#want to write a fluffy fic!

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you."

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him.

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about eachother, you'd both say about eachother. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree.

"Please do."

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation.

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up.

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far.

"Beloved, lift your arms."

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned.

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes."

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it.

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you."

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide."

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time

Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops infront and,

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?"

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we."

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him.

"Beloved, lay down."

When hes satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times.

Once you've layed down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he beins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind.

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reaclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening amd he feels like he too can finally relax.

#hsr x reader #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #i needed fluffy hypnosis so i wrote it myself yay #i headcanon him as so.eone who would excessively use pet names because he finds them cute #and a sense of ownership but shush #but hes really just a tired dude whose life is spiralling out of control and i just want to hug him and stroke his wings #maybe reverse comfort for him next #i have a Neuvillette amd a clive rosfield fic in the works #i want to write for Aventurine but im a bit scared #also ratio #i love him more than i did when he was introduced thanks 2.1 #anyway excited for patch 2.2 Sunday. wanna see him go even crazier but also see him nice and relaxed you know? #the duality of man #this isnt my best work ever but im happy ish with it and just want to get it out. #if you do have constructive criticism thats fine please and thank you

[rikkivoid]

winter kiss

#bakudeku #LAST NIGHT i had a dream that bkdk went on a first date and it was so cute #it made me wanna write a fic BUT IDK HOW JFHDJHF #SO I WILL JUST TALK ABOUT IT HERE #(also i rlly wanted to draw deku in fluffy warm clothes) #ANYWAY the concept of deku asking bkg on a date and them both just indulging in a moment of normalcy that's just.. simple and tender.. #MAKES ME RLLY EMOTIONAL #bc they never really get the chance to just be normal teenagers #and the world they live in has become so dangerous and so chaotic #SO BOTH OF THEM GO ON THIS DATE and they have a nice time #but it's bittersweet too because they know they might not get another moment like this #bc they never know what tomorrow will bring #SO IT'S A HAPPY MOMENT but one that is fleeting #like snow :) #ANYWAY if u read all of that thank u JFHJFHF #rikkivoid #mystuff

[spotlightstudios]

Hehehe~

Just uhh, took a lil bit to do sum brainrot doodles for @naffeclipse 's rabbit y/n fox s/m au! (I don't think I captured it quite right, but I really wanted to doodle a silly Sun fox then went from there♡)

#light's spot #my art #sketch #I liked the idea of them maintaining their “mask” faces somewhat #and I think they'd just... take them off.. or smth? #idk the logic #fluffy sun was just what I wanted to draw #and of course I adored the mini-fic so uhhhh #totally hasn't been spinning around in my head since I read it hehe #naff's writing knocks me out every single time istg

[roomy-ghosted]

My feelings towards ao3 this morning.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #like-i get it. but- #please. please for the love of god. just fluff or non-sexual fics. #for five seconds. #please. #I can only handle so much corn. especially when it's almost all geared just towards women. #this is all /lh i dont actually care all that much- but there comes a point where theres too much and all a man wants to do #is hold another man close. or go on perfume dates or pottery lessons with another man. #small things to help healing or gentle things or silly playful things. #hell- even taking care of all the spawn with Astarion in the bad ending- #why are all the bad ending fics ive seen corn btw? I've seen like- zero non-corn ones. #i get it. I get the vibe. but like- also. consider. like- maybe I wanna read angst with. with no corn?? please? #I've got 4 unposted fluffy fics im working on. One being hurt-comfort with some extra hurt #which i had to stop writing for a bit today because it was hurting a bit TOO much. #but yea. a little less corn for Astarion? for those who aren't horndogs? please? or just don't wanna fuck him because they #dont wanna hurt him more- (im not at the point in game where he's comfy with sex again yet-) #BESIDES GALE IN THE WAVEMOTHER ROBES IS RIGHT THERE PEOPLE- #LIKE COME ON. IF YOU'RE GONNA SEXUALISE A MAN HE'S RIGHT THERE WITH HIS PUPPY DOG EYES AN HAIRY CHEST. #There needs to be more sexualisation of Gale. NO I don't take no for an answer (Astarion is still my favourite though-)

[livingincolorsagain]

It was an unusually cold evening, even for mid December. It didn’t really snow in Delacroix, no matter how low the temperature dropped, but the cold was still biting, the wind blowing loud and nearly freezing, carrying dead brown leaves in a whirl outside the window.

Bucky sat at the kitchen table, eyes going from the window to the door to the pots on the stove, watching as the steam grew thinner and thinner, then disappeared.

His patience was growing thinner, too.

He wasn’t mad, not really. He knew stuff happened all the time, airports were crazy this time of the year, and the roads were almost constantly busy, people rushing back and forth for the holidays.

He knew, deep down, that the tight feeling in his chest wasn’t anger, but an everlasting worry. It was the same worry that sat there every time Sam was away, growing stronger and stronger until Bucky saw and held him again.

Another hour went by before Bucky heard the familiar sound of their truck pulling up in the driveway.

The minutes dragged by until the front door opened, and there he was, wind blown and exhausted and probably smelling like stale airplane air. He was the best thing Bucky had ever laid his eyes on; arms full with a big bouquet of flowers held awkwardly under his armpit and the big, fancy scarf Bucky got him wrapped up around something, big yellow eyes and soft little meows peeking out of the expensive fabric.

Bucky blinked, eyes going from the bundle to the flowers to Sam’s warm brown eyes and bright smile.

“Hey, baby,” Sam said brightly. “So, you won’t believe what I found on the side of the road when I was driving home.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t the flowers, was it?”

Sam went on as if Bucky didn’t say a thing. “This poor guy. It’s really cold outside, he was shaking. And all the cars were just driving by! Look how small he is, I had to take him in, he could’ve died. You’re not allergic to cats, are you? Because I already ran to Target and bought litter and food. Oh, and I got you flowers, and those tree-shaped Reese’s you like. They’re still in the truck, though, he was throwing a fit so I had to bring him in.”

Bucky stared at him, something so warm and fuzzy buzzing in his chest.

“I’m not allergic,” he ended up saying, voice soft and unspeakably fond.

Sam beamed, unwrapping the bundle and letting the cat down on the floor.

“You’re late because of this?” Bucky asked, watching as the cat looked around the place cautiously and curiously.

“He’s stubborn,” Sam said, looking away from the cat to look at Bucky as he held up the bouquet. “Almost didn’t want my help.”

Bucky shook his head and opened his arms, and finally, finally Sam stepped into them, burying his face in Bucky’s neck and a cold hand under his sweater and over his undershirt, a little sigh escaping him as he leaned all of his weight on Bucky.

All the worry seeped out of Bucky’s skin, like it always did when Sam was back in his arms, whole and unharmed, and he pulled him closer, running his hands up and down his back to warm him up.

“I made soup,” he said, and smiled when Sam chuckled.

“I knew I married you for a reason,” Sam said, pulling back a little to press a kiss to Bucky’s lips, ruining it by laughing when the cat started meowing aggressively at them for being ignored for so long.

“Okay, you take care of that and heat up the soup,” Bucky said as he grabbed the flowers. “I’m gonna bring the rest of the stuff in.”

Sam leaned in for another kiss. “Love you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and bit back a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Love you, too.”

#there’s no plot here i just wanted to write something mindlessly fluffy #happy holidays <33 #sambucky #sambucky fic #sam wilson #bucky barnes #onlysambucky #a writes sambucky

[tklpilled]

here you are

(diluc, kaeya)

summary: repairing a broken relationship is not easy, but it's worth it.

a/n: this .. was supposed to be much shorter. but oh well. not a whole lot of tickling but pls enjoy nonetheless :] probably ooc but i'm too tired to fix it

[this is a tickle fic!! shippers dni]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Kaeya knows the things people say about them. Most of them were there when it happened, when Kaeya was left all alone and decided to drink his problems away. He knows they pity him. He's heard all the rumours.

"It has been a long time since he last called Diluc Ragnvindr 'brother'", they say, but the truth is quite the opposite.

It has been a long time since Diluc last called Kaeya Alberich "brother."

Their relationship is strained at best, but at the very least it's not as bad as it was. At least Diluc isn't avoiding him anymore. At least Diluc is there.

If one were to ask Kaeya what they were, he would answer by saying that they're siblings. If one were to ask Diluc, he'd say that it's complicated. That's the difference between the two.

But Kaeya is nothing but stubborn, and he has faith in the fact that Diluc, behind all the walls he's put up, has a rather soft heart. So he visits the Angel's Share when he knows Diluc is working, and he drinks and he talks and he drinks some more, and little by little he can tell that it's working. They've even managed to drop the formalities.

"Enough," Diluc says, sliding the glass back to his side of the counter. Kaeya whines like a little child, reaching after it. "You've had enough," Diluc repeats with a stern look.

"You underestimate me," Kaeya says with a crooked smile. "My tolerance for alcohol is high."

Diluc scoffs. "But my tolerance for you isn't. We're closing soon, anyway. You should be leaving."

Kaeya groans. "You're so cruel to me, making me walk all that way by myself in the dark. What if I'm kidnapped."

"They would get tired of you and release you soon enough," Diluc responds with a deadpan face. "Out."

This isn't the first time this has happened, where Kaeya has stayed late and Diluc ordered him to leave before closing. But Kaeya has obeyed every time, and the thought lingers now; if he refused to go, would Diluc just leave him?

His answer comes half an hour later, when Diluc is finished wiping down tables. He sighs as he looks at Kaeya, still slumped over the counter. Kaeya stares back, grinning, waiting.

Diluc looks away first. "Come on." He grabs Kaeya by the arm and begins to drag him towards the exit. Kaeya goes along with it. They make it to the city gates when he realises.

Anxiety creeps into the pit of his stomach. He hasn't been to the winery in ages.

"How kind of you to walk me home," he says, trying to distract himself. He doesn't linger on that last word.

Diluc doesn't answer. The walk is mostly silent, and the nervousness in Kaeya's chest only grows as they get closer. He wonders if it's changed. He wonders if he'll remember enough to notice if it has.

Adelinde greets them at the door, her eyes widening in surprise. "Master Kaeya!" she gasps, a mixture of shock and delight in her voice. "Is everything alright?"

She steps aside to let them in. "It's fine," Diluc assures her. Kaeya waves, making her smile. "He'll just be staying the night."

"Hey! You can't make these decisions for me!" Kaeya protests.

"You're perfectly capable of walking back, if you'd like," Diluc retorts, knowing damn well that Kaeya is too tired and too drunk to do anything even if he wanted to.

Kaeya shuts up.

His old room is still intact, but Adelinde insists that she hasn't cleaned it in a while, and it's too dusty for him to stay in.

So.

He ends up in Diluc's room.

"Why did you take me here?" Kaeya asks into the darkness, staring at the outline of the ceiling. It's a question he already knows the answer to.

Diluc is quiet for a long moment. "Did you not want me to?"

He doesn't reply.

"It's late. You were more intoxicated than usual," Diluc continues. "...I missed you."

Kaeya's heart nearly stops.

Surely he's dreaming. Surely this isn't real.

"Kaeya?"

"You missed me," he says, dumbfounded.

"Yes," Diluc says quietly.

There's a moment of silence before Kaeya laughs, rolling over to throw his arms around his brother. Diluc makes a strangled sort of sound, squirming. "I knew you had a soft spot for me!" he exclaims gleefully.

"G-get off!" Diluc demands, and though Kaeya can't see it, something tells him that he's blushing.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he teases. “I know you—oh?” The last bit is in response to the way Diluc suddenly jolts, his mouth clamping shut. “Still ticklish, are you?”

“Kaeya,” the man beside him warns, but it’s too late; Kaeya is already drumming his fingers over his skin, muscle memory from his childhood flooding back into his head. “K-Kahahaeya!”

“I forgot you were still capable of laughing,” Kaeya grins along with him. “Truly a miracle.”

Diluc kicks him lightly under the blankets, shoving at the knight’s hands without any real meaning behind it. Kaeya knows better than to say that he likes being tickled, but he’ll at least tolerate it if he trusts the person.

Which—

Oh.

Kaeya blinks tears out of his eye and focuses on Diluc.

He’s not being rough at all, just gentle in a way that he knows drives Diluc insane. “Y-yohou say I’m the mehehean one,” he giggles. “Yet hehehere you are, tohormenting mehe…” Archons, Kaeya forgot just how dramatic he is.

“Oh, hush.” Kaeya digs in a little harder, only for a second, enough to make Diluc yelp. “Torment?”

Diluc nods, his giggling sounding a little happier, more playful. “Betrahayed by my ohohown brohother,” he manages, and Kaeya is so distracted by their banter that he almost doesn’t notice that last word.

He never wants to wake up from this dream.

#this was supposed to be a little angstier #which is fine i jsut want to write hurt/comfort more lmaoo #my fics are all fluffy i need these bitches to be sad sometimes!!! #my fics #arty writes #genshin #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #ragbros #lee!diluc #ler!kaeya #tickle fic

[baronessblixen]

Prompt: 2. "Don't worry, I got you."

Fluff, rewrite of the last scene in "Existence": Mulder asks Scully what she's going to name the baby. (wc: 1,101)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 12: The Easiest Choice

Mulder unlocks the door to Scully’s apartment and steps inside. She gave him that key years ago, but he’s never felt comfortable using it. Today it’s a must. In case the baby is sleeping. Part of him can’t believe that there’s a baby now. A real, healthy baby boy. The greatest miracle he’s ever seen. Mulder pockets the key, making his way to Scully’s bedroom on tiptoes. He doesn’t want to make a single mistake. He knows he’ll make them in the days, weeks, and years to come. But today, he wants everything to be perfect.

He sees the Gunmen and the look in their eyes is one of pure wonder.

“Had to see him with your own eyes?” Mulder asks quietly, grinning from ear to ear.

“We’re still in awe,” Byers says. “The baby and you- you finding Scully in time.”

“I saw a light,” Mulder says with a shrug. “I followed it.”

“Of course you did,” Frohike says with a shake of his head, but his friend is still smiling. As much as he loves them, and enjoys their company, he wants them to leave Scully’s apartment. This is their moment.

“Let’s go, guys. Congrats,” Byers says with a small wink and Mulder can’t stop grinning. He waits until he hears the door close behind them. Only then does he dare to round the corner where soft light peeking through the open blinds greets him. His eyes find Scully sitting up in bed, the baby in her arms. Has he ever felt love like this? It’s in his every bone. His whole body is jittery as he walks closer, unable to stay away any longer. He’s seen the baby in the cabin, and on the way to the hospital, but there wasn’t enough time. He wonders if there will ever be enough time. Will he ever tire of looking at this tiny human being?

Scully, trustful as always, hands him the baby and despite the boy's feather-light weight, Mulder’s convinced he’s holding the whole world. His and Scully’s world.

“Hey you,” he says softly, smiling down at the infant, who starts waving his little fists around, beginning to fuss.

“None of that.” Mulder starts swaying him softly from side to side and the baby visibly calms in his arms. “Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.” He hears a soft sniff and first thinks it’s the baby. When he lifts his eyes, and they meet Scully’s, he sees that it’s her.

“You okay? Come on, let’s sit down. You shouldn’t be standing.” She shuffles back to the bed and he follows her, aware of every step he takes because he's got the baby in his arms.

“It’s the hormones and- and everything. It’s a lot,” she says with a short laugh before she wipes away a few tears. “But I’m okay. Better than okay. I’m happy.” Their eyes meet and he feels high on emotions. High on love. He wants to ask her to marry him right now, to ask her to get out of the car, to move in together, and to have a dozen more babies. But he keeps every one of his thoughts to himself. There will be a time for that later. One step at a time.

He looks back down at the baby, who too seems happy now in Mulder’s arms. In his father’s arms. He’s a father now. A dad. One day, this boy will run up to him and call him that. His heart soars, just thinking about it.

“Do you know what you’re gonna call him?” Mulder asks, tearing his eyes away from the baby.

“William,” Scully says without hesitation, looking at him. “I want him to be named after his father who I know doesn’t want his son to be another Fox. So it’s William.” Mulder just stares at her, scared to blink. In case all of this is just a dream and he’s going to wake up any second now. His eyes fill with tears; a mirror of Scully’s.

“That couldn’t have been an easy decision,” Mulder says, not knowing what else to say.

“It was the easiest decision I ever made.”

“Thank you,” he mouths at her before he returns his gaze back to the baby – his son. “Welcome to the world, William Scully. Your uncle is going to love this.” Both he and Scully laugh softly. William starts fussing again and after having read most of the literature, Mulder is pretty sure he knows what this means. “I think he’s hungry,” he says and Scully nods, getting ready to nurse. Mulder holds on to William until she’s ready, holding out her arms. He stands there awkwardly, unsure where to go – or look.

“Sit with us,” Scully says, her voice gentle. William is rooting around and Scully helps him find his target. He latches on and starts suckling noisily, making Mulder chuckle.

“He’s the cutest baby I’ve ever seen,” he marvels.

“How many babies have you seen?”

“Are you saying there are babies out there cuter than ours?”

“No,” Scully says, turning her head to Mulder. “He’s the most beautiful baby.” Now that he’s close, he sees exhaustion in her face. He leans forward and kisses her nose. She sighs, making him feel brave, so he presses another kiss to her mouth, staying there a moment longer. Soon enough, it’s going to get crazy. Everyday life will tighten its grip on them. William will keep them up at night. They’ll worry and drive each other insane. But Mulder can’t wait to start this new adventure. With her by his side.

“He has your coloring,” he says, his finger carefully touching the soft patch of hair. “And your eyes.”

“All babies have blue eyes, Mulder,” Scully says and yawns. “I think he’ll have your eyes.”

“Better my eyes than my nose.”

“I happen to love your nose. He has your mouth too.”

“He does?”

“Hmmm.”

“Hey, how about I give our son a tour of the apartment while you take a nap? You’re supposed to sleep when the baby sleeps.”

“You really read the books?” she asks him, stifling another yawn.

“Of course, I read the books.” He read the books long before she was even pregnant. But she doesn’t need to know that yet.

“Just five minutes,” she says, her eyes falling close as soon as she hands him William.

“Take all the time you need,” Mulder whispers, kissing her warm cheek. “I’m going to spend some time with our son.”

Our son. Two words he never thought he’d say. Two words that mean the whole world.

#fictober23 #fluffy fluff-fluff #i know this has been written #pretty sure I have written it before too #but i wanted to write it again #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

[breastmaster64]

tfw trying to find slimeriana fics but theyre either just background characters, angst, or nsfw

#stfulee.txt #slimeriana #ive been rereading fics that i only read a week ago. thats how desperate i am #i just want hurt/comfort fluffy fics that actually has substance pls #do i start writing fics again. oh god am i gonna start writing fics again. eeuuuughhh

[no-see-um-incorrect]

could you maybe write a mini fic about Charlie and Casper having a cuddly night in

(no problem boo I got you❤️)

I am buzzing with excitement over the fact that Charlie was just confirmed as a chronic a little spoon so I hope you enjoy 

It was a long day. A long day of short tips and short tempers. Charlie was used to dealing with rude ass customers and people who take basic human decency as a suggestion. But today it was just getting to him. and he needed something to help it. or more correctly someones.

“Casper I’m home!” he sets his backpack down, takes off his shoes and hangs up his puffer jacket and hears scampering and footsteps coming down the stairs followed by a familiar chattering noise. “hey there little buddy” the little masked ball of fluff snuggles his face against Charlie’s pant leg “I told you daddy was coming home” Casper walks up to Charlie and wraps their arms around his neck and pulls him into a kiss. Charlie polled them closer into a tight hug.

“you good baby?”

“yeah…I just really missed you today” Casper gave him a kiss on the jaw and a good squeeze “well you’re home now. I already got your towel and PJs ready so all you need to do is get in the shower and I’ll order food. Sound good?” He nods and heads to the shower

After he’s done in the shower he gets changed into the baggy pajama pants, Casper had cleaned for him. Casper had washed his bedtime Sweet Pete’s shirt but Charlie’s brain wasn’t cooperating with the fact that he had fabric on his chest and arms so he went shirtless. He walked out of the master bath into the bedroom and sees Casper just getting done putting on their own jammies 

“ooOoOoO titties out? Hell yeah!” “yeah for some reason a shirt just didn’t feel right” Casper wraps their arms around Charlie’s waist and kisses his neck “there little busy tonight so the foods going to be at least a half hour-45 minutes. Hope that’s OK” “that’s fine Cas. I can wait….do you wanna go lay on the couch till they get here?” Casper nods and they make their way to the living room. Casper plopped down on the couch back first, and made grabby hands towards their standing boyfriend. Charlie rolls his eyes and crawls on top of Casper laying his head on their chest.

Casper starts running their fingers through Charlie’s hair. They wrapped their legs around him and kissed the top of his head. All is content.

That is until they hear a little chattering before Charlie feels a soft fluffy mass on the dip of his back.

“is that the little guy?” His speech muffled by Caspers chest. Casper let out a mischievous giggle, which is the only answer he needed. “want me to move him?” Charlie shook his head before nuzzling his face deeper into Caspers chest. “if he wants to cuddle he can cuddle. but I ain’t moving for shit” Casper kissed the top of his head and lightly traced their fingernails down his neck and shoulders up and down. Charlie tightened his arms around their torso. and although the feeling was muffled, they could feel him kissing their chest. 

“I love you Charlie” he lifts his head up and gives them a kiss “love you too Cas…I needed this Today” “well it’s here anytime you want it baby you just say the word” they give him a soft kiss on the forehead, and he lays his head back down on Caspers chest, this time snuggling into the crook of their neck 

The end

I could’ve made this with a lot more angst than there had to be. Hope you enjoy. 

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice charlie #writing #no see um kisses💋💋💋 #no see um writing #no see um concept #yuurivoice fic #yuurivoice casper #I don’t know if this is exactly what you wanted. I kind of just took the prompt and ran with it. #I hope that’s OK #fluffy #sickeningly sweet #Super fluffy #fluff and only fluff

[thegengarprincess]

“Dobro jutro,ljubi.” “Dobro jutro,sonček.”

————————————————————————————————

Gene: Pure tooth-rotting *FLUFF*

Summery: Just a glimpse of what a normal lazy morning looks like 4 the husbands ever,except it’s their half-year anniversary N after some reminiscing,Jan decides 2 ask his now boyfriend of half a year if he still remembers the morning after they became official,and boy does Nace remember~

Disclaimer: *All* of this is completely fictional and im not associating this with the real people whatsoever,I just like using these silly lil pretty Balkan men as my Barbie dolls,the moment either of them say their uncomfortable with fanfic im deleting the whole thing,k.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*🐈‍⬛🐕*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* This was it.By now it had been almost a whole year since Martin brought *him* to meet the boys,the man who would replace one of his best friends all so they could keep making music.Jan knew why he had to leave yet it still stung to say goodbye when Martin had been through basically *everything* with the band till now.But what Jan didn’t know back then,no matter how much he believed logic would *always* triumph over love,was that “the new Martin” would end up proving only *sometimes* logic can triumph over love,*especially* when it comes to his now boyfriend and bassist,*Nace Jordan.* Which is how he found himself here,snuggled up in Nace’s bed with an arm wrapped securely yet ever so gently around his slightly smaller frame,Ollie curled up near his legs and snoring just as loudly as a *certain* brunette who had a tendency of reminding him of the small creature sometimes.He slowly awoke to the sound of a familiar yawn which could only come from one person,the one who had been sleeping beside and stayed with him through every rough night for *months* now,and hopefully forever when he can finally afford to go ring shopping,only the best for *his* Nacko afterall and nothing less. Nace tossed onto his side so he could see that perpetually half asleep face he’d come to adore so *so* much,when said face asked him a question along the lines of: “Do you still remember the morning after we became..*this*?” Jan said to him,voice still raspy from sleep ,using his finger to point at himself than Nace. “You mean the morning after we fucked eachother’s brains out in some dingy club bathroom while the rest of the boys were shitfaced drunk N doing god knows what then you told me the first time we saw eachother you forget how to *breath*.” he chuckled which also elected a giggle out of Jan,a sound he would *love* to keep in a jar and listen to on repeat when he has a off day. “Forgetting how 2 breath wasn’t the first thing I did when we met,you know.” “Then what was?” “How to think after I saw ur tattoo sleeve up close for the first time during one of our first gigs together,you had *no* idea what that did to me back then.” slowly tracing along the ink that adorned his boyfriends arm,all away to his shoulder as he planted a kiss on one of the last ink covered patches on the others skin. “Buttt I do now,alot actually.” “How so?” Nace pulled him closer and whispered the answer into his ear,breath ghosting slightly over his lobe,making a small smile tug at his lips. “Cause of all the bite marks and hickeys I always find scattered on them the next morning~” it was Jan’s turn to laugh now when Nace started to place a trail of kisses down his ear.watching the tips go a dark shade of red which always looked good when he was the one wearing it. “Not like you can really blame me tho,tattoos are hot as fuck *especially* when they belong to my extremely sexy and beautiful boyfriend!” he cupped the boyfriends in questions face in his hands and just *admired* him till Nace spoke again. “And who’s that?” Nace questioned as if he didn’t know who he belonged to. “You.” were the only words that came out of Jan’s mouth before he kissed him,slow but it was one of the sweetest kisses he’d ever given,that’s only natural when ur man’s a literal *angel* with the softest lips known to man afterall. Tho it stared off as a innocent “good morning /wake up kiss” which *may* have led to a full on makeout session,both men stayed like that for awhile,only breaking the kiss so they could get some air in their lungs,gently pressing their foreheads together and staring into the others eyes for what could have been an eternity,not like either of them would mind of course. “Dubro jutro,ljubi.” “Dubro jutro,sonček.” And if Jan and Nace from half a year ago knew this is what that faithful day where Martin brought him into the studio to the boys would lead to,maybe getting a new bassist wasn’t the worst idea in the world afterall~ ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*💜❤️*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(BIG BIG TY 2 ONE OF MY FAVE MOOTS @da-proti-toku-grem 4 ANSWERING MY ASK EARLIER N GETTING MY MOTIVATION 2 WRITE BACK INTO GEAR N HELPING WITH LAST MIN NERVES B4 POSTING!! 🥹🫶🥹🫶🥹🫶🥹🫶🥹🫶 ur truly such.a.f4n.*SWEETHEART* N I hope one day I can be just as good of a writer as U are! I fr always start kicking my feet N twirling my hair when I see U in my inbox,seeing the lil notification with ur user *ALWAYS* makes my day better + U were one of the first blogs i started following N was a huge idol of mine back when I was a lurker!! X33 luv ya Maca ,4 aslong as we have the boys and 4ever <3333333333)

#first time writing a fic N how the *F4* do U guys do this 😭😭 #just wanted 2 write smh fluffy 4 the husbands cuz they deserve 2 live a happy life were everything’s perfect N nothing hurts :3 #also cuz im *STARVING* 4 Jance flavoured fluff N if I have 2 write it myself then so be it! ☺️☺️ #big juicy and Jan je bog #joker out #nace jordan #jan peteh #jance #fanfic #I lobe them sm it’s not even *fair* anymore :’33

[123pixieaod]

Tried to write a fun little fic about why Daniel unfollowed on Instagram Zak, Michael, Fernando, and Nicki, the most random quartet possible, only to end up with this lol

Daniel finally answers a call at just gone 4.30am, Max's time. It's 5.30am, Daniel's time, which admittedly is only marginally better, but maybe the hospital he's in has some crazy Get-Up-And-Seize-The-Day sort of ethos. Although from what Christian has told him, Daniel might not be seizing anything, metaphorically or otherwise, for some time.

"Daniel," Max says as soon as he hears the line clicking through. "How are you? How do you feel? Is your wrist alright? Do the doctors and nurses take care of you, do they speak English, or did Red Bull send a Spanish translator and I hope I have not woken you up and-"

He cuts himself off. There's a sort of stunned silence on the other side of the line. Sometimes, Max thinks his need for Daniel is a bottomless pit, something that has hollowed him out and leaves an ache echoing through him.

"Max?" Daniel says, incredulous. High, drugged up, gone on pain medication. "How did you get into my phone?!"

Max squeezes his eyes shut. His mouth is twisted, making some shape. A smile, a frown? He doesn't know, nobody can see him in his old childhood bedroom.

He wants to be with Daniel. He wants to brush a hand through his curls and run his fingertips along the lines of his faded tattoos like how a child would first begin to trace letters and numbers.

I miss you, he wants to say

I want you

I need you

"I'm not in your phone," he says instead, tone light and soft. "I called you. I am in the Netherlands."

"Oh," Daniel says, as if the fact Max had not been magically transformed into his phone is mildly disappointing. "What are you doing there?"

"We had a race, remember?" Max says. He's stretched out on his old bed. His feet dangle just slightly off the edge, and each year, he's promised a new one, bigger and larger and finally a grown-up bed. But it never materialises and Max has stopped bringing it up now.

The room is unchanged. Around him, the faces of former racing legends watch him, tapped to his wall. Above, stars look down, stuck to his ceiling in haphazard patterns. The day his father got to play God and created universes and cosmos splayed above his head.

"Of course," Daniel huffs good naturedly. "You won, Maxy."

"I know," Max replies softly.

"It was your ninth consecutive win," Daniel continues, his tone strong and proud, as if it's Daniel who has achieved it. Maybe he's so high on meds he thinks it is, that him and Max are some sort of Jeckyl and Hyde being, two sides of the same life. Max doesn't know. A headache is building behind his eyes. He hasn't really slept since Friday, three days previous.

"You're now equalling Sebastian Vettle. If you win the next race, you'll beat the record." Daniel continues before pausing, as if realisation is only just dawning. "I don't think I'll be there."

"No," Max murmurs. "I don't think you will be either."

"My wrist is really fucked," Daniel goes back to his jubilant tone, like a child with the best show and tell in school. "I have a metal plate in it, isn't that neat?"

He laughs. Max closes his eyes, just listening to the sound. "Imagine if it goes off at every airport security, Maxy? How annoying with that be?" He laughs again, the prospect sounding delightful to him in that very moment.

Max hums softly, and then shifts on the bed, turning away from the stars his father hung up for him. Instead, he moves to his side, facing a giant poster of Micheal Schumacher celebrating one of his championships. At the bottom, Max, to great things! MS. He was six. It was one of the best Christmas presents his dad had ever gotten him.

"How do you feel?" He asks. Daniel is humming a tune under his breath, the theme song to some gameshome Max barely recognises. He stops at Max's question.

"Good," he says happily. "I have gained deep clarity."

That shocks a laugh out of Max, as only Daniel, even doped, drugged Daniel, can do. The longing feels physical, the hole never ending in his chest. He closes his eyes, blocking out the stars and racing legends whose shine has faded and whose records he's now beating.

In another life, he thinks, he would be there. He'd be the first face Daniel would see, the first hand he'd get to hold, the first for nearly everything, just like Daniel had been for Max.

But instead they're a time zone apart and Daniel is alone in a country where he can't even speak the language and Max is in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by his family who are fast sleep and utterly oblivious to the fact he's gay, let alone in a relationship with Daniel Ricciardo.

"Clarity," Max forces his mind back on track. "How so?"

"Oh you know," Daniel says with ease. "Cleared my mental space."

Max huffs another laugh. His chest aches, empty. He wonders does Daniel know how hollowed out he is without him.

"Go on."

"Well, I deleted a shit ton of apps. That wellness app you made me download last year? Sorry Maxy, but that went," Daniel makes a popping noise. "And the fertility tracking app Scotty downloaded at his bachelor's party."

"Presumably he just got his and your phones mixed up, right?"

"No Maxy, it was a prank because I -" Daniel breaks away, finally understanding, laughing as if Max has made the funniest joke possible.

"Okay so you cleared up some space on your phone," Max prompts him.

"Oh yes, and then deleted twitter and went to WhatsApp and left about a billion groups and then I went to Instagram, and went through who I followed, and unfollowed tons of people."

"Oh? Did I make the cut?"

Daniel tutts as if Max is being purposefully dense.

"Naturally Maxy. In fact, I sort of debated unfollowing everyone except you, but then figured you might've been pissed at me."

Max can't tell if Daniel is joking or not. He doesn't know which he wants it to be.

"So firstly I unfollowed a bunch of people I had met years ago at business deals and stuff, and then Craig and Rebecca from school because I never really liked them anyway and they definitely never liked me and then Zak because the vibes were Not It and then my high-school teacher who I definitely only ended up following on a dare and -"

"Zak," Max says, picking out the familiar name in the sea of chatter. "As in Zak Brown?"

Daniel hums. "Yeah, the vibes were Not It. And then I also unfollowed Fernando -"

"Alonso?" Max splutters out another laugh of disbelief. "What on earth did he do to you?"

"I don't like how he acts around you."

"Me?!" Max voice goes up an octave. "What? But he's always nice to me Daniel. I like him."

"I know Max, that's the point," Daniel says, and before Max can even begin to comprehend what he means, he's continuing. "And then also Richard, from McLaren because I swear he used to tell Zak everything I did and then Michael, and then Sam, this old hookup, and -"

"Michael," Max cuts in, sure he's mistaken, "as in ..."

"Yeah," Daniel says after a beat. "That Michael."

Max swallows. Michael has been a constant strain on their relationship, the fly in the otherwise smooth ointment. Max had told Daniel he wasn't good for him, he wasn't looking after him. That friendship and business rarely mixed, and that in this case, it had congealed into something of neither, a strange, interdependent relationship which drained them both.

Daniel had said Max hadn't understood it, hadn't gotten how much Michael helped him, how good it was to have a physico who was also his mate. Max replied by saying that as far as he was concerned, Michael was proving himself to be neither.

Jealousy. That was what Daniel had pinned to him, had washed all rationality away with. Max was jealous.

He remembers feeling like he had been slapped. Jealousy. Fucking jealousy.

He never mentioned Michael again.

"But," Max begins slowly, mind whirling. "You had lunch with him last week." Even though you never mentioned it, even though I had to find out through fans' blurry photos.

"Yeah," Daniel draws the syllable out. "But... the vibes were not immaculate."

"Right," Max says, hating how terse the single word sounds. And the vibes were fine when he encouraged you to do that fucked up intermittent fasting? When he recommended yoga and gym sessions instead of therapy?

"And then I unfollowed Nicky Latifi, because unfortunately, he's going to do a masters in London, and following him online will simply remind me of all the missed possibilities I had in the academic world," he goes on.

"Daniel," Max says, trying to force his mind to move on, Daniel has unfollowed Michael Daniel has unfollowed Michael. "You dropped out of school when you were seventeen. In the most loving of ways, I would hardly call you an up and coming scholar."

"Details, Maxy," he says, but then goes quiet, and so does Max. He opens his eyes. His room is painted in shadows, sunrise still distant. The trophies he won as a child are carefully displayed in neat rows, their plaques opaque with dust, now thick and heavy. He remembers winning them, young and already starving for more, remembers the weight of plastic, the way sugary pop soda dried sticky on his skin.

"I think you were right," Daniel says softly. Max nods, face pressed against his pillow.

"I mean about him. Michael."

"I know who you meant," Max murmurs.

"Okay good, because you're definitely not write about my academic prowess, I was one hundred percent on track to be this world's Stephen Hawkens."

Max laughs softly. "It's Hawking not Hawken."

"Once again Maxy, details."

There's another exhale of quiet between them, and outside Max hears the world beginning to rise. Birds waking, their whistles winding their way through the crack in his window.

"I miss you," he says softly, as if the words are barely permitted to be spoken aloud.

"I love you too Maxy," Daniel replies with ease. Then - "you should come. I think it would be nice. If you were here too."

"I think so too," Max says. The longing grows. The trophies are dusty on his shelf, forgotten. His feet hang off his childhood bed. Birds begin to sing.

"So will you?" Daniel persists. Max squeezes his eyes shut.

"I don't know. I do not think you would be saying this if you weren't off your head on pain meds," he tries to joke. His chest aches. Hollowed out, always wanting more than he's allowed.

"Of course I would," Daniel says confidently, even though he ends it with a yawn. "I anyways want you around."

Max keeps his eyes still tightly shut. He tucks his knees up, bringing them to his chest. When he was very young and his parents were still together, he'd do this. Curl up on the bed with his eyes squeezed closed. The door shut, their shouts muffled; as distant as the bird song is to him now.

"Maxy?"

His sister said the same. Maxy? Climbing on his bed, tugging at his arms. What are they talking about? Nothing, nothing, it doesn't matter.

"How's your wrist?" Max asks. He opens his eyes - the room has grown lighter, dawn finally creeping in.

"Good," Daniel says, already forgotten what he said. Like a butterfly, moving onto the next topic, nothing permanent. "Sore. I'm on some strong shit though." He laughs. It sounds so near.

Max imagines it. He could do it. Book the ticket to Spain. It wouldn't even be that bad. People know him and Daniel are mates, and mates visit each other in hospital. And that's if it even comes out, which it might not. Nobody has to know.

"I love you," he blurts out, cheeks warm. Daniel laughs again, soft and delighted.

"Good, because my right hand is currently out of action, so I might need help over the next few weeks with a few particular things."

Max laughs, cheeks warm. He's not being quiet any more. His family can probably hear him through the walls, just like he could hear his parents all those years ago.

He can imagine his sister asking him, echoing their childhood as she questions him on words she's grasped through walls. This time, though, he thinks he will tell her the truth.

"I've heard Spain is very beautiful at the end of August," he says.

Daniel hums, "I've heard something similar, Maxy."

Outside, birds sing. The dawn continues on, filling the emptiness of night.

#shhhh nobody mention the fact the time zones are back to front please #i only realised while editing and I'm too tired to try and fix it #big thanks to Isabel and Lily for talking all about Maxiel longing with me! #lotsa longing here #believe it or not this was meant to be a fun fluffy piece #but apparently I am incapable of not writing angst #parallels! #max unable to differentiate longing for a stable upbringing with longing for Daniel #and so the merging of childhood trauma is occurring with the loving of Daniel #indistinguishable and Max can't figure out which longing is good and which is bad #because as a child he wasn't allowed to want more from his parents #and not Daniel had so much more to give him #but Max had to accept the fact he's allowed to want it before he can have it #jealous dan lol #my fic #my writing

[cerise-angel]

Steve just knows when something is wrong. The morning he calls you, and he hears your tired voice, so small and without the light it usually has, he comes straight to your place. You open the door, with bags under your eyes, messy hair and his shirt. He knows you had a tough night. Probably a fight with your dad, or a depressive episode where your awful thoughts won. He tries to make you smile in the drive back to his house. When you dont, his right hand reaches to yours. Warming you up. When you two arrive at his big house, Steve pratically drags you into his warm blue bed with him. His lips kiss your nose softly, then your forehead, then your temples, your cheeks, and your lips. He wraps his arms around you, comforting, and you start to cry softly, quietly on his chest. Steve kisses your tears, trying to hold back his own, since he can never deal with you crying. You cling into his shirt, and Steve allows you to wrap your legs and arms on his torso, almost merging into him. He caresses your hair, your shoulders and your back. He starts to sing softly to you, and then quietly to tell about him day. You finally smile at him, like a beaming light, and Steve melts. You both fall asleep tangled in each other. His smell keeping you warm, your breathing keeping him still. Steve loves you, and knows you, and you're glad he is the one to know you.

#fluffy steve #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington comfort #i want him #my dad destroyed me yesterday kkkkk #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #fluff #cherry writing #stevie-blurb

[the-last-dillpickle]

i've been thinking a lot about depictions of homophobia in fanfic and the way it has changed over time. in modern fanfic, the world portrayed is often idealized---everyone is always completely accepting and supportive and those who aren't are caricatured as frothing at the mouth villains. (this is somewhat less true of fandoms with historical settings or whose source material deals with the topic directly.) and there's a reason for it---Fanfic is often a comfort food. There's a reason fluff is often the number one tag in any fandom.

But I think there is also something lost when that idealized blanket is cast so widely. I spend most of my time with the Star Trek fandom, and there's a marked difference when you look to the fic of the 90s to most of the fic that comes out now. In 90s fic, it often (not always) seemed they couldn't imagine a world without homophobia. To them, it seemed intrinsic to the world, woven into any and every government and religion.

Modern fic has shifted to the complete opposite end of the spectrum. Even in darkfic, when there's rape and murder and horrible things, homophobia is somehow absent. And that's just... not the reality of our world. (In Trek in particular, scorn gets cast your way if you bring up the possibility that the 'utopian' Federation might not have completely conquered our modern prejudices, or if you imagine alien cultures as having some of them. Which is ironic, as our modern problems in disguise is exactly what Trek is about.)

This all isn't to say that people aren't allowed to have their comfort fics or that they cant imagine a kinder world. Only, that by ignoring homophobia and its consequences altogether (the experience of being in the closet, feelings of isolation and shame, persecution, the tension between blood family and chosen family) as well as the shades of grey that homophobia can present itself in, we are cutting ourselves off from exploring a significant aspect of the human experience.

#homophobia in fic appeals to me for the same reason darkfic often does #when everything is always so fluffy and sweet i feel gaslit to the world i see around me #people ARE cruel. i want us to ask: now how do we weather it? #goal this year: write a homophobic!federation fic

[maithefluffychicken]

NEXT CHAPTER

Whatever you want, birthday boy.

Steve is 33, Eddie is twenty something. Age gap Steddie fic I wrote for my birthday. Very explicit, semi public sex.

"Thirty three," Steve sighs, melancholic. "I can't believe it."

"Well, think about it this way," Dustin opens his mouth and Steve knows whatever he's going to say it's not going to comfort him at all. "If you were a hobbit, you'd be an adult at last!"

"How's that supposed to be a good thing?" Steve groans, looking at the kid (ok, not a kid anymore since he's now twenty, but still a kid in Steve's eyes). "You basically told me I'm old even in that fantasy world of yours!"

Robin, bless her, punches Dustin's shoulder as punishment, getting a satisfying grunt of pain from him.

"I told you that that bit was unnecessary, Henderson," Robin chastises him and before Dustin can open his nosy mouth, adds, "what Steve needs is to go out and have fun tonight, what do you say, Harrington? Party night?"

"We already have plans, remember?" Dustin mumbles between gritted teeth, opening his eyes comically and pointing at Steve with his head.

"It's ok, I know about the surprise party, kid, you can talk about it freely," Steve shrugs and Dustin blinks several times, flabbergasted and offended.

"How…"

"Baby Wheeler," Robin says as an explanation, and that is, in fact, enough to get Dusting to ramble for a whole hour about how he can't trust anybody.

The party with the kids is, well, pretty nice. Sure, they're the kids he used to babysit when they all were… actually kids, but Steve loves all of them more than he loves his own family.

Robin is there, being the funny, eccentric aunt, pulling silly pranks for all of them and dancing horribly, dragging the girls with her and making them laugh.

Dustin has chastised Mike for hours, making Steve laugh at his antics, but now, the curly haired boy is enraptured watching Erica Sinclair dancing with El and Max.

Meanwhile, Lucas is crumpling a disposable cup, frowning at Dustin and his lovesick, bright eyes. Oh well, that's going to be fun. Steve, with a fond smile on his lips, wonders how this all will end.

Mike is talking quietly to sweet Baby Byers, who is blushing and hiding his smile behind his cup. These two should talk sooner or later, too, even if privately Steve thinks Will could find someone better.

That's what Mike thought about him when Steve was dating Nancy, and he can understand it now.

Jonathan and Argyle are already stoned and laughing about god knows what, sprawled on the coach. Steve is grateful this is not his house, he'd hate to clean up all this mess the next morning.

"Well, well, birthday boy," Nancy greets him, pouring herself a drink. "A little bird has told me that you're feeling down about your birthday."

Steve grunts.

"My birthday is ok," Steve shrugs. "It's the number that makes me sad. I'm old."

Nancy huffaws. "We are the same age."

"You're younger and prettier," Steve pouts, making Nancy laugh.

"God, she's right, you're moping, you need to get laid," his ex-girlfriend sighs with a sad smile.

"I don't-"

"Yes! Shut up," Robin interrupts them, how she has heard them, Steve doesn't know. She wraps her lanky arm around Steve's neck. "Steve needs to go out and find a nice someone. If you know what I mean. I'm taking him out now that we're done here."

"You're not-"

"Shut up, Steve, this is not about you," Robin cuts him, putting her dainty index finger in his lips.

"It's my birthday and you're talking about me and my sex life."

"What sex life, Steve?" Nancy asks with a grin. Robin, of course, snorts inelegantly.

"Auch, that was unnecessary, Wheeler."

"No more talking, baby," Robin says and starts tugging at Steve's arm. "You have your tight jeans, your shirt is ok, and your hair is amazing as always. Let's go!"

"But I want another piece of cake!" Steve tries, and loses.

He wasn't expecting a cake at all, and it was very nice when El and Max appeared holding a three chocolates cake, candles lit atop of it and everything.

"You'll have more cake later, say bye to everyone," Robin orders him, not unkindly.

Steve obliges with a tired sigh.

"Bye, everyone."

-

The club is fucking crowded when they arrive. Robin announces to the security man at the door that it's his best friend's birthday, and to Steve's dismay, she starts telling everyone who's listening that it's actually Steve's twentieth five birthday.

Fuck. Steve wishes to have twenty five years again.

He was in better form at that age, still playing basketball regularly and enjoying swimming, back when his lungs were in top form.

Steve knows objectively that being thirty three doesn't make him old, holy fuck, he knows that.

But it's sad how his life turned out.

He dropped uni because his parents lost all their money in their poorly chosen investment and his shitty minimum wage salary job wasn't enough to pay his studies and rent.

His high school sweetheart, his Nancy, broke up with him after that. Sure, they're friends now, but it was, in Nancy's words, bullshit. All that happened between them was bullshit until they managed to be civilized in front of each other again.

Then…, well, shitty job after shitty job, trying hard for nothing. He ended up working at Hopper's mechanic workshop - man, that's a story to tell some day. He's grateful that Hopper didn't give up with him.

But then again, no love, not too much money. At least Steve kept his friends and his health.

"This year is going to be your lucky year, Steve!" Robin yells at him when they manage to reach the bar, digging elbows here and there to make themselves a place. "Thirty three is a master number, baby, this is your year!"

"If you say so…"

"But today you're twenty five again!" His best friend keeps yelling to make herself be heard over the music.

It's not the kind of club Steve would choose. It's not the club neither of them would choose to spend the night, now that Steve stops and looks around. Why Robin even knows this place unsettles him.

First, the music is all wrong. Rock and roll blasting through the massive speakers, the riff of an electric guitar thrilling Steve's eardrums.

Second, the place itself. Dark and grimy as usual, yes, but the walls are covered in posters of bands Steve doesn't even recognize. Well, most of them. He knows Led Zeppelin because of Hopper, and AC/DC, but that's all.

Third, the people around them: metalheads, all of them. Bare skin covered in black ink tattoos, tight black jeans, well worn band t-shirts and ripped black lace everywhere. Fuck, is that guy wearing eyeliner?

Steve perches on the bar to call to any of the bartender's attention and then he sees it: the blonde girl that is, possibly, the reason they're in this metalhead club.

He looks at Robin before even doing a once over to the girl. His best friend smiles sheepishly at him.

"Really, Robin?" Steve mouths, arching a brow.

Robin shrugs with her beatific smile still on her lips. "Sorry," she mouths back at him.

The blonde girl, wearing a black crop top and revealing some tattoos, is talking with another waiter, a guy. Tall, with long, curly hair. He’s wearing a long sleeve shirt with black sheer material that clings to his toned arms and chest.

"You don't even respect my birthday now," Steve yells at her. The loud music and the fact that he's smiling at her makes the whole accusation fall flat.

"I still want you to have fun and get laid, try something new!" Robin says, tugging at his sleeve, and ok, she's right, Steve can have fun tonight and enjoy himself.

-

“I’m gonna do it,” Eddie says, a wolfish smile tugging at his lips.

“No, no, no, I forbid it,” Chrissy puts herself between Eddie and his target.

“But, look at him!” Eddie pouts. They’re yelling at each other so they can hear what they’re saying, even if Eddie is sure Chrissy can read his mind by now. “Or, don’t know, look at the girl that is with him and let me go, whatever.”

“Exactly, Eddie,” Chrissy has that exasperated look when she speaks. “He’s with a girl, you don’t know if…”

“Excuse me, madam,” Eddie cuts her, “but my gay-radar never, ever, fails.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but…”

“Then what’s the problem?” Eddie asks, looking at the guy that has him enraptured over her shoulder.

“The problem is that we don’t serve free drinks just because, Eddie!”

“I’ll find an excuse, darling,” Eddie promises, and shoves her to get to his target.

The target is the cutest preppy guy he has ever seen in his whole life. A white t-shirt that stretches over his pecs, of course, and a white and red windbreaker that makes him look broader than he probably is, Eddie wants to discover it. He’s sure that the guy is also wearing tight jeans, he looks just like the type, a jock. Tall, pretty face, great hair, like a white, bright beacon in a sea of metalheads wearing all-black outfits: the guy seems lost here, at the Horned Demon, with his looks and his styled hair. Eddie wants to ruin him. He can’t stop thinking about the unnamed things he wants to do to him while he approaches him and the girl that is talking to him.

“Hello, handsome!” Eddie greets him with a wink when he reaches their spot, leaning across the sticky bar so the preppy guy can hear him. “What can I do for you?”

It’s so difficult to be sultry while Judas Priest is blasting at full volume, but Eddie fucking tries, wearing his most charming smile and looking at the guy with interest.

The guy doesn’t have the chance to speak, though. The girl who accompanies him - Eddie is 90% sure she’s not his girlfriend - jumps over him, wrapping an arm over the guy’s shoulder, and yells at Eddie.

“He likes cranberry vodka!” She exclaims happily. “Can you put a little umbrella or something on it? We’re celebrating!”

“Really? What are you two celebrating?” Eddie asks, elbow propped on the bar, eyes raking over the preppy guy, grinning at him openly.

“It’s his birthday!” She yells again. “He’s twenty five today!”

Eddie’s grin widens. There it is, the excuse he was looking for.

“You got it, handsome birthday boy who likes cranberry vodka,” Eddie winks again at him. He’s good with his eyes, he knows it, Chrissy has told him, and Gareth hates when he puppy-eyes him, so Eddie knows he can weaponize them easily. “What about you?”

“Oh no, it’s not my birthday, thanks!” The blonde girls answers, and fuck, Eddie has to laugh. He immediately likes her, even if he’d hate if she’s actually the guy’s girlfriend.

“Good to know!” Eddie snorts. “Want something to drink?”

“She’ll have jack and coke, thanks!” The guy answers now, and, ok, it’s weird that they order for each other, but still, Eddie’s hope is strong.

-

Steve is stunned, there’s no other word for it. The bartender is hot, and undeniably young. This close and even in the dim light, Steve can appreciate his toned arms and chest and abs. God bless his stupid sheer lycra shirt. His torso is spattered with tattoos that Steve can't recognize but it doesn't matter, suddenly, a flash of himself worshiping and lapping these tattoos floods his mind.

The bartender flashes a grin to Steve, who returns it back the best he can, and by the smug look on Robin's face, Steve knows that she knows.

"What?!" He asks loudly.

"Nothing!" Robin grins knowingly. It's going to be a long night.

Just a few minutes later, the hot bartender is back with Robin's jack and coke and his own cranberry vodka.

"There you are, birthday boy!" He announces with a pretty smile that makes Steve go hot all over. Maybe he should take off his jacket.

Steve looks at his drink, the glass decorated with a silly pink umbrella, and smiles, reaching for his wallet and opening over the bar to pay.

“This one it’s on the house, handsome!” The bartender yells at him, putting his hand over Steve’s, stopping him. Steve looks at him quizzically, the other guy shrugs, his smile still in those plush lips, showing his teeths. “Happy birthday!”

Robin elbows him in the ribs, shouting at him that she’s gonna pay her drink to the pretty blonde girl that is still at the other corner of the bar, and Steve starts panicking almost immediately.

He used to be suave, when flirting. He used to be able to stay calm and smooth in front of someone pretty. Maybe with age he lost his ability, or maybe it’s the lack of alcohol in his system, or the loud heavy metal music that is deafening him.

“T-thanks!” He stutters, feeling deeply stupid.

He wants to say something flirty to this guy, he wants to know his name. He’s having ideas, everything he’d be already doing if he were twenty five again and not thirty three. Oh, Steve used to have the best ideas, he had so much fun when he was younger.

Now it seems that a pretty boy with dark eyes looking at him it’s enough to render him speechless.

“My break is in fifteen minutes!” The guy tells him, leaning into the bar to get close to Steve. By instinct, Steve leans on too, his eyes fixed on this man’s lips. “If you want to have some fresh air!”

Oh well, not subtle, not in the least with the way the long haired bartender is looking at him, biting his lower lip, and fuck. Steve wasn’t subtle when he was younger, either.

“I’d love to!” Steve manages to shout in the guy’s ear, earning a wide grin from him. Dimples, for fuck’s sake, the man has dimples when he smiles like this, and Steve feels himself sweating already.

Sadly, the bartender vanishes from his side to attend the other customers, and Robin appears by his side just a moment later. When she tilts her head, Steve notices that Robin’s face is tainted with lipstick in the shape of a kiss.

“How?!” Steve asks her, amazed.

Robin shrugs, sips her drink. “Jealous?”

“Yes, obviously, since when are you good at flirting?” Steve demands to know, faking being offended. There was a time when Robin tripped all over herself the moment a pretty girl passed by her side. Those were the times, my friend.

“Since you taught me!” Robin yells at him, laughing. “Come on, King Steve, where’s your charm lately?”

-

“What do you mean you’re taking your break?” Chrissy asks him once they’re at the storage room.

“I mean that…”

“You already took your break, Eddie!” Chrissy reminds him, and he bites his lower lip, puts his best puppy eyes to her, pouts.

“But he’s interested in me, Chris!” Eddie sobs like a child. His best friend sighs. “Gareth and Jeff are here already, and Freak will be here in like, two hours, the club is not going to be unattended, it’s not so crowded tonight.”

Eddie knows he’s pushing his luck: first the free drink, now asking for a second break. His shift will be over when Freak arrives, as he said, in two hours. But he knows that a lot of things could change in two hours and he really is into this preppy birthday boy with droopy eyes and kissable lips and broad shoulders.

He simply wants to see if they’re compatible before asking him to wait for him so he can walk him home, and a second break it’s perfect for that. A little bit of flirting, maybe a kiss, see if this guy and the butterflies in his belly are something he wants to take home with him at the end of his shift.

“Come on, Chris, I’ve been in this dry spell for months,” Eddie pouts again. “Also, I saw you kissing that blonde girl.”

Chrissy’s eyes widen and she looks at him with murder rage, nostrils flaring, and Eddie knows he just won.

“It’s his friend, you know…” Eddie shrugs nonchalantly. “I can get her number for you, if you didn’t ask her for it, if you just…”

“Ok, ok, fine! Whatever!” Chrissy exclaims, wiggling her arms in the air. Eddie grins and fist pumps in victory, mouthing a yes between his teeth. “I want her number before you leave tonight.” Chrissy adds primly, leaving him alone at the storage room.

-

With his jacket draped on his arm, Steve tells Robin about the bartender, asks her if she thinks it’s a bad idea, but his best friend howls an awful sound at Steve’s words, making him shake his head, even if he’s smiling.

“Tell me you told him yes, Steve, or so help me…”

“I told him that I’d love to, yes, gosh!” Steve answers, but he’s now feeling a bit lighter, a bit… high. Cran vodka it’s not so strong to him, he’s sure this feeling is related to the hot, young bartender that wants his attention tonight.

“Good!” Robin exclaims and clinks her drink with Steve’s. “You’re both adults, go have some fun!”

“What about you?” Steve asks, suddenly worried about leaving Robin behind.

“I’ll be good, I texted Jonathan and Argyle, they’re already on their way!” She grins at Steve. “But I plan to take someone home later, too, honestly.”

“The blonde girl?” Steve asks her now, wiggling his brows to make Robin laugh.

“D-uh!” Robin looks for the blonde girl who is serving drinks at the bar. “She’s so pretty it hurts me, Steve, and she’s so nice!”

“She already kissed you, didn’t she?”

They banter like this for a while, laughing at themselves. It’s good, fuck, is good to be able to laugh at the little silly things while having a drink. They never stopped doing it, so Steve doesn’t know why all this melancholy is coming from.

Someone taps him on his shoulder and Steve turns to see him. This close they’re almost the same age, Steve finds himself looking at the biggest dark eyes he has ever seen.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the guy says with that blinding smile that is making Steve feel so weak tonight. “I just, my break just started…”

“You don’t interrupt anything!” Steve rushes to say, to Robin’s amusement.

“Yeah, it’s ok, I’m his lesbian soulmate, Robin!” She introduces herself even before Steve can say something else. Worst wingwoman ever.

“Robin! My friend Chrissy, at the bar, wants your number, maybe you could..,”

“Well, gentlemen, see you later, have fun!” Robin exclaims, stepping between them holding her drink over their heads and rushing towards the bar like something is chasing her. Steve shouts a loud good luck to you! at her back, just to find that the guy is looking at him intently.

Steve clears his throat, awkwardly.

“You wanted some fresh air?” He asks.

The bartender nods and without wasting a single second, he grabs Steve by his wrist and leads him through the crowded place to the barely hidden back door.

Steve’s heart is thumping in his chest, following this guy he doesn’t know at all until they get out of the club, the cold night breeze welcoming them in the alley. It’s dark, dimly illuminated by the streetlights of the adjacent street. Steve can still hear the faint drumming and bass of the music blasting inside.

“Ah, this is better," the cute bartender exhales, tossing his head back, letting Steve ogle at his long neck, dampened curls sticking to it. Steve swallows dry at the sight in front of him.

Steve can't believe this guy wants to spend his time with him.

"I never saw you here before," the bartender says, opening his eyes and looking at Steve. Flustered at being caught, Steve avoids his eyes. The cute guy is smiling, though.

His voice is deep, calm, and washes over Steve easily. Even with his eardrums still pumping with the ghost of the loud music, Steve falls a bit more now that he has heard his voice.

"Not really my scene," Steve admits. "Robin was the one who dragged me here."

The cute bartender's smile widens. "Then I guess I should thank her," he adds, closing the distance with Steve.

Oh fuck, shit, it's happening. Steve feels his blood boiling under his skin, just because of the proximity.

Steve didn't even ask for this guy's name. Maybe it's how the cute guy likes to do it, no names, not complications. What if Steve's heart hurts a little at that thought. He's the one actually lying to him, not saying his real age to him.

"Well, well, birthday boy," he says with his rumbling voice, stepping into Steve's space. Steve smiles at him, feeling butterflies in his tummy. "I have twenty minutes and I’m all yours.”

Fuck. Yes.

Steve smirks when the cutie wraps his arms around his neck and he feels bold enough to span his hands around the guy’s thin waist and pulls him closer, their bodies crashing together. This is Steve’s area of expertise. Maybe he has forgotten how to flirt, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t remember how to pull his moves.

The reason why he was called the King of Hawkins’ High.

It lites every nerve on his body when he cradles the guy’s pretty face on his hand, cupping his jaw and cheek softly, drinking the way he looks at Steve, dark eyes widening and breath hitching. Steve smiles and leans in slowly, just in case the bartender would want to take a step back, just in case he’s having second thoughts. But that’s not the case. They both find each other in the middle, lips brushing slowly.

Steve can make those twenty minutes pretty amazing for the guy that is now buzzing with nervous energy in his arms.

He feels high.

-

Eddie is used to one night stands and summer night flings. He’s a hot bartender with a strong sexual energy - he likes to tell himself that while he’s working at the club, when he’s at home reading with his glasses on and his sweatpants there’s zero sexual energy, but that’s another story.

The thing is, he flirts a lot, it’s part of the job, really. He has luck more often than not. He’s used to people lusting after him, and sometimes Eddie indulges - he indulges a lot. Sure, lately he’s been suffering this dry spell, but it was his choice. No one has picked his interest lately.

Tattooed, metalhead hot guys. Pretty girls with red, plush lips and soft curves. Eddie has never been picky, but his circle is limited, so he’s used to the same types again and again.

He’s also accustomed to quick affairs, he doesn’t even remember the last time he cared to ask someone’s name. Sometimes it’s just about a rushed handjob on the alley. He has only to be careful that Gareth hasn’t had the same idea at the same time. That was a nightmare of a night. Now both of them double check.

Rarely, Eddie invites whoever he has his interest on to stay the night with him. This doesn’t happen a lot, Eddie is… bored, if you ask him. Anonymous sex and one night affairs are great to an extent.

Eddie is not used to gentle hands caressing his face with no rush, though. He’s not used to the slow slide of this birthday boy’s tongue against his, tasting like cranberry vodka, kissing him as if they had two hours and not twenty minutes to enjoy themselves in a dark alley. Instead of rushing things, he simply presses their bodies together, rocking against the wall and pulling Eddie with him. His body is warm and solid against Eddie, his fingers digging in his waist. That all is more than enough to have Eddie hard and ready in his ripped, black jeans.

Birthday boy puts himself comfortably, his back against the wall. Opens his legs and lets Eddie settle between them, hands roaming up and down Eddie’s back, his warm sips through Eddie’s almost nonexistent shirt: yes, black translucent lycra looks good on him but now the cold of the night mixing with the heat that this guy radiates is making him lose his mind.

Fuck, this guy knows how to kiss. Eddie lets him set the pace, since he knows what he’s doing, and focuses on the pleasure that is kissing someone this leisurely. The moment Eddie breaks the kiss to breathe, the other boy mouths his jaw and neck, teeth brushing sensitive skin, and fuck. Eddie can’t help the involuntary twitch of his hips.

“Ah, fuck, you’re good at this,” Eddie whimpers. Birthday boy simply hums against his pulse point, sending vibrations down Eddie’s spine. Fuck, his cock twitches and they’re still doing nothing. The guy’s hands - why does he have these stupidly broad, warm hands? - press Eddie against him a bit tighter. Oh, the flex of his biceps when he does it, Eddie feels his muscles working underneath him, and somehow that drives him crazy.

Eddie needs more than twenty minutes with his guy. He has the urge to strip him naked and worship his body, he wants to see what’s hiding under these ridiculous tight white t-shirt and jeans that cling to his thighs. Sorry, James Dean, but birthday boy wears this outfit better. Fuck, he barely had time to admire his arms now that he’s not wearing the jacket, hanging from the crook of his arm.

With a particularly well aimed thrust of his bucking hips, Eddie feels the hard on that this guy is sporting himself. A hard line straining his jeans and twitching under Eddie’s constant squirming. They’re wearing too much clothes, Eddie wants to see, wants to know.

He sneaks a hand between their bodies and cups the guy’s obvious erection, making him gasp, hips bucking, so fucking satisfying, knowing that is Eddie making him react like this. Through the jeans, this guy’s dick is scorching hot and it seems to be massive.

It is this guy’s birthday, but Eddie is the one receiving the best gifts.

Or so he hopes.

“Ah, shit,” birthday boy pants when Eddie tries to stroke him, following the tenting of his jeans. “You don’t have to…”

Huh, Eddie thinks, this is why they’re here, is kind of the deal, right? No one ever told him something like that. Eddie cranes his neck to look at the preppy guy, his droopy eyes half lidded, lips parted, breathing heavily.

Eddie is doing this to him.

Oh fuck.

“You don’t want me to?” Eddie asks, aroused, confused.

“Fuck, I want to, just,” the guy laughs awkwardly, cock pulsing visibly through his jeans. “I’m nervous, I think, it’s been a while.”

Eddie smiles at him, pecks him softly in his lips, almost chastly. This guy is precious. And Eddie is enjoying far too much just being here, feeling him breathing and just having him underneath his body. It’d be cozy if it weren’t for the dark alley, the trash bins, the noise of the street and the music of the club.

This is new for Eddie. He gnaws at his lower lip for a moment.

“Look, I-” Eddie starts saying, his mouth betraying him. “I was thinking about getting you off here and now-”

“Jesus Christ,” birthday boy interrupts him, hips bucking, rutting his hard cock against Eddie’s.

“But if you’re not ok with that, that’s ok,” Eddie adds in a rush. “If you want to, we can wait. My shift ends in two hours or so, we can go to my place later, if that sounds better?”

The guy groans, arches his back. Laughs.

“That’s it, if you can wait two hours to taste this,” Eddie teases, ruts against the guy, hips rolling seductively.

“Fuck, you should come with a warning label around your neck,” he says, and tugs at Eddie’s nape, pulling him in for another kiss, melting Eddie in his spot. “Fuck it, let’s do both, let me touch you now and I’ll give you whatever you want at your home.”

Eddie is thrilled, trembling with anticipation, cock leaking at the guy’s words.

Before Eddie can think about it, birthday boy has both his hands on him, touching him through the sheer material of his stupid lycra shirt, and Eddie moans throatily.

-

Having this cute boy so close is driving him insane. Steve thumbs at his nipples just to find them pierced, and a wave of renewed arousal threats to overwhelm him. He wants to put his mouth on it, feel it on his tongue, tug at it with his tongue.

Steve has never been with someone like him, tattooed and pierced and with that blustery energy buzzing out of him, this aura of danger surrounding him. It’s doing things to Steve. Robin was right, he really needed to try something different. Plus the added risk of being caught in public.

Fuck. Fuck.

Steve wants to feel the warm bud of steel with his tongue, see if that gets some reaction from the boy, if he’s sensitive. So Steve tangles his fingers at the root of the bartender’s dampened curls, tugs at him, making him break the kiss and bare his throat. Steve tugs his hair a bit more, forcing Eddie to arch his back, chest heaving, and lunges to suck his left nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck me,” he whimpers, arching into it, hips thrashing. Steve pulls at him by the waist with his other hand, pressing his thinner frame against him, holding him there.

“When we get to your home, I promise,” Steve teases, and resumes to lick at the boy’s nipple through his shirt, dampening it with his spit.

The metal buds in his tongue are something else. The nipple hardens under his tongue, Steve wants to rip the stupid shirt off, even if the coarse material is an added texture to this all. He laps and licks it the best he can, tugs at it carefully with his teeth, and the cute guy in his arms whines at it.

So stupidly hot. Steve’s cock is leaking like a fountain, ruining his boxers, and it hurts when it throbs. Steve groans, nipple in mouth.

He doesn’t remember feeling this feverish for someone, this horny and needy. He feels like a teenager again, on the edge already just by this silly thing.

“Ah fuck, fuck, birthday boy,” the boy moans, body arched beautifully for Steve, his long fingers digging in Steve’s biceps.

It feels so good. So fucking good.

“Steve,” he murmurs at last, stopping in his mission to abuse the left nipple.

“W-wha?”

“I’m Steve,” he smiles, looking at the sight in his arms.

“E-Eddie,” says the bartender, voice raw and wrecked.

They stay like that for a second, panting, drinking in the other’s arousal. Steve’s head feels dizzy, full of cotton, static noise drilling his ears. Eddie, the name echoes in his mind.

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” Steve smirks, feeling confident again. He lets go of Eddie’s hair, satisfied when he leans into his body, hands roaming over Steve’s pecs, and kisses him with all that young enthusiasm.

While Steve kisses him trying to set a pace, Eddie fumbles with their jeans until he has the flies open and unzips them. Eddie moans a few curses against his lips when he finally grabs Steve’s cock and frees it from his cotton boxers. Steve keeps him pressed tight against him, peppering kisses and nibbles whenever he can reach.

“Is this ok?” Eddie asks nervously. Whatever reticence that was holding Steve back is now forgotten.

Steve didn’t plan any of this. It never occurred to him that he’d be spending the night of his thirtieth three birthday jerking off in an alley with someone as pretty and interesting as Eddie. Thankfully, life still keeps some good surprises for him.

“More than ok, Eddie, fuck,” he moans, hips twitching, feeling electricity where Eddie has wrapped his fingers around his shaft. It’s like Steve can feel everything at once, overwhelming him.

The maddening beating of his heart, Eddie’s hot breath in his lips, his long fingers around him, the warm metal of his rings in his tender skin. Eddie’s weight and heat. The cold air of the night.

“Kiss me,” Eddie demands, taking himself in hand and lining his hips so both their cocks are pressed together. Steve obliges, his whole body on fire. He thinks he could never deny Eddie a thing.

He’s the desperate and uncoordinated one in this kiss. Eddie strokes them both, mixing their precum and making everything sloppier and messy and fucking amazing.

“Fuck, yes,” Eddie groans, his voice low and deep. “You feel so good, Steve, can’t wait to have you inside me…”

Steve gasps, digs his fingers in Eddie’s soft flesh.

“You want that, birthday boy?” Eddie asks, his fist tightening around their dicks, fucking into it with abandon, hips pistoning as if he needs it bad. Steve dares to look where they’re joined and see how more pearly beads of precum bleed off his cock. “I want it too, baby, I want to have this so deep in me I can feel it in my throat.”

“Holy fuck, Eddie!” Steve whines, imagining it. Eddie sprawled for him, open wide so Steve could take him, legs on his shoulders, spine arched while Steve pounds into him fiercely.

It’s the first time in years he’s this turned on, rushing towards the edge shamefully soon. Well, it’s not like they have more than Eddie’s break to finish this, thankfully.

Steve’s hand joins Eddie’s, clenching around them both, helping Eddie to go faster.

“Ah, shit, I’m close,” Eddie warns, and is all Steve needs.

Claiming the swollen lips of the bartender, Steve’s strokes grow frantic, feels Eddie squirming where they’re joined together, legs trembling. Steve swallows every one of his moans and pants.

Eddie goes first, breaking the kiss to growl, resting his head on Steve's shoulders, shivering with the force of his orgasm. That, and feeling Eddie’s come all over the head of his cock is what pushes Steve towards the edge, groaning between his teeth and holding to Eddie for dear life, his whole body twitching.

Neither of them say a word, too occupied panting and coming down from their orgasms, Eddie’s weight on Steve, and the wall behind Steve supporting them both. Knees shaking and chests heaving, spent cocks twitching with the aftershocks.

Steve feels… alive. On fire. He doesn’t think if it’s appropriate or not, he simply holds Eddie, keeping him from falling to the ground, and kisses the crown of his head.

Oh, he’ll overthink about it later. Right now it feels good, it feels right.

“Fuck,” he hears Eddie whisper, and the rumbling of his laugh. Steve smiles, deeply satisfied.

“I know,” Steve says, laughing too.

“I’m wasted, man,” Eddie laughs. “I need water, and a nap, fuck, I don’t know if I’m going to survive the next two hours.”

Steve laughs with him, feeling just the same.

“I’m sorry?” Steve asks, laughing, and Eddie shoves at his shoulder without strength.

“Shut up, you know it was amazing,” Eddie smiles at him, that blinding smile that is becoming a problem, since Steve can only think about kissing it.

He does that, though, now that he still can. Just in case.

-

Eddie is- what’s the opposite of freaking out? He’s at peace with the world, and himself, and everything is pure and bright and perfect.

Man, the power of a mind blowing orgasm. Eddie can’t wait for the next one, hopefully thinking that Steve will wait for him and walking him home later.

“I ruined our shirts, that I’m really sorry for,” birthday boy, Steve, says, wincing.

“I have spare clothes in the storage room, maybe something you can wear too,” Eddie offers. He takes a glance at his wristwatch. “We still have a few minutes, if you don’t mind waiting a bit, though I’m getting cold.”

“Oh, here,” Steve says. He shifts and produces his white jacket from nowhere, Eddie doesn’t even remember him putting it aside or whatever. Magic.

Steve wraps his jacket around Eddie, and after all that happened during the last fifteen minutes, this is what makes Eddie blush like a maiden.

“There you are, don’t freeze yourself,” Steve smiles at him, his back still against the wall and supporting Eddie’s body, ignoring his own trembling knees.

Oh, no. Eddie thinks, smiling dopily at Steve.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

#steddie fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluffy chicken writes #Whatever you want birthday boy fic

[fandomsniper]

kallus and zeb

#I just love the idea that zeb is this big fluffy maine coone while kallus is this scrappy floppy eared mutt #I once made up a whole canine based alien race and I kinda want to write a fic where kallus is a hybrid #but I don't feel like making up the whole major plot around it how it all worked in the empire and all that shit #I just have this funny moments of him acting dog like #plus that cat dog dynamic between him and zeb would be hilarious lol #alexsandr kallus #agent kallus #zeb orrelios #garazeb orrelios #sw rebels #star wars rebels #headcanon #au

[clownery-and-fuckery]

TechPhee relationship goals is simply:

Phee, talking about a random person: We don't like her

Tech: we don't???

Phee: we don't.

It's also

Tech peacefully looking at ships at a spaceport: oh woa nice

Phee physically fighting the owner: HE SAYS HE WANTS THE U-WING

Bonus:

Tech: this is for you :)

Phee:

Phee: that's a rock, love

(She keeps it btw)

#i really like dialogue actually #i want to write more fluffy fics about them #but im currently ruining their lives rn #so itll have to wait #also i love ending techs dialogue with a :) #its just so sweet #thats just his vibe with Phee #sw the bad batch #tbb tech #phee genoa #tech x phee