickly and feeling your blood pulse with desire to please this man. You wanted your name spilling from his lips while you drowned him in pleasure, you wanted to feel every jerk and jump of his taut muscles as he came undone beneath your touch. His pleasure was all you wanted, all you ever wanted, and so you folded easily to your knees in front of him, never breaking his gaze while you obediently parted your lips. 

Loki’s hand rested on your cheek as you settled on the ground, his cool touch a balm to the blazing heat that burned beneath your cheeks. His thumb caressed your skin so lovingly that you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, all the while arousal burned like wildfire in the depths of his eyes. 

“Good girl,” he praised you, his smooth voice wrapping around you like crushed velvet. His fingers drifted from your cheek down the column of your neck, making your heart beat wildly in your chest until they stalled at the collar of your shirt. “Off,” he ordered simply, tugging briefly at the soft material.

You obeyed without hesitation, beyond eager to be used for his pleasure. When you were kneeling before him in only your sleep shorts, he ran his eyes slowly over you, hungrily drinking in every inch of your bare skin as though seeing you unclothed for the first time.

“Exquisite,” he murmured softly, curling a finger beneath your chin. “You are not permitted to speak, do you understand?” 

You nodded your understanding at the same moment a fresh surge of arousal blazed beneath your skin, reading and willing to submit to whatever he wished to do to you. He ghosted his thumb slowly along your cheek until it slipped into your open mouth, and you eagerly locked your lips around it, holding his gaze while swirling your tongue around the cool skin. 

Loki’s eyes darkened and his lips parted only a fraction as he watched you, the only small sign of the effect you were having on him. “Always so eager for me, aren’t you, darling?” he taunted, using his free hand to begin unbuttoning his leathers. 

With his thumb still between your lips, you nodded quickly, desperate for the heavy feel of his cock on your tongue. He pulled his thumb from your mouth, silently smearing the excess saliva around your lips and fully freeing himself from the confines of his silk boxers. He was hard and throbbing and you wriggled with impatience to have him in your mouth. 

He stroked himself slowly right in front of your face - long, measured rolls of his wrist that made arousal bubble and simmer within you like an oncoming storm. Impatiently, you watched every pull of his velvet skin and every pearl of his own arousal that gathered at the end of his cock. 

He was flawless. 

And he was yours.

“Fuck, darling,” Loki hissed out while positioning himself at your open mouth. “Do you know how badly I’ve craved you? Your hot little mouth and perfect cunt? The mere thought of you has driven me to distraction,” he rasped out, teasingly tracing the angry tip of his cock along your lower lip.

You resisted the almost overpowering urge to flick your tongue against it, to taste the pearly beads of arousal that were beginning to drip steadily from him. Above you, Loki laughed quietly, all while slowly pressing his cock into your waiting mouth. 

“Go on, then. Impress me,” he taunted, feeding you his cock inch by inch. 

Eagerly, you locked your lips around him, sitting up on your knees to grip the backs of his muscular thighs for purchase while you swirled your tongue greedily around him. He was hard and heavy between your lips, every ridge and vein dragging deliciously against your skin. You took him as far into your mouth as you could, licking down the entire beautiful length of him and using your grip on his thighs to help bob along it.

Until a brief flash of green light sent your hands flying off them.

“Hands behind your back,” Loki ordered huskily, twisting his own hand roughly into your hair. 

You obeyed easily, eager to both bring him to his release and get your reward for obeying him like a good girl; he rewarded you handsomely when you were good for him. With your hands now folded behind you, you had to work harder to take him, but Loki was ever generous and assisted by pushing your head further and further along his cock. Again and again, the tip of him would hit the back of your throat until you gagged loudly around him and, each time you did, you felt him twitch against your tongue.  

It only made your own arousal burn like a summer sun between your thighs.

Loki’s hand remained twisted like a vice in your hair, refusing to grant you even the slightest bit of relief while he guided you none too gently along his cock. He was desperate for his release, so desperate that he was content to merely use you for his pleasure without any thought to your own. 

“Fuck…fuck, darling!” he grunted. “How often I thought of this…of how well you take me.” 

Pride bloomed like a new spring rose deep within your stomach, each unfurling petal warming you right down to the tips of your fingers. He had thought of you on those nights alone, had pictured you behind closed eyes while he pleasured himself. The mental image of him - head thrown back, black curls spilling over his shoulders while he stroked himself to the thought of you - filled you with a renewed desire to please him and see him come undone because of you.  

You wanted him to feel the ecstasy he had only been able to imagine. 

When his hand twitched in your hair - further solidifying his hold on you - you made to hollow your cheeks to propel him towards a shattering release and feel him spill down your throat. How badly you longed to taste your god. You relaxed your throat as best you could, ready and waiting for him to explode, but Loki only pushed you down his cock as far as you could take him, holding you in place barely an inch away from the trimmed smattering of coarse hair. 

You balked as the tip hit the back of your throat, instantly attempting to pull back for a gasp of air, but Loki’s hand held you firm, like a lead weight pressed against the back of your head. 

You would remain where you were until he decided otherwise. 

His cool fingers curled around your skull for added leverage, pushing the head of his cock further down your throat until you audibly gagged around him. It was the furthest you had ever taken him and you yearned to make him proud. 

“Breathe through your nose,” he ordered while giving a single thrust into the wet heat of your mouth. The deep, guttural moan it elicited from him was sinful and made every inch of you tingle with desire. 

No sound compared to that of your god moaning because of you. 

With every single slow thrust into your mouth, you fought the urge to gag, putting all your effort into breathing through your nose as Loki had ordered. His free hand was quickly resting against your cheek, his thumb slowly stroking over your skin to keep you grounded, each soft caress whispering “I am here and I love you.”

Hot tears began to prick in the corners of your eyes as he held you there, but you didn’t move an inch. You could feel him twitch against your tongue with unspent release and the deep moans that floated from him like an unbroken melody stirred in your core. You were making him feel this good simply by holding his cock in your mouth. It made you almost dizzy with pride.

“That…that little mouth of yours…is Valhalla, darling.” His voice was raspy with his need for release, every syllable sounding more desperate than the last, every few words punctuated with his quiet grunts of pleasure. “You are Valhalla.”

Satisfaction seared intently beneath your skin and set your blood alight. Loki was never shy with his praise - ensuring to shower you in it even when being punished - but his sweet words never failed to make you feel light as air. His Asgardian lovers had likely been lightyears more experienced in how to pleasure him, but yet he called you his Valhalla. 

You, a mortal, were his continued undoing. 

The hand in your hair curled into a fist, pulling you back with the barest twinge of pain until only the weeping tip of his cock rested on your tongue. He was hot and heavy and you could taste the arousal that dripped teasingly onto your tongue with each second that passed. The temptation was too great, so, brazenly, you swirled your tongue around him, savouring every ridge and dip and bead of his excitement. 

Above you, you heard the sharp hiss of pleasure that escaped Loki’s lips and felt his hips snap forward almost of their own accord to push his cock back into your mouth. You accepted it greedily, bracing for the forceful slide to the back of your throat that would cut off your air again- a discomfort you would happily endure if it meant pleasing him. 

It was a discomfort that never came. 

Instead, he framed your face with two large, filthy hands, effectively immobilising you while he began to thrust into your waiting mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the single word leaving him on a broken, shuddering breath. “You’ll…ugh…you’ll be the end of me, darling.”

His hands locked around your skull like a vice, leaving you powerless to do anything but accept the near frantic pace he set as he fucked your mouth. Vainly, you attempted to bob your head along his cock, and resisted the urge to plant your hands on his firm ass to coax him further down your throat. Even with every beautiful inch of him filling your mouth you craved more.

You could never get enough of him. 

His steady breathing quickly faltered to a stream of short, sharp pants as he dangled at the end of completion. You could see the mass of muscles in his thighs strain beneath his tight leather trousers, and could feel his merciless grip on your head as his release threatened to consume him. 

“Fuck…fuck…darling, I’m…I’m…so close,” he panted through gritted teeth.

An upward flick of your eyes had something deep in your core twist with desire. His head was thrown back on his shoulders, black curls streaming down his back, teeth bared and nostrils flared as he chased his bliss. 

It was a sight you could get drunk on. 

His thrusts into your mouth grew increasingly erratic as he neared the edge and his sharp little cries of pleasure were almost your undoing. 

“Darling…please…please,” he begged desperately, his impending release almost robbing him of his ability to speak. 

You knew what he was asking - begging - for, and wasted no time in flattening your tongue firmly along the throbbing length of him in exactly the way he loved. 

It was all he needed to go soaring off the edge. 

His fingers twisted viciously into your hair for purchase as his orgasm consumed him - a climax so powerful you saw his knees half buckle beneath him. Your name was a shout to the heavens, to Valhalla, and mixed with a stream of curses so filthy you swore they could have made Tony blush. Your tongue was coated quickly in his release - hot ropes of his cum spilling down your throat and between your lips, all while his deep cries of pleasure continued to ring around the room.

You found you didn’t much care if he had cast a silencing charm, your pride half wanting the others to hear how you were making this god come undone in your mouth, how you were making him moan out your name at the height of his orgasm.

You continued to hold him until he was spent, until his hips came to a gradual stop and he eased himself carefully out of your mouth.

 He was still hard.

One hand remained lightly cupping your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing over your lips to rid you of what remained of him. “Magnificent, my love,” he rasped, bending easily to hoist you over his shoulder. 

There was barely a moment for you to protest. In four large steps he had crossed to the bed, tossing you easily into the mess of sheets and pinning you there with a hungry glint shining in his eyes. “But I do hope you aren’t tired. I haven’t even started with you yet.”

Pals of Saz taglist: @cheekyscamp @coldnique @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @fictive-sl0th @cake-writes @the-lady-amphitrite @simplyholl @lokisgoodgirl @give-me-a-moose @springdandelixn @maple-seed @loopsisloops @kinky-faerie @wintermischief @lokiprompts @mischief2sarawr @icytrickster17 @mischief-dream

[shotmrmiller]

I love your take on the boys being utterly devoted to reader to the extent that they just irrationally skip all steps of courtship and just permanently plant themselves into reader’s life.

😘❤️❤️❤️

Kisses for you Toni

ty ❤️

there's no need to convince these psychopaths of anything! they know life is fleeting seeing as how they take it every other day and when they come face to face with that, the first person who gives them a morsel of affection gets a ring, a house, a baby or pet, and their last name.

2 + 2 = 4

[stonerbellybabe]

I'm so impressed by you, a feedee with the enthusiasm and vigour you have is so fucking hot. You keep growing bigger and wider with every morsel of food shoved down that greedy gullet.

As a feeder myself, your gain right now is the best I've seen since kendallhalobelly who actually has a very similar body type to you.

Btw I know this might be wishful thinking, but I really think you might be 183-184 now

Enjoy the gains beautiful 😘

omg thank you! I remember kendallhalobelly, her belly/proportions were insane. It’s been said before and I’ll say it again, we love a gut-heavy fatty 🥰

my next weigh in is tomorrow and yeah I won’t be surprised at all if I’m 184, 185 even. I am enjoying them VERY much.

[fideidefenswhore]

Hey!

I read in your tags about Elizabeth Boleyn's "mercenary" attitude towards everyone but her family, and a scene where Anne and her mother harassed Wolsey... Could you elaborate more about these 2 things? It sounds interesting... You always offer a different angle to the "well-known" Boleyn story.

😘

Oh, I mean I'm being a bit facetious, that is a portrayal I would like to see, it's based mostly on conjecture (the papal envoy was apparently afraid of both Anne and her parents, emphasis plural, which is interesting...) and Anne's own affection for her ("next to my own mother, no woman alive I love better"). I would just like to see her placed a bit more prominently in these moments, by her side when the gauntlet of "tell him he may come here, where the King is" is thrown.

The #girlbosslay moments wrt Wolsey, I just sort of get the feeling that she was involved in her daughter's power struggle/battle for influence with Wolsey, in her daughter's corner, she was in the barge for the journey soon after his fall from grace, and contemporary report places her along for the ride of overlooking all his inventory at York Place as well. Earlier on, in the context of Anne reprimanding him for having not sent her a message/update in quite some time, they both demanded some delicacies for their table from him, and there's a bit of an exasperated, put-upon tone about this from his gentleman usher:

Excuses his non-attendance upon Wolsey. Mr. Carre and Mr. Browne are absent, and there is none here but Norres and himself to attend the King in his bedchamber, or keep the pallet. Every afternoon when the weather is fair the King rides out hawking, or walks in the Park, not returning till late in the evening. Today, as the King was going to dinner, Mistress Anne spoke to Hennege, saying she was afraid Wolsey had forgotten her, as he sent her no token with Forest;—she thought that was the reason he did not come to her. Hennege told her that his message was of such importance that Wolsey had forgotten to send a token. Was requested by my Lady her mother to give her a morsel of tunny; she said she had spoken to Forest to ask Wolsey for it. Tonight the King sent him down with a dish to Mistress Anne (Boleyn) for her supper. She caused Hennege to sup with her, and wished she had some good meat from Wolsey, as carps, shrimps or other. "I beseech your Grace, pardon me that I am so bold to write unto your Grace hereof; it is the conceit and mind of a woman." Was ordered by the King to bid Forest remain here all night.

[impala-dreamer]

💗💙💖💜💕💚🖤⭐🍕🦄😘

I mean this with every morsel of my heart...

I love him.

[a-gal-with-taste]

Sweet

No summary, just self-indulgent birthday fic for myself on my birthday. Thanks for all your birthday wishes, love y'all lots😘❤

Warnings: SFW | Pre-Slash, flirting, couples-banter-but-not-couples-yet, Silco being annoyed and then falling in love, revolutionary-shenannigans, the reader is a teeeease, birthday smooch, this is complete and total fluff and absolutely self-indulgant, don't @ me

To have a celebration, in the middle of an Undercity revolution, was a ridiculous affair. Silco understood the importance of taking a moment of calm, peace and celebration. A breath, to take between the stench of constant hard-work, the revolt and rebelling that seemed to take over every instance of their daily lives - that was what The Last Drop was for. That was what the spontaneous, drunken singing sessions were for.

But this? This took the cake.

Not literally, as the team claims they could barely sneak away the cookies as-is.

Still, all this for a birthday celebration? His? "Vander, I don't need any this," He'd hissed at his Brother, but the large Son of Zaun only smirked, and flicked one of the half-floating balloons bobbing in the air towards the wiry young man.

Silco's fuming glare only turned molten when the rubber bounced off his forehead, light as a feather, but the principle of it made his eye twitch. "Vander, do you honestly think Topside is going to overlook this?" He said through gritted teeth. "It's one thing for us to raid ships, supply-lines and their facilities, I grant you that. We actually get something of value, something of use from them... but going into the heart of Piltover for sweets-"

"We only went to the outskirts!"

"That's not-" That damn balloon had the gall to float innocently across the space between the two men and Silco needed to stop, and take a breath. "... we can't afford this. And I told you I didn't want to make it a big deal!" He hissed, ire rising, and definitely not in a petulant way. Silco absolutely did not feel the need to stomp his foot, and glared twice at hard as Vander to make up for the lack of the childish, but satisfying action.

"It's cookies, booze, music and balloons, Sil, it's not hurting anyone!" Vander wisely decided not to mention that he had to be persuaded not to grab a 'birthday-boy' hat, as said birthday-boy only glared up with fiery bright eyes. "Look, wasn't even my idea!"

"Oh really?" Silco didn't believe that for a second, but Vander insisted. "Then who should I be yelling that?"

"Guess that's me." Your voice, followed by a barely-bitten back grin from Vander, made Silco's eye twitch a second time. He turned on his heel as Vander knowingly retreated, mouth opened to begin to ask what the hell you were thinking-

Sweet.

Sea-blue eyes blinked, rather owlishly, as his mouth automatically clomped down on the food you had unceremoniously, half-shoved into his opened mouth. With a lifetime of struggling for every mouthful, Silco learned to simply bite-down instinctively on every morsel of food he managed to get into his mouth, but he... stopped, with whatever the hell you just gave him.

With half of it hanging out his mouth, he blinked again at the... overwhelming sweetness that was bursting on his tongue.

"Topsiders apparently call it chocolate-chip. Cocoa bits shoved into flour, bake it for a bit, and boom! Sweet-treat," You explained, bringing your own treat up to your mouth to nibble on, expression largely managing to stay as stern as Silco's had been when he turned on you. Your fellow Son of Zaun could see the mirth dancing in your eyes, however, at his rather ridiculous expression as he got used to the flavor.

A few beats, before you leaned forward to stage-whisper, "You're supposed to swallow it, pretty-boy."

"You scheduled the raid?" He grumbled, finally reaching up to snatch the rest of the cookie as he began to chew his mouthful. The chocolate bits were melty, from freshness or recently warmed, but he resisted the urge to lick his lips to catch any remnants as he took another small bite at his cookie. "A raid to a Topside bakery? Are you kidding me?"

The stern glint in the man's eyes hadn't faded, but you merely rolled your eyes. "Yes, Silco, the dreaded shopping trip that completely drained our resources, and crippled our defenses was organized by me. Feel free to get the firing-squad ready." "You know, that sarcasm only only endears you to others to an extent," He retorted, "I'm being serious, apparently, the only one who is: this didn't need to be done."

"Well tough, it's already been done."

"You..." Silco found it harder and harder to stay upset. Not because of your expression, that smug look only seemed to grow and grow, but because Silco was begrudging coming to accept the hard truth:

These cookies you'd gotten for his birthday were delicious.

"I don't need a big celebration," He grumbled, glancing around the bar as he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. "Didn't want one." You hummed, and while he tried to remain proper by brushing crumbs off subtly, you were openly sucking on your index finger to clean off any remains of chocolate. Popping it off, you leaned to wipe it off on his shirt before calmly informing him, "Bullshit. Everyone loves having the spotlight on their birthday, you just don't want to admit it."

Hand flashing up, he hooked his grip tight around your wrist when you went to pull away. Narrowed eyes met ones that remained largely impassive, with brows raised over them. Scanning his face, you merely shrugged, tilting your head to the side to gesture with a jerk of your head to the rest of the bar, "I didn't tell them whose birthday it was."

The response you got was only a blink, so you sighed. "Sil, the Children of Zaun want freedom and respect more than anything... but we also want any chance at free booze and snacks that we can get. I don't even have to tell 'em whose birthday we're celebrating - they were down to celebrate whoever it was."

The Son of Zaun mulled over this, quietly glad for it. Not that he was unafraid of the spotlight - hell, he co-lead a revolution - but he wasn't exactly experienced in the art of birthday-parties. It was different from the attention being given to him, due to a rallying-speech or planning out another move against Topside. Silco could appreciate that you noticed this from him, and downplayed the identity of the celebrating individual, not to mention somehow keep Vander and Benzo from announcing it to the rest of the forces...

A blink, and suddenly, he realizes your close. Very close, and looking up at him with an unreadable glint in your eyes, shining lightly by the worn lightbulbs high above the bar. "I know you don't want to make a big deal out of it," You murmur. "But can I at least give you a birthday present?"

Silco blinked again, and must've answered with a nod he didn't remember making, because suddenly you're impossibly closer, face merely inches from his, nose beginning to brush the tip of his arched-one...

And then you turn. Pass it, and now have your mouth up against his ear as you quietly began the first couple notes, "Happy birthday to you..."

Apparently all he's good for now is blinking, and standing still, because that's all his able to do, with your warm, soft breath brushing past his ears. Silco's heard his fair share of songs over the years, ballads, dirgs, the occasional Alcove shanty and all of these tunes sung very, very drunkenly.

You're not drunk, though, or if you are, he can't detect it in gentle sway of your voice, directly against his ear. Distantly, the young rebel knows it's in celebration for something he has no experience with celebrating but in the moment, all he can focus on is his chin brushing against your shoulder as you lean, unbelievably closer while coming to a close of your quiet observance of his special day.

"Happy birthday to..."

A pause. A long one, that Silco finds himself unfreezing enough to furrow his brows in confusion. Wondering if you're distracted, or perhaps his fellow Brothers have something nefarious up their sleeves that required you to cause the distraction, he begins to turn his face towards you-

And your lips are now pressed to his angular cheekbone. Brief, soft and impossibly warm, as much as the quiet "...you," you murmur along his skin.

Then you slipped your wrist from his now-slack hold on you, turn and dart away, leaving Silco staring. He immediately gives two quick steps in chase, but stops again, and is left gazing after you once more. The imprint, that he knows no one sees but he swears is as real as anything, feels like it burns on his skin as his eyes quickly rove the crowd, seeking your figure, searching for you to...

A blink, and the Son of Zaun finally looks down at his hand, where he finally realizes you had pressed something into his palm before running off and disappearing into the thick of the celebrating rebellion forces.

Another beat, before a small raising of one corner of his mouth, and he couldn't help but let out a small, half-breathless laugh. The extra cookie you had slipped him, wasn't quite as warm as the previous one, but he found the decandant sweetness easier on his tongue as he took a bite, probably startling some of the newest recruits with, what they probably saw as the first genuine smile they ever saw the normally cool, suave Son of Zaun make.

The birthday-boy didn't care, managing to suppress a chuckle around another bite. You were ridiculous, but in a way he actually appreciated now. Not bothering to search the crowd for you now, he leaned back on the bar counter with a small, musing smile on his face as he observed the celebration of his own day from the sidelines, but no less happy with the result of his day.

His cheek stayed warm for a long time after that, as did that feeling in his chest that resulted from your little song. And that warmth, was just about as sweet as the birthday treats you had gotten for him.

-

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[cable-knit-sweater]

Mayaaaaaaa! 💕 I know I just told you I was heading to write but I didn't want to start before I popped into your asks to shower you with all my love! ✨

You are going from strength to strength as a writer! I love seeing what your incredible brain comes up with! I'm always awed by how quickly you're able to put the words together and create such rich and developed worlds for us to sink our teeth into 😍

Thank you so much for trusting me with your ideas and your drafts. I honestly feel so privileged to see a message from you pop up with a "So I was thinking..." or "I couldn't stop myself from writing this!" 🥰 Every little morsel is so delicious!

I also love our little mini fic club. I'm so glad we can flail about fics we're reading at the same time and exchange recommendations!

Plus, you are such a wonderful cheerleader! 🥺🥺🥺 Thanks for all your assurances and motivation to help me get out of my current writing funk. Your encouragement is so lovely and I feel so honored to have you in my little corner cheering me on 💖✨

Anyway, I love love love your Tumblr prompt fics and your leather jacket one was the icing on top of the cake! I'm honestly so proud of you for that one! I know you have so many more coming so I'm going to send you even more love soon, but I just wanted to drop in and tell you I love you in your ask box because this one is just for you 😘

Me seeing this ask:

TEJJJJJJ 😭😭😭 HOW DARE YOU???? How are you so sweet and amazing?? I honestly don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this or you, but I’m so incredibly grateful 🥺🥺💕💕💕

I feel like I have to at least give you some of the credit for my writing these days. I trust you with my dumbest thoughts and ideas, and you’ve been nothing but the most incredible sparring partner, so so so supportive and encouraging of all of them, and sparked my creativity with your own ideas and suggestions so many times I’ve lost count. It’s honestly the best 🥰🥰🥰 And getting your feedback and lovely comments when it’s finally done? That makes my day every single time, you’re honestly the sweetest 💕💕💕

I do love our little fic club too 😂🥰, especially with the amount of AMAZING fics that we’ve been lucky enough to have come across in recent weeks, and talking and screaming about them with you has added even more joy to the experience 💖💖

And you? You’re just the most incredible writer, and I honestly just feel honored to being able to cheer you on and I if I can take away even a little bit of the doubts or funk, that would make me so so incredibly happy, because your fics honestly give me life, and I never want you to feel any doubt about your insane talent & skill 💗 (And if that gets me a ticket to the inevitable premiere of a Lane Lines movie or miniseries, that’s just a bonus 😉😂)

Andddd now you really should go write!!! Sending you even more good writing vibes, I just know that whatever you write next is going to be nothing short of amazing!! Love you to the moon and back honey 🥰🥰💖💖💖💖