#ficlet fridays

[ladyinbooks]

Because I was in the mood for some fluffy goodness, let’s have Valentines day fun with Samiel and Jay. 😉

Title: Then kiss me once again Warnings: None Summary: It’s been thirty years since the Songbird Pact Notes: Title taken from ‘It’s been a long, long time’ (Harry James)

The thirtieth anniversary of the Songbird Pact is not a grand affair.

When Daimion had floated the idea of having the celebrations on Elysium, Jay hadn’t really had the heart to say no. The compromise had been: no media, no diplomats, and friends and family only. It was working surprisingly well so far.

“He’s loving this,” Samiel murmurs in Jay’s ear.

Slowly, Jay leans back into the warm, familiar heat behind him. “I know.”

Because Daimion really is loving it all.

His curls – silver now, instead of gold – are thoroughly visible against the warm stonework of the hall. He’s sitting comfortably, bright-eyed as he talks amiably to Hird and Venndred. One of the neighbour’s children is tugging on his hand, demanding attention, much to the stifled horror of her father.

“I wish –” Samiel adds, then stops to clear his throat.

Jay settles more comfortably against him. “I know,” he repeats. Because he does.

However much Samiel may want otherwise for his father, Daimion is never going to have a gentle retirement; a slow, peaceful decline into rest. He’ll never settle on Elysium; never leave his own lasting impression on neighbours, or live close to them in Kathikas. He’s still far too active, and far too reluctant, to leave Lenia in the hands of someone else yet.

But it feels like time is slipping away from them because of it. Samiel doesn’t see him as much as he wants to, and Daimion fights desperately for every scrap of time he can carve out for his son, sometimes to the detriment of his own wellbeing. It’s an uneasy balance, and not an entirely satisfactory one.

Pyrrhine Medala is being surprisingly patient about it all, though. Especially given that she’s probably serving the longest apprenticeship in history, at this point. Even Jay has to admit that she’s been helpful; quietly taking up more of the strenuous burdens of ruling where she can.

Samiel hooks his chin over Jay’s shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. He wraps his arms around Jay’s waist and hums, contented. They both sway a little, moving with the slow, gorgeous tempo Jay can feel winding through their bond, as Samiel rocks them from side to side.

This feeling never gets old, Jay thinks. The giddying privilege of being here, with this man, in this time, wound so tightly together that they share a heartbeat most days.

Thirty years, and sometimes he still has to blink awake in the morning, scrub the sleep from his eyes and realise that yes. Yes, that is Samiel Athannus staring back at him: a perfect composition of silver-threaded curls, laughter lines and the kind of smile that Jay is never going to be able to stop from breaking his heart, just a little.

“I love you,” he says quietly, as Samiel digs the point of his chin in harder. “But all of this. It’s been so long. Did you ever think we’d make it this far?” He means thirty years, and he means together, and he means as everything.

“Yes,” Samiel says, and Jay feels the utter conviction of it ring through them both. “And we’ve got a way to go yet, mio ades.”

“Says you.” Jay slides a hand down; wraps it around Samiel’s forearm and squeezes. “What if I’ve had enough of you causing me trouble after thirty years?”

“Then you’d better be prepared for the worst,” Samiel says. He drops a kiss, small and a little wicked, to the corner of Jay’s jaw. “Because we’ve all seen what I’m capable of, if you decide to leave me. I’m not sure the galaxy could stand it again.”

“Once every three decades is enough then?”

“Once every lifetime,” Samiel says firmly. “Because my knees may sometimes ache, but it doesn’t mean I’m still not perfectly capable of slinging you over my shoulder, carrying you off to the nearest abandoned outpost and keeping you there, if you get any foolish ideas about running away now.”

“Ah well,” Jay murmurs, and feels Samiel grin against his shoulder. “I suppose if I’ve put up with you for this long…”

The tip of Samiel’s nose nudges against Jay’s cheek. “Then you can keep going. Because you’re stuck with me forever. And be nice: it’s our anniversary.”

It’s not actually their anniversary – not the day they were married, anyway. But… it really sort of is, Jay admits to himself, as Samiel drops another kiss to his cheek.

Thirty years to the day, since he’d been standing there, free-falling and terrified, and Samiel had held out a hand and said, Will you run away with me?

There hasn’t been a moment since, not one, where Jay has regretted saying yes.

“Papa said he got us a present,” Samiel adds. “He wouldn’t tell me what it was though.”

Jay closes his eyes. “Ah.”

“‘Ah’? What do you mean, ‘Ah’?”

“Well, I may already have it.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s…”

Complicated. Difficult to explain.

“…vitrios,” Jay finishes, opening his eyes.

Against him, Samiel stills.

“Vitrios,” he repeats.

And there – there – is the sudden upswelling in his soul that Jay was expecting. It catches under his ribs; winds tight around his heart with a triumph so sweetly painful, that it makes his breath stutter in his throat. Samiel is a burning rush of light, roaring in the atoms between them, as the bands of his arms clutch Jay tighter.

“He’s letting you do this?” he demands hoarsely.

“It’s already been done,” Jay admits.

And it has been. He’d handed the block of vitrios to Venndred this morning, with strict instructions to place it in the Naos next to Samiel’s.

Vitrios is unbending; unbreakable. So when the time comes – when he and Samiel are spread stardust-thin across the galaxy and this is all that is left of them – Jay’s threnodia will sit, carved aeons-deep, with the only words that have ever truly mattered; with the only thing he has ever wanted the universe to know.

“Humans don’t –” Samiel rasps. “I mean, no one’s ever –”

“Your father made an exception.”

“You’ve already written it,” Samiel realises. “What does it –” His hands are frantic, as he spins Jay roughly around. This close he’s bewildered; triumphant. The pounding of Jay’s heartbeat is not his own, but Samiel doesn’t seem to care about the way he’s bleeding desperate, greedy delight between them. “What does it say?”

“Well.” Carefully, Jay reaches out; tucks one silver-threaded curl behind Samiel’s ear. “Not much.”

“Jason.”

Jay laughs at the growl; leans closers and presses their foreheads together. “I didn’t have long stretches of wisdom,” he admits. “And I couldn’t think of anything profound that I wanted to pass on, that might help others. I certainly didn’t have an endless narrative of triumphant deeds.”

“So?” Samiel demands, impatient.

“So,” Jay says. He clears his throat hoping, absurdly, that he’s done the right thing here. “So it actually only says one thing. The only thing, in fact.”

“Which is?”

Jay tells him.

**********

In the depths of the Naos, there are two blocks of vitrios.

One contains a careful, exacting narrative of the life of Samiel Athannus, written in High Maa-Tarekian. No detail is spared; no moment left undescribed. Covered, the vitrios stands as a testament to all that happened, in a time when there was change at the heart of the universe.

The other block is simpler.

Small. Neat. There is only one sentence written on it, in exacting Interior Circle Standard.

Because Jason Lane hadn’t needed to say anything more about his life than this. He hadn’t needed to write history, or pass down wisdom.

Three words were enough.

I loved him.

Nothing else had really mattered, compared to that.

[artiststarme]

Eddie is completely and utterly broke after his run-in with Hell. The plant is destroyed so Wayne doesn’t have a job, half the town is a shell of its former normalcy, and the places that remain would rather burn than hire one of the “murderin’ Munsons”.

He finally comes up with a plan but even that is shut down with some panicked glances, attitude, and sassy hip-holding on Steve’s behalf.

“Absolutely not, Munson! I will not let you sell any of your organs. What the hell? Why do I even have to say that?!”

“Steve, you only need one kidney and the spleen is basically an accessory organ. It’ll be fine and then we’ll be rich.”

“No! No means no, you deranged weirdo. No organ selling!”

As a plan B, he starts playing shows again with Corroded Coffin just outside of town and luck allows them to be put on a record’s radar. He becomes the frontman of one of the world’s largest metal bands, Steve becomes a novelist with him on the road, and Robin comes along as an ASL interpreter for his shows.

And he maintains ownership of all of his organs (though he keeps the option open for a rainy day).

[typicalopposite]

Bucktommy 🌞

🫡🫡🫡 I picked watch a sunrise. And it spiraled into this! I hope you like it

<3<3<3

They both have the next day off, but Tommy’s shift ends late. So Buck insists Tommy needs to get some sleep, so he should go home, and then Buck can come over in the morning. Tommy is reluctant but finally agrees. 

The sun has long been set. Buck has cleaned his entire loft, and packed a bag for the morning. His belly is full, he has bathed, and he is… wide awake. Nothing he wants to watch on TV, no new book he is interested in enough to start reading. He doesn’t even feel like scrolling the internet for the next insane fact rabbit hole he can tumble down, then fill everyone in about later. All he can think of is everything he wants to do with Tommy, and for Tommy, and to Tommy, once he is over there. 

He lays back into his pillows and tries to just force his eyes to stay closed. Then his phone rings. It’s Tommy.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Buck says, barely able to contain the smile on his face (he wonders if Tommy can hear it in his voice). “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Mmm, I tried… but I just couldn’t stop thinking of you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh yeah. It’s really becoming a thing, you always being on my mind,” Tommy says, and Buck’s heart skips a beat. “Wouldn’t really be a problem if you were here…”

Buck laughs, “You just worked a 48,” he says. “And i can’t promise either of us would be getting much rest if I was there right now.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Tommy replies. Buck rolls onto his side and wraps his free arm around himself, pretending it is Tommy’s arm. He sighs. “Hmm… are you thinking about me, now?” 

“Maybe.” Buck feels his cheeks heat the slightest bit; he feels the smirk on his lips. 

“And what about me are you thinking of?” 

“Right now? Just your arms wrapped around me…” Buck says, tightening his hold on himself. “I love when you hold me.” 

“I’d love to be holding you right now…”

“You need to sleep.”

“I know, I know,” Tommy sighs. “But first, is there anything else?”

“Anything else?” 

“That you’re thinking about?” 

Buck laughs: “Not really…” 

“Come on, I’m sure there’s something,” Tommy presses. 

“Going to bed, like you should already have done,” Buck teases. He hears Tommy scoff, like he knows Buck wasn’t about to be able to fall asleep either. “I'm thinking about what we’re going to do tomorrow.”

Tommy hums, Buck can just picture his soft smile, and his tired eyes… he needs to sleep. “What are we going to do?” 

“You will see when I get there, tomorrow.” 

“But I just want an idea on what to expect… please baby.” And that’s all it takes for Buck to melt into the mattress. God he’s so gone on this guy. He tells Tommy about his plans to take him to this little farmers market Bobby showed him. How he wanted to get the ingredients for a new dish he found, and how he wants to buy Tommy his own apron… How he wants to see him in it while they make dinner together… maybe just in that. “Hmm sounds like you have a lot planned…” and okay, to be fair, he does. He tries to fit in as much together time as he can when they get days off together; tries to make as many memories. “What about after dinner?” 

“Tommy… go to sleep!” 

“But I’m so curious,” Tommy says, and he sounds so tired. “You said you want me in just an apron… and you're not going to tell me where that might lead?” 

“Oh I think you know where that’s gonna lead…” 

“I’d much rather you tell me… in very explicit detail.” Buck rolls his eyes, his cheeks now burning from how long he’s been smiling. He gives Tommy what he wants… maybe he secretly wanted to linger on that thought a little more himself. “I don’t know if I can wait until tomorrow for that…” Tommy sighs through the phone. 

“You’re gonna have to, cause you’re going to bed now…” Buck tells him. 

“What if I wanted to know about how your day went, first?” 

“I can tell you tomorrow…” Buck groans. “It was boring anyway.”

“Then tell me, and maybe you’ll bore me to sleep.”

Buck turns his face into his pillow to muffle his laugh. “Or you could just go to sleep!” There’s a silence, and Buck knows he’s being long distance pouted at. “Fine…” 

This continues—the back and forth of Tommy convincing Buck to share some random story, and Buck ultimately doing so. “What can I say, I love the sound of your voice,” Tommy says, and Bucks insides erupt into butterflies. “Hey Evan?”

“Yeah?” 

“Look outside…”

Buck does and he laughs. Through the buildings, in the small section of the horizon visible from his bedroom window, Buck can see the very beginning of the sunrise. 

“It’s morning,” Tommy says, sounding very proud of himself. “And you should have an Uber there for you in about— now. They're about to pull up.”

“You sent me an Uber?” 

“Couldn’t have you driving here on no sleep,” Tommy says. 

Buck feels the strain of his smile in his cheeks again and throws his blanket off, grabbing his bag and slipping on his shoes. “I’m on my way,” he laughs, pulling his door closed behind him.

[loveinhawkins]

A series of notes passed during private study periods in Hawkins High School Library, circa January—May, 1985.

A page from a notebook, shoddily torn.

—Hey. Is this seat taken?

—Nah, it’s just empty for no reason.

—Ha ha.

—Admiring your dedication here, Harrington, but I’m pretty sure the librarian isn’t actually a dragon. You can talk.

—Nope. If I start talking, I won’t stop. Gotta do homework now or I never will.

—Ooh. Didn’t know I was so distracting.

—Don’t flatter yourself, Munson.

-

Written in another notebook, underneath a paragraph of red ink that ends ‘See me after class, Eddie Munson.’

—Here, use this if you need to. No way I’m going back to that damn class.

—Dude, don’t you need it to graduate?

—What’s it to you?

—Nothing, jeez. You’re gonna rip a hole in the paper if you keep leaning that hard.

—Well, maybe that’s the kinda mood I’m in.

—For what it’s worth, O’Donnell hates everyone. It’s nothing personal.

—No.

—?

—She really hates me. Like, really. Truly. I’m fucking self-aware, Harrington, I know when I’m being annoying, but I’m quiet as a goddamn mouse in her class.

—I’m sorry. That sucks.

—Yeah. I was really trying, you know?

—I get you. Can you, like, appeal when she fails you or…?

—Do you really think I’d still be here if that worked?

—Fair. Okay but what if you had… I don’t know, character testimonials, or something.

—Why, Harrington, are you offering?

—If you want.

—My uncle tried something like that last year. Was on the phone for hours. No dice.

—Shit.

—Appreciate the thought, though.

—Hey. I’ve got candy. Want some?

—You’re a brave, brave man. What kind?

—Reese’s.

—Okay. Thanks.

—No problem.

—HARRINGTON! LIBRARIAN, THREE O’CLOCK!

—Jesus Christ! I thought you said she wasn’t a dragon.

—Fine. Correction: she’s not always a dragon.

[watchyourbuck]

Hello! For the writing prompts, either “So, this is what you do when I’m not around?” or “is this turning you on?”… or both combined 👀

Buck doesn’t mean to spy on Eddie. It’s wrong. He knows that, but the sounds he’s making are… unmistakable.

He pushes the door open ever so slightly, with the silentest of creaks. Eddie doesn’t notice. How could he?

It’s a little dark, but the shine from Eddie’s phone lets him see enough.

His head is laid down on the pillow, where tiny drops of sweat are gathering under his neck. Eddie’s sweating, he realizes.

The man still has his shirt on, but his pants are unbuckled and unbuttoned, opened wide and lowered a little under his hips. Through the gap of his zipper, he has his hand wrapped around his own cock, moving it up and down. It’s prompting delicious little moans out of him.

It’s hard to distinguish what Eddie’s watching. Buck assumes it’s porn, but the screen doesn’t change colors. No, it’s- it’s a picture.

Buck squints, forcing himself not to step forward. It takes him a minute — really, it does —, but then his sight clears. He has to suppress a gasp.

It’s him.

Eddie’s touching himself to a picture of Buck.

The picture is relatively new, from a few months back. It’s one that he posted on his story, flexing his muscles and all that crap. He didn’t know he had such an audience.

He bites his lip, marveling in the scene that is his best friend about to come undone for him, like a whiny little bitch. He himself is hard. How could he not?

Buck smirks. He wants nothing more than to watch Eddie finally fall over the edge, but there’s a better option.

He pushes the door and walks in. “So, is this what you do when I’m not around?”

Eddie moves with the speed of a cartoon. He stands up so quickly, Buck loses him for a second.

“What- what, oh my-,” Eddie tries, juggling between pulling his pants up and locking his phone. Neither works.

Buck smiles cockily, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe. This is gonna be good.

Eddie squats down, hiding himself and all he has on display behind the bed. He gets to the phone, throwing it to the floor almost brutally. It’s too late, though, Buck knows what’s in it

“C’mon, you’re gonna shy away now?” Buck taunts, staring at Eddie with a raised eyebrow. “After you were calling my name?”

Eddie blinks, swallowing. “I- I wasn’t- I wasn’t calling- you’re- you’re not- I wasn’t-.” His hands move in indecorous little circles, trying to get his zipper up and his cock down. It’s amusing.

Buck nods, rolling his eyes playfully. “I must’ve imagined that part, then. I guess I was just, uh-,” he mutters, walking closer to the bed and kneeling on top of it. “Excited to see you so excited.”

Eddie seems to shrink down. It’s a mixture of fear and deep regret. Buck doesn’t know what he’s so regretful of. “I’m- I can explain,” he whispers in a single breath.

Apparently, he’s finally got his dick under control. Wish he could say the same about the blush on his cheeks, though.

“I don’t see the need for that,” Buck says, sitting on his heels and leaning forward, grabbing Eddie’s shirt and pulling him up. “It’s a shame, though.”

Eddie’s body becomes weightless under Buck’s hands. Eddie himself is taken aback. He hasn’t met single a man that can manhandle him like that. He blinks, looking up. “What- what do you mean?”

Buck tilts his head to the side, depositing Eddie on the bed, where he lands on his elbows. “When you’re hungry… do you go to restaurants to stare at the cook?”

“Ex- what?”

Buck smirks, moving Eddie so he’s right on the center of the bed. The man gulps and his eyes widen, staring down Buck’s face and body.

“Or do you sit down and eat the damn food?”

It sounds like a trick question, but Eddie doesn’t understand how. It’s not like he can hear very well over his own heartbeat blasting the beat of ‘We will rock you’ in his eardrums. “I- Buck- what? I… I can- I swear-.”

“Stop talking,” Buck orders, his voice deeper now. With one single movement, he straddles Eddie, pinning him down with his body. “Why would you settle for a picture of me, when you can have the real thing?”

Eddie makes a strangled noise, his jaw hanging open. He closes his eyes, inhaling short — redundantly breathless — little breaths.

Buck licks over his front teeth, sticking his tongue out and circling his lips with it. “Don’t you want the real thing?”

It’s a handful of incomprehensible little words that he mutters, and Buck’s amused, but he’s also done. He grabs Eddie’s hands, which are suspended in the air, and puts them on his hips.

He places his own palms on top of Eddie’s, making sure that they stay in place.

Eddie looks like he’s been tortured, and Buck raises both eyebrows. He waits for a second, but Eddie seems incapable of doing anything, simply staring at him in plea.

Buck clicks his tongue, putting his own hands on Eddie’s chest. He impulses himself to grind on him, making their bulges bump. Eddie moans, Buck smiles. It’s clear now, it has to be.

He opens his eyes, realizing that he had them closed. Huh, interesting reaction. He looks down at Eddie, and plays with his shirt absentmindedly.

It’s a second later, but it feels like an hour. Buck stares at him with a small grin, and it’s only when Eddie’s grasp on Buck’s hips tighten that he knows.

“Please,” he says.

So Buck gets to work.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Please take this as my Fuck It Friday!

Tagged by my lovely @thewolvesof1998 @wikiangela @lover-of-mine @disasterbuckdiaz @callmenewbie & @daffi-990 thank you so much!💗✨

Tagging in return @wildlife4life @housewifebuck @honestlydarkprincess @loserdiaz @hippolotamus @jamespearce9-1-1 @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @your-catfish-friend @butraura @cowboy-eddie @giddyupbuck @smilingbuckley @mattsire @eddiebabygirldiaz @eddie---diaz @eowon @evanbegins @honestlyeddie @king-buckley @fionaswhvre @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley & @bucksbirthmark 💋

[emmalostinwonderland]

I'll ask for DinLuke skinny-dipping because Din deserves to get that armour off 🤭

Thanks for the ask! I haven't written DinLuke since last Christmas, and I've never dabbled with GFFA fic, but a bit of Prince of Naboo Luke/Manda'lor Din honeymoon style just sounded right. There's not a lot of water time involved, but Din does get his armor off! I hope you like sappy shit lol

Din watches wide-eyed as Luke first steps out of his shoes then begins undoing the clasp of his gown. “Luke? What… what are you doing?” The lake is beautiful, lit only by the moons in their various states of waxing and waning in Naboo’s sky. Luke is beautiful like this too – though he always is – with the moonlight draped about him like a veil. He is every bit the bride today, and Din is quick to file this memory away alongside their ceremony earlier today. He admires the slope of his riduur’s shoulders, the strength in his back and his legs as he takes a few steps into the water… his ass. Curvy. Bare. Biteable. Din swallows hard and hopes the vocoder in his helmet didn’t pick up the sound. “Aren’t you coming?” Luke turns to look back over his shoulder, laughter tucked into every part of his face and dancing in his beautiful blue eyes. “There’s no one around to see us, you know. The servants are in bed, and my family has gone back to Theed.” Din stands stiff as a board, unable to tear his eyes off the young prince. “I… my beskar’gam– my armor…” “Oh… do you not want to take it off? They said it’s allowed–” “It is. And I… I do. I– it’s just–” Luke nods and turns fully to return to shore. He doesn’t try to cover anything, and Din’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. He knows he’s staring, but he just can’t bring himself to stop. “May I help you?” Luke asks, speaking softly now that he’s close enough to touch. Din hesitates only a moment more before nodding dumbly. Luke’s hands are gentle when they touch him, first lifting his helmet and holding it out of the way with one hand so he can stroke Din’s cheek. “Hello again,” he teases. “Ner riduur. Right?” “‘Lek. Yes. Your pronunciation has improved too.” “Whatever it takes to impress you, sweetheart.” Din doesn’t say that he’s impressed with everything about Luke. He knows it’s all over his face anyway; wearing a helmet every day for most of one’s life isn’t conducive to learning to control one’s expressions. He takes a deep breath of fresh air and helps Luke carefully remove each piece of beskar until he’s standing there in just his flight suit. “There,” Luke says, stepping back. “I think you’ve got it from here, wouldn’t you say?” All Din can do is simply nod again. “Perfect. Meet me in the water when you’re ready. I want to kiss you under all the stars.”

From the ficlet friday prompts

[tailsbeth-writes]

Prompt 6 FirstPrince!

I figured if anyone requested this, it would be for FirstPrince. Henry would have definitely read the book & seen the film of Holding the Man (I couldn't recommend enough but remember the tissues!). Find this on Ao3!

TW: Depression, dark thoughts in general - look after yourselves! ❤️

When Henry rolls over in bed that morning, he knows it's going to be a bad day. The sheets are cold next to him, the clock tells him it's 6.03 so Alex is out on his run. Henry can't think of anything worse right now, the mere thought of sunlight is painful.

His hand stretches to the bedside table, tapping momentarily as he finds his phone. He sends 🏴 emoji to Percy, a symbol system they set up a while ago so that Percy gets a heads up he won't be at the shelter but it takes minimal effort for Henry. He scrolls out of some sick curiosity to see when the last one was. It was a month ago, after a trip to London. Serves him right for trying with his grandmother, he thinks.

He puts his phone on the table and rolls himself over. The duvet envelopes him as he shuffles further into it. It smells like tea, coconut moisturiser, coffee, sweat, cologne... It smells like them. And yet, all of that brings no comfort to Henry today. His mind is trapped in a dark vice, and while that may be the case far less frequently these days, it still fills him with the endless questions of why.

Why am I like this?

Why does Alex even stay?

Why won't this stop?

Henry has never been hugely spiritual but days like this make him worry for his soul. When the numbness hits him so hard, he can barely believe he even has one. It is like it has been swallowed whole by a great fog overnight. Henry feels stranded, to simply watch his essence vanish.

'Baby, Hen, can you hear me?'

Henry blinks and he can now see Alex's face. He can smell Alex's grapefruit shower gel that he keeps in the downstairs bathroom so he doesn't disturb Henry with his post workout shower.

'Alex, I... I can't...'

Henry barely recognises the strained tone that escapes his lips. He can feel the bed shift as Alex moves closer and kisses his hair before backing away, Alex is saying something but he can't take in the words. It's like he's stuck at the bottom of the ocean, everything blurred and muffled. Henry wishes he could swim to the top but he knows he wouldn't make it.

'I got you, can you drink this for me?'

There's a sports bottle at Henry's lips, he tips his head back a little as Alex guides him. The water is cold, it stings Henry's gums a little.

'Pills next, okay?'

Henry manages a nod this time and Alex starts to put his pills in his mouth and guides the water bottle again. Henry can't help but think they seem pointless. If he can't leave bed, then they can't be working, can they?

'They're not a cure all Henry, you know they help.'

'Stop reading my mind.'

'Stop thinking out loud then sweetheart.'

Alex put the water and pill bottles to the side and lies down next to Henry. Henry lets himself study Alex's face; the slight eye bags that he'll never get rid of any time soon, his perky lips that Henry wishes he yearned for and the stubble that he'd been leaving for the past few days. His eyes look so hopeful, as if Henry is going to offer him the world. That's when it all hits Henry. The tears fall down his cheeks.

'I'm so sorry, Alex.'

Alex pulls him in tightly, the warmth of his skin anchors Henry to something solid. His salty tears touch his mouth as he sobs into Alex's neck. Alex is whispering in Spanish and Henry feels oddly soothed, despite not having a clue.

'I will love every inch of your soul even when you can't see it. Okay, Hen?'

Henry nods into Alex. He can only wait and wonder now.

[ellorypurebloodculture]

May I request a Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley ficlet?

Master Harry Potter's chest burns as he chases Miss Ginny Weasley through the trees, dodging over protruding roots and ducking under leafy boughs in the process; she's the last person he has to catch to win the game, but she's as elusive as a Thestral to those who have never witnessed a death.

"Catch me if you can!" Ginny challenges over her shoulder, her deep red braid whipping through the air with how fast she runs, the sunlight seeping through the leaves to kiss her freckles.

He almost trips over his feet as he realizes that he's jealous of the sunlight.

Ginny is a rarity among pureblood witches, never afraid to try new things, willing to become dirty and disheveled for fun's sake without caring what anyone thinks, always willing to laugh loudly and smile brightly and--Merlin, Harry wants her.

Knowing she'll despise him if he treats her like she's fragile, Harry tackles her into the leaf litter and gasps against the arch of her neck, heart pounding, "Caught you."

[thighzp]

Happy Friday! I'd like FirstPrince & 🍪 please 🥰

Hello great originator! I'm gonna do something SUPER ooc for me and write a canon compliant ficlet (have I ever written non-AU? i'm not even sure)

Here's Alex having a late night sweet treat because it's what he deserves.

Of course Alex was grateful for every night Henry was able to spend with him at the White House. During his mom's first term, he spent most nights in his palatial bedroom alone and staring at the ceiling, wondering what he would've been doing if he lived on a college campus like most students his age. Now, in her second term and his relationship public, he no longer had to stare at the ceiling but could stare instead, at Henry. Tonight was one of the rare nights where Henry was fast asleep and Alex was the one tossing and turning. He was worried to wake him and risk spoiling the only restful night he's had in months. But Alex's mind was racing and all he wanted to do was wake Henry up and ask him to just tell him everything would be okay. No. Nope. He was not waking him. He looked too angelic. Instead, Alex slipped as carefully as possible from under the covers while he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He opened and closed the bedroom door behind him nearly silently and began shuffling down the hallway toward the White House kitchen. Upon entering, he decided it best not to turn on the light so he didn't alert anyone. He pressed on his phone flashlight and opened the fridge. Scanning the shelves which were fully stocked as always, nothing struck his fancy. Curse daytime Alex for insisting on only healthy options in stock. But then he remembered. He pulled open the large freezer door under the fridge and dug to the back. His hand landed on a box covered with a light dusting of frost, but not yet freezer burned. Hell yeah. He pulled out the box of helados that he kept for emergencies. Or late night munchies. Just as he tore into the new box, the kitchen light flicked on and scared the sleepiness out of him. "What the fuck?" Alex shouted. Henry stood leaned against the doorframe with a smirk. "You better have been planning to bring one to me, love." "You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you," Alex said and pulled out two of the sweet treats. "No matter, I knew where I'd find you anyway," Henry grinned and strode across the kitchen and sat on the counter, taking the helados Alex had unwrapped for him.

this was meant to be just Alex but I simply want them in every room together okay!!!

Ficlet Friday!!

[weird-an]

Billy doesn't ever shut up. Talks Steve's ear off. All the time.

It's always trash talk. How Steve can't win against Billy, how Steve is such a bitch and Billy is so much better than he is. That Hawkins should be glad that Billy is there now, because that town needs some fucking style and no more polo shirts.

It's getting worse every practice. Steve is going crazy. It's so annoying. Billy needs to shut up.

He talks and talks and talks and Steve waits until they are alone, takes his time to shower, because that guy needs to be taught a lesson and apparently no one dares or wants to, all too blinded by his tanned abs and pink lips.

"Shut up, Hargrove," Steve says, voice already shaking from anger.

Billy laughs, tilts his head back. "Oh, don't be such a prissy little -"

Steve doesn't think. He just pushes Billy.

Billy doesn't see it coming. His back knocks against the tiles and his eyes widen. There is a gasp escaping his mouth and it's a glorious sound. It gives Steve an idea.

"Didn't expect to you to-," Billy starts.

"Shut. Up." Steve cuts him off. Presses his lips against Billy. It's not a kiss. It's a fight. It's a bite, pain, teeth, too much tongue, but it works.

Billy moans. A small, needy noise, nearly washed by the shower's water against the tiles. He bucks his hips and ruts against Steve's thighs. He's hard. Billy Hargrove is fucking hard and Steve's got the upper hand and it makes him dizzy.

"Harrington," Billy hoarsely begins again and there's a sparkle in his blue eyes. What a fucking brat.

"Shut up," Steve says. He pushes Billy against, this time Billy goes down. So easily. Sinks on his knees and stares at Steve. Opens his lips and licks them.

"You know what to do." Steve isn't exactly sure how they got here, but he's not going to stop now. Not when Billy looks like that, cock red against his belly and eyes dark.

Billy's gaze flickers from Steve's hardening cock to his face and back.

"Billy." Steve raises a brow. His heart is racing.

Billy's lips wrap around his cock. Licks the tip and then swallows him right down. He's struggling for a moment, choking a little. Steve can see the stretch of his lips.

But then he relaxes around him. Steve presses his hips forward.

Billy's mouth is hot and wet and a fucking dream.

He buries his hand in Billy's wet hair, tugs it. He groans around him.

"I like you way better like this," Steve pants. "Finally you use your mouth for something good."

Billy rolls his eyes. Steve maybe fucks into him a little harder at that. This is a lesson after all.

[ladyinbooks]

About 300 million years ago, @fairflimsyficklefairy talked of a scenario where Hess ends up adopting a dog (and wreaking vengeance on its previous owner). I loved this idea an awful lot, and promised a ficlet. At last, it’s finished! (And @fairflimsyficklefairy I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.)

Title: Worse than his bark Summary: Hespherus Jones: dog dad. Warnings: Usual Hess shenanigans; non-descriptive mention of animal neglect; surprisingly fluffy

“You’ve…got a dog,” Hess says, blinking at Dan.

He’s standing in the living room, shirtsleeves rolled up, hands on his hips as he stares at the bundle Dan’s holding in his arms. He looks disturbingly normal – just another doctor, finished work for the day. A little rumpled and tired, and staring bemusedly at the stray his partner’s picked up.

Were this any other time – any other man, Dan thinks dryly – the whole situation might almost be true.

“He’s a rescue,” he says, and watches the way Hess tilts his head. “We got a call this afternoon from a concerned neighbour. They were going to phone the RSPCA to come and collect him, but –”

“You brought him home instead,” Hess finishes. He blinks again. “And you thought this was a good idea?”

“It’s my house. I can get a dog if I want.”

“You can,” Hess says slowly. “I’m just not entirely sure why you’d want one, but –”

“Because sometimes it’s nice to have someone around who isn’t you!” Dan snaps, a little more viciously than he’d meant to.

The tone of his voice makes the pup in his arms shiver. Guiltily, Dan holds him a little more gently, rubbing his side reassuringly with a thumb. It’s not the poor thing’s fault that he’s been dropped into the middle of a typical Wednesday afternoon meeting of the Hespherus Jones Jealousy Club.

Hess raises an eyebrow. “And does he have a name?” he asks, and for one ridiculous moment, Dan thinks he’s got away with the whole thing.

“Angus.”

“Angus,” Hess repeats. He takes three steps forward and plucks the dog from Dan’s arms, before Dan can stop him.

“No, wait –”

Hess holds the dog up high over his head, face tipped back to look at him. From this angle, the size of Angus’ paws, and the sturdy block of his body are more pronounced. Dan’s not entirely sure what breed he is – a mix of many – but the softness of his big brown eyes had tugged at a part of himself he’d thought long buried.

“Angus,” Hess says again, and this time it’s much gentler. In his grip Angus wriggles a little, smashing one hefty paw down onto Hess’s forehead.

“Give him back,” Dan says. “Don’t you dare –”

The look Hess shoots him from under Angus’s paw is scornful. “Don’t be so bloody ridiculous,” he says sharply. “I’m not going to hurt him.” Carefully, he lowers Angus until he’s cradled against his chest. “He needs a bath.”

“He needs a…”

Oh God. This is it. Dan has finally lost it, hasn’t he? He’s actually standing here, in his own living room, with a man who has so many issues that he’s prepared to murder someone for looking at Dan in the wrong way, and he’s –

Talking about giving the dog a bath.

Dan swallows back a tiny hiccup of hysterical laughter. “Are you going to bathe him?”

“Of course.” Hess drops a small kiss to the top of the dog’s head. “He needs flea treatment too, and a wormer. Is there a vet local to us?”

Yes, Dan’s finally lost his grip on reality. It’s the only explanation. He’s standing here, and the Beast is talking to him about flea treatment. Good God. It really is the end of the world.

“I’ll see if I can find out,” he says, hopelessly wrong-footed.

“If you can’t find anyone, ask Abi,” Hess says absently. “She’ll be able to look someone up.”

“Right,” Dan says, dazed, as Hess makes a gentle little cooing noise at the dog. “I’ll look now.”

He watches as Hess wanders out of the room, talking softly to the bundle wrapped up in his arms. The whole thing is bizarrely normal, to the point it’s making Dan’s head hurt.

If he’s honest, this wasn’t at all what he expected when he brought the dog home. He’d half anticipated a flat-out argument, and Hess banning Angus from anywhere that could be considered shared space at all. Worse, he’d had the worrying thought that Hess might get rid of the dog altogether.

“I’ve fucking lost it,” Dan says quietly to himself, as he hears Hess coo something in the kitchen.

Then he goes to find his phone, so he can look up a vet.

********

“You’ve…got a dog,” Abaddon says, blankly horrified.

The look on her face is priceless, and Hess takes a moment to revel in it.

He’s got Angus perched on his desk, letting the pup gnaw at his fingers. His sharp little baby teeth are wickedly painful whenever they catch a knuckle, but it’s worth it for the lack of destroyed paperwork and Abaddon’s expression.

“Dan found him,” he says with exactly the right amount of cheerful menace to have her frowning. “He wanted to keep him.”

“And you let him?”

“There was no ‘let’ about it. I wanted to keep him too.”

Abaddon eyes Angus dubiously. “You wanted to keep a puppy.”

“No, not just any puppy. I wanted to keep Angus.”

“You’ve named it?” Her expression sours even further. “Now you’ll never get rid of it.”

A particularly vicious nip to Hess’s thumb has him wincing. When he looks down, Angus has his oversized paws wrapped around one of Hess’s wrists. He’s gumming away happily, the look on his blunt little face suspiciously content.

“I’m not planning to get rid of him,” Hess says, softer than he meant to. He hears the small, stifled noise of alarm that Abaddon lets slip, and jerks his head up to look at her.

“Is that a problem?” he asks coldly.

“It’s not really in keeping with your image, is it?” she says. “I mean, having a puppy here while you’re working sends out the wrong message.”

Angus grumbles to himself as Hess pulls his fingers away. He scratches behind the pup’s ears, and raises an eyebrow at Abaddon. “I think it sends out precisely the right message.”

“What, ‘I’ll look after you, if you’re cute enough’?”

“Abaddon.”

It’s the limits of what she can get away with, and they both know it. She scowls, and huffs out an exasperated little sigh. “Fine. Don’t blame me when you push more subordinates in the direction of the rebellion.”

This time he smiles at her, and it is all teeth. Abaddon is too careful to flinch – she knows better than to show such weakness – but she stills. And for a moment, Hess is positive they are both thinking about the last time he was wrists-deep in her, and how she very nearly didn’t walk away after her own little attempt at insubordination.

“If you hear any suggestions that the other side are gaining more of our people,” he says, “then you will tell me immediately. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” she says curtly. Angus lets out a soft little yap, disgruntled now he has nothing to gnaw on. Abaddon’s gaze flickers down to him. “And the… animal?”

“He stays.”

Her mouth very pointedly doesn’t curl into a sneer.

“Fine,” she says. “Just don’t ask for help when it pisses on the carpet.”

********

“You… got a dog,” Raum says, surprised.

The Beast had called him into his office. That hadn’t been a shock – the boss likes to touch base with any demon that’s been Above for a long stretch – but the sight of an oversized mutt gambolling its way across the floor to chew on Raum’s shoelaces is definitely not what he was expecting.

“Is it a problem?” the Beast asks, without looking up from the papers on his desk.

It’s not. But even if it were, Raum isn’t stupid enough to say so. Absently, he reaches down to run a thumb over the fur on the little menace’s head. Its coat is short, but surprisingly soft.

“Not a problem,” he says. From the corner of his eye, he sees the boss glance up, and for a moment he seems to pause. But when Raum looks at him, he’s already shuffling through his papers again.

“Good, because I have a job for you.”

“Oh.”

There’s an odd swelling of something like pride, sitting in Raum’s chest. The boss doesn’t pick just anyone for jobs. There’s only the chosen few: trusted. Loyal. Until now Raum hadn’t even been sure the Beast really knew who he was.

“Paul Stafford. Forty-eight years old. Arrested two weeks ago on a charge of animal cruelty.” The Beast’s lips thin, and Raum feels a frisson of unease. “The arresting officer was PC Daniel Waters.”

Ah. It’s starting to make sense.

Raum has met the Beast’s Consort before, although he doesn’t think the man remembers. Daniel had fished him out of a fountain, saving him from fighting some drunken idiot in Trafalgar Square. Raum hadn’t particularly wanted that fight, and luckily for him he’d been saved in time by a stern-faced handsome man, who hadn’t treated him any differently to anyone else.

It had been… something of a revelation.

“Raum,” the Beast says patiently, and Raum blinks at him.

“Boss?”

“You’re not to let Dan know about this. Do I make myself clear?”

There’s no threat to his words – mostly because there doesn’t need to be. The Beast’s gaze is perfectly level; his expression neutral. He has his hands folded on the desk in front of him, as he watches Raum.

“Not a word,” Raum agrees. He looks down at the puppy still chewing on his shoelaces. “So, when you say a job…”

“I want him dealt with.”

“Painfully?”

A flash of teeth, white and sharp. “Slowly,” the Beast says. “And as messily as possible.” He leans back in his chair, still watching Raum. “I’ll deal with the necessary paperwork in the meantime.”

Humans, Raum has learnt over the last couple of years, do love their paperwork. So it’s generous of his boss to cover that for him – to leave him with the tasty parts of a job, without the tediousness that usually comes with filing for an extraction from Above.

“I’ll get it sorted,” he promises.

He pats the puppy on the head, and carefully removes his shoelaces from its mouth. He gets a sharp little nip in retaliation, but he’s had far, far worse. Besides, he knows it was an accident.

Raum’s got his fingers on the doorhandle, when the Beast clears his throat.

“Oh, and Raum?”

He looks over his shoulder. The Beast is still watching him; still perfectly calm and level. But there’s something sharp in the way he tilts his head; in the small, sly curve at the edges of his lips. He’s human, Raum knows, but nowhere human enough.

“Yes, boss?”

“Be creative.”

********

It’s not so much movement that wakes Dan, as its absence.

Hess has always been a twitchy sleeper. He tosses and turns, digging elbows into Dan’s sides and generally making a nuisance of himself, unless he’s wrapped around Dan so tightly it feels like their heartbeats are pressed together. He talks sometimes, too: muttering to himself in his sleep, in tongues that make Dan’s ears hurt.

Which is why, at half past midnight on a Wednesday, Dan is woken up by a decided lack of restlessness.

When he slides a hand across the sheets, the mattress next to him is warm. It means Hess can’t have gone far. For a moment he contemplates getting up to go and find him. But Hess is unlikely to be causing chaos at this time in the morning, and anyway Dan is half-certain he can hear him moving around in the next room.

He’s almost dozed back off to sleep, when Hess pads back into the room.

Dan cracks an eye open. In the darkness, he can just make out the broad width of Hess’s shoulders; the bowed dip of his head. He’s cradling something in his arms, careful and gentle as he slides back into the bed, settling on his side with his back to Dan.

“There,” he whispers quietly, and there’s a soft little thump as he deposits his burden down too. “Now, stop fussing.”

A little whuff of satisfaction has Dan blinking further awake. He could have sworn that sounded like –

“No,” Hess says softly, and not at all sternly. “Settle down now. You know the deal.”

Another little grumble, and Dan hears the unmistakable sounds of Angus scuffling around, as though he’s looking for a place to collapse. Even with the room so dark, Dan’s almost sure he can see a small little head pop up to look at him from over Hess’s hip.

He watches, and eventually there’s a yawn and the snap of sharp little puppy teeth clicking together. Another soft whump and then everything goes still again.

“He was crying in the kitchen,” Hess whispers, and it makes Dan jump guiltily, caught in the act of watching the pair of them.

“Yeah, but he’s still meant to stay in the kitchen.”

“He was crying,” Hess repeats stubbornly.

Dan’s lost this argument before it’s even begun. He sighs and rolls over onto his side too, staring hard at the bare curve of Hess’s shoulder. “And what happens when he grows? He’s going to be too big to fit on the bed.”

“We’ll get a bigger bed.” Hess says simply.

Of course we will, Dan thinks tiredly. Of course.

Because that makes perfect sense. The Beast, soft over nothing except a mistreated pup who is – apparently – going to be coddled like a little emperor.

“You’re washing the sheets when he moults,” he says to Hess, instead of half the things he’d like to.

“I wash them anyway.”

He does. Dan hasn’t got a leg to stand on, in this not-really-an-argument. “Fine,” he mutters. “But just remember who takes him out for walks when you’re…working.”

“Are you jealous?” Hess asks, sounding amused. He doesn’t roll over to look at Dan, but he shifts, fumbling a hand back until he can pat blindly at Dan’s thigh. “You’ve got nothing to be jealous of, sweet thing. He loves you too.”

Dan sighs. Almost in spite of himself he tips forward a little, resting his forehead against the top of Hess’s spine, near the nape of his neck. The tips of his hair tickle a little, but Dan ignores it. Hess runs hot – he always has – and the warmth of him is surprisingly pleasant. He drapes an arm over Hess’s hip and holds on.

Hess stills at Dan’s touch; then the lines of him relax all at once. “I love you as well,” he adds quietly into the darkness.

It doesn’t sound false. Or untrue. It might be a little unkind, given that he knows Dan’s at his most vulnerable right now – here, in the dark, with no pretence between them – but it doesn’t make it any less sincere.

“I know,” Dan says eventually. The back of his hand bumps into soft fur and a warm body. Under his knuckles he feels Angus chuff out a little grumble, but the pup doesn’t really stir.

Hess hums sleepily. He settles down further; lets Dan press close and hold him tighter. There’s something satisfied in him; something content. Like he’s got everything he needs here, in this moment, with nothing and nobody to gainsay it.

And Dan –

Dan’s got them too, hasn’t he? Both of them. An odd pair of creatures held safe in his arms, even at the risk of sharp teeth and bloodletting. It should be an uncomfortable realisation, and it’s not.

Oh hell, he thinks, resigned and a little soft, as he lets Hess wrap long fingers around his forearm, absent and fond.

We’ve got a dog.

[doodleholic]

“Draco?” The name left her mouth before she could think better of it, but it was him. His hair was longer than she had ever seen it, tied up in a rather dashing fashion. He cut a rather nice figure all around in that armor, if she were being frank.

“I am afraid you are mistaken, mademoiselle,” He said in impeccable French, his pronunciation ever so slightly off for the period. “My name is Armand.”

Hermione pressed closer, crowding him to the wall, away from prying eyes and ears.

“You look the part. I’d almost believe you, Malfoy, but I’m on assignment from the Time Division. I’ve been sent here to rescue you.”

Draco’s eyes widened, and if she’d had any doubts before, now she was absolutely certain it was him.

“Now, let’s go, before we accidentally change history. You’ve clearly been here too long as it is.”

“Granger, I can’t leave,” he said, dropping the pretense and switching to English. “As far as I can find, Armand Malfoy- my whateverty-eth grandfather- he doesn’t exist.”

…. Art for a fic I will never write because there’s this whole bootstrap paradox thing I’d have to resolve, and then I’d have to do research on the Norman Invasion. Sorry, my dudes, but I’m lazy and my attention span says ‘no’. And all I really wanted was to draw Draco with a high-pony wearing armor.

[typicalopposite]

🍓 Fruit picking for bucktommy if it inspires you 💙

Welp! I was very inspired 😂🫶 hope you like it!!

<3<3<3

Evan loves kids. 

It’s nothing new. Tommy has known from the very beginning. How he brought up how cool Chris would think Tommy’s job was during the tour. How he absolutely adores his favorite girl (Jee). How he deserts Tommy with Hen and Karen to go see what Denny and Mara are up to. 

The kids love Evan, too. 

There’s very little—if any—doubt he is the favorite. He is the first person they ask about when they come around. He is the one Jee requests her bedtime stories from when she spends the night. He is the one Chris comes too with his issues he doesn’t want to tell Eddie about. He’s their Buck, and he means the world to them… and them to him. 

Tommy loves this for Evan.

Mostly because with both of them being firefighters, the topic of kids of their own feels either very far off (and some days not even in the realm of possibility). One day, he hopes, and he knows Evan hopes so too… but for now, he gets to be wrangled into the role of fun uncle with Evan, while he just tries to keep up. And if he’s being honest, he loves that for himself. 

***

It’s Evan’s birthday… and in true fun uncle fashion he was going to rent a water slide for the kids (himself too, but mostly them) to come over and spend his day off having a blast. Instead… he wakes up with a fever and a sore throat and a cough. He’s devastated… his pout pulling down so far it’s almost comical. 

“Got you some medicine,” Tommy says, sitting down next to Evan’s warm body. He gives him a little cup of NyQuil and a bottle of water. 

Evan sighs and takes the medicine, wincing as he swallows it. “Thanks…” he sighs, the pout immediately coming back. “Just gonna… go back to sleep now. Sleep my whole birthday away knowing I disappointed all the kids.” 

“Baby… you can rent the slide, and invite them back over, as soon as you feel better. They understand.” Evan buries himself in the covers mumbling something about it not being the same. Tommy tries to not smile, he’d hate for that pout to get aimed directly at him for teasing. He sits with Evan until he falls asleep, then slips out of the room so he doesn’t disturb him. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket; it’s Maddie. “Hey,” Tommy says quietly, moving across the house to the front door and going outside. 

“How is he?” 

“His feelings, or his health?” Tommy snorts. “Because both have been greatly impacted by this cold.” 

“Poor thing,” Maddie says, and Tommy can just picture her face pulling a similar Buckley pout to Evan’s. He walks out to the mailbox, grabs the mail, and the paper from the sidewalk. “Well tell him Jee sends her love and she hopes he gets better soon,” Maddie says… but Tommy is sidetracked. On the front page of the newspaper is an article about a strawberry field… Pick Your Own Berries! FUN For Everyone! The gears in Tommy’s head are starting to turn. 

“Hmm…” he hums out loud. 

“What?” Maddie asks, confused. 

“Hey, do you mind if I take Jee out for a bit… I think I thought of a way to cheer Evan up.”

***

He gathers all the kids, loads them into his truck and heads off to the strawberry field. 

Each kid gets a little basket, and Tommy sends them off. “Pick the best looking ones,” he tells them, taking Jee’s hand and letting her pull him down the row in front of them. She picks the strawberries and holds them up for Tommy to inspect before dropping them into the basket. 

When they are through, all the kids show off what they got. Their mouths red from the ones they ate along the way. 

“Now, we have to be quick, and very quiet!” Tommy says when they arrive back at the house. He goes in first to see if Evan is up wandering; he’s not so he sends the kids into the kitchen with their baskets. Tommy goes to their room, cracks the door and sees Evan still curled up under the covers. Then he goes to the kitchen and helps the kids wash their berries. He gets to work on slicing them, while Christopher and Denny go around the kitchen hunting down the rest of the ingredients Tommy says they need to bake a cake. 

An hour later the timer dings off and as soon as it’s cooled he quickly tops it with some whipped cream, more chopped strawberries, and a single candle they have been reusing as opposed to hurting themselves with buying the number candles. 

They just get it perfect when they hear movement from the bedroom and Tommy puts a finger up to his lips, and the kids all mimic him. Jee giving a little “Shh,” for good measure. The door opens and Evan comes trudging out towards the kitchen. Tommy can hear him sniffing the air. “Babe… what’s that—”

“Happy birthday!” They all scream as he rounds the corner, and Evan nearly topples over jumping from it.

“What the…” 

“Keep your distance,” Tommy instructs. “I don’t wanna return any of them sick… on top of being hyped up on cake.” 

“Cake?” Buck repeats, looking from Tommy to the cake on the counter. “When did you…”

“We made it!” Mara says proudly.

“From scratch!” Denny adds. 

“We picked strawberries!” Jee holds up the one she is currently eating. 

“Do you like it?” Christopher asks. 

Tommy smiles over at Evan, who is already a little misty eyed. “You didn’t have to…” he says. 

“I’m sure that’s not the answer he was looking for, baby…” Tommy teases. 

“I love it!” 

Tommy has to give it to the kids, and himself, the cake is pretty good. They only find a couple pieces of eggshell, and a single strawberry stem, as they devour the majority of the cake. “You feel better?” Jee asks around a mouthful. 

“Much!” Evan smiles at her, then up and Tommy… mouthing a thank you to him.

[porcelainmortal]

How about 💚 for firstprince for the Ficlet Friday prompts?

Thanks for the ask, Sara! 💚 Green: Nature

Here is my first Pride Flag Ficlet (try saying that out loud). It's horny so I'm putting it below the cut. Enjoy!!

Alex could fucking get used to this. Henry has taken him out to Llwynywermod for a long weekend after two interminable weeks spent at various Crown engagements. Alex has to be back in the States for an event at the White House on Tuesday, but for now, it’s a picturesque Saturday afternoon and he and Henry are having a picnic on the expansive grounds of the estate. The expansive, private grounds of the estate. 

It might be a bit of a risk to be going at it like they are out here, but they’re miles and miles from anyone else. They’re also surrounded on all sides by trees and fences, so even their security detail can’t see them. It’s better that way. 

They did have a picnic, is the thing. They sat on a blanket in the mid-afternoon sun and ate charcuterie and drank sparkling wine while David chased butterflies. But, well, David went to sleep and Henry got silly from a bit too much of said wine and now they’re making out, food forgotten to the side.

Henry’s pressing Alex down on the blanket, one strong thigh wedged into the apex of Alex’s legs, providing pressure that’s both blissful and not enough. He’s giddy and eager, licking into Alex’s mouth like it’s his last meal, and Alex is receptive to every moan and stuttered breath. He pushes his hands up under the back of Henry’s linen shirt to get his hands on bare skin, drawing out something akin to a whine from Henry’s lips. And Alex will only admit this to himself, but whiny Henry is his favorite. He slides his hands down, working them under the fabric of Henry’s shorts to dig his fingers into soft flesh. Just to see what noise Henry will make. He presses down a bit harder, his fingers working inward, and feels before he hears a beautiful whine work its way up Henry’s throat. Alex swallows up the noise, smiling a bit to himself.

“Alex,” Henry pants, pulling back. “I don’t want to come in my trousers.”

“Are you that close already?”

“Already? We’ve been snogging for like twenty minutes,” Henry says incredulously.

“What do you want to do?” Alex asks, grinning and squeezing again. Henry reflexively pushes his hips forward, making Alex gasp this time. Henry’s face morphs from aroused to wicked in the blink of an eye and then he’s wiggling his way down, wedging himself between Alex’s legs, and opening his fly.

When Henry swallows him down, Alex stares up at the perfect blue sky and the soft, white clouds. The birds chirp nearby and the wind rustles the trees and Henry moans around him and Alex comes with a curse and a groaned “baby.” He returns the favor, taking his time and drawing it out, and by the time Henry is coming down Alex’s throat, the sun has begun to paint the sky in glorious colors. In a way, it feels like it’s just for them. Alex tucks himself into Henry’s side to watch the sunset and finish off the wine. And Alex decides that of all the places Henry has shown him, this is by far his favorite.

[watchyourbuck]

hey~ no10 from the prompt list, if you feel like it~ 💛

Eddie knew Buck like the back of his hand.

No, that was an understatement. He knew him like his own heartbeat.

Every single look, or stance, or smile. Every single thought. Buck could bend over backwards trying to hide something from him, but he could only ever do it unsuccessfully. Eddie knew Buck. The real Buck.

So, truly, it shouldn’t have been such a shock.

“Who is he?”

Buck seemed taken aback, momentarily stunned by three simple words. “E-excuse me?”

“The guy,” Eddie continued, his body on automatic and his thoughts far. “The one leaving hickeys on your neck. Who is he?”

The indifference of it all made the firehouse cold, sending a chill up and down Buck’s spine. His eyes turned to Eddie, who kept stacking supplies.

It’s not that he didn’t have an answer. A name, more accurately. But still, how did he know?

Silence invaded their space, like a drama scene from a movie where the backgrounds blurs. It was uncomfortable, a hollow little piece of dialogue he wasn’t aware he was assigned.

It must’ve been too long. Eddie’s arms went down, the pile of bandages forgotten, just mere inches away from his face. “Who is he, Buck?”

“No one,” he replied, much more centered this time.

The change in tone made Eddie purse his lips, suddenly aware of the fact that he was being pushed off. Buck didn’t wanna tell him.

He nodded, a minor scoff creeping up his throat. His mouth bent downwards. “No one you wanna tell me about.”

The implication was broad, and pointy. Buck was dating, or he wasn’t. He was in love, or he wasn’t. The only safe haven was that he was fucking. Eddie would put his hands to the fire on that one.

Ironic, innit?

“Could be a she,” Buck said, avoiding his stare.

“No, it couldn’t.”

“How do you know?”

Because I’d mark you like that, too.

Eddie sighed, running his hands through his hair. The rest of the firehouse was running smoothly, completely oblivious to them, or their words. How could anyone not notice Eddie’s heart bleeding into its own?

“Forget it,” he mumbled, short of biting his tongue. There was a moment in time where the beggar had to stop begging; where the needy had to stop needing. It was time. Time to let him go.

Buck’s reached for Eddie’s shoulder, stopping him in place. He added no pressure, so if the man wanted to bail, he could. “You don’t get to do that, Eddie.”

This time, the scoff did come out. Angry and bitter, and all the bad feelings you’re supposed to swallow. “Do what, exactly?”

“Run away.”

“What?”

“He’s no one,” he said rashly, running his tongue over his front teeth. “He can be no one.”

It was tough to follow. Buck’s eyes gave away his feelings, but not the meaning of his words. Eddie frowned, taking a step closer. Buck’s hand fell to the side, brushing along the skin on Eddie’s wrist. “What do you mean?”

Buck blinked, his breathing heavy. It was now or never. He grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him.

Sharp. Fast. Telling.

“If you want me, he can be no one.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Please take this as my Fuck It Friday!

tagged by @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @loserdiaz @lover-of-mine @fortheloveofbuddie @callmenewbie @eddiebabygirldiaz & @eowon thank you so much! College’s beating my ass rn but it’ll get to your works shortly!✨💗

tagging in return @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @malewifediaz @housewifebuck @bucksbirthmark @your-catfish-friend @butraura @cowboy-eddie @buckleyobsessed @disasterbuckdiaz @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie @evanbegins @jamespearce9-1-1 @smilingbuckley & @wildlife4life 💗

[onthewaytosomewhere]

👀fooooor Southern Philanthropy AND BuckTommy! :)

okay becz so here is the southern philanthropy for this prompt

so that leaves ur bucktommy .... and here we are

Buck’s hand is moving along his cock. He just needs a little relief—something to relax him—before he has to spend another day with Gerrard still at the 118. He’s taken to beating one out in the shower most days unless Tommy’s over, and they get up to something else. It’s been a way to at least start the day a little less angry at that situation. Tommy is over this morning, but he looked so good sleeping and doesn’t have to be anywhere, so Buck let him sleep.

The door to the bathroom opens, and Tommy walks in, tossing his boxers in the hamper. Buck watches, cock still in hand, as Tommy opens the shower door. Buck watches him look him up and down and smiles, moving his hand along his cock. Tommy steps into the shower and asks, “You need help with that, Evan?”

“I suppose I could use some if you’re not gonna sleep,” Buck says as his fingers run across the pre-come pooling at the tip of his cock. He gasps as Tommy’s hand grasps the base of his cock as he backs him toward the shower wall. Tommy moves his hand along Buck’s cock, and he bucks into his hand, chasing more. Buck was already a good chunk of the way there on his own. But Tommy’s hand on him, helping him along, will make this go so quickly. That’s exactly what he needs—to get off and have enough time before leaving to return the favor.

One of Buck’s hands is on the shower wall braced above his head, and the other he uses to grasp Tommy’s cock. He’s not quite as ready as Buck, but he’s hard, and Buck loves the feel of his cock in his hand. Tommy moans as Buck works his hand up and down, switching up his speed and how tight he holds him. He can feel Tommy’s hand falter on him as Buck grasps a little tighter on the base of his cock and pulls up. That doesn’t last long, and Tommy finds his rhythm again, working Buck quickly. All he can do is keep his hand on Tommy and keep it moving.

It's just a matter of time before he comes all over Tommy’s hand, the water washing it away. He takes a moment to breathe, slowing his hand on Tommy for a moment as he comes down from his orgasm. He takes his hand off the wall to pull Tommy’s mouth to his and kisses him with all he is. Tommy’s tongue presses into his mouth, and his own pushes back. He gets lost in the kissing, his hand still slowly moving along Tommy’s cock. He feels Tommy’s cock pulse in his hand and speeds up the pulls of his hand. Moving quickly along Tommy’s cock in a way that he knows will bring him closer to orgasm. Buck works him over, pulling faster while he kisses him for all he’s worth. It doesn’t take long, and he has Tommy falling over the edge he had been riding and coming over his hand with a sigh.

Buck rests back against the shower wall, and Tommy leans against him. Their foreheads touch as Tommy pants into the space between them. “That was so worth getting out of bed for,” Tommy says when his breathing settles.

“I’m so glad you got up as well. In all the ways implied by that sentence,” Buck adds with a giggle.

Tommy laughs and captures Buck’s lips with his own. They stay in the shower kissing until the water cools and then quickly rinse off. By the time Tommy shuts off the water, it’s cold, and Buck grabs the towels and wraps one around himself, then Tommy. They quickly dry off, and Buck drags himself back to the bedroom to prepare for the day after giving Tommy one more kiss.

He’s slipping into his pants when Tommy comes up behind him, just the towel wrapped around his waist. “Remember, Gerrard is a dick, but there is no way he’ll be allowed to stay at the 118 for long. Keep your head down like Chim and Hen, and you’ll be fine. When your day is done, I’ll be back here waiting for you, and we’ll order pizza and hang out on the couch, watching whatever you want. And kisses,” Tommy adds, kissing Buck’s back. “I will have all the kisses for you when you get home.”

Buck turns to Tommy and whispers in his ear, “That all sounds wonderful, but I just want to add one thing.”

Tommy leans back, arches his eyebrow, and asks, “Yes?”

“I also want you to fuck me into the mattress tonight.”

Tommy swallows, “That could probably be arranged.”