#here's a little ficlet to celebrate

[youchangedmedestiel]

I wrote this little ficlet (available on AO3 too) for Valentine's Day, it's called "Just a small green ball":

Dean is in the kitchen of the bunker. He is in a good mood, humming led zeppelin’s songs while cooking. Sam and Eileen took Jack out of the bunker for few days but based on the quantity of food Dean already made in less than two hours, no one would think there are only two here, and even less that one is a human and the other an angel that doesn’t really eat.

He is flipping the pancakes he prepared when he feels a strong and warm body pressing against his back, arms wrapping around his waist.

“Hello, Dean.” The gravely and familiar voice whispers into his ear, triggering goosebumps on his neck and arms and a smile. Then soft and tender lips kiss him on his pulse point. “Are you really that hungry?”

“No, I’m not.” Dean answers like he is hiding something, that’s when he feels that warm touch leaving. He turns around and faces Cas, looking at him with squinted eyes and his head tilted.

“Dean, why did you cook all these?” Cas asks, his eyes wandering on the kitchen counter. There is an apple pie, already cooked pancakes on the left and raw pancakes dough on the right with PB&J sandwiches. But this is not all, ingredients to cook burgers are also visible and probably even more are in the fridge.

“I have a gift for you.” Dean explains, smiling widely, as he fidgets the pocket of his jeans. “Ta da.” He exclaims, holding a little red wooden box between them. “Open it.” He tells Cas, who is looking at the box, puzzled. The angel takes it and does as told.

“Dean, what’s that?” Cas asks, his head is not tilted anymore but he looks at Dean questioningly.

“I’ve been looking for it for a looong time. And I finally found it. I was thinking that today might be a good day to give you this gift. Since, you know –“ Dean says, acting goofily, but Cas rolls his eyes. He still doesn’t know what this one small green ball is for.

“I know it’s Valentine’s Day, Dean. Isn’t that why Sam and Eileen left the bunker with Jack for few days? Because you know –“ Cas stops and lifts his arms, then adds “we were ‘celebrating it too loudly’ last year”, using the air quotes. Dean’s cheeks turn slightly pinkish remembering the reason for the loud noises last year. He swallows hard.

“Eat it.” Dean orders, he can’t wait any longer, for the next part of the surprise.

“You want me to eat the ball?” Cas asks, and Dean looks at him like he expects him to realize the innuendo, but he never does and in a way he thinks that makes it even funnier. At least it makes him feel fonder of Cas. Dean nods, looking at Cas lovingly. With that gaze, he could make Cas do anything, even if the angel doesn’t really need that to do everything for Dean. Cas swallows the ball. “What now?”

“Come, sit here.” Dean leads Cas to the kitchen’s table by grabbing his arm and Cas lets himself be dragged where Dean wants. Cas settles while Dean grabs the PB&J sandwiches on the counter and brings them to the table. He looks excited and Cas still doesn’t understand why but he smiles, because he loves seeing him happy. Though he knows PB&J’s could do that to someone, because he used to feel like this when he was a human and could taste them. He still misses them.

Dean pushes the plate towards Cas. “Eat.” He offers, smiling proudly. They sure look good, and Cas would love to do that, but they are just going to taste like molecules. He can’t refuse though, not when Dean looks at him like that with big wide eyes, he looks like the child he was never allowed to be. Cas grins at him and picks one up. Dean watches him expectantly as Cas leads it slowly to his mouth and takes a bite. Suddenly, Dean sees Cas’s eyes open widely in shock.

“Dean,” he exults, his mouth full.

“I know,” Dean nods, smiling. He did good on this one and feels proud when he sees how Cas takes one bite after another with really breathing. “Easy tiger, slow down.” Dean chuckles.

“But Dean, I can taste it, like human taste it.” Cas observes, then adds “How is that even possible?” Cas asks, picking up another sandwich.

“That green ball is responsible for it.” Dean explains, as he takes one sandwich for himself.

“I guessed that. Where did you find it?” Cas asks, his mouth filled again with peanut butter and jelly.

“I’m not going to reveal all my little secrets.”

“I guess I’ll have to make you spit it out then.” Cas says, smirking.

“Right.” Dean answers, and swallows hard. “But first we've got a big and tasty day ahead of us. You should try my burgers.” Dean says as he gets up and walks toward the kitchen.

Later, now that they are settle in the Dean cave in front of a movie to digest every meal Dean prepared, he needs to know, “so what’s your favorite meal then? Pie? I’m sure it’s pie? Or burgers? I did them real good today.” Dean shifts in Cas’s arms, because he wants to look at him when he answers.

“You, Dean.” Cas throws.

“I – huh –“ Dean’s cheeks turn really pink this time, it’s even perceivable with only the TV screen’s light on. Dean doesn’t have time to say more that Cas’s lips take possession of his in a hungry - despite all this food - and heated kiss.

[deliciouskeys]

I threatened to write something for Butchlander week and well... I have written, uh, something. *skulks back into the abyss*

Written to accompany this wonderful art I commissioned from @semains whom I love dearly-- thank you for indulging my requests for setting and exact pose as well! Commission them!

Butchlander Week NSFW Saturday prompt: Roleplay/Roles. Because it might be the role of a lifetime for Butcher, but you know Homelander is having the time of his life pretending he can't escape / pretending it hurts sooo much.

(yeah, double dipping) Cozy Corner Kinktober prompt #5 Buttplug (sort of. I can't explain myself. I have no excuses. It might be disturbing, so apologies in advance. Pure Id, aka wtf).

My header is getting longer than the ficlet, gdi

"Harder." Homelander's tone is haughty and whiny all at once–  so grating that Butcher wishes he could deliver on the request. Who'd have thought that this grandiose straightedge little cunt would get so hard having a stranger smack him over and over? Who'd ever guess that this supe celebrity– maybe the world's most famous person, and definitely the darling of the American public– would be into this kind of shit behind closed doors? That he wouldn't be bloody ashamed of himself whisking Butcher off to his bizarrely decorated apartment every single night.  Bypassing all of Vought security, so that Vought's public enemy number… if not #1 then at least top 10… could make himself comfortable sitting on his bed. Not all that comfortable, since the bed is a strange upholstered leather number and stiff as hell, but Butcher supposes a supe might not feel the difference between this and a Tempur-Pedic.

He brings him here every night, and every night the script stays largely the same. Homelander plies him with some alcohol, sometimes a glass of whiskey, but more often just a bottle of Heineken. Butcher sits down, Homelander eagerly drapes himself over his lap, pulls and folds his cape underneath him, as if he doesn't trust Butcher enough to spread it out next to him. wiggling his hips, insisting Butcher pull down his pants and spank him. And Butcher obliges every time, even though it's clearly hurting his hands much more than it hurts Homelander– they alternate sides every night but Butcher suspects he already has stress fractures that don't heal because his hands ache all the time and never quite recover between sessions. But despite the pain, and despite the very little to no pain he's actually inflicting on the spoiled brat who always asks to be hit harder, there's just something irresistible about it. About finally being allowed to take out his aggression on the man he hates most in the world. The man he hates most in the world, who also happens to have a surprisingly perky ass that jiggles hypnotically if you hit it hard enough and just right, so Butcher hits him with his full strength not because of the cunt's whiny demands, but because he just wants to see the flesh wobble.

"I said harder!" Homelander's voice cuts through Butcher's thoughts, and Butcher can't help it any longer.

"You want me to hit you harder, you're gonna have to find a paddle."

Homelander's breath hitches and he says nothing in reply. No, this sick cunt clearly craves skin on skin contact to get off, Butcher already knows this, which is why he knew what to threaten him with to get him to shut up.

But he does wish he could hurt him. The achy joints of his hand plead he stop. Butcher stares down at the well defined muscular globes, skin turned a nice blush color where he's been hit but Butcher wishes he could turn it black and blue. Purple and green. He wants the cunt to really feel the intensity he's supposedly asking for, just to prove how wrong he is.

"I'm waiting," Homelander reminds him.

"Just taking a breather, alright? Enjoying the view." Butcher tries to squeeze a handful of flesh, but it's never as soft as it looks. "Look like one of 'em marble statues you got out in your lounge area."

Butcher hears Homelander's breath hitch and sees him take a peek at the mirror above, clearly checking himself out. This is all a game to him. It flatters his vanity that Butcher does this for him. Butcher would like nothing more than to turn this around on him, make it less of a game and more of an actual punishment.

A strange idea creeps in. Butcher leans back to reach for the Heineken bottle he emptied earlier and put on the nightstand, always on a coaster Homelander insists he use. God forbid he get a water ring on the antique looking furniture, with the creepy little cameo portraits of people who died last century. The beer is mostly just to take the edge off before Homelander lies down over his legs– he and Homelander mutually figured out the session goes better if he's slightly buzzed and maybe just a little numb to the pain in his hand. And they figured this out because Homelander happened to whisk him away right after he stumbled out of a bar on a late Saturday night, after which point Butcher understood that Homelander would come and find him wherever he was– even if he wasn't at home past midnight. It's sexual slavery, is what it is. Butcher would resent it more if he didn't somewhat enjoy getting to beat this cunt on a nightly basis before being dropped off at home.

Homelander shifts, growing impatient while waiting for another round of spanking to start after the breather. "Come on!" he says through gritted teeth, and he sounds angry, and fucking self-righteous, as if he's complaining about customer service he's paid for. It's not Butcher's fault that the cunt only seems to come after he's gotten spanked for minutes straight, at some point his body finally deciding that this is such an enjoyable moment that his hips start grinding forward into Butcher's leg and he comes, the same pathetic little hitched moan escaping his lips every time, the same toe-curling Butcher can see because the cunt does take off his boots to lie on the bed. Thank god he never pulls his pants far down enough, because he never gets any jizz on Butcher's jeans. Homelander seems to think Butcher doesn't notice, or at least they both pretend they haven't. As if Butcher can avoid noticing his leg being humped violently, wondering if this is the night the cunt breaks one of his limbs out of pure excitement. As if it's not clear what just happened from the flushed face and glazed over eyes the supe has when he rises off the bed, finally satisfied. But if no one tells and no one asks, it didn't necessarily happen, and both seem content to keep it at that. Homelander takes a quick shower and suit change before dropping Butcher off at his apartment, without any further ceremony or pleasantries, and by morning Butcher is half in denial about any of it even happening.

"Are you fucking deaf? Why did you stop?" Homelander says and starts to turn his head to look back at him, but Butcher shoves his face back to face forward. 

They have an unspoken agreement not to look each other in the eye when they're doing this, ever. Homelander almost broke the agreement, but obediently looks away again after the lightest push.

"Shut your fucking trap already. I heard you the first ten times just fine," Butcher growls under his breath, and his mind is made up about what he was hesitating to do. He forces the neck of the empty bottle into the cunt's tight crack, moving it around, looking for give.

Homelander's back arches, clearly not expecting the sensation. "The fuck are you doing?"

"GIving you something harder, like you were whining for, you spoiled brat." Butcher gives up doing it blindly and pulls one of the cheeks towards him. "Now where's your fucking chocolate starfish? You even have one?" And as if to punctuate that last word, Butcher finds the place and  breaks the initial resistance resistance, the bottle neck beginning a slow slide in.

Homelander breathes harder. "I don't like it," he mutters, and his ass flexes in protest.

"You better like it and accept it, or else you're going to end up with a pile of glass shards inside you."

Butcher is skeptical that glass could really do anything to this supe's internal organs, but it seems Homelander wants to avoid the mess anyway, and his muscles relax.

"That's right. Now stop whining and take your punishment."

He tries to push the bottle in even further, feeling more and more protest.

"I don't like it," Homelander repeats, sharply this time, as if it means something.

"You ain't supposed to like it," Butcher says and decides to finally smack him on the ass with his other hand after keeping him waiting. Butcher doesn't anticipate that Homelander's body will convulse, shatter the bottle, grind into him, and come all at once.

"The hell was that?" Butcher asks, pulling back the jagged bottle's bottom half that survived. Homelander's body is still twitching underneath him and he's panting. Maybe this was going to be it. Butcher overstepped the line. Homelander was probably immersed in some unresolved childhood trauma or fantasy or whatever the fuck about having a father figure who would discipline him with a firm but loving hand. This must have ended the illusion for him. Maybe enough that Butcher is about to meet his end– sometimes it's hard to remember that the whimpering quivering pathetic mess draped over his knees is the selfsame terrifying force of nature that can take out an entire army if he ever just chose to do so.

But the cunt won't even pick his head up. He's buried his face in the crook of his elbow. Is he fucking crying? Butcher wonders for a second if it's possible that he's actually fucking done it. Actually hurt him. Maybe a plug of C4 won't kill him but maybe it'll make him feel the hurt? A whole assortment of images races through Butcher's mind. He wants to try everything now. His crowbar, a bat studded with rusty nails, maybe the same bottle but a Molotov cocktail this time. Payback for thinking he can just force Butcher to indulge him, to make every night about getting him off. This opens up a whole new world of possibilities.

But Homelander stirs and starts to sit up, and Butcher winces and his teeth are set on edge when he can hear the crunching sound of glass grinding against glass, and tiny green shards start dropping out of him as Homelander tilts to sit back on his heels.

"That was— amazing…" Homelander whispers, breathless. His hands are folded demurely in his lap as if he didn't just orgasm to being diddled with a bottle of Heineken. "You want another beer?"

"No!" Butcher says, sounding more emphatic and more disturbed than he intendedto let on. "No, you sick fuck."

"Does your hand hurt?" Homelander asks, and it's without any impatience in his tone, maybe even a note of real sympathy, completely ignoring the insult just lobbed at him. Before Butcher knows what's happening, Homelander leans down and licks the hand that had just been spanking him. Butcher jerks it away defensively, but Homelander follows it licking it, laving each finger with his tongue before leaning into it with his brow ridge, then his nose, rubbing himself into it. It feels soothing and takes away some of the sore feeling, Butcher is loath to admit.

But he needs to regain what little control he has in this arrangement. "You want me to pet ya? Then lie back where you belong," he says. It's gratifying to see the supe cunt immediately obey him. He stretches himself back into his former position, and Butcher kneads the flesh of his ass.

"We can do the bottle again if your hands hurt," Homelander says, sighing contentedly and breaking the rule– looking back at Butcher with a look that is disturbingly similar to fondness.

"We can," Butcher agrees, trying to ignore the glass that's spilled out on the sheets and forget the crunching sound the bottle made when it snapped in half at the neck.

(AO3 link)

[unclewaynemunson]

I definitely think it takes Eddie a while to accept that Steve changed. He remembers what he was like in high school.

When Steve asks him out, for whatever reason, Eddie says yes. But he’s determined not to fall in love, because deep down Harrington’s still a dick. But he’s cute, and Eddie can smile and play pretend.

But then! Steve goes full happy relationship mode, he tells Robin (obv), introduces Eddie to the other adults as his bf, and is just generally being sweet.

MY SWEET ANON I HOPE YOU'LL STILL SEE THIS!!!

I'm so sorry it took me ages to answer this one! But I really loved the idea of this (the good ol' steddie + misunderstanding about what they mean to each other with a dash of terrible communication skills my beloved) so i wanted to give it my proper attention, which i didn't have enough time for over the past few months. Buuut the words have finally found their way to my keyboard so here is the first part of what probably will turn into a 3-part ficlet, I hope it's something like what you had in mind when you sent this ask to me <3

---

Eddie has been acting weird all day. Maybe Steve is too much of a romantic, but he can't help it: he wanted to celebrate this day. Exactly a month ago, he asked Eddie out. And it's been good. They've spent a lot of time together. They've been on lots of dates, spent plenty of nights together... But today, things are different, somehow. Eddie is different. He turned Steve down for a dinner date, he didn't stop by Family Video during lunchtime, and when Steve shows up at the trailer to surprise him with flowers, he merely frowns and pulls back from their kiss before it can even properly get started.

'Everything alright?' Steve asks, trying to catch his boyfriend's gaze – which isn't exactly easy with how Eddie is turning away from him to not-so-gently put the flowers down in a corner of the trailer's living room.

'Yeah, sure,' Eddie mumbles, not really looking at him. 'It's just – I didn't really expect to see you today. We didn't have plans.'

Steve chuckles, trying to get the tension out of his chest. 'Didn't know I was expected to schedule an appointment before coming here.' He tries to play it off as a joke, but the tone of his voice doesn't really want to cooperate.

Eddie finally turns back towards him and Steve catches the end of an eye-roll.

'I'm just not feeling too great today, alright?' It sounds a bit stiff and Steve pauses. He wonders if he did something wrong, if he somehow invaded Eddie's space – even though he has showed up at the trailer on countless evenings in the past month.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Eddie answers, a little bit too fast. 'I told you, I'm not feeling so well.'

And now that he can see his face properly, Steve notices that Eddie is indeed looking paler than usual.

'Hey, don't worry about it,' he says. 'I can stay to take care of you, if you want to. We don't have to do anything. You can go to bed early and I'll keep you company. I can make you some soup, read to you... You could've just told me you're not feeling good, you know. I would've picked up some fruit on my way over here and stopped by the library for you.'

'You don't have to do any of that, Steve.'

Steve tries to ignore the fact that it's been ages since Eddie has last called him by his official first name. He doesn't like the sound of it.

'But I want to,' he says instead. He takes a step towards Eddie, lifts his arms to wrap them around him – but Eddie swats his arms away before he can properly embrace him.

'Don't.' He sounds cold and detached, so different from how he usually sounds. 'Don't act like this is something it isn't.'

'Like this is something –' Steve echoes, completely caught off-guard by this turn of events. 'Like what?'

'Jesus Christ, you really don't know when to stop, do you?'

'What?' He takes a stumbling step backwards, driven away by the force in Eddie's words.

'We're not – like that,' Eddie stutters out. 'We're just fucking around, aren't we? So you don't need to pretend. You don't need to bring me flowers. You don't need to take care of me when I'm sick. You don't owe me anything, alright? You can go home.'

Steve takes another step backwards, until his back collides with the door of the trailer. He blindly grabs the door handle behind him.

'Alright,' he says, trying desperately not to let his voice tremble audibly. 'I hear you, loud and clear. I'll – I'll leave you alone, then.'

Read pt2 here (Edit: it's actually 5 parts now. You can read the whole thing on ao3 here)

[aplaceinme]

@bucktommypositivityweek

Little ficlet that I wrote for the “bucktommy positivity bingo!”

Prompts that I used: Pickup lines; Tommy & the 118 friendship; and Free space (I chose Drunk!Tommy and I used one from this list).

After getting incredibly and disastrously drunk at Chimney’s bachelor party, Buck made a promise to himself not to drink that much for at least a year. Besides, he wasn’t getting any younger, and each year the hangovers were getting worse. 

That was why Buck was appointed as the designated driver when they all decided to go out tonight to celebrate that Karen and Hen were going to get Mara back officially. 

They had dinner at Bobby and Athena’s new place, but after they said their goodbyes, Karen wanted to go to a bar to continue the celebration. 

They all insisted on inviting Tommy, with Hen telling Buck, “Tommy is our friend as well. Assume that whenever we organize something, he is invited too.”

Buck had been thrilled to get that confirmation. Not that he would even consider breaking up with Tommy if his family didn’t approve, but it felt amazing to know that Tommy not only had their approval but that Tommy was also considered an actual friend of theirs. It was a great feeling. 

In all the emotion and happiness of the night, it never crossed Buck’s mind that he would get to see a drunk Tommy. 

During the dinner, Athena had kept filling Tommy’s glass up, while they discussed different types of wine. Buck already knew that Tommy had quite the wine knowledge, but seeing him talk about it with Athena, had made him feel tingles all over his body. 

When they arrived at the bar, Karen had immediately ordered some shots along with their other drinks. An already-getting-into-tipsy-territory Tommy didn’t stand a chance. 

Tommy played a drinking game with Hen and Karen, joined Maddie and Chim in singing at karaoke, and unsuccessfully tried to be Eddie’s wingman. 

Buck had taken lots of pictures and videos for blackmail material, and had laughed until his belly ached. 

Seeing his boyfriend getting along so well with Buck’s most important people in the world, being a part of their family, helped to cement the thought that Tommy was the one. 

Just as Buck was starting to get a bit annoyed about hardly spending any time with his boyfriend so far this night, a flushed and stumbling Tommy appeared by his side. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” Tommy said loudly even though he was right next to Buck’s ear. 

“Hey, yourself,” Buck grabbed Tommy’s arm and helped him sit down right next to him. 

Tommy was looking intently at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Here, have some water, babe,” Buck said while handing him a glass of water. 

Grabbing the glass absent-mindedly, Tommy placed it back on the table, making Buck pout. 

“What are you-?” 

“You’re so beautiful,” Tommy breathed out, interrupting Buck. 

Buck could feel a blush creeping up his neck. Even after all these months of dating Tommy, he still got all flustered and giddy whenever Tommy complimented or flirted with him. 

Not waiting for a reply, Tommy continued, “Is it Christmas? Because All I Want for Christmas Is You.”

Snorting, Buck looked at him in fond disbelief.

“Tommy, it’s October. And that's just awful.”

A big, radiant smile illuminated Tommy’s face as he reached out and softly caressed Buck’s birthmark.

“Angels should be in heaven. Did it hurt when you fell?” 

“Oh my god! That’s so cheesy! You gotta stop,” Buck giggled. 

“Wow,” Tommy said, lifting his hand to Buck’s jawline. “You're so adorable. I want to pick you up and never let you down. Will you let me?"

Eyes as soft as the smile tugging at his lips, Buck grabbed Tommy’s hand and intertwined their fingers, “I will. But first, I think it’s time we go back to your place so you can sleep this off.” 

With that, Buck stood up and after waving goodbye to the others who were by the pool tables, made his way to the exit, Tommy letting himself be pulled along. 

“Evan, Evan, Evan,” Tommy insisted when they reached the sidewalk. 

“What is it, babe?” 

“You need to feel my shirt,” Tommy smirked, “because I'm boyfriend material.”

Unable to help himself, Buck burst out laughing, head falling back, exposing his long neck. 

Taking advantage of the position, Tommy stumbled closer and started to leave soft kisses along Buck’s neck. 

Buck allowed himself a couple of seconds to enjoy it but then he stepped back, making Tommy whine like a puppy. 

Chuckling and shaking his head, Buck told him, “You’re the one who is absolutely adorable. But right now, I need you to stop. You can carry on later, once we are home, ok?”

“Promise?” Tommy mumbled. 

“Promise,” Buck said, sealing the deal with a soft and tender kiss. 

As he helped Tommy inside his truck, Buck couldn’t help but think about how he was not going to let Tommy live this down, even if he was utterly adorable. 

[xxsycamore]

@venulus HA! YOU THOUGHT! I bet you received the previous notification and thought it was all over!!! Guess who impulsively came up with the perfect little idea for an additional ficlet and just HAD TO make it a thing >:) is this how it feels to be Clavis's accomplice? Well, you know it better than me~ Happy Birthday once again, hope you enjoy <3

[🥺] 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐…

CLAVIS:

"Is something wrong, little bunny? You've been terribly tense all this time."

Clavis's words snap you out of your thoughts, but you don't allow yourself to relax just yet. That's precisely what he wants! To make you lower your guard so he can surprise you when you least expect it. For the longest time, or rather ever since you started dating this talented, handsome, scheming, charming, strange, beautiful creature that is your Clavis, your birthdays have been just that. One surprise after another.

And yes, this is the point, yes this is exactly what someone would want for their lover, to catch them by surprise with a loving gesture - but you can't help the side of you who craves the ultimate proof of love. Namely, knowing him well enough to predict exactly what he's got planned for you.

So every step you take, you stop in your tracks with exclamation. Aha, when you step on this tile, you'll activate some kind of mechanism that will launch a confetti attack! But it never comes.

"You're puzzling me, my darling. Let's get you to the balcony for some fresh air, shall we?"

The balcony?! Where Cyran and the others are waiting to recite an ode of love that yours truly wrote for you, finishing it off with artillery fire for maximum emotional impact?! You shake your head enthusiastically, telling him you want to eat some cake now. Clavis smiles and nods, guiding you by the shoulders to the table he decorated.

As his beautiful gloved hand removes the big cloche to uncover the cake, you've already taken a step back in caution. Who knows what will jump out from the cake - if Clavis wasn't right there where you can clearly see him, you'd think it would be him that jumps out from the cake.

It's a normal cake though. Wait, it's a normal cake??

"Believe it or not my bunny, it is I who baked you this cake. As you can see, there's nothing funny about it - not on the outside, not on the inside. It was extremely hard for me, and I must admit, I had helpers, but at last, the result is here for your eyes to see. Happy Birthday."

As your knife goes in, you're almost expecting for the cake to crumple down as a mass of purple goop oozes out of it, but it never happens. You even bring the forked bite to your mouth, chew on it, gulp it down - and the only thing out of the ordinary is just how amazing it is.

"Is it any good? It might be written all over my face now but, uh, I... I'm quite nervous, haha."

You feel like crying, so you just throw yourself on Clavis' neck, thanking him a hundred times and apologizing that you doubted him some more than that. Amidst it all, you also make sure to tell him how absolutely cute he is.

Clavis grins widely despite how obviously embarrassed your comment got him.

Little do you know, this only served to successfully lower your guard.

∎ (REQUESTS CLOSED) Steal My Heart!! - xxsycamore’s 1500 followers celebration event | 💌 event masterlist

[jetii]

The Possibility of Infinity

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader / Tech x Jedi!Reader

Words: 3,028

Tags/Warnings: none, just a lot of softness

Summary: Tech finally has you back after all this time, and he's determined to let you know what that means to him.

A/N: Surprise! To celebrate 300 followers, here's my continuation of Infinite Possibilities of the Universe. I had some requests for more Tech and Sarad, and after I saw this lovely fanart from @a-cryptid-called-magetha yesterday, I was inspired to actually finish this ficlet. I have another part drafted with smut, but the tone is different enough that I wanted to keep them separate and post this first. 💙

The sun was shining, and the air was filled with the scent of flowers and grass and summer. The breeze was cool and gentle, and the sky was clear and blue, with a few wispy clouds drifting lazily across the horizon. Tech had never stopped to admire the view, and he supposed it was because he had never really thought about it.

But today was different. Today, he was seeing the world through new eyes. Today, everything seemed brighter, and more vivid, and more real.

Because today, Sarad was with him.

The first day after your return had been a blur. You had told him your story, and he had told you his. There had been tears, and laughter, and long conversations in the early hours of the morning. And, in between, there had been moments of silence, and of just being together. Of holding each other, and sharing in each other's presence, and finding comfort in the simple act of existing.

You had stayed close to him, as if afraid he would disappear. And he had understood the feeling, because he had been afraid of the same thing.

And, even now, even as he watched you walk next to him, and felt the warmth of your hand on his arm, it all felt a little unreal.

But the sunlight was bright, and the breeze was soft, and the stone was warm beneath his feet, and the world was in focus.

And Sarad was here, and she was smiling.

"This is a lovely spot," you commented as you came to a stop in front of the Archium. Tech had showed it to you yesterday, but you hadn't been in the mood to sit and enjoy the view. Today, you were more relaxed, and Tech was glad. You deserved a moment of peace.

"Yes," Tech agreed. "It is."

"I like the tree," you added, your hand trailing across the rough bark. "It's a weeping maya. I'd need to run a few tests to know for sure, but I believe it's at least two millenia old."

Tech's mouth twitched into a smile. He had known the species of the tree, but hearing it from you brought a new kind of joy. One that was warm, and sweet, and made him feel like his chest might burst. It was the kind of joy he had thought he'd lost forever. But here it was, and it was more beautiful than he had remembered.

"Are you sure?" he teased, his fingers grazing yours over the bark. "Maybe I should take a look."

You laughed, a light, musical sound that made his heart swell.

"I think you'll find that my expertise outweighs yours in this area," you replied, your eyes sparkling. "But if you're not convinced, we can always get a second opinion."

"I wouldn't dare," he chuckled, his hand settling on your waist. "Your word is the only one I trust."

"Flatterer," you accused, but there was no bite to the words.

"I simply speak the truth," he said, his smile widening.

You rolled your eyes, and the motion was so familiar, so achingly familiar, that his throat tightened, and his words faded.

Hearing your laughter, and watching you smile, and feeling your presence at his side...it was almost overwhelming. He had dreamed of this moment, but his imagination had never been able to capture the way his heart felt when you were close. The way his chest seemed to expand, and his mind grew lighter, and the world seemed brighter. 

You seemed to sense his sudden change in mood, because your smile faded, and you turned to him, your expression soft and worried. "Tech? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he murmured, his voice low. "Just...happy."

"Oh, love," you whispered, your hands moving to cup his cheeks. "It's going to be alright."

"I know." He swallowed thickly and dipped his head, avoiding your gaze. "I seem to be having trouble accepting it. That you're here. That this is real."

"I understand," you said softly. "But I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

"I believe you," he replied, his voice shaking slightly. "I'm just..."

"Overwhelmed?" you supplied.

"Yes." Tech sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Overwhelmed."

"That's alright," you said, your hands sliding down to his neck, your fingers trailing along his jaw. "Take all the time you need."

He smiled, and leaned into your touch. You were so patient, and so understanding, and so gentle. You knew exactly what to say, and how to make him feel better. He didn't deserve you, and yet, here you were. You were the most precious thing in his life, and he vowed to never let you go again. He had already spent so much time apart from you. He couldn't bear to waste another moment.

"My apologies," he murmured, his gaze dropping back to the ground. "I didn't mean to ruin the moment."

"You didn't," you assured him, and the sincerity in your voice was almost enough to make him tear up. "There will be plenty of moments, Tech. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," he whispered. "For everything."

"It's nothing," you said, your thumbs tracing circles on his cheeks. They were light, and tender, and reassuring. "It's just what we do for the people we love."

His breath caught, and he looked up, his eyes meeting yours. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and he swallowed thickly, trying to find the words.

"Sarad..."

"Yes?" you prompted, your voice soft and expectant.

"I love you," he managed, his voice strained.

"I love you, too," you murmured, and the corners of your lips tugged upwards. "Always."

He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, and your eyes fluttered shut. He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease from his body. His heart was pounding, but he didn't mind. It was a reminder that he was alive, and that you were here, and that the universe had brought you together once more.

"Are you alright?" you asked, your voice quiet.

"Yes," he replied. "I am now."

Your smile widened, and you pushed yourself onto your toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips. It was brief, and soft, and perfect, and when you drew back, your eyes were shining.

"Go on," Tech encouraged, nodding towards the tree. "I know you've been waiting for the chance to study it."

You grinned, and he felt his own smile widen. You were radiant, and beautiful, and he wanted nothing more than to capture the moment in his memory. He hesitated a moment before activating the recording device on his goggles. 

The images recorded by the device were a poor substitute for the real thing, but it was something. And, even though he knew that you wouldn't be going anywhere, and that he would have countless other opportunities to see you smile, Tech didn't want to miss this.

"Are you recording me?" you asked, though you knew the answer already. He could see it in the amusement dancing across your features.

"Yes," he replied, his voice soft. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," you said, giving him a sly grin. "Just don't share it with anyone. I'm not looking my best."

"Nonsense," he countered, his hands curling around yours. "You're as coruscating as the stars."

You snorted, but didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned in, your nose brushing against his, and your breath tickling his lips.

"You're biased," you teased, your eyes meeting his. Tech felt his breath catch in his throat, and he swallowed thickly, his pulse quickening. Your proximity was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but wonder if you were doing it on purpose. But then again, it didn't matter. He wasn't complaining. Not when he was this close to you.

"Perhaps," he allowed, his voice low and husky. "But that doesn't make it any less true."

You hummed, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine, and then you were kissing him, and his mind went blank. He didn't know how long the kiss lasted, but when you pulled away, he was breathless, and his knees were weak.

"What was that for?" he asked, his voice unsteady.

"No reason," you said, a sly grin spreading across your lips. "Now, can I borrow your scanner? I'd like to get a closer look at the blossoms."

"Of course," he replied, handing you the device. He was a bit dazed, and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts. You didn't seem to mind, though, and he watched as you turned your attention to the tree, running your hand over the bark and muttering to yourself. 

He leaned against the trunk, content to simply watch you. There would be time for questions later, and for explanations. But for now, he just wanted to enjoy the moment. He wanted to soak in every detail, and memorize every line of your face, and commit every sound and sensation to memory. He didn't know if he would ever feel this way again, and he wanted to savor it.

He had hoped for so long, and waited for so long, and missed you so much. But now, here you were, and his heart was full. It was a strange sensation, and it took him a while to identify it. Happiness. Joy. Peace. Hope. Things he hadn't thought he would feel again. But here, in this moment, with the sun warming his skin, and the breeze rustling the leaves, and the woman he loved by his side, he felt them.

You suddenly leaped upward into the air, using the Force to vault yourself off a nearby root. 

Tech blinked, startled, and then laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, the tears starting to sting his eyes forgotten. He looked up and watched as you grabbed hold of a branch and swung yourself onto it, balancing easily on the limb.

"This is amazing," you called down to him, gesturing at the tree. "I've never seen one of these with white blossoms."

Tech smiled, and his hand instinctively reached for the datapad in his pocket.

"Would you like a copy of the information I have on them?"

You pulled away from the trunk and peered down at him, your hair glinting in the sunlight. Your smile was radiant, and his breath caught in his throat. You were so beautiful. And he was so lucky.

"Please," you replied, and the delight in your voice made his heart ache. "And, if it's not too much trouble, could you include whatever you have on the soil composition of the area? I'd love to see if there's a correlation between the environment and the color variation."

"How do you know the information I have will include that?"

"Because I know you," you laughed. "And I know how meticulous you are. If there's anything you don't have, I'll come back to take some samples."

"That will not be necessary," he admitted with a wry grin. He pulled the datapad from his pocket, and began typing quickly, his fingers flying over the keys. A few moments later, the data packet had been transmitted to you, and he looked up to see you examining the results.

"Thank you," you said with a bright grin. "You're the best, Tech."

"You are very welcome," he replied, unable to keep the smile from his face. You were so enthusiastic, and curious, and full of life, and he felt his heart swell with pride and love.

"Care to join me up here?" you asked as you dropped into a seat on the branch.

"I'm afraid I would not fare as well as you," he answered, eyeing the height of your position with apprehension.

"Please?" you pout, extending a hand towards him.

"Sarad," he protested weakly, knowing full well he had lost the battle.

"Pretty please?"

"Fine," he sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He pocketed his datapad and pushed himself off the trunk before he reached out and grabbed the nearest branch, pulling himself up.

The tree was large, and the branches were thick, and he didn't have much difficulty maneuvering himself up to where you were seated. When he reached your level, you leaned over and kissed his cheek, a gesture that had his heart stuttering in his chest.

You were sitting cross-legged on the branch, and you shifted over to make room for him. He sat down, his back against the trunk to steady himself, and he let one of his legs swing down, while the other remained bent at the knee. You settled in next to him, and his arm automatically wrapped around you, pulling you close.

"So, what do you think?" he asked as his hand idly traced patterns on your back.

"It's beautiful," you replied, your gaze fixed on the horizon. You leaned into his touch, and he couldn't help but smile. "I could stay here forever."

"That can be arranged," he murmured, his voice soft.

"Really?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"Yes," he said, his lips quirking into a smile. "We could set up a lab, and a greenhouse, and a small garden. We could build a home here. It wouldn't be difficult."

"A home," you repeated with wide eyes. "You would do that? For me?"

"Sarad, I would do anything for you." 

He meant it, and he could see the effect his words had on you. "I would build a thousand homes for you, if that was what you wanted. I would travel to the farthest corners of the galaxy, and I would search for a thousand years, if it meant I could spend a thousand days with you."

"Tech," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"I'm serious," he said earnestly. "I have never been more certain of anything in my life."

"But what about your family? The war? All of this..." You trailed off, gesturing to the village around you. "You can't just leave it all behind."

"They would understand," he said. "They are a part of me, but they are not my only family. And, as for the war, I think I've done my part. I have seen enough, and lost enough, and suffered enough. And, now that I have found you, I cannot bear to be apart from you again. So, please, if this is what you want, I will do it. I will leave everything behind, and build a new life with you. Here, or elsewhere. Wherever you wish to go. Just tell me."

You stared at him, and the emotions swirling in your eyes were impossible to name, but he felt them all. And, when you spoke, your voice was thick with tears. "You really mean that."

"Yes," he said. He reached up and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. "I will not lose you again."

You smiled, your eyes shining, and his heart ached at the sight.

"I—" You swallowed thickly, your lower lip quivering. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he said as his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Just...consider it. I won't press the issue if you're not ready."

"I am," you said quickly. "Ready, I mean."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you breathed. "I'm sure. I've missed you so much, Tech. And I don't want to spend another day without you."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight. You clung to him, and he felt your tears dampen his shirt, but he didn't mind. He simply held you, and soothed you, and stroked your hair, and let you cry. He knew you needed it more than you would admit, and he would gladly give you whatever you needed.

"Then it's settled," he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We'll build a home. Just for the two of us."

"Tech, I..." Your voice trailed off, and you took a deep breath, composing yourself. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too, Sarad," he murmured.

"But are you sure this is what you want?" you asked. "A life with me?"

"Yes," he replied, without hesitation.

"You're not...you're not just saying that because you think it's what I want?"

"No," he assured you, his hands coming up to cup your face. "I am saying it because it's what I want. Because it's what I've always wanted. Even before I knew it was possible."

"Really?"

"Yes," he said softly. "I have never been more sure of anything."

Your breath hitched, and your eyes were glassy with unshed tears. You bit your lip, and Tech knew that you were trying to hold them back. He brushed his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the moisture. He felt a tear slip down his own, and you reached up to wipe it away. Your hands lingered, cupping his face, and your thumbs traced gentle circles on his cheeks.

"Then let's do it," you said, your voice wavering. "Let's build a home. Here, or anywhere else. I don't care. Just...just promise me we'll never be apart again."

"Never," he whispered.

"I can't believe it," you laughed, the sound half-sob, half-delight. "It's really going to happen. We're really going to be together."

"Yes," he murmured, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. "We are."

You exhaled slowly, a long, shaky breath, and then you closed your eyes, and rested your head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, and he held you close, letting his chin come to rest on the top of your head as you breathed together.

The sun was warm, and the breeze was cool, and the scent of flowers filled the air. And he was here, with you. With the woman he loved, the one who had given him so much hope, and shown him a life he had never imagined. The one who had given him the stars, and the possibility of infinity, and the chance to be happy.

Taglist (also tagged some people who mentioned a sequel): @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @kindalonleystars

@cw80831 @qvnthesia @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak @lovelytech9902

@frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @Puppetscenario @umekohiganbana

@resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild

@ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster

@lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777 @schrodingersraven

@floofyroro @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy

[wardenparker]

HI MY BELOVED CONNIE WHO IS BEAUTIFUL AND SMART AND DESERVES A MILLION FOLLOWERS 🥹🥹🥹🥹

If I mayhaps could submit for the celebration ficlet! I was wondering if I could do my undead baby love of my life Max Phillips and “I thought you loved forehead kisses” OR “I’ll protect you”? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 Whichever one seems better for you!

OKAY LOVE YOU ANGEL CONGRATULATIONS 🥳🥳🥳🥳

Maddie, my darling. You've been a lovely inspiration lately 😘❤ Happy Spooktober! 🎃🦇🧛‍♂️

Max Phillips. 1,371 words. "I'll protect you."/"I thought you loved forehead kisses." Fic includes a flashback! (Warnings: cursing, sex in the workplace, blood, implied violence) Co-written with @absurdthirst

Max rushes into your office, a normal occurrence on the most normal of days, but today is not normal. “Stay in your office for the next little bit, okay sweet cheeks?” He demands. “No bathroom break, no fresh cup of tea. Just— uh, put your headphones in and vibe, m’kay?”

"O—kay?" As the office accountant you don't usually have a lot of interaction with your coworkers during the day, so you like to go out and have a few moments of social time when you refresh your drink or have to walk to the bathroom. Max is a social butterfly too, but your boyfriend of three weeks looks very serious at the moment. "Sure. I have some spreadsheets to work on. But...everything okay? Need me to come out there and give Evan hell or something?"

“No!” Max rushes out. “I mean, nahhhhhhh.” He tuts and waves away your concern as if it was nothing. “Nothing major. We just-“ he hears something and turns towards the door for a moment before looking back at you. “There’s a slight disagreement going on out there and it’s turning ugly.” He rolls his eyes. “You know how it is. We’ll call security, they’ll come remove him. I fired Dave.” He adds for good measure. “But don’t worry.” He winks at you. “I’ll protect you.”

"Dave's an asshole." You supply, as if that settles the matter for you, and you grab your headphones to turn on some music. Before Max can slip out again though, you snag his attention. "Are we still going out for dinner tonight?"

“Sure.” He nods eagerly and shoots you a grin and waggles his brows. “You wearing those little panties I bought you? The crotchless ones?” He leers slightly.

Tutting slightly, you still fluster and shift slightly in your desk chair. "Yes."

“Fuck yes.” He hisses and his head whips back towards the cracked open door when he hears a thud and a yell outside in the cubicle area. “Shit.” He looks back at you and mimes putting on the headphones. “Music on, stay here.” He repeats before he rushes back out of the office door and slamming it shut.

"Weird." You mumble to yourself, but put your head down and refocus on your computer. Max is a little weird and that's fine – you are too. It's how you've been able to see past the Finance Bro outer layer he presents at work to the sweet, odd man inside. It's why you dismiss the bullshit other people say about him at work. The version of Max everyone else sees is an act. It's okay if they don't know that. You do.

******

Sweet cheeks, what is a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Max smirks as he leans against the door to your office and watches you work. Your file had interested him just as soon as he had opened it, but you are so much more interesting in person. Right now, you look up and give him an almost bashful smile, a far cry from the tigress he had in his bed last night after a meal at the best restaurant in town and bottle of expensive wine. "Guess I'm just a little bit of a glutton for punishment." If he hadn't brought you home this morning to change clothes, you would have proudly rolled into work on his arm wearing the same clothes as yesterday. "I like coming into work because there's a super sexy new boss in sales." “You think he’s sexy?” He waggles his brows at you playfully. “What’s sexy? The incredible abs or that tongue of his?” He teases. “I’m betting the tongue. You were loud when I was buried between those thighs.” "I'm not a big fan of pretending to be something I'm not." You remind him, and toss Max a wink. "Which includes not pretending I'm enjoying myself any less than I am." He chuckles softly and steps into the office before closing the door behind. “Oh yeah?” He hums. “Give me the dirty details?” "I'm just glad I went to your place." A hum comes from somewhere deep in the back of your throat as he slides over to your desk. "My neighbors would have complained." “Yeah they would have.” He snorts. “Good thing I don’t have any neighbors to complain.” "A very good thing." When he sits on the edge of the desk, you reach for him immediately. "What are the chances you locked the door?" He hesitates for a moment before the slow grins breaks across his face. “Very good.” He admits shamelessly. “Sent Amanda off on an errand so HR isn’t here to complain to.” "We really are going to get in trouble one of these days." Although HR is aware of your relationship and can't object because you're in different departments, you're sure that these little worktime rendezvous will add up against you if anyone notices. He tsks and winks at you. “Not today.” He sing songs playfully. “You want it quick or slow?” "Better be quick." Any errand he sent Amanda on won't last long, and you are at work. It doesn't stop you from sighing so that your eyelashes flutter when his thick fingers dip down the front of your shirt. “Quick can be fun.” He plucks one of the buttons open and whistles at the lace covering your tits. "Quick can be very fun." You lean forward a little to give him a better view. "Like what you see, handsome?" “Fuck yes I do.” He grunts, biting his lip and shucking his jacket and pulling down his tie. "You do love my tits." But you don't hesitate either, standing up at your desk and shoving your chair out of the way so he can either bend you over the desk or lift your ass up onto the edge. This time, Max decides to bend you over the desk. Kissing you harshly before he spins you around and drags the zipper of your skirt down so he can push it up. You curse, knowing how strong he is, and wiggle your ass happily in anticipation. With no protection necessary, you really can have it wherever and whenever you want. Vampiric boyfriends have their benefits. “Fuck you are so perfect.” He hisses, his fangs sliding down in response as his dick twitches in his suit trousers. He has less control of his fangs when he’s turned on. “You want to keep the panties or…” He’ll rip them off of you if you give him the option. Shredding through your old panties and buying you new ones to replace them. "I've decided never to wear good panties around you," you admit, throwing him a grin over your shoulder. "Go ahead and shred them if you want. You can even keep the soaked evidence for later if you want." He chuckles as he shreds the panties from your hips. “You know me too well.”

******

You've lost track of time by whenever it is that your office door opens again, so deep in your work and in grooving back and forth in your desk chair that you don't even notice Max is there until he's right beside you and turning your chair away from your computer.

For a moment you startle, realizing he's there and then taking in the state of him. He looks torn apart, covered in blood with his fangs out and panting for the breath that he doesn't truly need when he leans over to press a kiss to the top of your head but you were already moving by accident.

"What?" Max huffs, looking a little hurt that you would flinch away from him. "I thought you loved forehead kisses?"

"I do." You can't help but laugh just because of the look on his face. He's so dramatic. "I was just going to ask if any of that blood was yours." Two fingers toy with the neckline of your dress. Whatever he's doing out there doesn't matter, he looks good covered in blood. "If you needed to feed?"

"Fuck." Max groans, kicking your office door closed just like he does every day and already reaching to undo his belt. "You are perfect."

------

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[mercurycft]

𝐑𝐔’𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✧.*

*·˚ !! requests are currently: open!

love, always — RGx

@excpeii - ALT ACC! <3

✧ - 𝐚𝐰𝐟𝐜 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ruiner (angst) - part 1

— r gets sick of biting her tongue around jonas & the other girls. when things blow up, she threatens to leave the club behind forever. what happens when she actually does?

let me go (angst) READ WARNINGS! - part 1

— r has been struggling with their mental health for years, and the team has always been there. a particularly bad relapse takes a turn for the worst and puts the team in a situation they will never forget.

✧ - 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬

leah williamson : a team effort - read it here!

leah williamson : two blue lines - coming soon

leah williamson : motherhood - coming soon

leah williamson / beth mead : you're still the one - read it here!

✧ - 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐞

captain's sister (18+) - part 1

— a night of celebrations lead to lucy and r carrying leah back to her room, like usual. leah, an overprotective older sister, had set clear boundaries. but what happens when the right-back is left alone with her captain’s sister..

jealousy & invites (18+) - part 1

— lucy was an easy jealous - overly protective and overly agitated. after r and leah have a particularly handsy dance, a very exciting idea springs to lucy’s mind.

is it over now? (angst) - part 1

— keira and lucy had been having problems for a while. no fighting, no arguing. silent problems. after lucy up left unannounced, then shows up uninvited two weeks later. what was keira supposed to do?

three strikes (18+) - part 1 , part 2

— friends, maybe? attracted to each other, absolutely. three strikes is enough to have r right in the palm of her hand. it was just a matter of time.

✧ - 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐞

saint (18+) - part 1

— best friends can flirt, can post pictures that make fan’s head spin. but when they find themselves locked in a cubicle after an act of jealousy, can they be just best friends..

too sweet (18+) - part 1

— after katie gets a tattoo from r, a friendship blossoms. until one day they, for some reason, just stop talking. but when katie turns up at r’s house on a random friday. how will they resolve what happened?

✧ - 𝐤𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐡

is it over now? (angst) - part 1

— keira and lucy had been having problems for a while. no fighting, no arguing. silent problems. after lucy up left unannounced, then shows up uninvited two weeks later. what was keira supposed to do?

grown - part 1

— keira, georgia and leah. the story of their friendship. the ups, the downs, the fights and the laughs. the three best friends…. and maybe lucy.

✧ - 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧

grown - part 1

— keira, georgia and leah. the story of their friendship. the ups, the downs, the fights and the laughs. the three best friends…. and maybe lucy.

ugh (18+) - part 1

— r & leah’s friendship took a turn for the worst after her acl injury, r gave up trying to support someone who was convinced they didn’t need it. r finally snaps and leah’s reaction is… confusing.

✧ - 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐲

grown - part 1

— keira, georgia and leah. the story of their friendship. the ups, the downs, the fights and the laughs. the three best friends…. and maybe lucy.

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 ✧.*

a collection of little social media fics/ficlets for player x reader !!

✧ - 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐞

soft launch - read it here! - behind the posts

— this is how i imagine soft launching your relationship with katie would go, and obviously it would have to be whilst you were both on holiday! featuring the awfc girls!

hard launch - read it here! - behind the posts

— you and katie have been dating secretly (not really) for an entire year, and you decide that your anniversary is the perfect time to tell the world! featuring the awfc girls!

✧ - 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧

soft launch - read it here! - behind the posts

— leah's birthday posts before and after a team and friend trip to Ibiza get fans stirring up the rumours of a relationship. do they play into it? probably!

graduation - read it here! - behind the posts

— after graduating, you and leah think it’s time the world got to know the news about your relationship, in the form of a little instagram soft launch! featuring the awfc girls & lionesses!

✧ - 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐞

unlikely pair - read it here! - behind the posts

— after going to see a show on the west end whilst back in london for international duty, lucy meets r and an unlikely romance blossoms between the two!

[steviebbboi]

Let's Blow This Popsicle Stand

Writing another ficlet for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration. Excited to share this one :)

This follows the prompt/trope: strangers to lovers + “here, you can share with me” + “aw man, that was the last one” + praise kink + oooo! Hand + a popsicle dripping down someone’s skin + ice cream shop/stand + beach

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Reader (no y/n)

Words: 2.3k ~ woah

Dividers from @sweetmelodygraphics ~ thank you for this creation!

Disclaimer(s): 18+ fic, Minors DNI, I do not own Ari Levinson (wish I did though). Graphic depictions of smut and serious flirting action from Ari. Allusions to eventual smut btwn reader and Ari. Allusions to domAri!/subReader! dynamic. This ficlet is unbeta'd.

Additional Note: I don't give permission to post this anywhere else. This is only posted on here and Ao3-- please do not steal work, my friends!

Your hand softly rests on the side of your neck as you hold your hair away to rub some ice on your perspiring skin. Letting out a sigh of relief, you try to shift further into the shade until you find some reprieve from the warm sunrays peeking through the shadows of your small store front.

Throwing away your makeshift ice pack, you let out another exhale and lean forward onto the counter while going back to mindlessly flipping your magazine. 

A few minutes of turning page after page after page, you huff and put the magazine to the side to go get yourself a grape-flavored popsicle. 

As you suck on your new treat, you look out towards the very crowded beach and observe people in their bikinis and shorts, also seemingly basking in the heat joylessly. The summer usually invites you to thrill in the sun’s generosity of its fevered heat. This summer though- it seems like the sun is being a little too generous. 

You were finally having a moment of reprieve after flocks of customers started raiding through your store. Looking briefly at your remaining inventory, you smile as you predict your sales from today fondly. You have a feeling that you’ll get to close a little bit earlier today.

Your smile remained on your face as you brought your magazine back to your attention while happily humming, enjoying your ice pop. Really investing some newfound focus and energy into reading an article discussing a pop singer’s summer romance, you don’t even notice the man walking up to the counter to stand in front of you. 

Only when you hear a throat clear, and your eyes shift to notice a shadow now being casted over the once sun-lit counter, do you look up to find a pair of amused blue eyes staring into your own. A soft smirk on the face of this just hot, glistening, sexy…hot, shirtless man. You freeze as you could practically feel this guy’s eyes piercing through you as you stare at him with your ice pop still pursed in your mouth. 

Your eyes couldn’t help but roam over his fit physique, his dark hair breezed around his taut shoulders and his sculpted chest that only enhanced his handsome features. Your eyes glazed back to his upcurved pink lips that was accompanied by a full, dark beard. 

Overall, the status of said man in front of you is: hot. 

You both stare at each other in complete silence until the awkwardness starts to sit in for you where you then suddenly slurp the sweet grape flavor that leaked from your ice pop and with a soft pop, the icee slicks out of your mouth. The popsicle in your hand was already melting. 

A few more moments of silence sat in the space and you saw the man’s eyes drift down to your lips that shined with dewy drops of icee. Unbeknownst to you, the cerulean blue hue of his eyes darkened a shade when he noticed you bite your lip in response. 

“Hi.” Your eyes widen as that is the only word that seems to escape your mouth. Feeling embarrassed by your ditzy response, you flush and shake your head, “Uh- hi, how can I help you?”

The man only gazed back at you with a wider smirk on his face. A peek of perfectly white, straight teeth peeking out of his cheshire grin. “Hey. Sorry if I scared you.”

You shook your head adamantly, “No – that’s okay. I should’ve been paying attention. Sorry for…well, not noticing.” You let out a small huff of a chuckle.

The man gave you a small smile, “No worries, honey. I was wondering if you still had some ice pops left?” He looked back over his shoulder briefly before turning back to you. It was then that you noticed the cash gripped in his fist. You also looked over his shoulder to notice his friends chatting and lingering by the volleyball net stand on the sandy, yellow beach. 

“Oh, yes of course! Let me see…how many did you want?” You ask brightly. Again, happily reminded of your successful sales flow of the day. 

“Five, please.” He responded with his smile still locked on his face. His eyes couldn’t stop staring at the curvature of your thick lips that were now curled into a light smile. 

“Beautiful.” Ari thought. He quickly noticed how fixated he was becoming as he focused on the plumpness of your mouth and shamelessly stared once more.

The man let out a hm while taking another look at you up and down over your body that was visible behind the booth. You couldn’t help but blink and flush again, wondering if maybe the ice pop you were eating has left a stain anywhere. 

You subtly look down your clothes to check for stains. When you didn’t find any, you look back at the handsome face and ask, “Sorry, is there something on me?”

The man blinked as if he was taken out of an intense thought, but not out of embarrassment of being caught, rather– he seemed to drag his eyes away from your body reluctantly as if you interrupted him in a thought that he would rather stay in. 

“Uh, no, not from what I can see.” He responded simply with his smirk now back on his wonderfully tanned face.

You let out a flushed okay and go back to looking over your inventory. You frowned as you counted only four ice pops left over. The fifth melting in your closed fist.

“Ah, I’m so sorry, sir - it seems like I have only four left.” You smile at him apologetically while putting out the ice treats on the counter. 

“Aw man, that was the last one, huh?” The man jokingly referred to the icee in your hand. He puts the cash on the table as you stammer again. You didn’t catch the humor in his voice and immediately felt guilty for taking the last one. 

Not wanting to leave a bad impression, you panickedly let out, “Oh! Uh, here, you can share with me!” 

And once again, your awkwardness has induced a panicked response that has now led to you staring at him, doe-eyed, and in silence. “Why the fuck did I just say that?” You thought– your inner voice yelled at you as you tried to recover by coming up with a covered up response.

The man stared back at you as you attempted to talk your way out of that offer. Though, he unashamedly stared at you again with a darkened narrowed gaze. You didn’t know what your words had inspired him to think about next. 

Your plump lips were covered in ‘juices’, letting out small mewls as your mouth engulfed the hilt of a concave shaped object- but instead of it being a popsicle, it was you sucking his thick, hard cock as he gripped the back of your head. Your attempt to speak now smothered with soft moans around his dick, all while Ari groaned out encouraging words staring down at the glazed look on your face. Your head was bobbing back and forth with tears swelling in your eyes as he thrust deep into your warm and wet mouth. Your tongue made the same slurping noises around the girth of his cock and was swirling around his mushroom tip over and over again. One hand fisted at his base since you couldn’t fit the whole thing in your mouth. Ari didn’t care though and drove deep inside until he could feel you gag around his cock again. He continued to relentlessly thrust into you until a mix of spit and pre-cum could be seen around your gripped fist.

“That’s a good fucking girl. I know your cock-sucking lips can do better than that.” Ari grunted and tightened his grip on your hair while quickening his thrusts with deep groans until he would eventually finish inside your waiting tongue and all over your doe- eyed stare that begged him for his cum.

Ari could only let out a huff of desire as he broke out of his reverie, perceived as a breath of frustration by you, not knowing that Ari has to lean into the bottom of the counter to adjust his raging hard on. 

“Yo Ari, where’s my icee?” One of Ari’s friends runs over and comes up from behind him only to glance over at the two of you in your intense staring match. You look over at the friend with panic in your eyes and take action, you apologize for how long you were taking. You motion to hand over the icees to him and Ari. 

Ari still hasn’t let up his wandering gaze on you and the friend seemed to catch on quickly, noting his friend's lack of reaction. Noticing Ari’s tense posture and the way that he was leaning suspiciously far into the cover of the counter, the other man raised his eyebrows and took another look at you. He suddenly smirked, as if he understood Ari’s reaction (or lack thereof), before saying, “No worries, darlin’. Thanks for the treats.” 

You nod affirmatively but still confused as you look back at Ari's stiff stance. His friend continues to smirk and lets out a chuckle before clapping Ari on the shoulder quickly before running back to the rest of their friends with the frozen treats now in his hands. 

At his friend’s touch, and noticing the concern still lingering in your eyes, Ari blinked once more and cleared his throat with a smile. The darkness in his eyes hasn't gone away and Ari didn’t even attempt to cover it up. 

You were thinking that you just completely embarrassed yourself in front of one of the most attractive guys that you have ever seen in your life. While Ari was now thinking of all of the ways that he could have you later that day.

“I can’t believe I said that- in front of a customer too! God, I’m an idiot.” You thought to yourself while frowning and looking down at the counter towards the small remnants that remained of your popsicle. 

“I’m so sorry, sir. I don’t know why I said that.” You apologize while staring at him through your lashes, intimidated by the man’s silence. 

Before too much silence could take up the space again, Ari merely gave you another smirk, “Don’t be, honey. I’d love to share with you.” 

At that last comment, you look up with surprise. Not even registering how Ari was flirting with you, you look back at the last stubs of the icee in your hand. “Oh, uhm, it seems to be gone now though.”

Ari looked down at the popsicle with you and abruptly gripped your now wet and sticky wrist and brought it up this mouth. You let out a gasp at the unexpected move and the pressure of his grip, and proceeded to let out a quiet, surprised moan that you couldn’t control once you gauged what he was doing. 

Ari’s soft tongue and wet lips lapped softly and slowly at your hand, gathering all of the juice that spilled over in the last few minutes. The flavor of the popsicle and of your soft skin burst on his tongue as he peered back at you to see your reaction. Your eyes glazed over and followed the motion of his mouth. You could barely register the feeling of his tongue sucking at your now ‘clean’ skin until he eventually covered his mouth over the remaining small popsicle piece. The cold bite gave Ari a quick reprieve from the heat of his thoughts as he landed one last open kiss on your hand. 

You let out a small whimper once you felt the withdrawal of his mouth on your skin. You instantly miss his warmth and images of Ari’s tongue on your wet, pulsing cunt were the only thoughts coming into your mind. A gush of slick coated your thin panties and you shifted your feet to adjust the discomfort.

A confident smirk swept back onto his face as he heard your soft and whines leave your throat. He gave your wrist a squeeze until he grasped onto the wooden stick that was sticking out loosely from your wet grip and took that into his mouth with a flirty grin on his face.

“Thanks for sharing, Doe. Maybe I’ll come back a bit later to share something else with you, if you don’t mind.” Ari says with a determined glint in his eyes. 

Your eyes were taking in his unabashed demeanor, along with this newfound nickname, as he simply chewed on the wooden stick again while waiting for your response, or as you would put it, waiting for your soul to come back into your body. Receiving the boldness of his implied message, you could only let out a breath and a quiet yes, sir.

Ari’s eyes took one last sweep over your exposed skin and back to your plump and bite-ridden lips. He darkly responds to your affirmation, “That’s a good girl.” 

Another whimper chirps out of your throat at the unexpected rush of warmth spearing into and all over your body when hearing his praise.  

Looks like you won’t be getting out of work early after all.

Ahhh, I really love this one. Also, I haven't written anything smut in a long time lol, please be kind 🙏🏼 Hope you enjoy, any comments/likes/reblogs are loved and much appreciated, thank you!

Check out my other @bigtreefest summer lovin' celebration fic here.

Main Masterlist

Join My Tag List!

****if you wanna be notified on my work (and next updates)!

[burningcheese-merchant]

BurningCheese Ficlet for y'all

I'm planning to take a break from AO3 for a little while, because I wrote 4 fics in 4 days and my head hurts. (I don't usually write anything this fast, but when I'm truly inspired, I'm a man on a fucking mission lol)

Here's a relatively short fic for you guys to enjoy while I'm gone. It's wholesome (for once). Hope whoever reads it enjoys it, whether they like this ship or not

Post-canon (technically), Burning Spice is no longer a threat to anyone, he's just an asshole who's down bad

"Hm? Golden Cheese eyed the envelope being handed to her critically. "And this is...?"

"For you," Burning Spice said. "It is a romantic holiday today, is it not? Is this not what couples do for one another in celebration?" "I don't recall us ever being a couple, Mr. Burning Spice," Golden Cheese muttered, crossing her arms and giving him a look. "So I'm not sure what possesses you to want to celebrate a day not meant for either of us." "You possess me, my little thief. That is all the motivation I need." He returned her look of annoyance with a look of cool confidence, giving her a flirtatious smile. "Regardless, why do you shun a heartfelt gift? Are gestures of admiration such as these not what you like to receive from others?"

"They are," Golden Cheese said, "But I can't imagine whatever you've brought to me being 'heartfelt'. In fact, I didn't realize that word even existed within your vocabulary before today." He chuckled at her little jab, much to her own furthered annoyance. "You wound me, pretty bird. Why do you judge me for my appearance? Why don't you read this and see for yourself what I am capable of?" "It's hardly your appearance. I've encountered far more brutish beings than you who turned out to be bigger sweethearts than Pure Vanilla." She sighed. "But... fine, very well. If you went to this trouble, I suppose I can entertain it this once." "Yes... please do, my little thief." His smile grew bigger. "Entertain me."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but otherwise did nothing to challenge him further and took the envelope into her hands. It was surprisingly fancy; adorned with intricate little patterns that she recognized to be commonplace in Wild Spice artistry. When she opened it, the smell of spice reached her nose, causing her to sneeze. Burning Spice chuckled again, and she shot him a disapproving glare. He gave her a look of endearment, his eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief. He did not speak, but he did not need to; she knew exactly what he meant by that face, for he'd given it to her before, along with the words meant to describe it. You're so adorable when you sneeze.

Not wanting to encourage this sentiment any further, she turned her attention back to the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. A pale reddish-orange, scented with nutmeg and tumeric. The words were written with black ink - in quite good handwriting, much to her surprise. A very quick skim told her it was a poem. She brought her eyes back to the very top and started again, reading it diligently, word for word:

"You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn, Your sweetness in the nightingale, your whiteness in the swan. You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon, Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune. Yet, when I crave of you, my sweet, one tender moment's grace, You cry, 'I sit behind the veil, I cannot show my face'. Shall any foolish veil divide my longing from my bliss? Shall any fragile curtain hide your beauty from my kiss? What is this war of thee and me? Give o'er the wanton strife. You are the heart within my heart, the life within my life."

Golden Cheese's mouth hung slightly agape by the time she finished, her face hot and cheeks flushed so red that she was certain it could be seen even all the way back home. "Burning Spice," she began. "I..." "You...?" he asked back, clearly enjoying the look on her face far too much. She stood silent for a moment longer before she collected herself. "It's... this is lovely," she said. "I don't know what to say. I... I truly did not think you were ever capable of something like this." "That's alright, pretty bird. Your eyes say enough." Oh, if only that blasted smile of his would fall away already. It was making her feel even stranger. "You and your people aren't the only ones with silver tongues in your mouths."

She hadn't been insulting the Wild Spices earlier, she had been insulting him - but even so, she had no choice but to admit her folly. "Fair enough," she said. "I was wrong to judge you so harshly. If I may gift you with something in return, it's with me saying that this would fit in among the works of my own kingdom's finest poets." "Would it, now? Such high praise, coming from you," Burning Spice purred. "But I'm afraid I'd rather you gift me with something else." "Oh?" She tilted her head at him. "And what would that be?" He answered her by coming closer, closer, until they stood toe to toe and his face was not so far from hers anymore. "I think you know," he said. He cupped her chin. "Or shall you let a veil divide us any longer?"

At this, Golden Cheese said nothing. She only let him tilt her head up gently, and her eyes flutter shut, as he leaned down and captured her lips with his own. Burning Spice kissed her sweetly, tenderly - so unlike what she expected of him, such a feeling and taste she never thought she'd find within spice like his. He licked at her lips, soft but still forceful enough to be noticed, politely asking for entry - and she obliged him, parting her lips and sighing into their kiss as his tongue slipped into her mouth and caressed her own. She felt a hand touch hers, rough fingers ghost against her skin, and she obliged him again, taking his hand into her own and lacing their fingers together. When they parted, he lingered there for a little while longer, their now half-lidded eyes locked and foreheads touching. The fire that always burned so bright in his eyes was now brought down to a smolder, reminding her more of the warmth of a fireplace than a scorching inferno. She could still feel his breath, taste it: hot and spicy, a shock to her senses. But... it wasn't so bad. It wasn't bad at all, actually. ...But he didn't need to know that. She'd fed his ego enough for one day.

"My little golden thief," he purred. "I thank you. Your gift is as lovely as mine." "...You're welcome," she murmured. "But... don't expect any more like it." "I won't," he said, that familiar sharp-toothed smile creeping back across his face, "Just the same as you expected me to give you something crude and mediocre." Her eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up in surprise, both at his words and the little jab hidden behind them. She opened her mouth to retort - but he cut her off before she could by kissing her again. Lightning fast, but still hot and rough, stealing the breath from her lungs. When he pulled back, that godforsaken grin came back in full force, stretching from ear to ear. "See?" he asked playfully. She chose not to respond this time, instead only huffing at him. Such audacity need not be dignified in such a manner. (And it wasn't because she had no real rebuttal to give him. Really. Honest.)

He gave her hand a squeeze before letting it go and stepping back again, giving her back her personal space. "Well, then," he said. "I shall give you one last gift by allowing you to enjoy the rest of this day on your own terms." "How kind of you, Burning Spice," Golden Cheese said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Once again, you surprise me with your words and actions." "Golden Cheese..." He turned his back and peeked at her from over his shoulder, his eyes burning bright once again. "I intend to keep surprising you as many times as you'll allow." With that said, he turned and began walking away. She watched him leave with her arms crossed, staring daggers at the back of his head as he left. Finally, she was free. No more of his nonsense; she can bask in light and peace again.

And yet, his parting words still rang in her ears. "I intend to keep surprising you as many times as you'll allow." Just where did he get this brazenness from? Wherever he cultivated it, she wanted the earth salted and burned. After everything that's happened, after her granting him a goddess's mercy by allowing him to continue existing in her life after all was said and done, and he repays her with this never-ending foolishness? Well, she could commend his stubbornness, if nothing else. But this time was a step too far. This was the first Valentine's Day gift she's ever received from him, and it shall be the last. Next time, she will turn him away without remorse. Won't she?

She turned her eyes back to the paper in her hand. To the beautiful envelope that had housed it. To the poem inscribed on the page, that serenaded her without making a single sound. Golden Cheese, against her own better judgment, brought the poem back closer to her face and read it a second time. When she finished, she tucked it back into the envelope - carefully, so it wouldn't tear. And then she sighed. ...No. No, she won't.

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

The poem here is "Humayun to Zobeida" from the poetry collection "The Golden Threshold" (bet you know why I chose a poem from there lol), all written by Indian poet Sarojini Naidu. Please check it out if/when you can, her works are lovely and you can read them for free online (also a lot of the poems give me BurningCheese feels, especially "To the God of Pain")

Y'all let me know if you enjoyed this, I thought of a sequel and I'll write and post it if you want

[notroosterbradshaw]

thirty-nine

about: never one for birthdays, Bradley is quite content on a quiet night in for his birthday. the only gift he really wants is you but gets a little more than expected. tbe universe.

word count: ficlet-town (for me). 2.5k.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

warnings: fluff. a bit o’ smut but mostly fluffy fluff. mindless fluff. and yeah. adult themes. but this blog is 18+, so this shouldn’t be a surprise.

it’s midnight here in the land of Oz and brb thots will be running rampant multiple timezones today, celebrate with your creators and fandom. send reblogs and comments x

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you... Happy birthday, sweet Bradley,” you sang quietly, approaching him with a single-lit candle chocolate cupcake as he relaxed on the couch after a delicious homemade dinner and the whiskey doing down a fucking treat. With the lights low, romance was gently hanging in the air. “Happy birthday to you,” you finished simply as he couldn’t resist his grin and pink flushed the apples of his cheeks. 

“Love...” he grumbled, embarrassed. “You didn’t have to - ”

“But I did,” you cut him off gently. “Make a wish, handsome,” you tenderly kissed the frown line between his raised dark brows.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he accepted the cupcake and stared deeply into your eyes before letting his lids drift closed. He carefully blew out the candle.

"Whatcha wish for?” you asked sweetly.

“Don’t need a wish, already got everything I need,” he said simply as he patted his thighs and opened his arms to you. “Come ‘ere, you.”

Eagerly, you climbed aboard your favourite seat and made yourself comfortable on his lap, taking the candle and tossing it on the coffee table. “You’re such a fuckin’ softy,” you accused teasingly as he chuckled, shyly. “I know you didn’t want to celebrate, and that’s fine. But you weren’t getting away without a sweet surprise,” you admitted as he offered you the first nibble. “No, sweetheart. You’re the birthday boy. Birthday boy comes first today.”

“Comes first, huh? Sweet girl, I will always get you there,” he breathed deeply, taking an indulging bite. He hummed happily, crumbs flailing between you. “Sorry,” he admitted. “It’s real good,” he chuckled messily, trying to catch crumbs with his tongue. You adjusted your posture, a gentle grind catching his attention quick. He licked his lip, unknowingly missing some frosting that you generously tidied for him with a sweet kiss.

“Does taste good,” you agreed. “All for you, Lieutenant Commander,” you reminded him. He knew that tone. He knew it meant good things were coming. Hopefully both of you. 

He hummed, a low grumble of laughter teasing in his throat. He dragged his long index and middle fingers through the frosting and swiped against your lower lip. “Open, love,” he said, but it wasn’t a question. Your tongue delicately darted out as you kept his gaze. He appreciatively watched as tongue first, you delicately swirled around his fingers and enclosed them, taking it deep in the back of your mouth, eyes big as he breathed a raspy, ‘hmm, yes, baby. You know just how I like it...’

His other palm wrapped around you, a warm hand snuck into the elastic of your sweats and he could feel the lace under the pads of his fingers. He pouted, curiosity getting the best of him. Good things came with lace. “Come here,” he said as you let his fingers go with a pop and crawled a little further, skilfully grinding down on him. He groaned low as your sweet lips brushed wet kisses against his pulse. He was putty when you kissed him there and he willingly snapped back, eyes black with desire as he helped you raise your hoodie and discard it, a new navy blue bodysuit leaving very, very little to the imagination now revealed.

“Fuck, this is nice,” he didn’t apologise for how he groped your breast, his thumb rubbing slow circles around your nipple and he lowered his face to bite through the material, the sight too good to ignore as you sighed, you were in heaven. Dragging your fingers into his neat curls, it was hard not to fall into him. He gazed up at you with those eyes that told you how much he wanted to devour you and raised his lips to you, his big hands pulling you closer to him as your lips met, wild kisses ensued as your bodies pressed against each other eagerly awaiting what was to come next. 

He eased back on the couch as you pulled back to make light work of the belt and zip on his jeans. He whipped off his tee and quickly dragged down his jeans with his boxer briefs, long, thick and weeping with excitement for you. “Lose the sweats, love,” he ordered, his tone dark and certain as you stepped away, turned away and pushed the fleece away. He sighed wistfully. He was an ass man at heart, and your ass was pure perfection that he wanted to sink his gleaming teeth into. 

Chuckling deep, he encouraged you. “Yes, love. Show me how that thing comes off, huh?” 

Looking back, you stepped back between his wide thighs and took his hand, guiding it between your legs to where the clasps strained to be released. He nodded, but instead swiped the flimsy material to the side, his index finger pressing into the slick that always seemed to be waiting for him. 

“Look at you, dripping and I have barely even touched you,” he chewed his lip as he watched your face contort, bashful to blissed as his index finger sunk into you, then his middle finger, knees almost immediately weak. “Love, you need to be fucked, huh?” he dragged you flush against him and placed you back on his lap. 

“It’s your birthday. I just want to please you - ” you tried. Really. All you wanted to do was please him. See his face as he came. That was pure ecstasy in itself. 

“This is all I want,” he told you simply. “Let me bury myself in you, huh? You coming all over my cock is my gift.” 

“I was supposed to be the gift to you - ” you moaned as he dragged you upon him, slipping his cock in deeply, perfect for you. “God,” you muttered, resting your forehead on his strong shoulder, taking in his cologne. He always smelled so damn good.  

“I said no presents,” he growled, teasingly. “Well, okay. Except maybe for this flimsy, little... thing,” he breathed deep, pulling down the cup and letting his tongue swirl around the puckered skin. His cock was so sensitive to your sweet, warm wetness. He wanted slow and slippery, but he wasn’t going to last if this was how delirious you made him feel.

It was slow, sweet. Connecting, kissing, he held you so tight as you melded together. Perfect in its simplicity. But unlike your birthday wish for him, you came before him, quaking and milking him, dragging his orgasm out. 

It wasn’t always about the birthday boy.

Slumped against Bradley, his tongue lapped up the few beads of sweat on your shoulder and murmured how good his sweet girl was to him. “You want more, big boy?” you asked into his skin. “Ready to unwrap me?” 

He breathed deeply, trying to control his breathing. “Fuckin’ yes.” 

“Then come along. It would be rude if I unwrapped your gift myself.” 

Praying to whatever deity brought you to him, his grin ripped wide as you murmured about the mess between you both that threatened to spill. He reached for his discarded tee and skillfully tidied you up. After another kiss, he took your hand, thanking the gods for creating you for him. “Okay. Maybe one more gift...” he slipped his boxer briefs back on and allowed himself to be led to the bedroom, his big hand in both of your smaller ones and you stopped at the door. 

“Come on,” you said as he wandered in. “Get comfy, let me just freshen up...” You kissed him then headed for the bathroom as he dove on the bed, the duvet exploding around him in his excitement and an arrogant smile on his face as he placed his hands behind his head, body primed for whatever you were about to blow his mind with. 

He cast his gaze to the bathroom door you’d just disappeared through, his bedside lamp on. Meticulous in his need for organisation and neatness, he noted an envelope on the bedside table and reached for it, his name on the front - 

And maybe breathing stopped when he pulled out the contents.

And maybe his heart lurched as he realised the handwriting he hadn’t seen in years, the letter addressed to Bradley Darling x

And maybe - 

“Ahh, you saw it,” you said, reappearing and relaxed against the doorway, a small grin on your face, perfect with your messy hair and put back together in your bodysuit. Bradley gave you a confused smile.

“Love,” he sat up, and asked, “What is this?”

"Wasn’t addressed to me, Bradley Darling,” you told him, the affection you had for the name superseding any nickname you’d ever given him. “I found it in one of the boxes in the attic. Had Mav’s name on it and a cross scribbled through it violently,” you gave him a look that told him how ridiculous it sounded.

Bradley signed, rubbing his eyes bashfully. “I got a bunch of stuff from Mav after Mom died... and then the whole papers thing happened so I took out my anger on an archive box... among other things.”

“Mature.”

“Yeah,” he agreed embarrassed.

“Want me to leave you for a few minutes?” you nudged your head towards the living room in case he wanted to read alone.

“No, stay,” he said, reaching his hand for you and you came to sit on the edge of the bed as he sat up. “Wanna read it with me?”

“It looks like it’s just for you...” you told him warily, not wanting to interrupt a private moment but you would be lying if you didn’t want to know the contents of the letter. 

“Yeah, but there’s nothing in there I’d ever hide from you. Get over here,” he admitted as you came to scamper over his body and lay back together against his pillow as he opened the letter. “Been a long time since I’ve seen her handwriting, it’s weird.”

“It’s such a beautiful script,” you admitted, never a fan of your own writing. A messy chicken scrawl at the best of times. You wrapped a thigh over his, snuggling against his side. “Smells like old perfume.”

“She always sprayed her favourite Chanel perfume on any letters she sent,” he chuckled quietly. 

“No. 5?” you reckoned. 

“Actually, yeah. That sounds really familiar. She said it was really expensive,” he chuckled quietly. His eyes went to her handwriting and started to read aloud:

My Bradley Darling on his 21st birthday.

There are a few of these we haven’t celebrated together now. It breaks my heart to know that you are alone but I know Mav is taking care of you as best as he can - 

Bradley sighed. “Guess she couldn’t predict it.”

“No, I suppose not,” you agreed, kissing his ribs but not wanting to distract him, your fingers tracing the ridges and peaks of his abs, his muscles firing, always ticklish. “Worked out in the end.”

He hummed in response and kept reading:

But I know he is doing all he can in his way to make sure you’re safe, happy and taken care of. I hope you’ve remembered your patience and consideration of all he has done for you and will continue to do, even if you don’t agree with his decisions. All Mav has ever wanted was the best for you, just like Daddy and me.

I’m writing you this while you sleep in the hospital chair across from me. My young man, so handsome and bright with the world at his feet. I hope you have gone for everything you’ve ever dreamed of. I hope you meet someone wonderful, someone who you will love like I love your Daddy. I’m so scared to leave you, but I want you to know while you have Mav here, Daddy and I are going to be watching everything you do from where we are together, devastated we’re not with you, but so damn proud of the man you will grow to be, watching from the front row.

Bradley stopped to sniff. He wasn’t crying but would be lying to say he might’ve if you didn’t distract him with the tear stains now on his chest. “Oh, love,” he said with a gentle sigh.

“This is the sweetest thing. She is very eloquent.”

“Towards the end, she was pretty out of it. I don’t know when she wrote this,” he admitted. You nodded, hoping he’d continue. There didn’t appear much more left as your eyes followed his words.

Bradley Darling, you are the love of my life. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t beat this for us. But I’ll always take care of you. I’ll be your angel watching over you, just like Daddy is for you and me now. He’s calling for me, I can hear him clear as day and I can’t wait to see him. 

I love you, my brave son. Your Momma x

“Oh, my God,” you were almost sobbing in the end as Bradley folded the paper up, placed it back on the bedside table and wrapped you into his arms. 

“There, there,” he teased, kissing your forehead. 

“That is so special, Bradley.”

He nodded but didn’t reply. He knew the weight it held and wondered if Carole really was watching, seeing how happy he was, seeing what he made of his life. A decorated naval aviator, a partner and a man with a future. A man who didn’t think he’d have a future before you came along. But he knew.

He didn’t believe in soulmates before he’d met you, but he knew his mother had sent you to him. When you were both at the right times in your life - when you needed him and when he needed you more than he’d ever know he could need anyone. 

He giggled as he kissed you, tasting salty tears. “Why are you so emotional about this?”

“I don’t know,” you protested, a bubbly laugh slipping. “Do you think she is happy at how your life turned out?”

“Yeah, I hope so. She’d probably be pushing a baby agenda,” he nudged you, teasingly as you rolled your eyes. You’d only recently just gone off the pill, rolling the dice to see if Baby Bradshaw was in your futures and Bradley would be lying to say... he was trying to bury himself in you any fucking chance he got, but don’t get him wrong, he didn’t have a breeding kink. Nooo... not at all. 

“One step at a time, huh?” he held your left palm in his and pressed a series of sweet kisses into your engagement ring, your wedding in a few short weeks with that special handful of people. Small and intimate for two fools who never saw themselves ever getting married and finding their happily ever afters together. 

“One step at a time,” you repeated, moving to his waist as he licked his lips, an entertained grin spreading across his handsome features. “Think I could tempt you for the rest of your present now, Bradshaw?” 

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

masterlist.

A/N: happy birthday, Rooster Bradshaw. It’s been so much fun bringing you to life exactly how I see you (whether people agree or not) x

the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[ineffabildaddy]

ineffabildaddy fic masterlist

all my fics are aziraphale/crowley🩵

you can read @bowtiepastabitch's analysis on some of the ways i explore queerness in my fics, with an excellent addition by @lalalunamoth, here!

i'm humbled to say that a few of my works have been recced by @fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic - you can read those posts here!

i have a ko-fi account where you can leave a tip here, if you're so inclined🩵

CURRENT WIPS

long time listener, first time caller (E, 22k so far, 4/7 chapters posted) - crowley is in love with the voice of aziraphale fell, late-night radio host, and the face of the handsome stranger he passes in the park every day. what will happen when he introduces himself, and when he has to choose between them? 📻 fic post here

wouldn't it be a lovely headline? (E, 11k so far, 3/? chapters posted) - close friends anthony j. crowley and azira fell are attending their first awards show for the film they recently co-starred in, whose sequel will only be made if they get enough public attention over the course of the weekend... how to garner this attention? why, pretend they're a couple, of course.🎬 fic post here

COMPLETED FICS

take me as your wife (E, 7.1k) - a chance romantic meeting between crowley and aziraphale in a country inn in the 1750s sets off a chain of chases and surrenders🍷fic post here

complementary colours (T, 5.7k) - post-canon. aziraphale moves into crowley's cottage in the south downs and decides to do a little detective work to learn something he's never known about the former demon - his favourite colour🔎🌈 fic post here

angel and ash (E, 5k) - with art by @wasleichtesart! crowley begins to frequent queer bars in london, presenting as a trans woman under the name ash. one night, she stumbles upon a trans man known as angel, whom she recognises immediately...🪩 fic post here

creature of mine (E, 21k) - with art by @omens-for-ophelia! aziraphale buys crowley a snake plant as a gift, whose scent triggers a naga transformation. big dick aziraphale gets stuck in🌺🎁 fic post here

you're a mirror i cannot avoid (E, 1k) - south downs domestic, erotic softness as aziraphale reassesses what it means to be himself🪞 Tumblr | AO3

in your own time (E, 33k) - human priest au set in tadfield, in which crowley and aziraphale are childhood best friends finally reunited. catholic school, apple trees, hogback wood, holy sex, and more⛪️ fic post here

Just Up The Stairs (E, 39k) - cowrite with @foolishlovers, art by @omens-for-ophelia! quiet, gentle and romantic neighbours human au featuring lots of music and harry the rabbit🐇 fic post here

close (well, you couldn't get much closer) (E, 1.4k) - post-ineffable divorce shenanigans featuring crowley using a replica model of aziraphale's penis, through which aziraphale can feel... well, everything❗️

I'm Beginning to See the Light (E, 22k) - gentle enemies to ardent lovers office christmas party human au which quickly devolves into body worship and gender-affirming sex - transmasc az, service top crowley🎄⚧ fic tag here

Despite Knowing Better... (E, 10.9k) - aziraphale and fem!crowley deal with the ineffable divorce by meeting in the bookshop once a week to fuck, while attempting to hold each other at arm's length. things get messy in the process...💔

Strawberry Scripture (E, 6.5k) - pwp oneshot. aziraphale and fem!crowley celebrate averting the apocalypse by playing with food, and with crowley's scales...🍰🐍

UNFINISHED FICS (hopefully someday!)

crosseyed and painless (E, 2.9k) - dom!az and fem!crowley pwp in which crowley has asked aziraphale to help her relax after a long day, and the results are not at all what she expects💦

Many Different Ways to Eat an Oyster (E, 6.5k) - aziraphale and crowley meet in ancient rome, where crowley admits that he's a virgin. aziraphale sets about putting this to rights immediately🦪

FICLETS, POEMS ETC.

i have waited (M, 0.4k) - poem in which crowley ponders how he has waited for aziraphale over the millennia🕰 Tumblr | AO3

core of a clementine (E, 0,5k) - touch-starved crowley explores the sweet torture of aziraphale's seemingly innocent, mundane actions🍊 Tumblr | AO3

you're so golden (E, 0.9k) - while coupling under cover of night in the garden of eden, crowley discovers that aziraphale has golden stretch-marks. and they aren't the only part of him that's golden...✨ Tumblr | AO3

Only in Dreams (E, 0.5k) - post-season 2 aziraphale pov musings, as he hopes to visit his lover in dreams, if not in the waking world🌫 Tumblr | AO3

Blasphemy (E, 0,4k) - crowley muses about holiness, blasphemy, and how they interact with sex with aziraphale✝️ Tumblr | AO3

Do You Remember? (E, 0.8k) - aziraphale reflects on his first time with crowley - a time in which "they aren't talking" post-season 2💘

Flecks of Stardust (G, 0,2k) - a love poem from aziraphale to crowley🖋 Tumblr | AO3

I Know (E, 0.7k) - crowley reckons he knows exactly how aziraphale wants him... 🌅 Tumblr | AO3

Solitude (G, 0,4k) - supreme archangel aziraphale reminisces on his encounters with crowley through the ages ⌛️ Tumblr | AO3

Please Touch Me (E, 0,5k) - touch-starved crowley reflects on the kind of connection he wants with aziraphale 💭 Tumblr | AO3

[magicfootballstuff]

Please can we have a mapi leon ficlet?

You arrive at training one morning to find a bit of a commotion in the changing room. 

Having only lived in Barcelona for a few months, your Spanish is still at a fairly basic level and your Catalan is limited to just a few phrases, but this morning the girls are far too hysterical about something for you to be able to understand what’s going on at all. Whatever it is, it seems to be centring around Alexia and Patri, but you sit down in your usual spot next to Mapi, who is watching on with amusement, and ask her to explain. 

“What’s going on?”

“Alexia went to one of the millions of fancy events she gets to go to and met Patri’s celebrity crush,” Mapi fills you in on the situation.

“Who’s that?”

Mapi gives you a name, but it’s not somebody you’ve heard of and you tell her as much.

“I don’t know who that is?”

“She’s a famous singer here in Spain,” Mapi explains. She messes around with her phone for a few seconds, then tilts the screen towards you, showing you an Instagram post of Alexia dressed in a sparkling black gown standing next to the singer, equally glammed up. “What do you think? Worth the hype?”

Objectively, the singer is quite pretty. But what you say is, “I don’t know if she’s really my type.”

“Okay, but you have to admit she’s hot,” Mapi pushes you, an incredulous frown on her face.

“I … uh, I guess so,” you concede with a shrug.

“So, what is your type then?” Mapi asks, as conversationally as she would if she were asking you what you did on your day off.

You feel your cheeks start to heat up as you reply, “Um, well, historically men.”

“Oh,” Mapi says, her eyes widening in realisation. “Oh.”

“Is that a problem?” you ask.

“Not a problem, just a surprise,” Mapi answers, quickly recovering from her surprise. “I have a bad habit of assuming people are gay until they tell me otherwise. But it’s fine if you’re straight.”

The thing is, you’re probably not straight. In fact, you’re definitely not. But you’re also not quite sure what label applies to you yet, or if there even is a label at all. Even if there was, you’re not practised enough at coming out to be able to drop it into casual conversation without massively overthinking beforehand.

“Anyway, it’s okay to admit that a girl is hot,” Mapi teases you. “We’re not going to suddenly revoke your heterosexual membership card just because you find one woman attractive.”

You allow yourself to laugh.

“What?” Mapi asks, catching her tongue between her teeth as she grins at you. “Do the straights not have memberships? I’m pretty sure I’ve had my gay one since I was about fourteen.”

“Of course you have. Anyway, I don’t think either of those ‘memberships’ is for me.”

You hope Mapi picks up on the meaning behind your words. You don’t think you’re ready to spell it out explicitly yet, but you feel safe enough with Mapi to test the waters a little bit.

“That’s okay,” Mapi says, reaching out to squeeze your thigh in reassurance. “Labels are overrated anyway.”

You feel the relief wash over your body. Mapi is kind and open-minded and you knew she wouldn’t shun you from the team just because you’ve been having an identity crisis recently, but it doesn’t make the idea of admitting it aloud any less scary. But it feels really good to have said it, even if you implied it more than actually said the words yourself.

“You’re actually the first person I’ve admitted that to,” you say, almost laughing in relief, that’s how good it feels to get this off your chest. “That I might want to … you know.”

“Date people who aren’t men?” Mapi finished your sentence for you.

You nod.

“Yeah.”

Mapi reaches for your hand and gives your fingers a squeeze.

“Well I’m flattered to be the first.”

“So, what’s your type?” you ask Mapi.

Perhaps sensing that you want to move on quickly from the big revelation about your identity, Mapi answers straight away.

“Well the most important thing for me is passion,” Mapi tells you. “Passion about football, passion about food, passion about anything really. I love listening to a woman tell me about something that she loves. But also kindness, intelligence, somebody who isn’t afraid to stand up for what they believe in, even if it’s difficult. Integrity, you know? Somebody with strong values.”

“Wow,” you say, amazed that Mapi has given it so much thought, when your own type isn’t much more than the word ‘girls???’ in flickering lights at the front of your mind.

Mapi pushes off the bench, ready to follow the rest of the team, who seem to have calmed down slightly since the hysterics when you first arrived, out onto the pitch, but she turns and shoots you a wicked grin before she leaves, adding, “Oh, and someone with a great ass.”

[obviouslacking]

this is wholly embarrassing but i watched h-e double hockey sticks (1999) for the first time last night and, in the midst of my jeric brainrot, it made my mind go ❣️

so i wrote a teensy, terrible ficlet. i gave it a saccharine little title. griffelkin/dave, because of course it is. what are niche fandoms for if not to practice writing bad fanfiction? anyway. this goes out to the folks on jeric twt

edit: she’s on ao3 now! someone please join me over there so hedhs can become an actual categorised fandom

the sign on your heart (it's still reserved for me)

aka when hell freezes over

*******************

It was the greatest night of Dave Heinrich’s life. 

He’d just won the Stanley Cup; the girl of his dreams was on his arm and he was enjoying his hard-won victory. Only… something was wrong. Through the lights, and the confetti, and the cheers, he watched as Griffelkin melted away into the crowd. Like he was never there. Like he’d never be seen again — by Dave, anyway. The triumphant grin slipped off his lips. It was cold, suddenly, out there on the ice, in a way the exertion had masked before. Everything he’d just accomplished began to feel… hollow. The only reason he’d managed to achieve anything was because of Griffelkin, chaotic and ridiculous though he was. Because, for some godforsaken reason… he’d believed in Dave.

He’d made him a better person.

What he’d had with Anne had been good. It felt like they had grown up in the rink together. But they’d been chasing after a dead-and-buried version of the past for too long now, blindly gripping to nostalgia instead of moving forward with their lives. It was now clear to him: it was time to set them both free. 

He turned to her with regret, “I’m so sorry, I have to go.” 

She didn’t understand, “Dave, wait—”

He couldn’t. He had to get out of there or else he’d lose his chance entirely. He knew how it looked: Dave Heinrich, the golden boy, leaving the Stanley Cup celebrations — the moment he’d worked towards all his life, the pinnacle of his rising star. He didn’t care. He was proud of his team, proud of himself, but… none of it would feel right until he saw Griffelkin again. Until they got to be proud of what they’d done together. The two of them, their own team.

He had to get him back.

It took hours. He drew pentagrams in chalk on his nicely laminated flooring. He lit candles. He tried ominous chanting, tried reciting an exorcism he thought he saw in a movie once, tried everything he could think of to summon Griffelkin back to him — short of screaming at the sky in despair.

Nothing worked. He was forced to sit himself down by the absolute mess he’d made with a sigh, body still aching from the torture it had endured that day. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Griffelkin had held onto him as he lifted him up onto the sickbay bed. Or the sight of him in his Angels uniform; wearing Dave’s number, Dave’s name. He’d been chasing after the Cup for so long, treading water with his girlfriend for so long… he’d forgotten what that felt like. To have a fire inside you, one that burned for a person. 

If Griffelkin technically counted as a person, anyways. Dave was still a little.. fuzzy on the details. If he thought about it too much, he was sure he’d lose his mind (even more so than he likely already had. Maybe he’d just taken a really hard check out on the ice one day, and this was all some kind of fever dream—)

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jesus Christ!!! Dave had sprung up and away from the sudden intruder in terror before he could even realise it was the intended object of his summonings. Here, at last. Hours after Dave had wanted him. The creature lived to spite him.

Even so, just seeing his face again… Dave needed to say his piece. “I had to talk to you. It wasn’t right, how you just… left, after everything. Why did you just leave?”

Griffelkin was uncharacteristically muted, like all the flair had been drained out of him. “You got everything you wanted. You didn’t need me anymore.”

*******************

Griffelkin was lost. 

He’d come to Earth to be wicked. To do bad deeds. To steal the ever-ripe soul of one Dave Heinrich. He’d never anticipated… everything that had happened after that. Becoming invested in the lives of actual, honest-to-God people, turning against the will of Beelzebub and everything he’d trained for to show compassion… it was entirely out of left field. Or left.. rink… (curse his sudden investment in that stupid game. It was just unnatural).

He’d never anticipated the way something about Dave was just… different. When Griffelkin was with him… he’d never felt like that before. It itched throughout his whole body; like that awful diner food, or the smell of the trees as they polluted his insides. Something horrible like… sunshine, or flowers, or the way Dave would smile breathlessly after he won a game—

Oh, hell.

Griffelkin had done it. He’d gone and fallen in — he took a moment to tamp down the nausea — love with him. The human. His former mark. What on Earth was he going to do? 

Quite literally. He definitely didn’t think Hell would take him back any time soon, and the folks upstairs… well he didn’t know WHAT was going on with them. Gabby was their earthly agent?? She made him look positively angelic by comparison — and that was saying something.

So here he was: stuck topside, having horrendously squishy feelings for someone who would never like him back. Why would he? He’d got the Stanley Cup, got the girl… he didn’t need Griffelkin anymore. Dave’s soul may have been bound to him once, but they’d essentially ripped up everything that had tied them together. Their deal was done. 

If only he’d known sooner… he’d never have got those two back together!! If he'd ensured they'd remained separated, he could have done his buddy Lewis a solid — he wouldn't have had to deal with Dave's impressive ego anymore!! Meanwhile, Griff could have swooped in at just the right moment, offering his soulmate both the shining Cup and his blackened heart on a brimstone platter……

But it was too late. They were all finally happy, at peace; everyone’s souls intact. Hurray! Griffelkin had no choice but to just fade into the background. Leave Dave be. He’d already interfered with his life enough. 

Or so he’d thought.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was currently standing in Dave’s living room. He’d just felt drawn to the place, something that had never happened before. At least, not without some kind of demonic intervention. Somehow, he didn’t think that was at work here, despite the look of Dave’s once-glossy pad. The space seemed to be covered in… satanic paraphernalia of some kind. 

Aw, he was almost touched. Mildly offended by the amateur job (WHO taught him how to draw a pentagram? And scented candles, really?? Was that glitter over there—) but… touched, nonetheless.

Dave was sitting on the floor, hunched over, still in his jersey from the game. He looked miserable. 

Griffelkin felt that increasingly familiar tremble in his chest. He took it out back and shot it dead. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dave jumped out of his skin at the words. He was so cute when he was being existentially horrified by the forces of Griffelkin’s dark magic. Damn him. He’d failed already (typical, typical, Griff, can’t do anything right). He had to stop thinking of Dave like that, not when he wanted nothing—

“I had to talk to you….. it wasn’t right, how you just…. left, after everything. Why did you just leave?”

He… wanted Griff? 

That couldn’t be right. No matter how much it pained him, all he could think to do was be honest: “You got everything you wanted. You didn’t need me anymore.”

Dave seemed distraught, hearing this. Griffelkin had never seen him like that before. He didn’t know what to make of it. He looked… agitated, but not like he was when his hockey career was on the line; sad, but not in the same way as he’d mooned over… whatever her name was. 

He admitted, “I thought that was what I wanted. But then… you weren’t there.” 

No one had ever… cared about Griffelkin before. Was this how the Grinch had felt when his heart grew three sizes bigger? Griff might as well just sprout wings and take up harp-playing, at the notion. He’d never felt so blessed, 

“Aw, Dave, buddy, you missed me? It was my sick moves out on the ice wasn’t it? You just had to come crawling back—”

Dave kissed him. 

*******************

Dave couldn’t listen to that yapping for one more second.

So, he grabbed Griffelkin by the stupid clothes he was still wearing and kissed his stupid evil mouth. It took only a second before he melted into it like he’d been feeling the exact same feverish longing as Dave, silenced by—

Oh, he’d finally shut him up. He should have thought of doing that sooner. 

It felt like a long time coming. It felt like no time at all.

Slowly, he released Griffelkin from his desperate grasp. It took the demon several seconds to blink his eyes open, staring back at him in awe. Well, Dave would feel just terrible if he’d broken him somehow. (Though maybe it would serve him right, just a little bit.) 

Satisfied, he leant back. 

“You gonna stay now? You don’t have anywhere else to be, right? Hell, or the Underworld, or wherever it is you’re from?” He hoped he never found out all the gory details. He suspected he was going to.

Griffelkin was still stunned. His hands twitched where they stayed clinging to the back of Dave’s jersey.  “No, I… I think I’m right where I need to be.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t know if you know this, but I just won the Stanley Cup.” He smiled at the thought… what an insane life he was leading. Dave Heinrich: youngest player to ever earn that mythic trophy; currently falling headfirst, circle-after-circle, in love with Hell’s finest.

Griffelkin smiled back at him, a little goofy, joy glimmering in his eyes, “Oh, you did?”

“Uh huh. And I could use some help figuring out where I’m gonna go from here.”

“Right, well…” Griffelkin swallowed. “I might just know a certain devil who’s going through kind of a similar situation right now. He might just take you up on that offer.”

It felt like the proper conclusion to their little adventure: both balancing on the precipice of a new journey. One Dave wanted them to tackle together — no matter how many ridiculous escapades came about as a result. They were just better as a pair. He knew they’d make it work somehow. If there was one thing he’d learned from all this (besides the whole being a selfless team player thing) it was that he could use a little more chaos in his life.

He pretended to mull Griff’s response over. “No contracts required?”

“Actually now that you mention it, I think I might have forgotten a sub-clause back there—” 

Dave kissed him again. Man, that really did work miracles. It was about time he evened the scales a bit, in terms of which one of them was holding power over the other. He had to be careful or it just might go to his head.

They were still standing in the midst of Dave’s embarrassingly terrible pentagram. Luckily, the candles had all been long-extinguished by the time their lips had met, or they would have been facing a serious fire-safety hazard right about then. Dave had come too far to have his life cut short in that blissful moment.

His arms wrapped around the neck of his tormentor, who bound their bodies together with his own embrace in turn. 

At least they wouldn’t be able to sue him for breach of contract: Dave Heinrich’s soul belonged to the demon Griffelkin after all. 

Along with his heart, and mind, and body, and whatever else he decided he wanted along the way. Dave wasn’t fussed in the slightest.

Hell began to thaw.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

So for the ficlet build your own prompt thing could you maybe do “Should I kiss it better?”, someone who cares, hurt/comfort, and instrument?? (Btw love all your stuff, you’re such a talented writer ❤️)

Aw, that made me blush, thank you so much.

I did a little missing scene thing for your prompt - this would be after Eddie moves in but before these two dumbasses first kiss. Hope you like it. 🥰

I'm celebrating 1k followers - requests are open!

Maybe some day

Rated: T

Words: 996

Tags: domestic fluff; Steve Harrington needs a hug; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Steve is Dustin’s dad; single dad Steve; good babysitter Eddie Munson; flirting; sexual tension; pining (oh God, so much pining)

Notes: Bonus scene to Someone who cares

Dusk is falling as Steve steps out of the elevator. His shoulders are sore from the office chairs, his eyes itching from staring at screens all day, and his head is feeling like someone is digging its way out through his eye socket with a pickaxe. He’s tired and weirdly on edge at the same time.

When he tries to unlock the door, he drops his keys.

“Fuck!” he snaps, then winces. It isn’t like himself, getting this angry at petty inconveniences like that. Then again, it isn’t really the keys he’s angry about. It’s his father and his stupid company and endless board meetings. Himself for being such a fucking pushover, for playing along in this farce.

Taking a deep breath, he wills himself to calm down. His head still wails in protest as he crouches to retrieve the keys.

The foyer is dark and silent, but a keg of light is filtering in from the living room.

Dustin is on the sofa in his pajamas, hands fiddling with something in his lap - Eddie’s guitar. When he hears him approach, he looks up, mouth tugging into an unamused scowl that Steve knows looks a lot like his own.

“Hey, Dad. You’re late.”

“I know,” he grouses, collapsing on the opposite end of the sofa. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Dustin pouts. “I wanted to stay up. Haven’t seen you all day.”

Steve, who was just drawing a breath to argue, snaps his mouth shut. Because the kid's right. He left before Dustin was awake and he’s only returned now, way past his bedtime.

What kind of dad is he?

The sound of something going twang startles him from his stupor.

“Ow,” Dustin yelps. “Shit!”

“Language,” Steve says, at the same time that another voice floats over from the kitchen.

“Jesus, I step out for five minutes and this is what you do?”

Eddie spares Steve a lazy wave, sliding into the spot next to Dustin to assess the damage. Like it's perfectly natural. Like they belong together. His son. The man he's in love with.

“You'll be fine,” Eddie mutters, voice fond. “No real damage done.”

Dustin scoffs, cradling his finger. “Still hurts.”

“I meant the guitar, dipshit.”

Dustin gapes at him. “You're such an ass. I'm injured here!”

“Aw,” Eddie coos, making grabby hands at the finger. “Should I kiss it better?”

Dustin balks.

“You're gross, I'm going to bed! Night, Dad!”

“Love you, too,” Eddie calls after him. “Remember to brush your teeth. Floss, too.”

He watches Dustin stomp off, dark eyes brimming with affection, and Steve’s heart flutters in his chest. Only to drop right out of his body when those eyes shift over to him.

“Rough day?”

“No,” Steve says automatically. Eddie raises an eyebrow, gaze sweeping over his rumpled form. Steve feels himself flush and rubs at his prickling neck. “Yeah, I guess. Just one of those- ow, fuck.”

His muscles scream at the touch and a jolt of pain zaps all the way from his shoulders to his skull. Eddie’s worried face shifts into a slow grin. He raises his hands, fingers wiggling invitingly.

Steve knows he shouldn’t. He’s promised himself to keep his distance, to not give in to his desires. He’s lucky to have Eddie here at all, and the last thing he wants to do is scare him away by doing something stupid. He’d never forgive himself.

But his self-control is a feeble thing, and it’s wearing thinner with each day.

“Okay,” he breathes, shifting his position and loosening his tie.

There’s a hum from behind him, and a shuffling sound, and then the warmth of another body blankets him from behind and deft fingers find the knots in his shoulders. It’s heaven and hell all at once, the sting of his muscles relaxing under Eddie’s touch, the feeling of having Eddie close. The knowledge that all he’d need to do is turn around and reach out and pull him in. Never let him go again.

“Sorry about the guitar,” he says, more to distract himself. “He needs to learn to be more careful with other peoples’ shiiit.”

“‘s okay,” Eddie murmurs, skillfully ignoring Steve’s pained hiss. “He was pretty grouchy about you being late, it was a welcome distraction.”

The familiar guilt settles heavy in Steve’s abdomen and he lets out an involuntary sigh. “Yeah. Sorry about that, too.”

“Don’t be.” Eddie shrugs, the motion pulling them a little bit closer together. “That kid loves the shit out of you. You’re a fantastic dad.”

Steve huffs weakly. “I’m a tired dad with one hell of a headache, that’s what I am.”

“Hm,” Eddie hums, and leans in. His breath is a warm tickle against the shell of Steve’s ear, lips almost touching skin, but not quite. “Y’know, that offer applies to you, too. I can always kiss it better.”

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Eddie!” Dustin hollers from the bathroom. “Where’s the stupid floss? I can’t find anything with your stuff in here!”

Steve has shot up from the sofa and is halfway across the room before he even processes it.

“I got it,” he blurts. “You stay put, you’ve done enough.”

“Fine,” Eddie quips, and Steve imagines there’s an ever-so-slight undercurrent of disappointment in his voice. “But after, you’re coming back and we’re putting on that stupid show you like. You need to relax, Stevie.”

There's a whole lot of things he needs to do, Steve thinks. Get a hold of himself. Tell his dad to fuck off. Tackle Eddie into the sofa and kiss him senseless, or at least talk about this thing that's crackling in the air between them like electricity.

Some day, he might.

But not today.

Today, he'll lie on the sofa and watch tv with Eddie’s feet in his lap and be thankful to have this mesmerizing man in his life - warm and close and so, so tempting, but not his.

For today, this'll have to be enough.

More celebration ficlets

[infiniteeight8]

stephen's birthday triple drabble

I believe that today (November 18) is the generally agreed upon birthday for Stephen Strange, so here is a ficlet on the subject. 😀

-

Stephen had been debating this for almost three days, the entire time Tony had been away on business, but the moment he laid eyes on his partner the decision crystallized. The words tumbled out as soon as they were done kissing hello: “Do you have much on your schedule for Monday?”

Tony eyes lit up, but his answer was studiously casual. “Nope. Nothing on the calendar at all.”

Stephen leaned back from the embrace, arms still looped around Tony’s waist, and raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Stephen smiled. Tony never had nothing planned; there were too many demands on his time. He must have arranged it that way, which meant he knew what Monday was. He must have been waiting to follow Stephen’s lead. Either that or he was planning an extravagant surprise. “How convenient,” Stephen said. “Monday is my birthday. I was hoping we could spend it together.”

“I’d love to,” Tony said. He hesitated. “I wasn’t sure if you celebrated.”

No extravagant surprise, then. Stephen was relieved. “It’s been years,” he admitted. “The idea of being celebrated for existing instead of for my achievements used to piss me off.” Tony’s grip on him tightened a little. Existing had started to seem like something worth a lot more recognition, lately. For both of them. Stephen leaned in and gave him a slow, reassuring kiss. He rested their foreheads together in the aftermath. “I want to spend a whole day just enjoying being with you.”

“Does that mean I’m your present?” Tony teased. 

“Depends. Do I get to unwrap you?”

“As many times as you want.”

Stephen smirked. “Do I get to choose the wrapping?”

Tony scoffed. “You don’t wrap your own gifts! But I guarantee you’ll like it.”

“I look forward to it,” Stephen said, pulling Tony in again.