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blackknight-100 · 11 months ago

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This fic is written for @ronika-writes-stuff , a very, very belated Happy Birthday to you <3

Bheema growled as they barreled through the dense undergrowth, stumbling across protruding vines. A few paces ahead, Arjuna danced in the rain, fleet and swift and beautiful.

“Angaraj!” he heard his brother call out, “do you not like the rain?”

Duryodhana exhaled noisily beside him. “Is it too much to hope he will slip and fall?”

Bheema agreed with the general sentiment; Arjuna’s antics were getting on his nerves. But damn him if he ever chose his homicidal cousin over his own brother.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He sent Duryodhana a scowl for good measure.

“Actually, I would like an umbrella right now, and a sedan chair, but Arjuna shutting up is an acceptable alternative.”

Bheema called him a cuss word he would never dare pronounce in Yudhisthira’s earshot. His cousin burst out laughing in response.

Karna, who had abandoned any attempts at running, marched up to them. “Wait,” he said, catching Duryodhana by the arm and flapping his hand dangerously close to Bheema’s face. “Prince Sahadeva believes there is a cave close by.”

Bheema stopped, and Duryodhana did the same, leaning against a false ashoka. “Is this belief the result of some tangible evidence or is he doing his mind-manifestation thing again?”

“Oye!” Bheema scowled, swinging his mace up his shoulder, “I’m going to bash your head in.”

Duryodhana rolled his eyes but pushed himself off and Bheema stomped ahead of the sycophant and his king. He was ready to go home.

They marched the remaining hundred paces in silence. Sahadeva and Yudhisthira were huddling under an arched stone structure that once might have been a sprawling temple but was now reduced to a glorified rocky outcrop. Dushashana crouched beside them, close to Nakula. They were shaking their heads hard, fanning out their hair and sending sprays of water everywhere.

“What is wrong with you?” Karna demanded.

“I shook out more water than Nakula,” Dushashana told him proudly.

No, you did not.” Nakula thrust his head out into the rain again and started tossing his hair. “Look at this.”

Bheema rolled his eyes then noticed Yudhisthira taking a deep breath, clearly preparing some new lecture, and cast about for something to say before he began.

“I am hungry.”

Duryodhana stared at him. Arjuna started to laugh, “Are you ever not hungry?”

Bheema, who had blurted out the first thing on his mind in an attempt to distract Yudhisthira, blushed.

Karna hurried them all into the shelter. “It’s wet and cold,” he told Dushashana when the latter tried to drench his hair again. “You are going to forget about this match in half an hour. If you get sick, you will have to lay in bed for a week.”

“Oh, come on,” Dushashana grumbled, but complied.

Yudhisthira held out a hand to Arjuna. “Are you going to get some firewood?”

Bheema watched, a little bemused, as his brother bounded over a fallen log, and turned to Sahadeva. “Where is he going to find dry wood?”

Sahadeva shrugged and smiled. “Have patience brother. He will think of something.”

Bheema curled under the shade, huddling between his brothers. They watched in companionable silence as the rain slowed gradually, the pattering growing softer. Karna and Duryodhana had their heads together, murmuring in low voices. Once in a while there came distant whoops – Arjuna was certainly enjoying his duties.

Of course, because Yudhisthira could never let things be – he turned to Duryodhana and began, “So, how is the construction of the new quarters going?”

Karna jumped and Bheema smirked.

“Oh, pretty good. My mother is going to confirm the patterns on the balustrade today, and all the options look ravishing.” Duryodhana boasted.

“Oh,” Yudhisthira blinked, but was saved from thinking up an answer by Arjuna’s return. Their brother was dragging a dead stag behind him, grinning like he had won Draupadi’s swayamvar all over again.

“Where’s the firewood?” Dushashana asked.

“I forgot,” Arjuna told them.

“You forgot?”

Arjuna shrugged. “Okay, I did not want to. This was more fun.”

Yudhisthira rolled his eyes. Karna got up, stretched, and picked up Sahadeva’s axe, swinging it in his hands.

“No matter, Arjuna,” he said tauntingly, “I am sure you can eat raw flesh like a pisacha. For the rest of us, I will get you firewood.”

“Oi!” Bheema jumped up, clenching his fists, and narrowly avoided a head-on collision with the protruding rock. “You are just jumping to go, aren’t you? This is right up your lane.”

Karna snorted. “It is,” he said, “and you need better arguments if you want to defend your brother.”

And with that last piece of gratis advice, he was gone.

Bheema opened his mouth to continue, but Yudhisthira gave him a glare so stern he was compelled to roll his eyes and settle into sullen silence.

“We should get moving,” Nakula said, after a pregnant pause.

“Where are we?” Duryodhana demanded.

“Shouldn’t you know?” Bheema asked impatiently. “This forest is in your kingdom.”

“Look here-” Duryodhana began, but Yudhisthira intervened once more.

“It’s growing dark,” he pointed out, gesturing to where the patches of sunlight on the ground grew sparser and more diffused. “Maybe we should wait for the morning. We have food and we will soon have firewood. It is going to be safer.”

“It’s going to be boring,” Dushashana complained.

Arjuna shook his head. “I promised Draupadi we would not get in trouble. I vote for morning.”

“There are more of you,” Duryodhana grouched, but he must have agreed to it because he did not fuss anymore.

They fell into pairs – Duryodhana with his brother, the twins together, Bheema with Arjuna, and Yudhisthira the odd one out – and dispersed cautiously to gather materials to make camp.

They were hauling armfuls of underbrush to make their beds when Arjuna nodded behind him into the gloom. “Here he is.”

Karna emerged from the shadow of the trees, bundles of firewood on his shoulder. He took one look at the lumped beds, Yudhisthira’s half-skinned stag and flung the bundles into an untidy heap.

“Are these edible?” he asked Sahadeva, holding out his palm. Bheema spotted a bunch of herbs and some seeds.

Nakula peered over his brother’s shoulder and nodded. “Yes. Good job.”

In a rare moment of civility Karna nodded a vague thanks to the Pandava twins and started arranging the piles to build a fire.

Then, Dushashana ruined the moment (as he was wont to) by asking aloud, “Who is cooking?”

Yudhisthira looked up and offered, “Bheema perhaps?”

Bheema bristled, not because he did not want to cook, but because Yudhisthira had not even bothered to ask him if he was willing to burn a stag for eight people.

“I can’t cook very well,” he announced. “I think someone else had better do it.”

The others stared at him.

“What?” he asked defensively.

Duryodhana shook his head in amazement. “Who are you, and what have you done to Bheema?”

“You dumb thing,” Bheema sneered, “have you finally lost your sight as well as your brain.”

Dushashana rose beside them, but Duryodhana did not even take offence. He was still gaping at him.

“I don’t think,” Nakula began, “anyone expected to see the day when you refused to cook, Bhaiyya.”

Bheema sputtered, half in annoyance and half in betrayal, “Excuse you!”

There was a pregnant pause. Dushashana ventured cautiously, “So… what now?”

Bheema buckled under the pressure of several pairs of eyes and burst out, “Why don’t you do it?”

Karna, who had also stopped whatever he was doing to observe this playing out, stood up, sighed, and ruffled his hair. “Never mind, I’ll do it.”

This declaration was greeted with considerable suspicion by the rest of the group. Even Duryodhana, who had openly supported his then-commoner friend in front of the whole empire and his royal father, now blinked dubiously at him.

“What?” Karna asked, flinging out his arms. “I do know how to cook, you know.”

“I most certainly did not know that,” Dushashana muttered.

“Are you going to poison us?” Arjuna demanded.

Yudhisthira made a shushing sound, and Karna rolled his eyes hard enough to see the back of his head.

“If I decide to kill you, Arjuna,” the King of Anga enunciated slowly, “I will make sure I do it with a bow in my hands and a bow in yours.”

“Oh… um…” Yudhisthira looked taken aback. “Can we postpone all plans of homicide for a few prahars?”

“Sure,” Arjuna and Karna spoke at once.

“Then everything is settled?”

“I don’t want to eat his food,” Bheema told them.

There was a pause. Then Karna got up, swung the stag over his shoulder and glowered at Bheema.

“You know what? Stay hungry.”

With that, he was gone.

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“You know,” Bheema heard Nakula say, “this wasn’t actually that bad.”

“You sound surprised,” Karna observed.

“Do I?”

Bheema turned around and tried to block out the conversation. Since he had remained firm on his decision and refused to eat, the others had ganged up on him and sent him up a tree to keep watch. He would feel betrayed by his brothers, but he was far too hungry to care.

He heard them eating, and the occasional polite compliment floated between breaks in stilted conversation.

After a while, Sahadeva called out to him, “Bhaiyya, we are done. Do you want me to keep watch now?”

“No,” Bheema called back, although he just wanted to shout, ‘go away.’ “I am not sleepy. I will call you.”

“Huh,” Sahadeva muttered. “Not hungry, not sleepy, refuses to come down from a wet branch – what has happened to you?”

Bheema did not deign to dignify that with an answer. Yudhisthira came by sometime later to inform him that Arjuna had made his bush-bed, but Bheema ignored him as well. All he wanted was food.

Gradually the sounds of the camp quietened down, and the forest came alive. Moonbeams cut through the leaves like shards of glass, and crickets chirped in the night. Bheema heard the distant howl of jackals and shivered a little. His stomach growled.

Bheema looked over to their camp. His brothers lay sprawled over in various degrees of comfort – Nakula and Sahadeva were huddled together like newborn pups, and Arjuna had his head in a rather uncomfortable position on Yudhisthira’s arm. Karna and his cousins appeared asleep as well and Bheema gathered up the courage to venture closer.

The branches creaked and shuffled their leaves as he climbed down, but no one stirred. At the edge was a heap of banana leaves, and it was there that Bheema tiptoed.

Fate was not on his side, however, and when he parted them, he was disappointed to find a morsel of meat so lonely and small that he could not bring himself to eat it.

Someone coughed. Bheema jumped a foot in the air and spun around, heart pounding.

Karna had rolled on his side, watching him with glittering eyes. “Hungry?” he asked.

“No!” Bheema felt his face flame, and lowered his voice, “No, not at all.”

Bheema’s stomach chose that very moment to growl. The other man gave him an infuriating smirk, rolled over and stood up.

“Wait here,” Karna instructed, picking his quiver and bow, maneuvering around sleeping bodies, and disappearing into the forest.

Bheema sat there compliantly, feeling rather upset and a little foolish. He wondered if he should make off with the last piece, but the thought of Karna finding it missing was worse.

There was some rustling, and Karna reappeared, holding up an arrow with a dead rabbit skewered on it. Bheema was not faint-hearted by any means, but he had to turn away from the grisly sight. “What are you doing?” he asked, as Karna added wood to the fire and settled down to skin his kill.

“This is for you.” He held up a hand to forestall his protests. “Starvation is not rebellion; you just end up being miserable.”

“I was not rebelling,” Bheema sulked.

“Sure.”

For a while they sat together in silence – not particularly comfortable, but not hostile either, which was more than what could be said of their previous interactions. Karna cleaned the flesh and seasoned it with more leaves and mounted it over the fire.

Behind them, Duryodhana stirred. “I smell food.”

“It’s not for you.” Karna told him.

“Everything you make is for me,” Duryodhana drawled. “Wake up, Sahadeva, there is more food.”

Bheema expected Karna to take offence, but the other man only smiled, sighed, and handed Bheema the rabbit.

“Might as well get some more,” he clarified in answer to his questioning glance. “Something tells me everyone will be up now.”

And so they were. That night the eight of them feasted once more – with great teasing at Bheema’s expense, until he pointed out how everyone was gorging themselves on their second meal of the night. Afterwards, they lay on their backs in twos and threes, talking quietly.

When morning came, they began their long trek back home. Bheema threw Karna a smile when no one was looking and got a reserved nod in response. Then, Duryodhana turned to Yudhisthira, who was telling them about Indraprastha, and said, “When we get back, would you care for a game of dice?”

#mahabharat #mahabharata #hindu mythology #karna #duryodhana #bheema #yudhisthira #yudhishthir #bheem #nakula #nakul #sahadeva #sahadev #duryodhan #arjuna #arjun #birthday fics #fics #boo writes

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sitp-recs · 1 year ago

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in honor of Dracos birthday, do you have birthday centered recs :)?

Hi there! I definitely have some favorites, I just don’t remember if they’re more Harry-centric or Draco-centric 🤣 I hope you enjoy!

5th June by @shealwaysreads (M, 800 words)

Sometimes, a slice of cake is a declaration.

Hesperides by @lettersbyelise (E, 1.3k)

Draco Malfoy is not the kind of man to lavish gorgeous Greek holidays on his flings. So Harry doesn’t really know what to make of his invitation.

Birthday Boy by RurouniHime (M, 3k)

Thirty years old, and where was he?

Narcissus by cryptonym (E, 4k)

Harry wants to give Draco something really special for his birthday. What could more special than Draco, himself?!

Cake by astolat (M, 4k)

Harry tried not to care when after the war, everyone he knew seemed to have made an agreement to stop paying attention to birthdays.

Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too by @peachpety (E, 4k)

Harry Potter loves his birthday… until he doesn’t. All it takes is a miserable slice of jealousy, sprinkled with an unfortunate slip of the tongue, and doused with a heavy dollop of pining to turn Harry sour. Fortunately for him, Draco Malfoy is there to sweeten the day.

The Best Laid Plans by playout (M, 6k)

Since when has anything in Harry's life gone according to plan? His birthday is no exception.

Divination For Dickheads (orphaned, G, 7k)

It doesn't actually turn out to be the worst birthday present he's ever been given.

(Un)Calculated Risk by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 7k)

He thought about the way Harry looked at him, smiled at him; about the way Draco’s head was nearly always full of him, all day every day, and about the way Draco sometimes deliberately went to bed still smelling of him, refusing to acknowledge what it meant – because he already fucking knew what it meant. What all of it meant. And then Draco decided, fuck it, he was going to risk it. They were going to risk it together, Harry and Draco.

Kill, Fuck, Marry by @lettersbyelise (E, 12k)

Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose (M, 13k)

Harry had accepted that he would pine silently for Malfoy forever, but one, humid summer might change that.

A Holiday in Provence by dracoismytrashson (E, 32k)

Harry Potter is turning 50 years old and feeling lonelier than ever. Divorced, retired, and learning he’s not quite as straight as he thought he was, Harry reluctantly accepts a birthday gift from his friends for a week’s stay at an idyllic French vineyard. Too bad Hermione and Ron neglected to mention that the owner of the winery happens to be a certain quick-witted blond Slytherin…

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #birthday fics

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

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Navy's Nonsense: 8/14 - 8/20

My birthday is this week, lovelies! Yikes. 😂 I got 2 of the 4 birthday fics done, which will be posted this week! Anything else shared if there's time is extra. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog so you don't miss out on any new fics, updates, or polls. 💙

Planned nonsense posting 8/17: What Happens in Vegas (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Planned nonsense posting 8/17: Light It Up (Curtis Everett x Reader)

Did you miss last week's Nonsense? No worries! Check it out here. Love and thanks for reading. 💙

#navy's nonsense #navybrat updates #birthday fics #what happens in vegas #light it up #wip #another wip #future fics #hope you lovelies enjoy

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kmomof4 · 2 years ago

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WIP Wednesday!!! Birthday fics!!!

My oldest and dearest fandom friends are celebrating their birthdays in the next week and a half and I am counting down the days!!!

@hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 are both January babies and this year they are both getting a birthday fic from me!!! Shoutout to @motherkatereloyshipper for her manips of CS, and Snowing shown below in the artwork.

@winterbaby89 is first, with her fic A Very Disney Proposal dropping one week from today!!

Twenty minutes later, Granny and Ruby were escorting him and David from the costuming area behind the scenes to the Princess Fairytale Hall in Fantasyland, where Emma and Mary Margaret were about an hour away from the end of their time greeting guests as Cinderella and Snow White. The ladies were on either side of the hall, so once the group got to the branch where they’d have to split to surprise their respective girlfriends, Granny took Killian left and Ruby took David right.

Granny cracked open the door to the hall and character greeting area to watch for the current guests to leave. The plan was to surprise ‘Cinderella’ before the next guests arrived.

~*~*~

Emma Swan waved goodbye to the family from Texas and turned towards the other side of the hall. She saw Mary Margaret bidding farewell to her guests, who were now heading her way. Suddenly the door to backstage opened and Cinderella’s Prince Charming stepped through. It took her a moment, but her eyes widened when she recognized her boyfriend, Killian. Her jaw dropped, but she quickly snapped it shut and schooled her features as he approached her, his gloved hand held out to her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Then, @hollyethecurious fic, A Mistress to No One, will be dropping a week from Sunday, on the 22nd. Her fic is inspired by An Offer From a Gentleman, Benedict’s story in the Bridgerton series by Julia Quinn. No artwork for this fic yet because I’m still furiously writing, but I will share pics of our favorite couple in their ball attire. Manips by @motherkatereloyshipper. Thank you so much, babe!!!

He began to approach her when he heard a wave of whispers behind him. The hair at the nape of his neck stood on end and a sense of anticipation gripped him. He knew he shouldn’t allow anything to distract him from his pledge, but his curiosity overwhelmed him and he turned toward the entrance of the ballroom.

It was as if time stood still. At the entrance of the room stood what he could only describe as a true princess come to life. She was dressed in a beautiful, shining blue gown whose skirt sparkled like diamonds. The bodice and sheer short sleeves were trimmed with silver detailing that flashed when it caught the light. Her mask was silver and had an exquisite swan detail around the right eye. Tendrils of blonde hair framed the other side of her face. But it was her gaze that captured his attention most. This was a woman filled with unadulterated joy. She looked around the room as if she’d never seen a more glorious sight than all the silly members of the ton dressed in their ridiculous costumes.

Her beauty was truly breathtaking, the way she held herself, the poise, the grace of her movements. She was radiant and he had to be close to her. Mary Margaret was completely forgotten as he strode purposefully across the room. Three other gentlemen had beaten him to the lady and stood around her showering her with praise and compliments.

She didn’t react as he would expect a lady of the ton to react. She didn’t lower her eyes demurely, she didn’t giggle, she didn’t act coy or as if their adulations were her due. She simply smiled at them. Or beamed rather. He held his hand out to her.

“Pardon me, gentlemen. But the lady has already promised this dance to me.” He gazed into her green eyes, which widened slightly at his bold pronouncement. He wondered if she would expose his lie for what it was.

She smiled and placed her hand in his. He drew her closer and then led her out to the dance floor.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing!!! Happy birthday in 7 and 10 days, @winterbaby89 and @hollyethecurious!!!

I am resetting my tag list for ‘23! If you’d like to be on it, please let me know either by DM, responding to this post, or contact me on discord. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll remove you, no worries!!

#wip wednesday #birthday fics #krystal writes #a very Disney proposal #winterbaby89 #a mistress to no one #hollyethecurious #coming soon #sneak peek

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

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Birthday Fics

A compilation post for all birthday fics written for amazing people:

2023

Sadie Dio Gerry Hype Joey Randa Emily Worm Sandy

2024

Lex Bee (tboygareth) Sadie

This will obviously be updated as fics are completed and posted!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #birthday fics #masterlist

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amazingmsme · 1 year ago

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If someone was to write a fic for you what fandoms would be your top 5 choices 👀

Aw thank you for asking! I’m not picky & have a lot of fixations right now

1. Critical Role, specifically the mighty nein

2. DND Honor Among Thieves

3. Top Gun/Top Gun Maverick

4. Stranger Things

5. Peaky Blinders

& of course some honorable mentions:

The Witcher

Marvel (including the Disney+ shows but I haven’t seen she hulk or ms marvel)

Wolf 359

Castlevania

Better Call Saul

Inside Job

Twin Peaks

& basically anything I’ve written for

#asks #anon ask #birthday present #bday present #birthday fics #my bday

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thatskindarough · 5 months ago

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“‘I just…I thought you might like to come back, one day,’ Crowley said very quietly. Aziraphale’s foot pressed against his again, and Crowley drew in a sudden breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing properly since Aziraphale had stopped touching him.”

This piece was a commission from the lovely @fellshish for their lovely friend, @alphacentaurinebula ‘s fic What Are You Doing Here? This fic is cute, funny, heartwarming, and incredibly spicy, and I’m very much looking forward to finishing it! Thank you Fells for being wonderful to work with, and happy (belated) birthday to you Alphacentauri, I’m very happy I could do this for you!

#I had the quote the fic it’s just so good #and cute #good omens #art #illustration #my art #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens fanart #ALPHAAAAAAAA HAPPY BIRTHDAY #I’m so happy was asked to make art for the both of you y’all are so wonderful and nice to work with #I really hope you enjoy it #❤️❤️❤️❤️🎈🎁🎁🎈🎈🎁🎁🎁🎈🎈🎁🎁🎈🎈🎉🎊🎊🎉🎉#everyone go read the fanfic plsss #even if smut isn’t your thing the first chapter is incredibly good as a stand alone #good omens fanfiction

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mochinomnoms · 24 days ago

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say you can't sleep, baby, I know

NSFW!Trey x Reader

Synopsis

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You're trying to rile him up, right? He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. Trey used to pride himself on his levelheadedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece. “Happy Birthday Trey~”

[wc} - 5,258

[cw/tags] - afab!gn!reader (im sorry folks it's all i know how to write still), NRC is a university in this, domesticity kink, birthday sex, breeding kink (sue me), oral (giving & receiving), trey can be a little mean as a treat

[notes] - i apologize for the person i've become after seeing trey's new b-day card. it does things to me and this is 100% self-indulgent for me. also, tried to use very neutral descriptors for reader so tell me how that went and if it reads well! lastly, the outfit the reader wears is based on sabrina carpenter's outfits from her short n' sweet tour, specifically the baby doll one!

Written while listening to “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter, I recommend listening to it while reading :)

Let’s consider exactly the type of person Trey is.

Ever since he’s started school at NRC, he’s always taken a bit of a parental role in Heartslabyul, even before he became vice housewarden. Even Cater would joke about it when they first became friends:

“You’re, like, a total big bro! O-M-G, no! You’re like a dad friend! I’m totes willing to bet that the incoming freshmen are gonna slip up! Call you Dad or something!”

Evidently, when Riddle came into the picture and Trey was appointed his vice, Cater was proven right. He didn’t mind it too much, despite what others might think.

He liked the familiarity of it, being the oldest at home, it translated well into his position at Heartslabyul, and it came with the added bonus of being able to minimize any chaos that arose.

That was his main goal, especially with Riddle’s temper during his freshman and at the beginning of his sophomore year. Honestly, he had phenomenal conflict resolution skills, and he just wanted to make his life as easy as possible.

Everyone at this school liked to make that difficult, though, especially the freshmen of this year.

“Oh fu—I mean sh—dam—fuc—shi—FIDDLESTICKS!”

“Dude, just say fuck, why you gotta say the corniest shit—OW—Treyyy! Deuce hit me!”

Deuce had a guilty look on his face as Trey looked up from his notebook to raise a brow at the two.

“W-well, Ace cussed, so he has to put money in the swear jar!”

“Aw what! Come on Trey!” Ace whined, shoving Deuce’s face to the side as the latter grunted and started pulling at his cheeks and arm. “Riddle’s not here, he’ll never know, so I don’t gotta! Don’t make me!”

Trey simply smirked and gestured to the jar on the fireplace mantle, helpfully available to everyone in the lounge.

“You know the rules, bud, two thaurmarks for the f-bomb and a .50 cent for the other.”

Ace tossed his head back and groaned, begrudgingly dragging himself over to the jar as he dug around his pocket for change.

“Don’t be rude to your father, Ace.” A few giggles and snorts vibrated amongst the small group studying in the lounge as you wagged a finger at Ace, Grim squinting angrily at the book in your lap.

Your lips quivered as you hid a laugh, jokingly chastising the ginger.

“No need to be a brat.”

Trey had to withhold a snort at that comment, rich coming from you. He knew better than anyone that you could be as much of a brat as you were another parental figure.

“Oh ha-ha, very funny, Prefect. What, does that make you, Mom or Dad 2?” Ace stuck his tongue out at you as you grinned and focused back on Grim.

“Okay Grimmy, so remember, what alchemy recipes need mandrake root?”

Watching from the corner of his eye, Trey watched fondly as you murmured soft words to Grim. It reminded him of his Mom talking to his siblings after a nightmare, or of his Dad after one of them would get hurt in the kitchen.

Soft, soothing, parental. You’d make an excellent parent one day.

Trey felt himself get warm at the thought, adjusting himself in his seat and looking back at his musicology notes. He couldn’t sing very well, but he can memorize notes, and that’s what the upcoming exam was focused on.

That’s what he needed to focus on, not the way you cradled Grim against you like a parent with their child. Focus on his alchemy flashcards, and not the way you cleaned up the mess on the table so you could bring everyone a tray of snacks he’d prepared earlier that day. Focus on the history textbook in front of him, and not the way you cleaned up the lounge as it got later and later.

It wasn’t fair. It was so unfair how well you fell into the role. Cleaning and humming, one of his spare aprons on you as you wiped down the tables of crumbs and stacked a pile of dishes. It was unfair how sweetly you murmured to the few remaining students, and told them to go to bed and rest up.

They obliged, probably half asleep at this rate, since it was an hour until midnight. Ace and Deuce had retired a while ago, the latter leaning on the former as they haphazardly stumbled to their room.

Riddle had dropped by after his housewarden meeting, satisfied by the study group, but ultimately stuck to his very strict evening routine.

Now it was just you two. Even Grim had been tugged along with Ace and Deuce earlier, not unlike a rag doll slung over their shoulders.

“Trey? Honey, when are you going to sleep? It’s almost midnight.” His eyes fluttered tiredly as he felt your hands slide over his shoulders and a kiss pressed against his temple.

He felt warm again, heat pooling in his belly. You were so unfair.

“You should go to bed soon, come on, I’ll take care of you.”

He can think of a few ways you could ‘take care’ of him.

“It’s fine, why don’t you get Grim and head back to Ramshackle? Curfew is in 30 minutes, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing into his ear, making a tingle go down his spine.

“Okay, but please go to bed soon? I left you a little birthday surprise in your bedroom~”

Trey perked up at that, eyeing your mischievous grin as you waved your fingers goodbye, going down the hallway to the dorms to grab Grim.

To be honest, he’d forgotten that his birthday was tomorrow, he’d been so focused on his midterms that it just slipped his mind. Well, he can’t say he’s not excited to see what you got him, especially since you’d been not too subtly probing him for preferences.

He groaned, running his hands over his face and sighing, heavy and exhausted.

“Ugh, just a bit more and I’ll retire for the night.” Trey reassured himself, eyes straining as he looked between the books in front of him.

The words on the papers blurred after a bit, the sound of the grandclock lulling him further into sleep, his head nodding off until a ping from his phone started him awake.

It was Cater, his Magicam user popping up on his screen.

cay-cay_diamond: hbd trey!! 🥳🎉🎉🎉grats on being an old man now!

Blinking at the clock, Trey realized that it was now a few minutes past midnight, so it was technically his birthday. He’s lucky that Riddle followed his own sleep schedule so rigorously, or else he’d be getting a scolding for breaking curfew.

luckyclover: Old? I’m only like 4 months older than you cay-cay_diamond: yeah. old. cay-cay_diamond: anyways! enjoy the gift in ur room!!! i helped (name) pick out the wrapping 😘😘😘

Trey hummed, a small smile on his face as he imagined the two of you bickering over wrapping paper and messily wrapping up a box with a bow. You did seem very excited for him to find it earlier, maybe you two picked something out together.

He was curious on what exactly you got him and why you hadn’t waited to give it to him at his actual birthday party. And why did you need Cater to help you…you’d always shoo him away when he’d tried helping you with gifts for other’s birthdays.

Stacking his books into his left hand and walking towards the junior dorm rooms, Trey looked at his phone as it pinged again.

cay-cay_diamond: on that topic thooo…u should rly go 2 ur room and get ur present! the poor thing! they’ve been w8ing very patiently 4 u~ luckyclover: Waiting? (Name)??? cay-cay_diamond: 🤭🤫😉

Trey sighed, shaking his head and tucking his phone away and digging out his room keys. It was times like these, deep into the night, when he was thankful for having his own room. He felt a bit bad now, you probably fell asleep in his bed waiting for him.

Though, the thought of you clutching one of his pillows, maybe in one of his sweaters to keep warm, made him smile. Then he could come in, gently take your clothes and shoes off to get you more comfortable, and dress down himself to slip in right behind you.

As he finally managed to get to his room, he heard shuffling as he turned the keys. Trey smirked, noticing that only his rose lamp remained on, and all the drapes to his canopy were now closed.

He could just barely make out the shadow of you moving behind them, hearing you gasp and the bed squeak, making him let out a soft laugh under his breath.

“You’re breaking curfew, you should be asleep you know? You're such a troublemaker sometimes.” Trey teased you as placed his books on his desk, tossing his hat onto its stand and slipping his shoes off to throw them into his wardrobe and grab his slippers.

He yawned, the late night really starting to sink into his body as he started undressing, his jacket and vest getting hung back up in the closet as he worked on his sash and unbuttoning his pants.

“Only like a third of the time!” You whined, the bed softly squeaking as you followed his movements behind the canopy. “Besides, I really wanted to give you your present. Don’t you want to unwrap me?”

Trey paused at the purr in your voice, narrowing his gaze as he saw your hand ever so slightly move the curtain at the end of the bed to peek at him. You were still mostly shrouded in darkness, but there was a very soft glow coming from inside the canopy, so he could just barely make out your mischievous smile.

Though, you quickly frowned, eyeing him up and down out of concern.

“Not if you’re too tired though, you have bags under your eyes, Trey. Do you just wanna go to sleep?”

Giving you a weary smile, Trey finally tossed his sash to the side and reached for the curtains, pushing them to the side to finally take a look at your “mysterious” present.

“In a bit, let me see what you got me…”

Trey’s breath hitched, he suddenly felt very wide awake as his eyes roamed up and down your body.

From the corner of his eye, he could see that you set up string lights along the top of the canopy for ambiance, making you look like you were almost glowing. Though it wasn’t that that made him lose his voice.

You were sitting on the edge of his bed with your legs curled underneath you, dressed in the most darling sage-green, sheer baby doll dress. The dress's puffy sleeves and hem were lacy, matching the lace on the stockings.

Holy shit you were wearing stockings.

“Ha, I wanted to surprise you, I thought you could use a stress reliever.”

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

“I should’ve realized that you’d be tired from studying for midterms, sorry.”

You're trying to rile him up, right?

“But, still, do you like it? I wrapped myself up just for you~”

He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. To behave.

“In any case,” You shifted onto your knees, the dress splitting in the middle, the only thing keeping it together being a small bow at the base of your neck, revealing the lack of undergarments, just your bare skin underneath. “Even if you’re too tired and just want to sleep, I just wanted to say…”

Trey leaned in as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, batting your eyelashes and ghosting your lips over his with a teasing smile. Your hands caressed the back of his neck, a thumb rubbing soothing circles, making him melt.

“Happy Birthday Trey~”

It’s now that he noticed that you even added a gloss to your lips, and he could smell the warm perfume on your neck as you pressed your lips to his, tongue swiping over his mouth, asking for permission to enter. Obliging, Trey sighed into the kiss and tangled his tongue with yours, his hands slipping underneath the baby doll and squeezing at your waist.

He really should go to sleep. He has to wake up early for the party. He has to dress in his birthday robes. He has to make sure that the others don’t burn down the kitchen or damage his expensive bakeware as they made his cake.

But the way your skin felt under his gloved hands, skin meeting skin, lace, skin, and lace again.

How could he be expected to sleep now?

Trey used to pride himself on his level headedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece.

Humming in delight against your mouth, Trey slid his hands down, as you curled into his body in response, and squeezed at the fat of your thighs before picking you up.

A yelp left your mouth as he picked you up and tossed you up the bed, pulling off his shirt and tossing it behind him as he crawled on top of you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he saw the way the dress fell open to expose your body, your chest moving up and down as you watched him with a giddy smile.

“Oh! I guess you’re not that tired—ah!”

You gasped as Trey grabbed your calves, tugging you up to place the back of your knees on his shoulders. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your right thigh, smirking against the lace.

“I was tired. I should be asleep,” Trey murmured against your stocking laced skin, pressing kisses as he went farther and farther down. “Resting—kiss—Up—kiss—but no.”

He gave you a half-hearted glare, which you responded with a smile and lacing your hands through his hair as he pressed another kiss to the bend where your thigh met your sex.

“You broke curfew, you wanted to keep me up with your little ‘present’, you know I’d get in trouble for hiding you out in my room.”

Trey gave you a bite on your thigh, groaning as he felt your hands tighten in his hair, moving back to press a soothing kiss to the mark he left.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble? Throw me in the doghouse?” “Cause I’ll make sure you come right with me, after a little taste of my birthday treat.”

The same time he ran his tongue up your sex, Trey could feel you shiver and pull on his hair as he ate you feverishly, like a man starved from food or water for ages.

“Mmm! Trey!” You threw your head back, bringing one hand up to slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, the walls here weren’t known to be sound-proof.

He should probably care a bit more, especially when you let out a particularly high-pitched squeal as his tongue began fucking into your hole.

“Trey! Oooh, Trey~”

Bringing a finger to join his tongue, Trey smiled against your skin as you squeezed your thighs around his head, using his free hand to push his pants and underwear down to palm at his dick.

“Trey—aaaah—wait, let me—mmph—Honey—” You let out a shuddering gasp, pulling his head up from your sex. Trey locked eyes with you, leaning into the hand you slid down to cup his cheek and caress his lower lips, wiping the slick and drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes? Honey?” Removing his hand from inside you to cover your own hand and kiss your palm, Trey smiled and hummed, “I like that, you know, reminds me of a husband coming home to his spouse.”

Pressing kisses up your body, soft and tingly, up your neck, and back to your lips where they belonged.

“Hmm, I really like the sound of that, (Name) Clover.” You murmured against his lips, smiling as you wrapped a leg around his waist to bring his dick closer to your sex, rubbing against him as you both sighed into each other’s mouths.

“Is that what you want? You want me to be a cute little spouse? Dress up in a cute apron? Greet you when you come home from work?”

So focused on the softness of your lips and the wetness sliding against his dick, Trey didn’t even notice you twisting your body to turn him onto his back, the back of his head hitting the back of his pillows as you sat on top with a cheeky grin.

“Hm? How would my husband want me to welcome him home? A hug? A kiss? Mm, what about…me?” Trey watched you with flushed cheeks as you kissed down his body, mimicking his earlier actions as you helped him tug off the rest of his clothes.

“Oh, how nice it would be for you to come back to a warm, clean home with a spouse…” Looking up at him through your eyelashes and giving him a kitten lick to his tip. “...ready to give soft wet holes for you to fill~”

Giving him a vision into that sweet, sweet future, you swallowed his tip, down his shaft, and started sucking.

“Haaah—”

Trey lolled his head back into his pillow, letting out a breathless moan as you bobbed your head up and down his length, your hand working the rest that didn’t fit into your mouth.

“Fuuuuck. That does sound nice—mmh!” Reaching his hand down, you immediately took one of your hands to lace it with his, squeezing it as you hummed around his cock.

“My lovely spouse—nnnngh—their pretty mouth—unnnh—soft holes—aaaah—all for me to come home to every day, what a dream~”

A particularly harsh suck made Trey arch his back and squeeze your hand harder, a giggle vibrating his dick as you pulled off.

“Hehe, is this your way of proposing? Kinda dirty to do it with your dick on my mouth.” You giggled, pressing kisses and quick licks along his shaft.

“That’s okay though, you and I both know that deep down, you’re a bit of a pervert. Right?”

Trey scoffed, tugging you up with a bemused smile. “Yeah? How can you tell? Thought I hid that pretty well.”

A soft laugh escaping you, you held both of his hands, bringing them up to press kisses on his knuckles, making the green-haired man sigh fondly.

“The way you look at me sometimes, like you’re undressing me. It makes me feel all warm and tingly, especially when I piss you off.”

Both of you let out a breathless moan as your wetness rubbed against his hard dick, grinding against one another as the tip occasionally caught against your hole, making you shiver.

“Is it bad that sometimes I wanna get you mad so you’ll fuck me real mean? Is it bad that I want you to use me? To fuck your stress out with me?”

A lump forming in his throat, Trey let go of your hands to pull at the string holding your flimsy baby doll together. Eyes half lidded, he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, watching it pool at your elbows as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself as your grinding turned into vigorous humping against him, making you both gasp in pleasure.

“Ooh, Trey, honey, baby, hubby~ Won’t you use me? Be a little mean? Pleeeease? Fuck me, fill me up like I know you want! Pleeeeease Trey? Pretty, pretty please?”

Lips smashed against yours as Trey bolted up, groaning into your mouth as he grabbed your hips in an almost painful grip.

He picked you up once again, throwing you on all fours, covers tangling against your knees and hands, as he ripped your dress off and tossed it.

Trey’s left hand placed itself on your hip, while his right pushed down on your back, following up your spine to the base of your neck where he pushed you down to shove your face into the sheets, forcing you into a doggy pose.

“So you do like getting me in trouble, little brat. Fine, I’ll be mean.”

Trey lined his dick against your throbbing hole, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your ear and moving the hand on your neck to wove with your right, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Squeeze three times if you need me to stop, otherwise, I’m going to fuck that brain right out of your pretty little head, since you don’t seem to be wanting to use it.”

In one, swift move, Trey slammed his hips to your ass, sinking nearly half his length into your warm, waiting hole.

“FUCK! YES—MMMPH” Burying your face into the sheets to muffle your cries, Trey did the same into your shoulder, shivering at your tightness around him.

Setting a rhythm, hips smacking into your ass, Trey worked the rest of his cock into you until he could hear the smack of your ass against his hips, the sound echoing with the creak of the bed.

Your tightness around him was heavenly, as was the sight of you sinking further into the bed and arching your ass to sloppily meet his thrusts. Straightening again, bending your arm back so that your hands could remain intertwined.

His left hand caressed your back and the fat of your behind, before bringing it down in a harsh slap to your ass, making you yelp and squeeze his hand in a vice grip, though you also tightened around his cock.

Rubbing a soothing circle against the reddening skin, slowed his thrusts, making you whine and push against him.

“Haaah, that okay? Feel good?” Trey murmured, smiling at the frantic nod and wiggle against him. “Want me to keep going?”

“Mmmph... yessshh... mmmore, mmmore... pleeeashh, honey~” Your sounds were muffled as you bit into the blanket, getting higher and higher as he obliged, not one to deny you after all.

Every other thrust was met with a slap to one cheek, then the other, the skin turning redder and redder with his handprints marking you. The harder he went, the more and more slack you went, until he was eventually just fucking you like his personal toy.

Though, you did offer yourself as his present, didn’t you? So it was only fair that he got to use his present as he wished, and right now, he wanted to feel you cumming around him.

Ceasing his smacks, making you whine, Trey instead melded his body against yours, the weight both overwhelming and comforting, as his left hand instead moved to your sex to rub you to completion.

Trey watched as you gasped for breath, completely burying your head into the bed to muffled your screams as you came around him, trembling and squeezing him.

The feeling of your walls pulsating around his shaft was becoming dangerously addicting, and he was very greedy for more of that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so close! You can give me another one, right?”

Slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you up, Trey adjusted you so that you sat on his dick, kissing the side of your neck for reassurance as he let go of your hand to quickly slide his arms under your knees.

From all his years of tossing bags of flour and sugar, from kneading dough, from all the labor he’s done as a baker, picking you up was like child’s play.

Folding your knees up to your chest so he could hold you, back flush to his chest, was nothing for him. Everything for you, though, your over sensitive hole squeezing down on him again.

“FUCK! I caaame! Treytreytreytrey—” You dug a hand into his arm, tossing your head back and lolling your tongue out with a dumb, drooly smile on your lips.

“A-almost there—nngh—just squeeze if I need to stop—I’m so close~”

Smashing his lips against yours for an open mouth, wet kiss, Trey pounded faster into you, determined to feel your walls pulsate again, this time as he filled your insides up like one of his pastries.

Then, an awful, perverted thought filled his head, like a devil was whispering in his ear.

Why doesn’t he fill them up with his kids? Don’t stop until his cum is drooling out of their hole, and go again to make up for the lost seed. He already wants them to be his spouse, why not add a few little ones to that picture?

Trey was losing any bit of restraint that he may have had as he was now determined to fullfill his fantasy. Even if you couldn’t do it, magic made anything here possible, and right now is good practice anyway.

“I’m—aaaahhh—I’m gonna come inside, okay? Fill you up, yeah?”

Digging your nails into his skin, you nodded against his mouth and whined.

“Yessssss! Fill me up! Inside! Gimme a baby Trey! I wanna make you a daaaaddy~”

Squeezing your legs further against your chest, Trey pounded faster and faster, trembling as he reached close and closer to his peak.

Warmth flooded his body, tingles, and he swears sparks, flying over his skin as he felt you clamp down on him for a third time.

Your voice squealed higher and higher, any previous attempt to be quiet for naught as you practically screamed.

Trey shuddered as he finally came, cum flooding your warm insides as you went limp in his arms.

Panting for air, both of you remained still for a minute, the bed feeling stuffy with the curtains still closed. After another minute, Trey pulled you up and off of him, shaky as his now limp dick left your warm, comfortable embrace.

Doing his best to gently place you on the bed, Trey let out a breathless laugh as you collapsed on the bed like a rag doll, blinking your eyes tiredly at the ceiling of the canopy.

“Haah, sorry, I went too hard there, huh?”

You shook your head, giving him a tired smile and reaching a hand for him, which he took and brought up to kiss.

“It was good, really, good. You liked your present?”

Snorting and nodding, Trey carefully scooped you up to move your head onto the pillows and gently roll off your garter stocking, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he did.

“Yeah, I did. Come on, let me get you a shirt.”

You whined as he pulled away, exhaustion starting to steep into him as he tied back the curtains to the canopy to let the stuffiness out. Trey picked up the baby doll he’d tossed earlier, placing it into his wardrobe drawer as he dug out a shirt and sweatpants for himself and a shirt for you.

As he closed the drawer, he noticed your backpack hidden underneath it, digging in it to grab you some underwear. You had packed a pair of pajamas, apparently, but…he’d rather see you in his clothes.

“Hmm, honey? Come to bed…” You whined, hands reaching out for him impatiently as he slipped on his clothes, crawling over to you and helping you slip your underwear and his shirt on.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Trey slowly blinked, eyelids heavy as he scoop you up to place you two under the covers, the soft mattress making him practically become one with the bed and you as you nestled into his chest.

Your legs tangled with his as Trey wrapped his arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. He could feel fatigue and sleep quickly taking over him as your voice vibrated against his chest, soft and sleepy.

“Happy birthday honey, I—yawn—love…you…”

A different kind of warmth, soft and sweet, filled him as he squeezed you tighter against him, murmuring back.

“I love you too…”

*Riiiing* *Riiiiiiiing* *Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*

An irritating, loud noise filled Trey’s ears as he groaned, half-awake as he turned over to smack his hand on his phone, silencing the alarm.

“Aah…Noisy…hhggh.” Trey groaned, rolling over, careful to not crush you under him to blindly reach for his glasses.

“Glasses…glasses…ah..”

Plastic and glass finally under his palm, Trey slipped his glasses on his face, ultimately throwing himself back into bed next to you, who’d begun shifting awake.

“Mmm, honey?”

Grunting in response, Trey threw an arm over his eyes, irritated at the sun seeping through the window into his eyes.

“Early…”

You chuckled, a yawn escaping you as you decided to move closer and slip a hand under his shirt to rub at his chest, pressing kisses into his neck as well.

“You’re so grumpy in the morning. Come on, you've got a big day ahead.”

“…Ugh, I do?”

Snorting at his response, Trey grunted as he felt you move, peaking under his arm to see you resting on your elbow. You had puffy, dark circles under your eyes from the little sleep you managed to get.

“Birthdays are a pretty big deal, right?” Smiling at him, Trey squinted an eye and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in protest.

“Ugggh, yeah…”

Hearing you hum, Trey groaned in surprise as he felt you straddle his waist and caress his neck and cheeks, making him remove his arm to blink up at you.

Your hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in all sorts of places. The bags under your eyes more noticeable under the night. His shirt dwarfed you. You were a hot mess, all things considered.

He probably wouldn’t say it out loud, with how cute you were last night, but he thinks you look most beautiful like this. Better than any frilly, skimpy, or tight outfit.

“Come on, Birthday Boy, want me to give you a little pick me up?”

Kissing him with a smile, Trey moaned into the lazy, sloppy morning kiss, tilting his head back as you pressed kissed down his neck, deciding to work on leaving a love bite at the nape of his neck.

Trey’s phone chimed, making him sigh as he reached for it, letting you continue your love bites and kisses,

Squinting at the few messages, it seemed like a few of his friends and classmates were already sending him birthday wishes. Though, a message from Cater made him blot up, a sudden shock of alertness running down his spine.

“Ah! Trey, what is it?”

cay-cay_diamond: morning!! happy bday 2 the bday boi again! thought i let u no tht u owe me a favor, had 2 cast a silencing spell on ur roum last nite. totes ruined my beauty sleep! cay-cay_diamond: also i know u got ur lil cutie 2 distract ya, but liek dont b l8 2 ur bday breakfast, grimmy might eat it!

“Shit, we were too loud, Cater had to cast a silencing spell on the room.”

You made an ‘oh’ shape with your mouth, giving Trey an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, but at least you enjoyed it, right?”

Trey smiled, more awake now, and nodded, sharing a sweet kiss with you.

“Definitely. You might have to consider making your go-to gift for now on, it’s gotta be my favorite one I’ve ever gotten.”

He solidified that statement with one more, firm, assuring kiss with you, before having to leave your sweet dream into the real world.

At least he could have one part of that dream with him at his side from now on: you.

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

#mochi fic #twst #twisted wonderland #trey clover #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #twst trey #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #trey clover smut #happy birthday trey #anyways thats my husband and i probably wont get this out of my system for a while

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flwrstqr · 1 month ago

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✦ ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE WHEN YOU CALL THEM BY THEIR NAME AND NOT A PETNAME

͏ ͏💬 bf ! enha hyung line x f ! r . ˙˖ ͏ ͏᱖ ͏ ͏ head canons, fluff ͏,, kissing + petnames ͏꒰´ ꒳ ` ꒱♡ dani's notes : i cried over heeseung pics. Is that normal

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 (이희승)

heeseung’s arms were wrapped around your waist, his lips brushing softly against your temple as you both sat on the couch. “angel,” he mumbled, voice lazy and warm. you hummed in response, then said, “heeseung, can you grab my water?” his arms tightened slightly, and he pulled back to look at you with a mock-offended pout. “heeseung?” he echoed, raising a brow. “what happened to babe? baby? love of my life?” you couldn’t help but giggle, leaning in to peck his lips. “fine, baby, can you get my water?” his expression softened immediately, his lips finding your cheek in a quick kiss. “that’s more like it,” he teased, standing up but not before brushing his hand through your hair. “anything for you, my love.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 (박종성)

“park jongseong, can you help me with this?” you ask, barely glancing up from your spot on the couch. jay freezes, his brows knitting together in confusion. “wait, what? did you just—?” he moves closer, his hand gently resting on your shoulder, thumb brushing your skin. “did i do something wrong? why are you using my full name?” you stifle a giggle, finding his reaction adorable. “nothing's wrong, jongseong,” you tease, emphasizing his name again. jay pouts, leaning in closer, his face inches from yours. “baby, you know i hate when you call me that,” he mumbles, his lips brushing your cheek in a soft, affectionate gesture. “i like ‘love’ or ‘jay’ better.” his arms slip around your waist, pulling you into his lap. “now come here, let me make up for whatever i did wrong… even though i don’t know what it is,” he whispers, nuzzling into your neck with a smirk.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 (심재윤)

“jaeyun, can you pass me that?” you ask, not thinking much of it, but jake's head snaps up immediately. “jaeyun?” he repeats, a playful frown forming on his face as he comes over to you. “what happened to ‘babe’? or ‘love’?” he teases, leaning down and brushing his fingers lightly against your arm. “did i do something wrong? why the full name?” you roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “nothing’s wrong, jake, relax.” but he’s already wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “mm, i don’t like it. i wanna hear you call me something cute,” he mumbles into your hair, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. “come on, baby,” he pouts, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “say it, just once. for me?” you laugh, giving in as you press a kiss to his cheek. “fine, pretty boy. happy now?” he grins, holding you tighter. “much better.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 (박성훈)

“sunghoon,” you call out, glancing over at him as he scrolls on his phone. he doesn’t even flinch, acting like he didn’t hear you. you raise an eyebrow, calling again, “sunghoon.” still nothing. you can see the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you know he’s messing with you. sighing, you move closer, poking his arm. “sunghoon, i know you can hear me,” you say, but he stays quiet, clearly enjoying this. “oh, so we’re doing this now?” you mutter, climbing into his lap. his hands instinctively find your waist, but he still doesn’t respond, eyes glued to the screen. “fine, be that way.” you lean in, “baby,” you whisper sweetly. instantly, he grins, turning his head to look at you. “ah, there it is. i was wondering how long it’d take you,” he teases, pulling you closer with a laugh.

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ronearoundblindly · 3 months ago

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Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior.

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.”

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock.

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?”

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

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inevitably-johnlocked · 1 year ago

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Hi Steph!

Love your blog!!

Do you have any birthday fics? It’s my birthday tomorrow (21st) so it would be cool to read some birthday ones!

Really really REALLY love your blog ❤️

You’re the best in this fandom

HI LOVELY!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I'm so happy my blog makes your day!!! And OMG you are far too kind, my goodness!! YOU should be getting all the love today!!!!! 💜🖤

I sadly only have one Birthdays list, so it's a bit old and lacking anything pretty recent, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

That said, anyone have other Birthday fics to offer Nonny for their birthday???????

And as an aside, I hope you have a FANTASTIC 21st birthday!!! 💜🖤

#steph replies #johnlock fic reqs #help steph find fics #birthday fics

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blackknight-100 · 1 year ago

Text

A Vrishasena backstory fic, written for our very beloved writer @the-lekhika . Happy birthday to you!!

It is a bitterly cold night in the month of Magha when Supriya’s first child slips into the world, kicking and screaming. His newly hatched lungs pull in the scent of misty air and his father's perfume, and his Uncle Duryodhana says, “Strong as an army, this one. Let him be Vrishasena.”

Little Vrishasena is four years and a day old when he first sees the Imperial Palace at Hastinapura. The dome shines in the diffused morning light, and it looks to him that it is drenched in liquid gold. His father laughs when he says so and puts a large hand upon his head. “This is not even half of it, little one.”

The doors are polished wood, carved with gods and gargoyles, higher and wider than those at Anga. As his father greets Uncle Duryodhana with a smile and a hug, he spies two curly heads behind the mahogany monstrosity.

“Namaste,” he says politely, with a bow of his head like Maa taught him. “I am Vrishasena, son of Karna of Anga.”

One of them, a younger boy, smiles up at him, wide and trusting. “Lakthman,” the child says, words dragging through his lisp, and Vrishasena is in love.

It is Drona who takes over his tutoring when Vrishasena turns eight. Mother is very unhappy about it, but Father shakes his head. “Drona is the best option, unless you want him to do what I did,” he says.

Mother wrings her hands. “I mislike that man, and that he comes to court.”

Father pats her on the shoulder. “It will not be long, dearest,” he says, and Vrishasena listens carefully. He would return a grown-up warrior, and surprise everyone. The thought of it puts a smile on his face, and he is not so scared to go away alone.

Drona's aashram is noisy and big. When he gets down from the rickety cart that ferries all the students to and fro, he sees Lakshman and Lakshmanaa standing on the dirt track, clutching mud-coloured satchels to their chests. He runs up to them and gives them a hug and laughs at the shock on their faces.

“Father said there was a surprise for us!” Lakshmanaa beams at him. “You were the surprise, weren't you?”

“Maybe,” he says, although he is no less astonished. “Do you like it?”

“Yes!” the twins shriek, and Vrishasena feels warmth flood his chest.

On the third year of his schooling at Drona’s aashram, Vrishasena gets a letter from Anga. No one is allowed to send or receive letters from home, and thus any correspondence brings with it the promise of ill-news.

He takes it from the messenger with some apprehension, and the twins come to look over his shoulder.

“Dear Vrishasena,” reads his father’s slanting script, and for a moment Vrishasena – who had thought the worst – forgets to breathe.

“You have a brother!” Lakshman screams right next to his ear, with no respect whatsoever for his privacy, and Vrishasena has to flinch from the sheer volume of it.

“We read faster than you,” Lakshmanaa – who has somehow snuck into the boys’ residence – beams happily. “This is so sweet!”

Vrishasena finally manages to master his relief and reads through the rest of it. His brother is newly come to the world, born only a few weeks ago, on the last of Sravana’s rainy evenings.

“We named him Vrishaketu,” Father writes. “It only seemed meet, since you are Vrisha-sena.”

He reads those lines again, presses the letter to his heart. Behind him, he can feel the twins shifting, and then their little arms hugging him. He pulls them close, and relishes in the joy lighting up his world.

Vrishaketu joins the aashram the year Vrishasena turns nineteen – and he thinks he has never known greater delight. His brother comes the same way he had taken eleven years ago, on the same rickety cart down the same dirt track, although the horses are new. He is tall for his age, with Father’s bright face, and Mother’s compassionate smile, and Vrishasena all but runs to him.

His brother lets out a full belly laugh as he lifts him and spins him around, and then Lakshman (and Lakshmanaa – who is, at this point, the sneakiest woman in existence) are clamouring around him, and he has to kneel down so everyone can hug each other.

He does not know it then, but it would be the happiest he would be in a long time.

A year later, twenty years old and a warrior through and through, Vrishasena leaves his sobbing brother and the heartbroken twins and for the first time in more than a decade, goes home.

Anga is all decked-up for his return, and the citizens hold out their hands to him as he passes. His chariot rolls past no less than eighteen groups of men with drums around their neck, and as the capital comes closer, the air thickens with the fragrance of sweets and syrups.

It is, however, the sight of his parents waiting for him, Uncle Duryodhana and Uncle Ashwatthama flanking them, that brings tears into his eyes. He leaps off his chariot and runs the last few steps to his mother’s embrace. His father wraps his arms around them, as if he could shore them up by strength of will alone, and Vrishasena sinks into that warmth with a sigh.

Half a year later, Vrishasena meets Arjun for the first time when they visit the newly made palace at Indraprastha. No one he knows speaks well of the Pandavas, and he is… not curious, precisely, but interested.

The man in question is tall and dark, with a shock of hair tumbling from under his glittering crown. He greets them with a courteous, albeit stiff, smile, and a regal tilt of his head, and introduces Vrishasena to his son Abhimanyu.

Vrishasena quite likes Abhimanyu. The young prince is quick-witted and sharp-tongued, and for a while, he might as well have been back in Drona’s aashram. Abhimanyu takes him by the arm and shows him around the new palace, away from the clamour of visiting royalty. They sneak away to the kitchens together. His companion offers him sweets with a wink and a giggle, and it occurs to him they might now be friends.

Vrishasena would have been willing to follow Abhimanyu around all day, but they are princes still, and needed in the main hall. The kings gather there with solemn faces, seated straight-backed upon expensive chairs. Father catches his eye and frowns but says nothing.

There is an oddly tense atmosphere in the hall. The assembled Kings are silent and still, and Krishna, King of Dwarka, seems to be murmuring something placatingly to the recently crowned Pandava King. Uncle Duryodhana leaves his seat and marches up to the raised podium at the end, right up to King Yudhisthir’s nose, and starts a belligerent rant about punishments being kinder than crimes.

Vrishasena looks to Abhimanyu for clarification, but his friend is as bewildered as he is. Then Uncle Duryodhana whirls around, the edge of his fashionable shawl nearly smacking Queen Draupadi in the face, and strides away. “Come,” he orders. “We are leaving.”

The rest of his retinue gather themselves and follow him immediately. His father catches his eyes again. Abhimanyu pats his shoulder. “Go, before there is an even bigger scene.”

“Yes, I-”

Splash!

The two of them turn in horror. Uncle Duryodhana, Crown Prince of Hastinapura and arguably one of the most powerful men in Aryavart, sputters in a pool. It is so artfully crafted that Vrishasena is not sure he would not have mistaken it for the floor.

Around them, the kings are laughing, as are the Pandava brothers. Only the eldest, Yudhisthir and the Pandava Queen Draupadi hurry forward, appalled. To his horror, he sees most of Hastinapura’s retinue hovering around, unwilling to get in the water. It is his father who swims to the humiliated Prince and hauls him up, drenched clothes and all.

“Oh, Cousin!” Yudhisthir says helplessly, wringing his hands.

His wife is more sensible, as she bids a maid to bring towels. “My Lord,” she says softly, “we beg your pardon. Please do sit down. We shall-”

Uncle Duryodhana interrupts her mid-speech. “I will not stand for this,” he roars. “You play at being Emperor from a Kingdom my father gifted you, you try to steal what has ever been rightfully ours. You kill our allies upon your sacred fire, and scorn and humiliate those who have ever taken you since childhood!”

“Cousin, please,” Yudhisthir begins, but his brother, Prince Bheem interrupts with a taunting laugh. “Are you as blind as your father?” he jeers, and giggles fill the hall. The King and Queen turn with shock on their faces, but the damage is already done.

“You will regret this!” Uncle Duryodhana hollers, no longer caring about his dignity. “Wretched bastards of the forests, you will regret this!”

Red in the face and wet as a water-nymph, Uncle Duryodhana strides out. The titters quieten down to an uneasy silence. The promise of retribution hangs in the air.

Later, Vrishasena’s beloved father and uncles would reduce his cousins to paupers, would drag and disrobe their fire-born wife. There would be banishment and war and bloodshed, and the then warrior Vrishasena – bold and fleet and swift – would cut down scores and scores of people before falling to the cruelty of Arjun’s arrows – arrows of the man who had greeted them with a smile and given him a transient friendship. Vrishasena would die in pieces, not even knowing that he died by an uncle’s hand.

But that is far away. For now, Vrishasena bids Abhimanyu a hasty goodbye, and rushes after his father and uncles, worry tugging at his heart. The winds of Aryavart are ever changing, even for those yet too young to suffer for it.

#mahabharat #mahabharata #hindu mythology #karna #duryodhana #vrishasena #birthday fics #birthday fic #fics #abhimanyu #arjuna #krishna #lakshmana #lakshmanaa

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liaromancewriter · 1 year ago

Note

The Valentine Twins’ birthday is on October 5. So I’m sharing the birthday fics I have so far.

2020: 30th birthday

How did ethan and Cassie celebrate her 30th and his 40th?

Two Birthdays

Premise: Cassie’s upset when her birthday plans don’t come to fruition, while Ethan finally finds the joy in celebrating his big day.

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine)

Rating/Category: General. Fluff

Words: 1,025

A/N: My apologies to Anon for taking so long to respond. Didn't have a clue what to write and then all of a sudden I knew. This might be more than you wanted to know, but I hope you enjoy it!

I. Cassie’s 3-0

Every year, Cassie and her twin brother Max would mark their special day together, no matter where they were or who they were with. They celebrated their 28th in Boston when she started her residency and the 29th in Iceland where Max was working on a project.

She was able to get three days off and the siblings got to see the aurora borealis at midnight for the first time. Their birthday had always been their special day, exclusively for them.

So, when Max was unable to join her for their milestone thirtieth birthday after being stranded by a hurricane in the Caribbean, Cassie was inconsolable and refused to celebrate at all.

Try as he might, Ethan couldn’t get her to change her mind. And then he found out that she’d asked Zaid to assign her an extra shift on her birthday. Zaid, not knowing something was up, was more than happy to accommodate. He liked keeping his residents busy.

With a heavy sigh, Ethan cancelled the reservation he had made for a romantic dinner at their favorite restaurant (the one where they had their first official date) and signed himself up for night shift to keep an eye on his stubborn girlfriend. It was a good thing he did because that night was a litany of woes and she needed him more than ever.

A bus crash had the Emergency Department on standby and ready for triage when the ambulances started rolling in.

Ethan and Cassie moved like dancers, their bodies in sync as they worked around each other, quickly diagnosing and tagging patients based on severity of condition.

At one point, their hands brushed against each other, fingers clasping in comfort against the suffering surrounding them before they let go to focus on the job at hand.

Five hours later, and after almost 19 hours on duty, Cassie knew she had hit a wall when her body refused to move. She would have collapsed to the ground if Ethan hadn’t suddenly appeared to hold her in his arms.

“Had enough?” he asked, his voice gruff and body weary.

He wiped away the tears that slowly tracked down her cheeks, wrapping his arms around her when she nodded, abject misery on her face. He held her as she cried silently, her body trembling with exhaustion.

“Come on, Rookie. There’s someone waiting for you.”

Ethan led her through the now almost silent hospital corridors until they reached the Diagnostics Team’s office on the seventh floor. There, on the large screen facing the conference table, was Max.

“Happy Birthday, scout!”

His face was slightly blurry, and his voice warbled due to the bad connection. But he was here, and everything in Cassie’s world was exactly as she wanted it to be.

She leaned into Ethan as he placed a kiss to the side of her head before taking their seat in front of the video screen.

Her hand tucked in Ethan’s as she laughed at something Max said, Cassie Valentine spent her 30th birthday surrounded by her two favorite people in the whole world.

II. Ethan’s 4-0

The date of Ethan and Cassie’s wedding and their brief honeymoon trip after meant that Ethan’s birthday would take place shortly after they both returned to work and getting time off again would not be a possibility.

Cassie knew how much Ethan hated celebrating his birthday, so he certainly wasn’t bothered by the timing. She had once asked Alan if Ethan had always been like that. The sadness in her father-in-law’s eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Still, it was his fortieth birthday, their first as husband and wife. And she was damned if she didn’t do something to make it special while still respecting his wishes to not make a big deal out of it.

He never asked for much, but on this he was adamant. And the last thing she wanted after only being married for two weeks was to see the return of Dr. Ramsey.

It was a chance comment from Kyra that sparked the idea for what would become Ethan’s favorite birthday of all time.

The morning of his birthday, Ethan arrived at work at his usual time, parking the car in his designated spot before grabbing his laptop case and lunch bag to head inside.

He’d been surprised when he awoke to find Cassie wasn’t asleep next him. She hated early mornings and would use any excuse to stay in bed for as long as possible. But that morning, all he’d found was a note that she’d see him at work.

He took the elevator to the administrative floor, passing by empty cubicles that would soon be filled as staff came on duty, keys in hand ready to unlock his office door. He saw the large white envelope taped to the door and wondered why it hadn’t been left on his executive assistant’s desk.

Five minutes later, he was rushing down the stairs, a smile on his face as he clutched the now open envelope in his hand.

Dear Dr. Ramsey, You’ve been selected to participate in Edenbrook’s pilot program, Career Swap. For the next 24 hours, you have been reinstated as Head of Diagnostics, tasked with solving medicine’s most complex mysteries and kicking ass while doing it. Should you choose to accept this offer, please join your team on the 7th floor for morning briefing.

Yours sincerely, Kyra Santana Head of Community Engagement Edenbrook Hospital

Ps. A map to the Diagnostic Team’s office is enclosed – just in case you’ve forgotten your way. 😉 (FYI, this is from Cassie, not Kyra.)

By the time Ethan walked through those familiar glass doors, he felt like his old self again and excited about what lay head.

He took his place at the head of the table, his eyes briefly meeting Cassie’s, who was sitting in her original seat from that first day many years ago, with Baz Mirani across from her.

“Alright, Team. Let’s begin. We have a patient…”

And so, Dr. Ethan Ramsey spent his 40th birthday doing what he loved with the woman who loved him enough to know exactly what made him happy.

Tags: @jamespotterthefirst @starryeyedrookie @genevievemd @forallthatitsworth @queencarb @ohchoices @casey-v @coffeeheartaddict @openheartfan @udishaman @danijimenezv @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @schnitzelbutterfingers @mainstreetreader @tsrookie @bex-la-get @chaoticchopshopheart @headoverheelsforramsey @thegreentwin @dorisz @silma-words @custaroonie @pixelnutrookie @adiehardfan @parisa-kh @takemyopenheart @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @jerzwriter @choiceskatie @mia143 @mm2305 @a-crepusculo @barbean @beastlyinstrument @electroniccreatorwerewolf @rosebudde @lucy-268 @sarcastic01lily @blainehellyes @crazy-loca-blog @writer-ish; @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

(let me know if you'd like to be added or removed)

#the valentine twins #birthday fics

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mywritersmind · 9 days ago

Text

TWENTY FINE - LN4

summary : Throwing your best friend a birthday party is easy. Trying to figure out if he’s joking about kissing you is the hard part. Two best friends and a moonlit roof.

listen up : kissing! swearing! happy birthday lando norris!! 25!

word count : 1976

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lights flashing, music blasting, people jumping. It's everything that surrounds me while I grab my third drink of the night from the bar. A body slides up next to me and I know who it is immediately.

He smells like alcohol and the cologne I bought for him last year. “Birthday boy.” I smile softly as he grins at me. “You look happy.”

“How could I not be? My best friend organized the best party ever just for me. I’m feeling special.” He’s radiating good energy. He looks sickeningly good. In black slacks and a shirt to match, it’s unbuttoned low enough so I can see his 4 necklace hitting his chest.

“Well, you’re twenty fine!” I laugh at my own joke as Lando cringes, “I’m glad you’re happy though.” The bartender hands me my drink which I bring to my lips instantly. He's being extra nice to me because I organized the party and made sure it’s only people we know and like.

He rests his hand on my arm as a girl calls his name, he glances back then meets my eyes again, “I seriously don’t deserve you.” Lando brings his lips to my cheek quickly, winking and hurrying off to people who chant his name.

I laugh, making my way over to my friends. Max eyes me, “You’re seriously beating me out of number one best friend spot.”

“Good! I deserve it more.” He shakes his head, his curls moving with him.

“Not fair! Lando likes your face more.” I roll my eyes and take another drink, turning to Carlos who’s with his girlfriend Rebecca.

“Can I steal your girlfriend away?” Carlos frowns as Rebecca sits up, “That actually wasn’t a question!” I take her hand and we run into the crowd.

Everyone’s sweaty and drunk and laughing. I hold onto Rebecca’s hand and jump under the lights. My hair is messy and in my face, my skirt riding up and I couldn’t be happier.

Some of our friends join us, hugging and waving at people as I grin. My drink is empty in my hand and I lose it when a guy comes up next to me. He’s one of Lando’s friends, hot and tall with shaggy hair.

I catch Lando in the crowd right as his friends puts his hand on my waist, whispering in my ear in an attempt to be seductive.

He’s laughing with Max and a girl I don’t know. She’s holding Lando’s hand but I can tell he’s trying to shake her off when he moves to push back his hair with his occupied hand.

He gives in eventually, dancing with her far too close for my eyes. I turn back to the guy and focus on him.

He grabs my ass as I move my hands to his shoulders, “You’re Y/n, right?” I nod, leaning my head back and feeling the music. “I’ve heard a lot about you!” I wish he would stop talking to me.

“That’s nice!” Is all I can say.

“Lando talks you up, I just had to see if you’re really that great!” I nod slowly and back away to my friends. Mentioning my best friend while feeling me up is not the way to get in my pants.

“Y/n!” Lily, Alex Albons girlfriend grins at me. Every annoyance in my face disappears as I hug her.

“Lily!” We melt into a mix of talking, screaming the lyrics, and dancing.

“Where’s Lando!?” She yells over the music as I shrug.

“Off with some girl!”

She gives me a look. It’s weird and almost surprised, She sips her drink and nods drunkenly, “You need a boyfriend!” When she gets pulled away by her boyfriend, I slip out of the crowd.

I know my way around the place, there’s three levels and they’re all completely filled. When I step up to the third, I can see Lando at the DJ booth, a huge smile on his face.

I close the door behind me, the music muffling as I walk up the staircase. It’s creepy and dark but as soon as I step onto the roof, the cool air hitting me, I take a deep breath and smile.

I love parties, I wouldn’t be so close with Lando if I didn’t. But I need air far more often than him. I step to the edge, leaning on the barrier and looking out at the city.

People are walking the streets still, some dancing and some arguing. They look like ants. My eyes catch on a tiny couples, they’re holding hands and skipping down the street.

I rest my chin on my hand, looking up at the stars. I wonder if any of the stars are looking down at me and thinking I look like an ant.

I’m so absorbed in the sky that I jump when the door to the starecase opens. When I turn, I see Lando.

His hands are in his pockets as he walks up to me, “You okay?”

“Yeah! Just wanted some air…” I turn to him, the concrete rubbing against my exposed back, “Why are you up here?”

“Looking for you. Had a feeling you’d be looking at the stars.” He's teasing but I know he’s 100% serious. He rests his forearms on the parapet and looks out at the city.

I outline his profile in my mind, his freckles and hair looking extra nice under the moonlight. His eyes closes, dark green disappearing under unfairly thick lashes.

“Enjoying the party?” I ask quieter than I meant.

He turns to me, looking at me like no one else has. “I’d be enjoying it more if you would stay with me.” I may have been avoiding him a tiny bit, but I wanted him to be catching up with his other friends.

“You seemed like you were enjoying that girl's presence more than mine.” I’m lying and he knows it.

Lando turns to me, narrowing his eyes, “Untrue.” He looks at me for a second, his eyes flicking down to my body. If it were anyone else, I would think they were just looking at my outfit. Unfortunately, I know Lando better than that. “You look good.”

“Well this party is star studded…” I joke, “Had to look my best to compete.” I run my hand through my hair, my rings tugging on it.

He shakes his head, not joking with me, “They can’t compete with you in pajamas, love.” Still, a serious little smile tugs at his lips. This is what he does.

He drops something like that then goes and makes out with a girl opposite of me. But I’ve done the same so I can’t say anything. It’s just how our friendship works.

“Someone’s been taking advantage of the bar.”

“I've had two drinks.” Is all he says. I know he’s serious, too. “I wanted to say thank you- though. That’s why I came up here.”

I smile softly, tilting my head at him, “You’ve said thank you.”

“I mean thank you for everything.” His hands fidget in front of him, “For being there.”

He’s being extra sincere. “You’re welcome. And this is your present so don’t go asking for more-” He gets a big closer, laughing.

“Just one more thing?” He says in a sort of begging tone.

I raise a brow, our arms touching now, “What could you, Mr rich birthday boy, want?”

He bites his lip, then lets it go. The look he gives me is… magnetic. “A birthday kiss.”

It surprises me and for the first time in a while, I don’t know if he’s joking. “I’m sure you could get that from many others.”

“You don’t want to kiss me?” His hand goes to my waist, not touching my skin, but tugging at the fabric of my skirt.

I breathe in, scanning his face for any hint of humor. “I didn’t say that.” I know I made the right move when the corner of his mouth tugs upwards.

“So say you want to.” His voice is soft, that accent I’ve listened to for years soothing my beating heart.

I furrow my brows together, “You’re gonna make me beg for your birthday present?” There’s a tiny shadow on his face from the moonlight and his curls.

“It’s called consent, love.”

I take a big step, resting my arm on his shoulder so he gets closer, “Happy birthday, Lando.” I don’t think he’s going to do it at first, but then he leans in.

He hesitates, looking at my lips and eyes to make sure. But then he closes the gap and I wonder why I would ever say yes to this.

I think I'm out of my mind but who cares about that because Lando’s lips are on mine and I'm melting into him. He’s soft, pressing a gentle kiss onto my lips. Lando pulls back by an inch, he looks into my eyes. They're so green, my favorite color.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and I'm pulling him back in, crushing his lips back onto mine. His hold on my hips gets tighter and my other arm wraps around his neck. His tongue goes into my mouth and suddenly I can’t understand why we haven’t done this before.

Kissing Lando is everything. My mind has come up with a hundred ways this would happen, I knew I shouldn’t think about it but I can’t help my dreams.

He feels hot against me. Hungry and needy for me.

He pulls me tighter against him, like he physically needs to be closer. It’s everything I've ever wanted and everything I’ve dreaded.

The moment someone steps out onto the roof, loudly stomping and singing, I pull away and look back over at the city.

It looks new… somehow.

I don’t look back at the guy, but Lando clears his throat and the man starts talking, “Oh shit! Sorry!” and the door closes, leaving us again in silence.

My heart is pounding so hard that I barely hear Lando mumble, “Dickhead.”

I smile slightly at this, dropping my head down so my hair falls in my face. What the fuck did I just do?

“I’m going to ask for one more thing.” Lando says, “Please don’t get mad.”

I push my hair behind my ear and listen to him.

“Can I take you out?” What the hell. “On an actual date. Not for a present or because I want you to. Because you want to.”

“Lando-”

“We’re not ruining anything.” He knows what I was going to say already. “I want to take you out on a date because I like you.”

I feel like I'm dreaming. This doesn’t feel possible. “Okay.”

“And you can’t say no just because you’re nervous because i’m nervous too and basically shitting myself just asking- wait. Okay!?”

I smile softly, nodding, “I guess I'll let you pay for a fancy dinner.”

He shakes his head, a huge smile appearing on his face, “We are not going to dinner! Do you even know me?” his hand goes to mine, lingering.

“I don’t want to fuck this up, Lando.” I say it because he’s right, I am scared.

He shakes his head, “I’m twenty fine… Nothing gets messed up anymore! Especially with you. Nothing is ever wrong with you.”

I sigh as he slips his hand to my cheek, moving his thumb softly against my skin. He cups my jaw and kisses me again. “I like kissing you.”

It feels right all over again, and I can’t help but smile at the idea that I’ll be doing this over and over again.

“Smiley.” He says against my lips.

Lando barely lets me get my words in, lost in lust and smiles, “I like you too, Norris. A lot.” He kisses me harder.

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