Tumgik
#oh and the prompt for this one was bottle opener. so this barely barely counts but i do what i want >:(
opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years
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:-P
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autlantic · 11 months
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. • TRUTH OR DARE
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BILL KAULITZ X READER
summary: being the opening act for tokio hotel entails a lot of alcohol and a lot of bad decisions.
warnings: alcohol, all your basic smut features
a/n: HELLO ALL !! this is my first time writing in over a year so this is a bit shabby, but we’re all in our kaulitz twins phase atm so worth it <3 feel free to send me prompts, i’ll write a lil drabble
. • . • .
Somehow, every night after touring ended up like this.
You, the opening act for tokio hotel, and the rest of the band sat round with an unhealthy amount of alcohol, playing the most stupid drinking games imaginable.
“Let’s play truth or dare.” You suggested, leaning back into the plush seats of the luxury hotel room. Playing Gustav’s card games had led to one two many arguments; mainly between the oh so competitive Bill and Tom.
“What about truth or drink? Or dare or drink? Truth or dare or drink even!” Bill chimed in, manicured hands reaching eagerly for the bottle of vodka set out in front of him.
Looking around, everyone nodded in agreement at the suggestion. Bill continued.
“Alright then, Gustav, truth or dare?”
The boy in question sighed, taking a large swig of his beer before answering. “Truth.”
“Is it true you’ve only slept with two fans this whole tour?”
You couldn’t help but giggle at Bill’s invasive question. Tom had girls in every night- you could hear them through the walls which was a massive pain and pretty gross- but as far as you knew Gustav wasn’t as interested in the groupies.
“Yeah, only two.” The drummer replied, causing an uproar of laughter from the rest of the band. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at their childish antics.
As the game continued, the alcohol started diminishing. Tom had gone streaking down the hallway, Georg had been ding-dong ditching and all of you were completely wasted.
Finally, it had come to your turn.
“Okay… our favourite girl, truth or dare?” Tom asked, staring you down as if to challenge you. You leaned forwards, answering with a simple “Dare.”
Seeing as it was Tom asking, this probably wasn’t the best decision; he had a devious look in his eyes that made you instantly regret your decision.
“I dare you…” He started, spinning his lip piercing in thought as everyone waited intently. “To take a piece of clothing off every time someone drinks.” The dreadlocked boy finished, smirking proudly at his dare. Bill clapped in glee until you sent him a teasing glare. Before you could even respond, both twins had taken a large sip of their drinks.
“That’s not fair!” You exclaimed, pointing accusingly at the two, “Surely it’s only one item if you both drink at once!” Your complaints were ignored, met only with a chant of ‘take it off! take it off!’. Looking down at what you were wearing, you cursed yourself for having already removed your shoes. Thinking for a moment, you removed one of the necklaces hanging round your neck, Bill uttering a sound of protest.
“That doesn’t count as clothes, love.”
“You’re all pervs.” You teased, slowly starting to unbutton and unzip your jeans instead. Tom let out a wolf whistle as you slid the material down your legs, revealing the skimpy piece of black lace you’d thrown on this morning before knowing you’d be on display. Jeans were the safest option to remove seeing as you’d gone braless under your shirt. Now stood in your (barely there) underwear in front of a group of staring boys, it was time for some revenge.
“Bill, truth or dare?” You spoke, eyeing up the handsome singer. “My eyes are up here by the way.”
Bill slowly moved his eyes from the soft skin of your thighs and stomach up to your waiting eyes. God, they were all shameless.
“Dare.”
“I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room.” You smirked, shameless yourself thanks to the ungodly amounts of alcohol you’d consumed in the last hour. You leaned slightly against the wall behind you, eyes narrowed expectantly at he gazed at you in surprise.
Jumping to his feet, Bill practically fell over himself rushing up to you, grabbing you by the hips before smothering his lips over yours. The kiss was wet, and you could taste the vodka on his breath as he pushed his tongue into your mouth eagerly. His fingers, nails painted black, gripped your hips and waist firmly as you pulled at his loose and for once not styled black hair. A moment later you were pulling apart, pupils dilated and gasping for breath.
“Well that’s just not fair.”
Glancing over, you fought back a laugh at the jealous expression painted across Tom’s features. His eyebrows were furrowed, arms crossed over his chest. He’d been watching.
It was a bit of an unspoken rule that you didn’t get with any of the boys; if anyone caught you, their opening act, in an intimate position with a band member, you’d both be in big trouble from management.
“Where’s my kiss, baby?” He continued, pouting and leaning towards you for a kiss. You threw a pillow at him, causing Georg and Gustav to fall over laughing. Bill still seemed shell shocked and followed you over to the sofa like a lost puppy.
“Shit, it’s almost 2am. We should probably get some sleep.” Georg spoke, checking his watch. There was a lot of travelling to be done the next day. Gustav nodded in agreement, standing up and starting to grab his things. The two more sensible boys headed out, not without a quip of “don’t have too much fun without us!”
You turned to Tom, and he threw the pillow right back at you. “Get out of my room lovebirds.” He snickered, laughing at Bill’s pink flush. You smiled and pinched his cheek, causing him to slap your hand away playfully.
“Come on, Billy.”
Bill grabbed your hand, pulling you through the door and into the hallway. Once the door was shut, he pushed you roughly against the wall, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.
“You’re such a tease, you know that?” He spoke lowly, his brown eyes darkening as he trailed his thumb from your cheek to your lower lip, slipping it inside your mouth. Surprised at his boldness, you sucked softly on his finger, the cold metal of the rings he had on sending shockwaves right through you. He shuddered, withdrawing his finger after a few seconds and dragging you across the hall to his room. You suddenly felt all too conscious of your lack of clothing, your jeans still lying somewhere on Tom’s floor.
Once the door was shut, Bill’s lips were against yours once more, the warmth of his body pressed up against yours as the kiss grew heated and his hands began to roam across your flushed skin. Barely separating as the two of you stumbled over to his bed, you pushed aside any thoughts of possible consequences and focused on his mouth. Your legs opened automatically as he climbed on top of you, his tongue exploring the delicate skin of your neck as a breathy moan left your lips.
“Fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this.” He muttered, hands pulling at the fabric of your shirt.
“I don’t care.” You whined in response, letting him pull the fabric off of your body, revealing you to him.
His soft brown eyes gazed at your exposed skin, painted fingernails trailing soft lines across your skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. You pawed at his belt, Bill moving back slightly so you could undo the buckle with shaking hands. Pulling his shirt off, the singers lips attached to yours once again as he trailed his hands to the hem of your underwear.
He dipped one finger below the lacey fabric, smirking as you to pushed your hips into his hands desperately. Hearing your whimper of ‘please’, he finally pushed your underwear to the side, thumb pressing directly against your sensitive nub. You whined as he began drawing small circles, wetness seeping from you as your head fell back against the pillows. Without warning, Bill slid a finger inside your slick walls, drawing out a moan that made him grin. “Shh, baby. Don’t want anyone to hear you do we?” He cooed, adding a second finger and picking up speed as you tried to keep quiet. You could hear the slick sounds of his fingers as he curled them upwards, causing you to call out his name desperately.
Feeling pleasure build up inside you, you reached to palm him through his jeans, causing his motions to stutter. You whined as he pulled away, but watched on as he began to pull off the only layers separating you from what you really wanted. Eyes wide, you gazed as he pulled down his boxers, cock springing free and hitting his stomach. It was long, oozing precum and you couldn’t help but reach to grab it, slowly stroking his member as his eyes screwed shut in content.
“Please, Bill.” You begged, wrapping your arms round his neck to pull him closer, gasping slightly as you felt his cock press against the opening of your heat. For a moment, you both pause as desire permeates the air in the hotel room.
Pulling back for a split second, Bill pushes the head of his cock into your entrance, groaning at the feeling of the hot velvet surrounding him. Pushing forward further, you cry out as he buries his cock all the way in, legs shaking around his hips as he brushes your most sensitive spots. Withdrawing slightly, he suddenly bullies his cock back inside, picking up a pace that leaves you breathless and writhing.
“God you feel so good.” He groans, one hand gripping your hip as the other moves to your clit, adding a new dimension to the pleasure taking over your body.
Bill’s hips stutter, his grunts and moans becoming more frequent.
“Inside.” You manage to get out, lips parted and brows furrowed as you near your orgasm.
He falters at your words, spilling inside of you as his head falls to your shoulder. A loud moan spills from your lips as the combined feeling of his fingers and being filled so deeply push you over the edge, orgasm crashing over you like a tsunami.
A solid five minutes pass, the two of you still curled up against each other before he finally pulls out, cum dripping against the inside of your thighs.
“Sorry.” He grins, pulling you against his bare chest and burying his face in your hair. You flush pink, this somehow feeling much more intimate than hooking up itself.
“No you’re not.” You giggle, cozying into him and ignoring the consequences of the morning.
“No i’m not.”
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deandoesthingstome · 1 year
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Hall Pass - Chapter 2
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Paring: Henry Cavill x Reader (RPF)
Series Summary: You run into Henry Cavill at the start of a two-week house-sitting vacation. You had some previous plans. Some were ruined by your now ex-boyfriend. Some were made better. Guess by whom?
Series Warnings: I’ll be honest, this whole thing is just self-indulgent smutty fluff. Here’s what I offer: meeting, making out, and having sex with Henry Cavill (rpf). I’m probably NOT going to be adding chapter warnings unless I get a bug to re-write and something worms it’s way into the story that I wasn’t expecting.
A/N: I started this story shortly after the fiasco of The Witcher and Superman announcements. I thought about how great it would be to try and cheer him up a little. For the purposes of this story, he is single. No hate to anyone in his life right now, in whatever way you imagine that to be. I also understand if you do not read rpf. Feel free to scroll on by. I don’t need to hear about it.
This was going to be a looooong one-shot, but solicited feedback prompted me to break it up for you. 
Playlist: I will add to Spotify with each chapter.
Word Count: 3.8K
Chapter 1
 
In the morning, the smell of freshly brewed coffee forced your eyes open. You hoped you had enough time to shower before heading out to say goodbye to Henry. Plus you needed to tame the lingering fantasy from your dreams the night before. Somehow while reaching for the bottle of body wash on the floor of the tight shower cubicle you almost slipped and fell out, cursing loudly and grabbing on to the shower curtain, praying it held while you found your balance again. You heard a sharp knock at the bedroom door.
“Everything alright in there?” Henry called.
“It’s fine! I’m fine. I’ll be right out,” you hollered back from the bathroom.
You tried to hurry while still taking your time to keep your footing. One more quick rinse, then a dry off with a fluffy towel and you were back in the room slipping into fleece-lined leggings and a comfy oversized sweater.
He had another fire roaring in the great room and was sitting next to two mugs of coffee at the breakfast bar.
“Good morning! I heard a shout when I came to see how you took your coffee. Everything okay?”
“Oh, just clumsy me. I’m fine. And black is fine, thank you very much.” You glanced at your watch. So little time left.
“Yeah, I should probably get going soon. The store said 10 and I recall it was about 30 minutes out?” You nodded in response to his query. “Yeah, so a quick cup and then I should run.”
You hoped your face hadn’t fallen too low. Could you fake a need in town so you could head in with him? Ooh, go back for the honey! No, too desperate.
“Henry?” Might as well try, desperate or not.
“Yes?”
“Do you… where you’re staying… Is there any reason…Would you want to…I mean, there’s a table that gets good natural light you could take over and work on your model…oh, but Kal…shoot, nevermind.”
“Were you offering this farm as my hiatus home?”
“Yes? I mean, you could take up more space than a table. Plus the grounds are inspiring to wander around. And the goats. You barely had time to meet them while you were making out with the horses yesterday.”
Henry gave a hearty chuckle. “That’s really sweet of you. Very kind. But I’ve got…”
“Yeah, right, of course. Ignore me. Please. This must be so weird for you. A total stranger offering you a room in a home that isn’t even hers.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call you a total stranger and I’ve often found that Henrys make the best friends, but yes, I do have Kal and my assistant to think about.”
“Yeah, of course. No worries.”
You offered to jot down the directions back to town while you finished your coffee with Henry. He asked you to text him the details instead, reciting his cell number for you.
“I can trust you won't just go handing this out now, right?”
“Never!” You clutched your chest in mock dismay.
Too few moments later, you waved down the drive with a bittersweet smile on your face as you watched him go, then turned to re-enter the house and settle into your non-anniversay day. It had started out so lovely, but now that you were alone…
Oh, but not! You shifted gears and headed into the barn, where Caleb was mucking stalls.
“Did you have a visitor last night?” the old man greeted you with a cheerful smile.
“Sort of? The strangest thing…”
“And where’s your better half this morning?” He watched your face fall and tried to recover. “Everything okay?”
“It will be.” You paused for a moment. “We’re done. He just couldn’t tear himself away from work, not even for our anniversary.”
“That stinks. I’m so sorry. Was that him I heard leaving just now?”
“Not exactly…” you hedged as Caleb laughed at your reticence.
“Okay, well, keep your secrets then,” he winked. “Want to help out here?”
You jumped at the chance to get a little more familiar with the care and handling of the horses. Caleb helped you lead Mikka and Sadie into the field. You asked if you could have Butterscotch saddled for a ride in a little bit, which meant Telly would stick nearby. He never went far without her. Caleb recommended waiting to saddle the horse until the work was done so she wasn’t uncomfortable for the duration. The manual labor kept your mind off both Henry and your ex for the time being. As soon as the stalls were done, you headed back inside to pack some provisions for the afternoon. When you headed back out to the barn, you turned your attention to the goats who were ready for mid-morning nibbles.
Caleb was just about to saddle Butterscotch when a familiar vehicle wound its way up the drive.
“Holy shit,” you whispered under your breath.
“Any idea who this is now? Wait, isn’t that the SUV I saw on my way in?”
“Sure is,” you were almost beaming. Henry Cavill was driving back up the road to you with what looked like a large bear in the passenger seat.
Henry parked and stepped out of the car, making his way toward you and offering a hand to Caleb in greeting.
“Good afternoon! I’m Henry. You must be the horse master?”
“Sure am. Name’s Caleb. Nice to meet you.”
“Henry, what on earth are you doing back here?” you asked.
“Well, I got to thinking. First of all, we forgot to grab some photos for your hosts. And second, why would I spend my hiatus in a fancy hotel in the city, when I could just as easily enjoy this beautiful country-side? If the offer still stands, that is.”
“You a photographer or something?” Caleb asked, and it was all you could do not to laugh at the older gentleman. 
“Uh, no. Nope. Not a photographer,” Henry smiled. 
“Caleb, Henry forgot to give you his last name. Seems that’s his schtick. This is Henry Cavill, he’s an actor. Plays Superman,” you offered, thinking it would be the easiest character for Caleb to identify with.
“Well, played, yes,” Henry countered and you almost fainted from embarrassment. Of course! He’d just had some terrible news about that role. And after leaving The Witcher, no less. Poor guy was having a hard time of it lately. 
“Oh, yeah. Think I knew that. Well, what’s a big Hollywood celebrity doing all the way out here?” Caleb asked.
“I was picking up some items from a store nearby when I got sidetracked and wound up at this wonderful farm last night. And now I’m hoping I can impose for a little while longer.” He smiled at you with a genuine sincerity and you couldn’t stop grinning back. Suddenly a sharp bark sounded from the SUV.
“Oh, yes, and Kal! Caleb, are the horses good with strange dogs? I’d love to let him run free, but happy to keep him inside if it’s a problem?” Henry asked.
“As long as he’s good with horses, they’re good with him. Sadie and MIkka are out in the pasture right now, but Telly and Butterscotch can show him around.”
While Henry retrieved Kal from the car and introduced him to you and Caleb, an idea began to form and before you knew it you were giving it voice.
“Caleb, would it be too much trouble to saddle Telly as well? If Henry’s up for it, I’d love to take him for a ride this afternoon,” you gave a questioning glance toward Henry, hiding your panic that he might think you were once again insinuating a different kind of activity altogether.
“Oh, well if it’s not too much trouble for Caleb, that would be a wonderful treat.” If he did notice the double entendre, he wasn’t showing it.
“Sure. Happy to saddle ‘em up for you. Think you can get ‘em untacked when you're back?”
You nodded, noticing Henry did as well, and Caleb proceeded to get the horses ready for you while you led Henry back into the house.
“Oh, and here, for you” Henry handed you a small brown paper bag. You opened it and peered in to find two jars of honey. “I wasn’t sure which flavor you preferred, so I just asked Josh if I could have one of each.”
“Well, thank you!” You put the honey in the kitchen and continued down the hall to drop Henry’s bags in his guest room. While he used the bathroom, you took the time to gather a few more items to add to the bag you’d already packed to take with you on your ride, then led Henry back out to the barn.
“Alright, you two. I’ll be back this evening to gather the other two and get them all in the barn for the night. See you later!”
You waved as Caleb took off, then headed into the barn to grab a helmet. Henry followed.
“Do you think I could borrow a helmet as well?”
“Oh, I didn’t even think. I usually wear one because, you know,” you gestured to yourself, “clumsy. But I didn’t want to assume, since you ride so often.”
“Well, it’s always a good idea to take precautions, I think. Maybe just to stay on the safe side,” he winked at you. Or tried to.
Once you were settled in the saddles, Henry asked where to.
“There are a few different paths around the property. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take an easy ride through the pasture and around the woods.”
“Sounds just fine.”
Henry and Telly fell in line with you as you led Butterscotch down the lane and into the field at a slow pace. Kal ran ahead and returned every so often to make sure he was headed in the same direction you were. You asked Henry how he managed to switch up his plans.
“I just felt so welcome and unbothered here last night, I really didn’t want our time to end. I called my assistant and had her bring Kal to meet me in town. Gave her the rest of the hiatus off and hoped for the best. I just texted her while I was settling my things in the guest room to go ahead and cancel the suite as well, since it seems I have another lodging option now.”
A warmth spread from the tip of your head to your toes. Henry Cavill wanted to spend more time with you. It seemed you wanted the same. You let your sincere smile speak for itself and enjoyed the rest of the ride in a serene quiet, listening for the sounds of nature instead. Every so often, you snuck a glance to see if the videos you'd watched online did any justice to the way this man sat in the saddle.
They did not.
Soon, you turned Butterscotch to enter a small copse of trees and Telly followed suit, barely requiring a nudge from Henry’s reins. A short distance in, you pulled to a stop and turned to see how Henry was reacting to the landscape in front of him.
“What in the world…?” he marveled.
“It’s a small natural hot spring. The next town over is famous for them. There’s a hotel, spa, roman bath house, the whole works. It’s their tourist draw. My friends were lucky enough to find this small pocket on their land. They set the flagstones surrounding the pool and even created some stone seats once you step in.” You paused, realizing Henry had just told you how unbothered he felt here and now it seemed you were making a play to see him practically naked. “If you want to, that is, no pressure at all.”
“Well I don’t know if I’m prepared…”
“I snagged a pair of swim trunks while you were settling in,” you admitted, sheepishly. “I was already packed and getting ready to head out here when you showed up. I really hope you don’t mind.”
“How could I mind? And the water’s safe?”
“Absolutely. They test it just about every week, but it stays consistently warm and without bacteria. It’s really a wonder!”
“Well alright then. Let’s do it!” Henry smiled wide and dismounted with such ease you were almost embarrassed to get down in front of him.
It honestly felt like you were flopping yourself to the ground every time you got off a horse. But once you were on solid ground, Henry approached to help you unpack the saddle bags. You let the horses saunter around the clearing, trusting Butterscotch to keep Telly close.
“There doesn’t seem to be a changing room out here,” he joked, making a show of looking around.
“Yes, well. I thought you could just step behind that rather large pine over there and change while I get in. There’s no one around for miles, I swear it.”
Henry accepted the trunks and towel you offered, then marched off to the makeshift dressing room. You set the food and drink you’d packed on the side of the spring, then peeled off your clothes down to your bathing suit and stepped in, sitting quickly to fend off the brisk, wintery air, keeping your back towards Henry, lest he actually be too big to fit behind the tree as well.
In a moment, you heard a rustle and footsteps heading your way, so you turned and almost lost your breath. He was striding toward you, jeans and sweater in hand, towel draped around his neck, and looking just fine in the borrowed swim shorts. They fit him snuggly and it may have been the best idea you’d ever had, short of actually inviting him to stay with you at the farm.
As he got closer, you moved to the far side of the spring to give him room to enter. He sat and released the same satisfied sigh you had when you first entered the warm water.
“I didn’t realize how chilly the air had gotten until you had me strip naked behind a tree. But this is just phenomenal.”
You laughed and apologized, but he waved it off. 
“I’m glad you suggested this. It’s a welcome treat. And I see you have champagne?”
“Yes, well. My plan was to come out here and drown my sorrows alone…”
“Oh, right! Ah, today’s the actual day, is it?”
“Was. Yes. So would you care to toast the demise of my most recent blunder with me?”
“Absolutely. And his loss, by the way. Absolutely.”
You ducked with a sudden shyness and took a sip of the champagne.
“Did you also bring strawberries for this? That’s a pretty standard anniversary thing, isn’t it?” Henry teased with a wink.
“I would have if they didn’t wreck my insides. I can’t stomach the tiny seeds. But here,” you turned and grabbed a small container to open and hand over. “Have some grapes?”
Henry thanked you and grabbed a few, then apologized if his strawberry joke was in poor taste.
“You had no idea. How could it be?” you assured him.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to thank you.”
“Thank me? For what?”
“For not treating me like a celebrity. With kid gloves and as if the whole world revolves around me. It’s been refreshing from the moment you bumped into me. You’ve listened to my ramblings about my hobbies and haven’t asked once about that Witcher fiasco. Or Superman for that matter. It made it very easy for me to accept your offer of a few weeks of quiet country time and I really appreciate it.”
“Confession?”
“Yours or mine?” he asked.
“Mine.”
“Ok, go.”
“You’re my Hall Pass.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Hall Pass. It’s like…”
“Yes, I think I’m aware, but you aren’t in a relationship anymore, right. Not since the very minute we met, if I’m not mistaken. Do you need a pass now?”
“No. No I suppose I don’t.”
“Good. Because I really wouldn’t want this to ruin anything you’ve got going.”
You blinked your eyes with confusion. “This?” you asked, not sure if you were afraid he would give you the answer you assumed he’d give, which was something along the lines of anything that hinted he had no real interest in you. Or if you were afraid he’d give you the answer you hoped for and that he meant he had the same undeniable attraction to you as you had to him.
He licked his lips, tilted his head, and furrowed his brow ever so slightly. You could see the way his mind sought the right words.
“I suppose it’s my turn to apologize and hope I’m not being terribly forward when I say that I don’t mind saying I’d like to kiss you.”
You blinked again trying to decipher the words that sounded like a jumble and yet also appeared to mean exactly what you wanted them to when combined with the sexy drop in his voice and the way he leaned in ever so slightly.
Don’t shake your head to clear the cobwebs, you idiot. But do something soon so he doesn’t regret what he’s just said.
“I think I’d like that, too,” you managed to whisper, afraid of the tremble you were sure would accompany the regular volume of your voice as he inched closer.
“Is now okay?” and he waited just long enough to see you nod before he bent his head left and captured your lips between his.
It was sweet and warm, a tender, gentle touch. At first. But the groan that escaped his throat as you swiped your tongue across his bottom lip when you very much couldn’t hold back sent shivers down your spine and a heat wave through your core. Henry placed a hand against your neck to hold you firmly in place as he tilted your head back and answered your silent ask with his own deepening of the kiss, tongue swirling into you.
The various ways you imagined kissing Henry Cavill could go each time you pressed play on one of his movies or shows did absolutely no justice to the real thing. And maybe you were naive, but this didn’t feel like an “acting kiss.” No, this was real, at least for you. Every tingle, every spark, every butterfly struggling for release. And yours wasn’t the only body reacting.
Henry pressed closer, pushed you gently against the side of the small pool, one hand behind your back to cushion you against the stones. You felt his knee wedge between your thighs and when your hand touched his side to hold him close you could swear you felt goosebumps. But that must just be the cold air.
Suddenly he pulled you away from the wall, backing himself up to the other side and dragging his hands down your back before lifting you onto his lap and coaxing your legs to either side of his thighs. He never once let go of your mouth, so you had no choice but to moan wantonly into his as you could now feel what else this kiss was doing to him.
His hands roamed your body, fingers pressing and squeezing gently before settling on the small of your back so he could shift you closer into the grind of his hips. After a few moments of even more passionate kissing with heads tilting back and forth in a carefully choreographed dance of lips and tongue, you felt him pull back and reluctantly let go.
“If we don’t stop, I’ll likely come right in these borrowed pants and I wouldn’t want to mess with the pH of the hot spring,” Henry confessed with a little sadness in his voice. “I’m sorry, I know I started that.”
“Please stop apologizing to me,” you answered kindly, attempting to retreat to the opposite side of the spring. “If nothing else, on my darkest days I can at least remind myself of a hot tub makeout session with Henry Cavill.”  
Henry didn’t let go.
“Oh, well, I was hoping…I mean, is it presumptuous of me to imagine there could be something else, more than … well.” The way he simply stood up as he shifted your legs to wrap around his waist and turned to set you on the ledge. “Is the air too cold for this?”
“I have a feeling you can take care of that,” you grinned, accepting his arms around your shoulders as he bent for another taste of your lips. All his residual body heat was keeping you warm and even if it wasn’t, your mind was decidedly on other things for the entire time his mouth was on yours. 
Suddenly, your phone’s alarm sounded and you jumped, knocking your head against his once again.
“Shit! Sorry! That caught me by surprise,” you apologized.
“That phone seems to cause you more trouble than it’s worth,” he teased, letting you free so you could stand up and grab your cell from the bag.
“Oh, I'd rather say this phone has provided me a unique experience," you replied before glancing down to silence the alarm. "Oh…fuck,” you tried to keep your flash of concern to a whisper but Henry heard.
“Everything alright?” he asked, already slipped back into the warm water where you also wished you could be at the moment.
“Uh, yeah. It’s…oh, god. I swear. You are going to think I am just trying to take all kinds of advantage of you,” you offered, while wrapping yourself in a towel to stay warm.
“I mean, I’m not exactly protesting here, am I?”
“No, I suppose not. But this whole day is just..okay, well it was supposed to be an anniversary date, if you recall. So what’s happening now is that we need to pack up and head back to the house because in sixty minutes I have a massage booked.” You grimmaced, hoping it didn’t sound like just another excuse to be next-to-naked next to Henry Cavill. “I could just cancel, eat the fee, it’s not a big deal…”
“Absolutely not. Unless that’s what you want to do. This is your day, right?” He watched you nod. “And do you want to have a massage?”
What you wanted was to continue your time with Henry in a hot spring, but you had also shelled out some major bucks to schedule two in-home 90-minute massages for you and your dolt of an ex. Canceling now would mean losing the entire fee. And Henry was here for another two weeks. There’d be plenty of time to get back here, literally and figuratively, if that’s where things were really going to head.
Plus, the stress of everything over the last several months left you longing for the sensation of palms and knuckles and fingers kneading into deep tissue to release stubborn tension. You could send one of them home, maybe. Eat that cost. Unless…
“Would you be interested in one as well?”
Henry paused for a moment. “There might be some things to consider with that…ah, fuck it. Why not?”
Chapter 3
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trulybetty · 2 months
Text
04 x dinner date - tim rockford x reader
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prompt: dinner date pairing: tim rockford x reader word count: 701 notes: fluff, mentions of food, multiple mentions of potatoes, the flu, no use of y/n and reader is a blank slate summary: change in dining plans for valentines with tim
x. masterlist
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“Would you stop apologizing,” Tim said as he pulled a clean t-shirt over his bare chest.
If you weren't hopped up on flu meds and your head didn't feel like it was stuffed with cotton wool you'd lament the loss of his naked broad shoulders. Then again, if you weren't currently sick and curled up in bed the two of you would be out for dinner at the restaurant Tim had been desperate to get into that had conveniently lined up with Valentine's Day. Two birds one stone he'd winked over breakfast when he'd confirmed the alignment of dates some weeks ago.
But tonight, instead of indulging in a romantic evening, Tim found himself taking care of you. He leaned over, pushing back the hoodie you'd pulled up over your head sullenly and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.
“You go,” you managed to get out between sneezes, “go on without me and come back and tell me how amazing the crispy mashed potato is,” you wailed, “like in excruciating detail.”
Tim rolled his eyes at your theatrics, “Too late, I already gave the reservation to Nell,” before he could carry on the doorbell interrupted him, “I'll be back, you okay to pause the dramatics until I'm back?”
You scowled as you watched him walk out of the bedroom until he was out of sight, you also weren't too sick to admire him in a rare sight of casual attire, sweatpants. Throwing yourself back against the multitude of cushions Tim had propped up around you, you flicked through the channels of the TV standing on the dresser at the end of the bed. It took a moment or two before you settled on some cheesy rom-com that Tim would with no doubt grumble about, but five minutes in be fully invested in the plot, asking questions and decrying the main character's motives.
The smell of food reached your nose before you caught a glimpse of him. He shouldered the door open, his hands balancing a lap tray overflowing with recognizable takeout containers from his favourite Chinese restaurant, and tucked under his arm was a bottle of wine. He placed the tray carefully on the bed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a corkscrew with skilled precision. In a matter of seconds, he removed the cork and began pouring wine for both of you.
“I'm sorry we didn't get to go out,” you said moments later as you sipped at your wine, tucked in at Tim's side as he managed to somehow make using chopsticks to eat noodles an art in a neat skilled flick of the wrist.
Tim chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you. “Hey, it's not your fault you got sick,” he said, his voice warm and comforting. His phone buzzed from the bedside table and he reached over to pick it up, “It's Nell,” he announced, squinting slightly at the screen before a smile spread across his face. “She's thanking me for the reservation and... oh, she sent a picture of those potatoes you wanted.”
“Are they as amazing as they sounded on the menu?” you asked, “wait, I don't know if I can take it if they are,” you cried as you covered your eyes. 
“According to Nell, they're 'to die for,'” he read aloud, purposely ignoring your melodramatics as he turned the screen to show you the picture. The picture, a plate of golden, crispy rolls of mashed potato, artfully arranged and garnished, looking every bit as delicious as you had imagined.
You let out a dramatic sigh, sinking deeper into the pillows. “Betrayed by my own body,” you mourned through a hacking cough, as if your body wanted to hammer it home. 
Tim dropped his phone back down on the bedside table and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “Nell's already put our name on the waiting list for us, we're going to go there together, and we'll order so many of those potato things that you'll be sick of them,” he promised, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head.
“You promise?” you asked tucking yourself further into his side.
“I promise.”
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anxiouspineapple99 · 5 months
Text
Midnight Masquerade - Wrecker
Summary: The bottle lands on Wrecker, and the pair of you enjoy a smokin' hot time. Prompt for the party in bold.
Warnings: 18+ so minors be gone; fire giant!Wrecker x f!reader; kinks: size kink / distention + wax play; dry humping, pussyjob / non-penetrative stimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected PiV sex (wrap before you tap), squirting, creampie, brief aftercare; I think that's it. 
Word Count: 3.1k (don't perceive me. I don't know where this is all coming from)
A/N: Here is my submission for Pineapple's Halloween Party! You can read the introduction to this chapter here, as well as any of the other parts. Happy spooky season y'all.
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...Wrecker. 
A round of wolf-whistles rises from the rest of the table (quite literally, in Hunter’s case), but loudest of all is Wrecker’s booming voice. 
“Aww yeah! Hahaha!” 
Maker, you always forget how built he is. You grin in spite of the sudden rush of nerves that slinks down your spine. Wrecker’s enthusiasm for life is infectious, and no matter your mood, just being in the same room as him lifts your spirits. So when he turns to crinkle a smile at you, you can’t help but respond in kind.
“C’mon!” He stands up with a bit too much force, knocking into the table with his powerful thighs. Glasses scatter, spilling their contents or shattering on the floor, much to the chagrin of the others. “Oops. Sorry!” 
Shaking your head with an amused smile, you stand with a bit more deftness and hold out your hand. “They’ll be fine. Come on.”
Wrecker takes your hand, dwarfing it in his own massive one. You nearly jerk away at first: his skin is so hot it feels nearly feverish, like he’s lit on fire from the inside. But then you look more closely. That’s exactly what’s happening. Where Rex gives off a cool, effervescent radiance, Wrecker’s entire body glows with dull, flickering firelight. Flame tattoos, probably sketched on by one of his brothers and now become real with the potion, ripple as his muscles flex. And his clothing leaves little to the imagination, just a haphazardly ripped animal pelt secured around his waist. Your throat bobs when you gulp. 
He grins down at you, and now that you’re actually paying attention, you realize two things. First, has he always been that tall? You swear you didn’t have to look up that far before. And second, embers smolder a deep red in his good eye, like a hearth warming the home. Warmth spreads over you.
“See somethin’ you like, pretty girl?” he asks, all teeth and teasing. 
A shudder skitters across your body. “Y-Yeah, big guy. Shall we?” You jerk your head toward the back. 
His eyes widen a fraction before his face sets into what you imagine is his battle face. Scrunched eyebrows, determined slant to his mouth, his shoulders square as he effortlessly scoops you up. You squeal in surprise. 
“Wrecker!” 
“Wha’?” 
Blinking up at his confused face, so much closer now than it just was, you shake your head. “Nothing.” 
His confusion clears, and it strikes you, not for the first time, just how expressive Wrecker is. Now that you’re over your initial bout of anxiety, you wonder if his openness extends to the bedroom. Your core clenches at that thought. 
As he adjusts his grip on you to be more comfortable, you curl against his bare, heated chest, the warmth a welcome respite against the conditioned air of this building. Wrecker carries you princess style through the crowd to the back where there are dozens upon dozens of rooms. At least, you assume there’s that many rooms; Wrecker grows visibly impatient from all the doors and kicks one in at random. 
He has to duck to enter the room, and angles his body so neither your head nor your feet whack against the doorframe. He knocks the door shut with his foot.
“Here we a—woah.” 
“Oh.” Your jaw drops at the sight of the room before you. Pushed to one wall is a massive bed with deep red sheets and a black satin duvet, cradled in a wrought iron frame. To either side, glossy wooden bedside tables rest, their surfaces artfully arranged with burning votive candles and other decorations. A few well-concealed ceiling lights focus all the illumination on the bed.
Against you, Wrecker’s entire body begins to grow hotter, matching the flush creeping over your own skin. 
“Where, uh, where d’ya want me to put you down?” Wrecker asks, voice hushed in awe. 
“Here is fine,” you murmur. 
Yeah, no, he’s definitely taller than he should be. The trip back down to solid ground takes a heartbeat longer than you’d expect, but once your legs stabilize under you, you almost wish he’d kept holding you. Chilled air once again greets your skin.
“So,” he says. 
You meet his gaze with a small smile. “So.” 
“You were being serious out there, huh?” 
Ducking your head, you twist your fingers over one another. “Yeah. Is that— I mean, would that be something you’d wanna do?” 
One of his thick fingers, gentler than you’ve ever experienced him act before, catches under your chin to tilt your face back up to meet his gaze. “I would love to.”
“Yeah?” you breathe. 
“Yeah.” He offers a shy smile, the expression so incongruous with the clearly fierce and deadly creature he’s chosen to dress up as, and your heart skips a beat. “Can I kiss you, pretty girl?” 
Humming low in your throat, you bat your eyelashes at him. “First, can you tell me what monster you are?” 
“Oh!” His smile broadens to an excited grin. He props his fists on his hips as if to show off his admittedly impressive physique. “Yeah! I’m a fire giant. Look!” 
He squints in concentration, and after a moment, fire—real, actual fire—ignites all over his body. You yelp and scramble back, the heat threatening to singe your eyebrows. But your jaw drops in awe once you’re a safe distance away. The flames dance across his skin as if orchestrated by a silent symphony; the flickering tongues of light flash between colors. Bright blue makes the air around Wrecker shimmer with heat waves; yellow casts warm, buttery light into the enclosed space; but your favorite is when the flames sputter pink. 
Wrecker exhales a loud grunt and the flames recede. Steam curls off his skin in vaporous wisps, and he staggers back half a step. 
“Oh, shit, are you okay?” You go to take a step forward, but his hands come up to ward you off. 
“M’fine,” he says, though it clearly takes a lot of effort. “That was harder than I thought it would be. Gimme a moment.”
Glancing around the room yields no options for helping him cool down. Though, the longer you think about it, the less you’re certain that throwing water on a fire giant would even be a good idea. 
“You should get comfy,” he says, offering another smile. 
Biting your lip, you nod. You’d nearly forgotten, in the midst of his light show, the real reason you’re in a rather sexily decorated bedroom. Without taking your eyes off Wrecker, you begin to slowly, deliberately, shuffle out of your clothing. The embers in his good eye flare to a brighter red as he drinks the sight of you in. Once you stand completely naked before him, you fight the urge to cross your arms, and instead let him pick you apart with his gaze.
“Pretty girl,” he husks, low and raspy. 
Your cunt flutters around nothing, arousal beginning to creep back into your veins. “Yeah, big guy?” 
“Get on the bed.” 
You don’t need to be told twice. Scurrying to the bed, you perch yourself on the edge, letting your legs fall open just enough to give him a glimpse of your dampening folds. 
Wrecker stalks towards you, using his full (and improved) height to his advantage. When he halts in front of you, you nearly shrink in on yourself, not out of fear but rather the sensation of feeling so small, so utterly tiny in front of this literal giant of a man. His broad shoulders and thickly muscled torso dominate your field of vision. 
The look he gives you, though, is impossibly soft. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” 
You simply nod, voice failing you. 
His two massive palms cradle your face with extreme care, and he leans down slow enough to give you time to change your mind. You don’t. Instead, you push up with your hands on the bed and meet him halfway. His lips part in a gasp against yours; mouths moving in slow, synchronous tandem, the pair of you remain locked together like that. There’s no rush, no need to hurry up and touch one another. No, you want him to take his time with you just as much as you want to take your time with him. 
Pulling away, his eyes flutter open to meet yours. Matching grins spread over both your faces. He trails his fingertips over your cheek, before sliding his grip to cup the back of your neck, crushing his lips against yours once again. 
You groan into his mouth. You draw back just enough to mutter, “Get naked for me,” and he complies eagerly, shredding the cloth concealing his cock from you. Reaching with curious hands, you whine at the sheer size of him in your grip: one of your hands can barely wrap all the way around his girth, and without looking, you estimate him to be at least the length of your forearm. 
Wrecker rumbles pleasantly as you stroke him with both hands. For a moment, you continue your actions, but when he licks into your mouth, you drop your hands. Shifting back on the bed, you silently urge him to follow as you walk backwards on your palms until your back hits the pillows. You lie back into the cushioned support, one arm wrapping around his neck, the other caressing his side, as you tug him down on top of you. Wrecker props his elbows to either side of your head, caging you in, as he continues to kiss you. 
His cock rests hot, thick, and so heavy on your thigh. Hitching one leg up around his waist, you press your heel to his back, wanting to feel him rut against you. He complies, breaking away from your mouth with a low groan to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to your neck as his hips rock down against you. You squeeze at his body, hands never idle, exploring every inch of his scarred body that you can reach.
“Wanna stuff you so full,” he mumbles against your skin. 
Head lolling to the side, you pant, breaths coming harsher. “I know, big guy.” 
When he bites down at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, your eyes flutter open in surprise. A moan punches out of your chest as he licks over the same spot, soothing any sting—but your mind is immediately distracted, forming an idea. On the bedside table, nestled amidst the dried roses and burning votives, are several smaller tapered candles. You know, instinctively, what they’re for.
Turning your head, you tilt Wrecker’s face back to yours and capture his lips in a heated kiss. One of his hands wanders down to grip the flesh of your ass, pulling you tight against him as he continues to rock his hips. His cock, now trapped between your bodies, grazes over your clit. 
“Oh, kriff,” you gasp. Your hips flex out of pure reaction, chasing the stimulation to the neglected bundle of nerves. Pleasure begins to burn in your lower belly. “H-Hang on. Wrecker.” 
He pulls back to meet your gaze, a worried line creasing his forehead. “You okay?” 
“Yeah, I’m great,” you say with a smile. “I just— I wanna try something.”
A smirk tugs at his kiss-swollen lips. “What’s that?” 
“I wanna drip candle wax all over you,” you admit. 
A strangled moan escapes him. Faster than you can react, he flips the pair of you over so that you’re straddling his hips. Giggling breathlessly, you reach to the bedside table and retrieve one of the slim, tapered candles, then reposition yourself so that you’re sitting up. 
“Can you?” you ask, holding the wick towards him. 
Wrecker nods and brings his pointer finger to the wick. A small spark of flame shoots from his fingertip. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, the wick catches, and a small flame begins to burn. The pair of you share excited smiles. 
It doesn’t take very long for the wax to begin to melt. Holding the candle so the wax doesn’t drip onto your fingers, you brace yourself with your free hand on Wrecker’s stomach. The hair there leading down to his groin tickles your fingers. As you tilt the candle, watching in mesmerized fascination as a droplet begins to form, you rock your hips. Both you and Wrecker groan at the friction of your slick cunt over his length; the candle wax drips onto his skin right after. 
His stomach flexes beneath your palm at the sensation. “Oh. Oh wow.” 
“S’it good?” you ask. You don’t cease dragging your wet core against his cock, voice catching with pleasure. 
Humming an affirmative, Wrecker points to a new spot on his torso. “Here.” 
You gladly reposition the candle and let a few more drops land on the indicated part of his body. A groan, low and growly, drags out of his throat. Biting your lip, you continue to let the wax dribble over his heated skin, sometimes at your whim, sometimes in specific spots he asks for. By the time that the candle is half-burned, Wrecker’s cheeks are flushed and sweat finally begins to dew over his skin, despite the layer of it on your own body. 
Blowing out the candle, you toss it to the floor where it can’t burn anything. Then, now using both hands as leverage, you undulate your hips faster, harder. His fiery palms come to rest on your hips, speeding your movements. You toss your head back, a near-incessant whine clawing out of your chest. 
“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he pleads. “Please.” 
All you can do is obey his request. Body locking up, you twitch and moan, orgasm rolling through you slow and hot like fire itself. Slick gushes onto Wrecker��s length. Wrecker’s hands remain on your hips until you slump forward, catching yourself on his biceps. 
He smiles at you, pure lust and pure affection both scrawled over his expression. “That was so hot.” 
“Thanks,” you chuckle. Still catching your breath, you lean down to kiss him. Beneath your body, his cock jumps. 
“Mm, why don’t you ride me, pretty girl?” he mumbles against your lips. “You control it all.” 
His words loosen a knot of anxiety that you hadn’t realized was still wound in your chest. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken before, and the ability to be in charge of your experience sets you at ease. Nodding, you shuffle until you squat above him. Grabbing his length, you smear the pre-cum that leaks from his flushed tip over the velvety skin.
Wrecker props his hands behind his head to watch through half-lidded eyes as you line up his cock at your entrance. Drawing a breath, you lower yourself as you exhale, letting your muscles relax.
Fuck, he’s big. So big. You’ve got just the tip in you and he’s already stretching you. Breaths coming faster, you adjust so that you can press two fingers to your clit and rub lazy circles there. 
“Yeah, that’s it,” Wrecker praises. 
You whine. “Wreck.” 
“You can do it,” he says. He spits on his thumb, then gently nudges your hand out of the way to press the digit against your clit. “Here.” 
A choked moan gets lost at the extra heat of his touch. Raising yourself up a fraction, when you sink back down you’re able to take a little more. And then a little more, and more, until you can’t possibly take any more—and even then, only half of his length is buried into your cunt. 
Walls fluttering around his mind-melting girth, you whine. “Wrecker, fuck, please.” 
“Whaddaya need, pretty? Need to feel my cock in your tummy?” 
Your pussy clenches at that, drawing a groan from Wrecker. 
He chuckles, sounding wrecked. “Look down, baby. Look where I am.” 
You do, every muscle in your body beginning to tremble with the combined strain of squatting and feeling split open. A gasp escapes you when you see what he’s talking about: in your lower belly, a noticeable bulge distends your body. Pressing a hand over it, you and Wrecker both groan. 
“Now ride me, baby,” he urges. 
Slowly, tentatively, you settle into a languid pace. You keep your hand on your belly, delighting every time you feel him deeper than you’ve ever felt anyone before. Wrecker moans with every movement of your hips, his teeth digging so hard into his bottom lip that you’re afraid he’s going to break skin. His thumb never leaves your clit, rubbing tight, hard circles over the sensitive nub. His gaze flits between your blissed-out expression and where your cunt swallows half his length. 
It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to begin to build again. Rocking your hips a little faster, you can’t help but smirk at the way that it makes Wrecker whine, his head tossing back against the pillows. As if to keep pace, his thumb circles a little faster, a little harder. 
“Wreck,” you gasp out. You angle your hips, trying to find a better angle to facilitate your impending climax. “Wrecker, please, don’t stop.” 
“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he assures. “Want you to cum all over me.” 
Nodding, you whine, teeth clamped over your bottom lip. It only takes a moment to find the angle that drives his cock into that one spot deep in your core. The harder you bounce, the steeper the climb becomes, your body winding tight, tight, tight, so tight you know you’re going to snap and break. 
A secondary sensation begins to build as you continue to fuck yourself on Wrecker’s length. Pleasure blinds you, and you have just enough presence of mind to wonder what the feeling is before you cum with a ragged wail.
Wrecker’s other hand flies to your hips to hold you still as he gently fucks up into you. Your cunt spasms around him, and then, as if you hadn’t already reached the summit of your climax—
You squirt. 
Your mind goes blank. “Fu-u-u-u-uck!” Body giving out, your arms and legs both turn into noodles. Wrecker sits up fast enough to catch you and keep you from hurting yourself or him. His damp skin slowly lowers in temperature, his body shrinking slightly, the change in size making his length slip from your stretched pussy. Something warm and wet slides out, as well—his cum.
Whimpering, you blink through tears to find Wrecker already looking at you.
“You okay?” he asks, voice tender. 
Nodding, you offer a half smile. “That’s never happened before.” 
“I’m glad to be your first,” he says with a smug smile. 
You slump forward against him, loosely wrapping your arms around his frame and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. His broad hands splay over your back, thumbs rubbing comforting circles. 
“Did— Was that good for you?” you ask, voice muffled against his skin.
His chuckle sends a tingle through your body. “Pretty girl, that was better than good.” 
Kissing his chest, you hum in satisfaction. For a long while, the two of you sit there, wrapped in  one another’s embrace, enjoying the quiet and the company.
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inkedobsidian · 1 year
Text
~ Girl talk S.R ~
prompt: #28 "This is girl talk, so leave."
summary: Spencer interupts 'girl talk' not understanding the conversation until he finally picks up the cues and decides to help.
pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
warnings: period pain
word count: 1,733
a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!
Master-List - Prompts
It had been a few days since the team had last had a case, and this led to Emily, JJ, and Y/N taking their breakfast breaks at the round table to have some peace away from the loud noise of the main floor. After spending so much time together the three had, unfortunately, had their periods sync up too. Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch all knew what was going on as they picked it up from the random food the girls would bring in every day and the looks they'd give each other when someone said something obnoxious. Unfortunately, Spencer didn't really understand the cue so when he walked into the BAU and saw 3/8 of the team at the round table he assumed that a new case had been brought in.
Y/N was in the middle of a sentence when Spencer opened the door with a coffee in his hand. Without noticing that the room had dropped to a deadly silence Spencer sat down and looked at the women with a clueless smile on his face. They all shared a look between each other before Y/N spoke up.
"You okay sweetheart?" Y/N asked Spencer. Spencer loved when Y/N called him sweetheart, she did it so casually and lovingly it made Spencer feel warm and comfy inside.
"Yeah… is there not a new case?" He asked now noticing that no one had a file in front of them, and only food. None of them really knew how to tell Spencer why they're having lunch at the round table instead of just at the coffee counter like they usually do. Without speaking they look at each other to decide who will be the one to tell Spencer what they were actually in there for.
"Erm… This is girl talk, so leave… please." JJ said with a sickly smile trying not to be mean to Spencer.
"Oh of course I'm so sorry," Spencer said grabbing his coffee cup and scurrying out of the room towards his desk to drink his coffee. The girls all looked between each other for a second.
"Oh, he's so cute." Y/N broke the silence breaking out into a smile. JJ and Emily knew how she really meant it but they decided to not say anything and let the pair pine for each other unknowingly for another day. After a few minutes, the girls decided to go back to their desks and try and get through the day. At first, Spencer just noticed that Y/N's eyes would crease at the corners every now and again, and then he decided to pay closer attention.
2 hours since breakfast has passed and Spencer noticed that it was the third time Y/N had gone to the fridge to pick up a small bottle of cola before putting it down and picking up a bottle of water with a sigh. He gave her a small smile when they made eye contact and she just smiled and wiggled the bottle at him to wave. Then barely 5 minutes had passed before she took 2 tablets that Spencer didn't recognize.
Throughout the day he picked up on more and things Y/N was doing. She was snacking on dry crackers instead of her usual sly chocolate bar, she hadn't had a bit of soda all day it had been swapped for flavor and she hadn't had a single bit of coffee she was drinking some of Penelope's herbal tea with honey that Penelope brought her in one of her fancy cups. The most noticeable one was the 2 tablets that Y/N was taking every 4 hours. He didn't want to pry and ask but he knew something was off he just couldn't place what it was. He finally gave in after Y/N had given a meek smile and walked out of the BAU at 5 pm instead of waiting for Emily to be done.
"Hey JJ? Is there something wrong with Y/N?" Spencer whispered not wanting anyone else to hear in case something was really wrong.
"Spence…" JJ said smiling, she knew he cared about Y/N but was he comfortable hearing about periods?
"Look I know I don't know much about women but she seemed to be sad today, I want to help." Spencer pleaded with JJ. She was unsure if Y/N would care if she told Spencer what was wrong, periods were natural no matter how many people cringed when they were mentioned.
"She's on her period Spence, she'll be okay it's just been a painful one for her." JJ smiled putting her hand over Spencers and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Spencer just nodded and headed to Hotch's office to tell him that he was leaving for the day. Spencer had read up a bit on periods considering he worked with women he thought it was only right that he knew, even to a medical level, what they were going through.
Meanwhile, at Y/N's apartment she was just laid on the couch still in the outfit she wore to work, she planned to get changed and order some takeaway but at this point, she just needed a second to relax, however, that second turned in an hour as Y/N had drifted off now her pain had momentarily subsided. There was always that one position that could help with the pain and for Y/N in was laid on her back on the couch with one leg over the back of her couch, that was until there was a knock at the door making her move. Y/N opened the door with a pretend smile on her face until she saw who it was then the smile was very very real.
"Hello! I noticed you were in pain today so I brought you some things." Spencer said with a smile that lit up Y/N grey day. He held up two bags in his hand and Y/N thought that her heart might have genuinely given up from adorableness when he did it. Y/N stepped to the side and let Spencer into her apartment. He hesitantly walked in and towards her kitchen, he didn't think she'd invite him in he just wanted to do something nice but he wouldn't say no to spending time with her. He sat on a stool at her kitchen side while Y/N looked through the bags to see her favorite takeaway, her order, and her favorite ice-cream with 2 fortune cookies at the bottom of the bag.
"How did you know-" Y/N couldn't stop smiling at Spencer as she looked between him and the bag.
"Every time someone says let's go for food your first reaction is always Chinese food, and one time you brought leftovers from here and called it your absolute most favorite take away and proceeded to tell me in detail what you liked from here… As for the ice-cream you brought it to me in the hospital after Tobias and said no matter what this could always cheer you up and you hoped it could do the same for me. I just thought the fortune cookies were a cute touch." Spencer cut Y/N off rambling about all the times she mentioned things that led him to this. Y/N was always amazed about how his mind worked, she genuinely considered it a superpower and she wasn't shy about telling him either. She thought it was amazing that he took the time out of his day to come to help her.
"That's amazing, you're my superhero honestly. Please stay, I'll get you a portion." Y/N said turning on her heels to get two plates out for them. Spencer was shocked that she wanted him to stay, though he didn't mind one bit he could think of nothing better. After plating it up they took their place on Y/N's cough as she turned on Netflix and continued the episode of Doctor Who she was last on. They just sat in peaceful silence as they ate and watched the episode until they were both done. Spencer took the dishes into the kitchen and came back into the front room unsure of what to do now.
"If you want… no pressure obviously… but you can stay if you want," Y/N asked meekly. Spencer had continued to be surprised as Y/N was so comfortable having him in her space. He wanted nothing more than to stay so for once he decided to be selfish and stay with her. He put his bag back down and sat next to her on the couch, within a second a cramp hit Y/N like a ton of bricks and she lurched forward. Spencer took initiative and reached out to hold Y/N's shoulder to reassure her, and Y/N just leaned into his hand and laid down on the couch rolled into a ball with her head on his lap. Spencer wasn't used to this domesticated intimacy so he really didn't know what to do but his heart was beating a million miles per hour at this closeness with Y/N. Without thinking Spencer started to run his hands through Y/N hair to try and soothe her pain and almost distract her.
"Hey, Spence?" Y/N whispered out trying to conceal her pain.
"Yeah?" Spencer thought that if he moved too fast he's wake up from whatever dream this was.
"Will you tell me something interesting?" Y/N asked. She loved to hear Spencer talk, she was one of the only people who'd never cut him off before.
"About what?" Spencer asked. Usually, he was prompted by something to talk about but right now he was worried that he would annoy her.
"Anything you want, your voice makes me feel safe," Y/N whispered almost falling asleep as he was playing with her hair. She was telling the truth though, the impassioned way Spencer talked made her feel safe and happy. She loved nothing more than hearing him talk about something he'd learned. Spencer could never imagine that someone would genuinely be interested in something he was saying but he did what he asked. He started by talking about Doctor Who and every now and then he would hear a murmur of agreement from Y/N before he heard soft breathing meaning she was asleep. He kept talking for a little longer so she was definitely asleep then he drifted off to sleep himself, and that's how they stayed for a few hours. In peace and the comfort of each other.
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bloodsuckingfiends · 5 months
Text
Kinktober Day 3: Gloves
Pairing: Aether X Rain
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, anal, medical setting including stirrups because I want desperate and vulnerable Rain, gloves, milking, cum, Rain's in heat, he's whiny and desperate because of course he is
A/N: Oh boy, I had a long ass weekend. Friday the 13th was my birthday, which I spent at a horror convention, and I'm fucking draineddddddd. But now I'm home, and tomorrow shall be a rest and recuperate day in which I will try to crank out some more of these prompts, because guess who's coming down with a cold? It's me. I'm the one getting sick, and my already fucked up body can't handle this shit.
As much as Rain missed having Aether play on stage alongside him, he’d be lying if he said that Aether’s new job didn’t have perks. Aether now worked in the Ministry infirmary in his retirement, not as a doctor or a nurse. No, Aether worked as a heat aid, and with an uneven amount of ghouls in the den, Rain was in need of his… aid.
So here Rain was, sitting in the waiting room, impatiently tapping his toes, and picking his cuticles to distract himself from the aching throb he felt in his painfully hard cock. When Aether finally opened the door to his exam room, and called Rain’s name, Rain felt his hole grow wet with slick in anticipation of what was to come, before he got up to follow.
Aether handed Rain a gown, “Just protocol”, he had told the water ghoul the first time he had to make a heat aid appointment. Rain’s face and chest flush as Aether turns around and busies himself with paperwork, while he undresses.
“Go ahead and lay down for me, and whenever you’re ready, go ahead and put your feet in the stirrups.” Aether spoke as he sat on a stool at the end of the exam table, pulling light blue latex gloves over his big hands. A shiver ran up Rain’s spine and heat bloomed in the pit of his stomach at the sight. Aether’s big thick hands straining against the smooth rubber. There was no doubt in Rain’s mind that the big ghoul had to order one of the largest sizes of gloves to fit him, and the thought made his breath hitch as he did what he was told and lay back into position. His eyes focus on the white ceiling above him, counting the tiles; an easy distraction. 
“You know the drill by now, hm Rainy?” Aether says, squirting a liberal amount of lube into his gloved hand. Rain nearly whines at the affectionate nickname, but nods instead and then hums an affirmative, almost too soft to hear over the click sound of the lube bottle closing.
“Okay, I’m gonna touch your thigh now.” It’s what Aether does every time. A simple, courteous gesture so Rain doesn’t jump at the first contact that’s hidden behind the flimsy gown.
Aether’s gloved hand is cold against Rain’s warm skin. His touch is feather light, barely there, as he slowly moves upwards. So, so close to where Rain needs him most. It feels as though Aether is dragging this out, feels like it’s hours rather than seconds before Rain finally releases a strangled cry at the sensation of slick latex against his tight balls and up the underside of his shaft. 
“So pent up, so much pressure, huh?” Aether says almost off-handedly as his hand moves back down to cradle Rain’s balls, weighing them in his palm. Rain whines in response, his hips lifting a little bit.
“Stay still.” Aether’s other hand gently presses Rain’s hips back down. 
The water ghoul chews on his lip, trying, and failing, to desperately stifle the whines and moans that threaten to spill from him. He couldn’t tell if it was his heat, or just the fact the sheer clinicalness of everything, was what was making him so, so needy. His cock twitches, causing Aether to hum low in his throat. Rain lets out a choked whimper when Aether finally takes his cock into his slick, gloved hand, and starts working over his length. 
“That feel okay?” A lube slicked finger begins to circle his fluttering rim, before pressing into him, stretching his hole open. Rain’s thighs tense in response, his toes curling. It feels as though every nerve in his body is alight as Aether milks him internally and externally. 
“Need you to cum for me Rainy, can you do that for me?” Aether says, tone even as he curls his fingers to pet at Rain’s prostate while the fingers on his other hand make soft circles around the tip of his cock.
“I’m gon- I’m gonna come, fu-” Rain’s reply is cut-off by a moan, his back arching, eyes scrunching shut as his dick spurts out rope after rope of hot cum.
“Good boy Rainy.” Aether murmurs, as he milks Rain to the last drop. 
“Now, did you want to make an appointment for next month, just in case?” he removes the soiled latex from his hands before disposing them and washing up, glancing back at his quivering patient who blissfully nods as an affirmative.
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musical-shit-show · 6 months
Text
dancing is a dangerous game
Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader
Inspiration: Prompts #2 (“apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”) from Prompt List 1 and #15 (“would you ever consider going on a date with me?”) from Prompt List 2 requested by @animetattoochick
Warnings: mentions of drinking, strong language, suggestive dialogue, anxiety, mutual pining
Word Count: 2,305
Author's Note: We’re back baby! Thank you so much to @animetattoochick for this request and so sorry for the delay. I’m working through my other requests now and have more time this coming month to catch up. And very fitting since it’s spooky season and I have some more BJ requests in the pipeline ;) As always, check out my Masterlist, About Me page, and Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit a request! Happy reading!
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“Do you want to go? I feel like it’s getting a bit crowded in here and the door’s right there—”
“Are you drunk?” Dewey asked incredulously, “We just got here!”
You groaned, wishing you were more drunk than you were. Dewey had a natural charm that allowed him to get away with way too much, including convincing you to go out. This time, it was a birthday party for one of Ned’s friends, and the degrees of separation barely warranted you being there.
The party was in the back room of the Roadhouse, and you nodded at some familiar faces as you still tried to formulate an escape plan. You weren’t the biggest partier, and would much rather be hanging out with your best friend on his couch.
You didn’t know when you first became friends with Dewey. You occasionally moonlighted as a substitute teacher, and after a few instances of bumping into Ned, he introduced you to his girlfriend, Patty, and Dewey.
The rest was history.
And although he was one of the only people you could truly rely on, you still found yourself cursing him for pushing you out of your comfort zone.
“Come on, I thought you liked the Roadhouse,” he egged, noticing your arms crossed over your chest in protest, “And they’re actually taking requests tonight! Maybe they’ll play some of that pop bullshit you like.”
Your mouth fell open slightly, then lilted upwards in an indignant smile. Dewey was also a master of getting under your skin.
“Excuse me, Finn,” you responded, “Just because you listen to metal and classic rock 24/7 doesn’t make your music taste any more superior to mine.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” he joked, pressing the bottle of beer he was nursing to his lips.
You scanned the room, and relaxed your shoulders as you noticed some familiar faces. Dewey was always the more adventurous one, the one who lit up a room. You didn’t mind fading into the background.
“I’ll uh, go find Patty,” you said, and Dewey’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He really thought you’d put up more of a fight, “I’ll stay. For now. If you buy me a drink.”
He flashed a toothy smile, glad he could keep you around for a little while longer. “A fair trade. I’ll get right on it.” He gave a small salute, causing you to break into a grin of your own.
You made your way over to the other side of the bar to greet Patty, who was furrowing her brow at her phone. Never a good sign with her.
“Hey!”
“Hey, sorry, just finishing up this email,” she droned, rolling her eyes.
“Work?” She nodded wordlessly, and after a few silent moments, she locked her phone with a click and breathed a sigh of relief.
“I love my job, I love my job, I love my job…” she affirmed, rubbing her temples. You sat down at a stool next to her.
“Hey, well, at least it’s done, right?”
“Right, and I don’t have to think about the mayor’s schedule for another 48 hours, so I’m gonna get wasted,” you laughed at her directness as Ned sat on the other side of her, “You in?”
“Oh, uh, maybe?” you were still on the fence about staying too late, and the thought of a hangover did not sound enticing. “Dewey’s grabbing me a drink now, so—”
“Ugh, Dewey,” Patty said, earning an eye roll from Ned. You guessed he wasn’t thrilled about his best friend and girlfriend constantly warring, “When are you two going to hook up already, anyways?”
Your felt your face get hot with blush at the question. You and Dewey? The thought hadn’t crossed your mind. Not for a while, that is.
“What?”
“Oh my god, you’ve already hooked up, haven’t you?” she said, pulling you closer. You could feel sweat forming on the back of your neck, “Tell me everything.”
“Patty—”
“Ned, I swear to god—”
“No!” you said over their bickering, “I mean, sorry, no. Dewey and I, we’re not, I mean, we’re just friends.”
Patty looked at Ned, who quirked an eyebrow. Suddenly you felt very out of the loop.
“Does he know that?” she asked, a devious smirk spread across her face. You loved Patty, but sometimes her gossiping was beyond dangerous.
Before you could answer, Dewey arrived, a drink in each hand. “Jack and Coke, per usual,” he smiled, handing you the glass. You grabbed it, and immediately took a long swig.
“Whoa, killer, slow your roll,” he laughed. Patty and Ned both shifted on their stools. Dewey eyed the three of you suspiciously, “Why do I feel like I missed something?”
“Don’t worry about it, Dew,” Ned replied. For all of his nervous tendencies, he was pretty good at deflecting, “Wanna play some pool?”
You breathed a small sigh of relief as the two men headed towards the billiards tables, leaving you to finish off your drink and work quickly to order another.
***
“Why do you think me and Dewey hooked up?” you asked Patty, several hours and drinks later. Though you hadn’t crossed the threshold into full drunkenness, you were just tipsy enough to gain some courage.
She sighed, twirling the straw in her gin and tonic. “Because, my love, I see the way he looks at you,” she said, not an ounce of irony or sarcasm in her voice, “And don’t act like you don’t spend every waking moment together—”
“Because we’re friends!” you shot back defensively, “I mean, I’ve never even…I didn’t think he’d like me that way.”
Patty quirked an eyebrow. “Well, do you like him that way?”
A pit formed in your stomach almost instantly as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. The alcohol in your veins was making you particularly honest.
“I guess, I don’t know…yes. I think. It’s complicated, okay?” you finally spat out, your voice hushed in fear that someone else would hear you, “He’s my best friend, and I didn’t want to ruin what we have so…I never did anything about it.”
For once, she shot you an empathetic look. Her and Dewey were reluctant roommates on the best of days, but even she was heartened by your babbling. “Well, no time but the present,” she said with a smirk.
Patty grabbed your shoulders to turn you ninety degrees, and you saw Dewey standing next to Ned, also a few beers in and clearly having a good time. You gulped, a slower pop song blaring in your ears as the weathered disco ball spun languidly.
“Move along now,” Patty taunted in your ear, “Ned and I have a little bet going about you two.”
“What?!”
“Just for fun,” she said, giving you a little nudge forward, “we have to entertain ourselves somehow, don’t we?”
You walked away from her, and before you had time to think, you heard yourself asking “Wanna dance?” to Dewey, who looked genuinely surprised by your proposition. Ned snuck off without a word, leaving the two of you alone.
A small smirk played on Dewey’s face as the two of you stepped towards the dance floor; there were several other couples dancing near you, and despite your liquid courage, you were praying you wouldn’t be the center of attention.
There was a brief moment of awkwardness as you placed your arms around his neck. It wasn’t like you and Dewey had never danced with each other before; he always had a way of dragging you to the dance floor when one of his favorite classics was played.
But now, you were acutely aware of the way his hands rested on your hips, and how your breath smelled like vodka, and the thin veil of sweat that was making his usually unruly hair stick to his forehead.
“Oh, come on,” he teased, his eyes flickering to your stance, “I think we can do better than the ‘leave room for Jesus’ bullshit, don’t you?” You laughed, realizing how far you were standing from him. It was as if you had been transported back to your 8th grade school dance.
Dewey grabbed one of your hands and laced his fingers with your own. You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as he pulled your body flush to his, while his other palm gripped your waist tightly.
“That’s better,” he smiled, giving you another once over. Clearly the booze had made him more daring as well. You grinned back, doing your best to hide your newfound nerves.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“I don’t know, I’m just having a good night,” he shrugged, the two of you swaying in sync as the song continued, “You should try it sometime.”
Your mouth fell open slightly at his jab, “Hey, I’m the one who asked you to dance, remember?” you fired back, “Or are you drunker than I thought?” He shook his head in denial. “Quick,” you mocked, removing your hand from his and flashing three digits, “How many fingers am I holding up?” Dewey barked a laugh, gently grabbing your hand again. You smiled nervously at the gesture, your heart beating faster in your chest.
“Why did you ask me, by the way?” his voice uncharacteristically soft, “Not that I mind, but you know I’m used to more headbanging while I dance.”
You smiled, glancing over at Patty and Ned. They were watching you intently, drinks in hand. Of course.
“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together,” you tried to say nonchalantly, “Or more accurately, that we’ll sleep together. Or, have slept together. I don’t know—”
“Breathe,” Dewey stopped you, “It was Patty, wasn’t it?” You nodded sheepishly, and he shook his head in disbelief, “I swear that woman knows exactly how to drive me insane…I told her nothing is going on between us.” You couldn’t help but notice that his voice had a slight tinge of sadness.
Now was your chance. You said a silent prayer that your nerves wouldn’t get the best of you.
“I mean…it’s not that crazy of an idea, is it?” you probed, doing your best to not shift your eye contact away from Dewey’s brown ones, “We do spend a ton of time together…honestly thinking about it, I kinda get why everyone thinks we’ve…”
Dewey’s eyes widened in mild surprise as you trailed off, the implication clearly hanging in the air. He never would’ve thought he’d be the cautious one when it came to this topic.
“Yeah, sure,” he conceded, “But wouldn’t that, ya know…change things?”
He always had feelings for you, but he didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship. You were too important to him, and an amazing friend, so he had silently resigned himself to hold those feelings close to his chest.
You swallowed your fear and shoved it down your throat. “Of course,” you became acutely aware of your palms growing sweatier by the second and hoped he didn’t notice, “But is it bad that I don’t care? Maybe we could give it a try. It could be good. Really good, even.”
“Goddamn, what has gotten into you tonight?” he threw your own question back at you as you felt your face getting flush.
“Maybe I don’t want to be a wuss anymore,” you smiled, “You should take notes, Finn.” He barked a laugh at your teasing.
Your stomach flipped as a completely new expression came over Dewey’s face. Well, at least completely new to you; who knows how he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention.
But you could tell from the way he eyed you that something finally shifted. “So,” he said coyly, “Since I’m a gentleman, I’m just going to make sure I do this the right way: Would you ever consider going on a date with me?”
Before you could answer, he spun you around and dipped you playfully, a giggle bubbling out of you as the song came to a close.
“Duh, you idiot,” you laughed, heart swelling in your chest now that the pent-up feelings you held onto for years were finally released. How could you have missed what was right in front of you for so long? You were almost embarrassed that Patty had to spell it out for you.
“Or maybe we could skip the date and go back to your place instead?” Dewey couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow suggestively. He certainly didn’t wait to start the blatant flirting, and you weren’t exactly complaining.
Still, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Why, so you can avoid Patty for the rest of the night?”
“…Maybe.”
“No.”
“Can you blame me? She’s a nightmare.”
“She’s fine, Dew,” you said as you both walked away from the dance floor, “And you have to admit, she clocked us pretty well.”
“I am not drunk enough to pay that woman a compliment,” he retorted, crossing his arms across his chest. You knew he was only partially kidding but still laughed anyways, “And she wasn’t right about everything. We haven’t hooked up. Again, we can definitely change that—”
“Don’t make me punch you, Finn,” you threatened, a playful smile dancing on your lips. You couldn’t believe how easily you both slipped into casual flirting; then again, you wondered if you had always been doing it without even realizing.
It was clear everyone else noticed, not that it mattered anymore.
“Kidding,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, “Kind of.”
“How about this,” you proposed, reaching the bar again. Luckily none of your friends were around to grill you just yet, “You buy me another drink, we dance some more, and see where the night takes us?”
Dewey’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal.”
*****
Thanks for reading! Like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed :)
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dailyreverie · 1 year
Text
Gifts
A/N - DISCLAIMER: This story is about reader who celebrates Christmas and Marc who obviously doesn't. Please, please know that in no way I want to minimize or romanticize Marc's childhood and his clearly complicated relationship with religion and religious holidays, which is also mentioned in the story. I am very aware of how this particular character grew up and it is never my intention to erase that, so if this comes across as disrespectful, tasteless, or rude, please let me know. That said, the two prompts used for this story were requested by @treasureswordsgirl55, thank you so so much!! I really hope you like it!!
☃️ December Writing Challenge! 🎄
Day 3: Rosy Cheeks + Day 11: "What do you want for Christmas?"
Pairing: Marc Spector x reader (she/her), mentions of Steven being there too.
Word Count: 694 words
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The cold air was freezing your noses yet you couldn’t be bothered to walk away. Storefronts were covered in lights and holiday motifs, reds and silvers shining and guiding you from one window to the other; to say Christmas was your favorite holiday was an understatement, and that was why. 
With a warm coffee held in one hand and Marc holding the other. It’s not like you were planning to buy anything, you had a couple of weeks left for that, but the colorful street had seemed all to inviting to just go home. Marc walked beside you quietly sipping his coffee as you gushed excitedly about the decorations, listening to the argument you were having with yourself about which store was the prettiest so far, all too quiet as he is, taking one sip after the other just in an attempt to stop the smile that crept up to his lips every time you gasped and looked up to see the lights - it was that little “wow” you let out every time, squeezing his hand as you did it, what made him feel his heart beat a little bit faster.
Look at the way she’s looking at that necklace. Steven’s voice suddenly said, reflecting on the window from the jewelry you were now in front of. Oh boy, she’s looking at the ring section now.
Marc could only roll his eyes, but as annoying as Steven could be, he did have a point…
“You haven’t told me what you want for Christmas.” He spoke returning a squeeze to your hand, just to make sure you knew he was talking to you and not to the mannequin in front of you.
“What?” His question made you chuckle, maybe from nerves or maybe because you truly didn’t believe him. “What are you talking about?” you asked again.
“I’m talking about Christmas,” Marc replied after a beat, not knowing if your question was rhetoric or not. “We’ve seen a lot of things, but you haven’t really given me any clues.”
“Marc, you don’t celebrate Christmas. We never do.” You reminded him, still confused as to why he was asking. Marc’s upbringing was never something you took lightly, knowing how complicated it was for him, but for that same reason neither of you barely brought it up - religion, traditions, what to expect and what to do, it was all established very early in your relationship, so Marc bringing up something as delicate as Christmas… you were not sure what had gotten to him now. Until he replied…
"Yeah, but you do.” It was simple, just like that, as if it were the most logical thought, yet when you looked at him you were stunned. Your eyes were wide open and reflecting twinkling lights, and your silence made his cheeks begin to tint a light pink, not as they were before from the cold, but because something else was doing it for him. Yours were pink too, the smile you had pushing the color to your cheeks. “So… what do you want for Christmas?”
You turned to face him, making him do the same. Your hands reached up to hold his face and you pulled him down to kiss him with a smile still on your lips. “Okay… then I want a cheesy Hallmark movie, whatever takeout is open, and a bottle of wine.”
“That’s not fair, that’s what I got you last year.” He grinned, small and almost hidden, but a grin nonetheless.
“And I loved it, just as much as I did the year before.” With another kiss you assured him of it, not able to stop smiling. “I promise you, I love our tradition. You don’t need to buy me anything.” Your thumbs caressed his cheeks, hiding the rosy color from yourself.
Marc kissed your palm with a quick turn of his face, not breaking eye contact with you. “Alright,” he agreed, giving your lips a quick peck to seal the deal. You didn’t have to know, though, that he had visited that same jewelry a couple of days before to get the very same ring you were looking at just a few minutes ago.
🌙🎄❄️🌙🎄❄️🌙🎄❄️🌙🎄❄️🌙🎄❄️🌙🎄❄️
Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!
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bultaoreunheyyy · 9 months
Text
Warn A Guy
Title: Warn A Guy
Word Count: 728
Summary: A short drabble I wrote for the following prompt, which I came up with for @btshurtcomfortprompts lol
Hoseok gets startled by Taehyung’s loud sneezing, so Taehyung tries his best to warn him before he sneezes.
“Hhh…h-h-hyung…”
The word barely made it past Taehyung’s lips, a breathy whisper that disappeared even in the near-silent kitchen. 
Only Jimin caught it, and he looked over at his soulmate to see the man moving slowly across the room, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as his face scrunched up in irritation. Jimin knew that look, one he’d seen enough times on his best friend’s face, and he smiled to himself for a second before he realized why Taehyung was saying something and who he was saying it to.
“H-hyung–”
Taehyung could only take one more step forward before he had to stop, one hand outstretched toward Hoseok’s back and the other hand inches from his face as his eyebrows drew together sharply. 
“Hmm?” Hoseok was at the refrigerator, filling his water bottle up; when Taehyung’s fingers brushed his shoulders he lifted his chin and started to turn around but by then it was too late.
“HHAAATCH!”
The sneeze was so loud that even Jungkook, who had just walked into the kitchen, sucked in a startled breath of air at the sound. Jimin was so used to Taehyung’s loud sneezes, and he had seen it coming by the look on Taehyung’s face. 
But Hoseok hadn’t known it was coming. He was taken completely by surprise, and he was someone who startled very, very easily– even someone as soft-spoken as Yoongi-hyung could scare the shit out of Hoseok by simply approaching him from behind and saying ‘good morning’ if Hoseok wasn’t expecting it. 
Taehyung’s loud sneeze startled Hoseok so badly that he yelped loudly, his water bottle flying out of his hands and sending water flying everywhere. In his attempt to stop his water bottle from falling to the ground completely, he hit his elbow on the refrigerator with a hard, painful sounding thump, which made him cry out again and crumple to the floor where his thankfully-plastic water bottle was now in a puddle of water.
“I’m sorry,” Taehyung sniffled, crouching down in front of Hoseok. “I was trying so hard not to sneeze.”  
Hoseok was clutching his injured elbow with one hand, his eyes squeezed shut. Taehyung sat down on the floor despite the water and rubbed Hoseok’s back, shooting a guilty look over at Jimin, and then Jungkook, who were both now hovering over the pair.
“Are you okay, Hobi-hyung?” Jungkook asked, his eyes wide.
“I’m okay,” Hoseok replied after a moment. He opened his eyes and looked between the three makanes. “Ah, I hit my funny bone.” 
“I’m so sorry,” Taehyung winced. He was still rubbing Hoseok’s back. He sniffled again and gestured at the water. “I’ll clean all of this up.”  
“No need to apologize, Taehyungie,” Hoseok sighed. “It’s not your fault.” 
“H-hyung…hhh!” Taehyung suddenly gasped. “I’m…”
Hoseok tilted his head to the side. He watched as Taehyung lifted a hand to his face, one finger in the air like he was trying to signal something.  
“Oh, again?” Hoseok asked, a small smile forming on his face.
“I’m…” Taehyung’s breath hitched wildly and Hoseok nodded to show he understood, but Taehyung didn’t see him.
“Oh-no-huhhh…” 
“It’s okay, Tae–”
“I’m gonna…gonna sneeze uhhh! Hh-hihh! G-gonna sneeze aga-hhhh…”
Taehyung squinted at Hoseok, and a single tear trickled out of the corner of his eye as he fought to keep the sneeze at bay long enough to mutter his warning.
“Yes, I’m ready, Tae,” Hoseok chuckled, patting the younger man’s knee. “Go ahead.” 
It was all the permission Taehyung needed, and a second later he was snapping forward with a tremendous sneeze.
“HAA-AAASTCH!” 
Jungkook chuckled and reached down to pat Taehyung on the head as he sniffled and scrubbed at his nose. “You’re sneezy today.” 
“Allergies, I think,” Taehyung sighed. He stood up from the floor and held out a hand to help Hoseok up too. Hoseok collected his water bottle and moved toward the sink to get a dishtowel, and his back was turned to the others when Taehyung suddenly inhaled sharply and–  
“HHH-AAH’TCHSH-uhh!”
“Ahh, sh-ihhh!” Hoseok barely stopped himself from swearing, one hand coming up to cover his mouth and the other flying to his chest. His eyes were wide as he sagged back against the counter as if too weak to stay upright, and then he glared at Jimin and Jungkook when they couldn’t quite contain their amusement. “Yah, Taehyung! Warn a guy next time, will you?”
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nyoomfruits · 1 year
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still into you
pairing: max verstappen/charles leclrec word count: 500 a/n: set somewhere after the abu dahbi gp at that party they all seem to have gone to. 
prompt was “You used to have feelings for me. Admit it.” taken from this list. feel free to send me one of them and i’ll write a little drabble!
Charles, desperate for some fresh air, opens the back door of the club they’ve all been partying in, only to find Max already there.
He’s leaning against one of the walls, next to some trash cans, holding a beer bottle and seemingly staring off into the distance. Max barely acknowledges his presence, but he does scoot over a little, making room for Charles to lean against the wall next to him.
“Needed some fresh air, too?” Charles asks, sighing as the cold bricks hit his overheated back.
Max hums. “Still can’t quite believe it. Like, I know I technically won the championship weeks ago but it all feels so official, now. Bit overwhelming, almost.”
Charles bumps their shoulder together. “Well, it’s well deserved. Shame it is the last one you will ever win,” he says, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“We’ll see about that,” Max says, but he seems a bit more relaxed now, grinning widely at Charles.
“If all else fails, I can always push you into a puddle again,” Charles says, startling a laugh out of Max.
“God, you were such a little shit back then,” Max says, but he says it so incredibly fondly, it makes Charles’s heart stutter in his chest. “Pulling my pigtails all the time.”
Charles snorts. “I wasn’t that obsessed with you.”
“Oh, admit it,” Max says, and he’s pushed off the wall now, body fully turned towards Charles. “You absolutely used to have feelings for me.” He’s joking, he’s clearly joking, but something in Charles loosens, thinks fuck it. It’s probably the three shots of vodka he downed earlier.
“Who says I ever stopped?” He looks Max straight in his eyes as he says it, almost defiantly, so he sees the way Max’s breath hitches before he lurches forward, grabbing Charles’s face in his hands and kissing him with an urgency that can only come from two people who’ve been waiting for over a decade to do this.
Charles hands reach up to grab Max’s waist, and Max pushes him backwards until his back is flush with the wall, one hand still on Charles face while the other comes to rest on his shoulder.
It’s desperate and frenzied and a little clumsy, but it’s still everything Charles has ever wanted. When Max eventually pulls away, clearly a bit reluctantly, his pupils are blown wide and his lips are kiss swollen and he’s never ever looked more beautiful. Charles wishes he could savor this moment, put it in his pocket, so he can revisit it over and over and over again.
“For the record,” Max says, “I absolutely used to have feelings for you too.”
“Yeah,” Charles says, a laughing a little breathlessly, “I figured as much.”
And then he pulls Max in for another kiss, just because.
142 notes · View notes
seiya234 · 1 year
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Hank and His Supernatural Mafia, 10/10
Oh hey it’s only been 8 years since I last updated. Previous chapters here. I’ll do a longer note eventually but for now thank you @toothpastecanyon for the prompt that turned into the final chapter, and @marypsue for everything, as always.
----
The most dangerous man in Portland sat in an uncomfortable seat in a Greyhound station. In the past he would have been walking around, looking out the windows, getting endless rounds of bad free coffee…
But it had only been a few months since he had left the hospital and his shattered knee was still tender, still healing towards… not what it used to be, but better than where he was at now.
It was a weird liminal space, being newly disabled. He was out of the hospital with the initial shock fading, and his new, permanent reality settling in-
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Next to Hank sat the most dangerous man in North America.
“Nah, just woolgathering. This was a good visit dad.”
Hank’s dad smiled, and Hank suddenly was struck by the crows feet, the hair that was starting to become more grey than red, all the little things he didn’t see living in the Shack but were so screamingly obvious now.
“Sure you don’t want to take the airplane home?” Hank asked as the board showed yet another delay added to the bus going to Bend.
Henry smiled wanly. “He’s been hovering around your sister at the house. Frankly I love your uncle dearly but I could use some space.”
Hank winced. He knew why Uncle Dipper had been hovering, knew that as soon as Dad got home Dipper would be by ‘just checking in!’
The reason that he had managed to avoid talking about after the initial conversation in his hospital bed, and the subsequent all family visits and solo family member visits and-
“It’s not going away son.”
Hank was tempted for a long second to ask “what won’t go away?” but the mutual aid society he accidentally made now had a body count, so he just sighed and said, “I know Dad.”
Henry put his hand on Hank’s still healing knee, but gently. His hand was warm and the touch felt better than Hank expected. “Can you talk about it?”
Peak dad. Not “want” but “can.”
The time on the board said the time to bend was now coming in 618 minutes. An improvement from 666 minutes, Hank supposed, but not by much.
Hank sighed and Henry gave him a rueful look. “I know. You’d rather not. But it’s important. Trust me.”
Hank considered the cold burning fire in Dad’s open chest cavity, the antlers crowned with bloody hands, the funeral black and bare feet and-
“Wait, seriously? Is this a dream? Did Uncle Dipper arrange this? We couldn’t have had this talk on the phone?”
Hank’s voice rose higher and higher as he talked and he felt his cheeks heat and wait, was he getting upset? Yes. Yes he was.
Henry folded his arms over his chest, unbothered by his burning heart.
“This is dream. But your uncle has nothing to do with this-”
Hank didn’t ask how his dad was here- and he really was here- because he already knew.
“-And we have tried to do this over the phone. But you have ignored your sisters’ calls, you have been curt with your grand-uncle and your mother.”
(the room grew cold)
“I understand your reluctance to discuss your feelings. It is hard for me to do so as well. But I will not have you bottling this up inside of you and I will not have you taking this out on the people you love. That is not who you are Hank.”
“I…I really don’t want to.”
Did he just say that, oh my god Hank did not mean to actually say that.
“Well son, considering you are a leader now, you do not have that luxury.”
The priest’s collar was on his dad’s neck and while his dad’s form was still mostly human, Hank knew that he was now in the court of the Woodsman. No getting out of this then.
“Fine, but this bus station is going to need a Peets in here, I need better coffee for this.”
His regular Peets order appeared in his hand, while Dad had the mug Mom made him, the one that read “Trees make me horny!”
Hank opened his mouth. He froze. That had been part of the problem because obviously he knew he needed to talk about it but starting was hard and he didn’t know how to thaw and flow and-
“How did it feel?
“How did what feel?
“When you killed the Master of Portland.”
And now they were back in that room except this time instead of the Crew watching him anxiously, watching him fight for all of their futures, it was just Dad, just Dad who saw Nicholai slam the hammer down twice, once on each knee-
Hank felt it shatter again, and Henry felt it too, felt as Hank’s heart sank because he wasn’t afraid to die but Christ he was afraid of what would be left behind, what Nicholai would do to his friends, would do to his town, would do to Vivi-
“It didn’t hurt,” Hank managed to say. “I mean, it did, obviously, but I didn’t register it. Everything was happening all at once and I didn’t have time to be hurt, I didn’t have time to scream, I needed to be back on my feet.”
“And then your uncle was there.”
Hank winced. “I still don’t know if I did the right thing. I’m worried me asking for his aid will cause problems down the line.”
Dad didn’t say anything for a second.
Dad didn’t say anything for a minute.
The temperature of the waiting room dropped twenty degrees while Dad was sitting silent and Hank was trying to figure out what was wrong before finally Dad managed to grit out-”
“Forrest Henry Pines, you would have died without the intervention of your uncle. I don’t know what he would have done if you had died. I-” and this time it was Dad’s turn to look down. “-I don’t know what I would have done if you had died. I understand where you are coming from son, but please remember going forward that as responsible as you are, you are a brother, a partner, a nephew and a son. Those hold weight as well.”
He was right. But Hank couldn’t say anything, just watch as his uncle glided in, Death himself entering the ring. Nicholai had tried to say something about breaking the rules of combat, but it wasn’t Uncle Dipper who had said something but-
(watch this dad)
(“Really Nicholai? Are you really going to raise a fuss about this? How gauche.”
Lucy Ann strode into the ring, all two feet eleven inches of her, and even as Hank almost bit through his tongue from the effort of trying not to scream, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell as Lucy Ann finally stepped up. 
“The Eldest. The Eldest is here-” The other members of Nicholai’s seethe looked ready to kneel as Lucy Ann made her Presence known.
“Eldest one-” Nicholai began in his most obsequious voice, but Lucy Ann raised a hand and the voice died in his throat. 
“Can it asshole. I don’t want to hear about interference. You and I both know Hank fights his own battles.”
“But the Dreambender-”
“Will not enter into this fight on Hank’s behalf, is that correct Alcor?”
Uncle Dipper was clenching his hands and biting his lip so hard that blood bloomed on his chin and on his gloves but he managed to nod.
“See?”
“He will provide aid however and-”
“And do we want to talk about the babies I saw here tonight Nicholai?”
Nicholai was putting up a good show against Lucy Ann, even though he reeked of fear, but finally he paused. “What children Lucy Ann?”
Lucy Ann grinned and her teeth were red, dark dark blood red. “The ten to fifteen teenagers you turned for tonight.” She licked her teeth and suddenly the smile was gone and if Hank thought Uncle Dipper was dangerous, right here and now, he was no match for a woman who had survived several thousand years in the body of a small child. 
“They had no reason, no thoughts, nothing of them left because they had been starved. The only blood I could smell inside of them was their own and it had curdled in their veins. What maker does that to his own children, Nicholai? 
“I-” Nicholai looked around, and even though he had chosen his seethe for sycophants and people he could terrorize easily, even they were looking away because well..
even among murderers there were some things you would not, should not, do.)
Lucy Ann and the crowd melted away (though not without Lucy Ann giving Hank a wink that she did not do during the actual fight) and it was just Hank and Dad again, watching a shadow of an event. 
“What happened next son?” Not that Dad didn’t know what happened next already, because Hank had given him the bare bones in the hospital, but Hank needed the cue to keep going, so...
“Uncle Dipper... he told me I had some choices. And that they wouldn’t be easy ones.” Hank took a deep breath. 
“Dad... Uncle Dipper was sweating blood. It... it scared me.” 
It felt like the last few words ripped out of him but it was true. Hank wasn’t scared of Uncle Dipper- he never could, he never would- but this was the first time he saw his Uncle’s limits, the first time he was scared on Dipper’s behalf. 
His Uncle, sweating blood and panting like a horse, with claws that kept growing and retracting, the whites of his eyes showing all around his pupils before turning black black black as Dipper tried and tried and failed and failed to think of any kind of deal that would heal Hank’s knees and not cost Hank his soul.
“He didn’t say it at the time, but I knew. If I had broken them at home, it would have cost me something significant, but we could have done it. But here, in the basement, in the fight.... there was too much riding on this. So the cost was greater.” 
“What did he offer you son?” 
“My soul for both knees to be healed....Or-” Hank paused. It still hurt. It was the right decision, it was the best thing that Dipper could do it saved them all
“Or?”
“He could heal one knee, numb the pain for me until I did what I had to do.... but the other knee would forever be damaged. That every day I would wake in some kind of pain.”
Dad said nothing. The quiet extended as they watched Hank gasp out his agreement, lift a shaking hand to his uncle’s, and Dipper lending Hank his cane to stand, unbowed and pain free, albeit with only one working leg, to face Nicholai again.
The tableau after that paused, and it stayed paused and Hank looked at his Dad and
“Dad?”
Death was next to him, and the edges of the dream were beginning to go fuzzy. 
“Dad, Dad please, don’t blame Uncle Dipper, he was doing the best he could.”
Dad looked at him, and it was like the time Hank and his sisters had stumbled upon a mother bear in the woods, that split second of deciding if they were not a threat or if she was going to maul them .
His father’s eyes, in that moment, had considerably less reason in them.
“I promise Dad, it’s a headache that goes away with coffee, it’s knee pain I can treat, it sucks but it’s manageable Dad please-” 
Hank took his father’s hand, the one that hadn’t turned into wood and cutting metal, and squeezed it, even though it was so cold it blistered his skin. 
“Please let me finish.”
The Woodsman looked at Hank, then looked away. Hank politely ignored the squelching sounds until it was just his father again, next to him.
“My apologies Hank. I let the anger get the best of me.”
“It’s okay Dad, I understand.”
“I will be having words with your Uncle when I get home though.”
“And I’m glad I’m going to be on the other side of the state for that,” Hank said truthfully, which managed to surprise a laugh out of his dad.
It was a little easier now, to keep going, so they turned back to the tableau before them. 
“What happened next Hank?”
“I looked at my watch. And I had stalled long enough.”
The entire night, Hank and his friends had fought multiple foes throughout Nicholai’s mansion, winning some battles, but retreating and retreating until they were cornered in this ballroom, conveniently large enough for a battle to the death. 
So had Nicholai thought twenty minutes earlier, as he had triumphantly come into the room with his flunkies, prepared to wipe out the Dinner Crew once and for all. 
He had no idea though, that this was all according to plan. 
“I told everyone, stall as long as they could, stretch out every fight until it was too dangerous for them, and to follow the map.”
“The map?”
Hank grinned.
“Teena and Damara and their families were forced for years to be Nicholai’s errand people. They knew every nook and cranny of that asshole’s mansion. So we knew where we needed to corner him. And then....”
Hank paused, and he and his father watched the scene. Nicholai, gloating because despite this reprieve, he was still so clearly going to win. 
Nicholai’s taunts sputtering to a stop, as he saw the expression on Hank’s face and oh wow, Hank did not realize he was smiling when it happened. He just remembered feeling shit scared
(but that wasn’t true)
and heart sick at what he was going to have to do
(no, he wasn’t. because)
Hank threw his bat upwards, to the ceiling. It flew true, and hit a certain spot in the ceiling that Teena’s clan had spent a month sawing at, two or three minutes at a time to avoid notice. 
It came crashing down, and wow, it was later in the morning than Hank realized because sunlight came flooding in, directly over Nicholai’s head. 
Nicholai barely had time to scream before the burning began. Hank felt like he was going to be sick, his stomach churned
(his stomach churned with satisfaction because it worked, his plan worked)
The room had been silent, so utterly silent, as Hank watched Nicholai burn to ashes at his feet. 
“Is that it?”
Hank couldn’t look his father in the eyes.
“No Dad. No it wasn’t.”
Hank bent down. The pain was already excruciating, but he had to see this through, had to finish. Ben offered a backpack that was comically oversized for his tiny body, and from it Hank took out a brush and a bag, and quickly swept Nicholai’s ashes in. Using Ben’s arm as a support, he managed to get back up to his feet, and croaked, “Outside, now.”
Nicholai’s underlings had obeyed him without question. That felt bad
(right)
but they at least led him to the quickest way outside. 
While one team had worked on the roof, another, led by Toby, had been preparing the sidewalk outside, chipping away until two or three panels had been clipped away. 
“Is the mix ready?” Hank had asked.
Toby nodded, and it was Vivi who had brought over the massive barrel of cement mix, wet with the paint stick still inside. 
She looked at Hank for a second, taking in his wounds, taking in what he had done, what he was about to do.
But she didn’t look away.
Hank took the bag of Nicholai’s ashes, and dumped them in the cement mix. He tried to stir, and managed a turn or two before Lucy Ann gently but firmly moved him aside, and finished the job, not stopping until the ashes were thoroughly incorporated in. Oonagh, Nnedi, and all the other endless amounts of selkie cousins took the bucket, and poured it out on the ground, quickly spreading and smoothing it out.
There was silence again. There was one last thing to do. 
Vivi and Dipper were at his sides this time, helping him down enough to run a finger through the cement, writing his full name, for the world to see. Once Hank was helped up, it was a gentle melee as the two dozen Crew members who had been a part of the infiltration all signed their names on their handiwork. 
Mindy, the last, still couldn’t manage her name, but did blow a big burst of flame, hot enough to dry the sidewalk almost instantly. 
It was that point that Hank, full body shaking from the pain, finally felt safe enough to pass out. 
And he was back in the bus station, and he had a croissant in his hands in addition to a refill on his coffee. “So yeah. That’s what happened.” 
His father looked at him, then looked at the mug in his hands for a long moment.
The long moment stretched into a minute stretched into two minutes before Hank couldn’t take it any longer and asked “Um, Dad? What... what’s going on? Are you upset at me?”
Dad started, then shook his head. “No. No son, I am not upset at you. To be honest, I don’t know how I feel about all of this.”
Maybe it was childish, but Hank’s mouth dropped a bit. “Wait, really?” 
“I’ll probably need a while to process it.” Dad must have seen the look on Hank’s face, because he huffed out a little chuckle and went on. “Look Hank, if you and Vivi have kids you will find that sometimes they utterly, absolutely, flabbergast you. This is one of those times.” Dad looked at Hank’s face and took pity on him.
“Let’s try this a different way: how do you feel Hank?”
“Like I never want to do that again. That was the worse thing I’ve ever done.” 
Henry’s nostrils flared. “That’s a tiny part of it, but that’s not all of it. Tell me son. We are not leaving until this wound is all the way lanced.”
This is why it always sucked when you got in trouble with Dad, Hank remembered. Mom would get mad and creatively ground you, but everything was over and forgotten in thirty seconds. Dad? Dad thought about things. And you. And what you did.
He couldn’t look his father in the eye.
Finally he managed to get out, “Dad, it felt good.”
“Mmm. How so?”
“It felt good my plan worked. It felt good that Nicholai was gone. It felt good that I killed him and he would never hurt anyone ever again. It felt good that I was right, that I was in the right. It felt good to have everyone looking up to me. And-”
Hank took a drink of coffee, to quell the sudden dryness in his throat, and it tasted bitter, bitter bitter all the way down.
“I know Mom and Stan and Dipper have all said... that our family has a dark side. That we need to watch for it. That it runs in our blood. And what if it’s that? What if-”
Suddenly his Dad’s hand was on his shoulder, giving it a small but firm squeeze. “Son, may I stop you there for one second?”
“Um, sure?”
“I’m going to tell you something that no Pines wants to hear, not your uncle, not your mother, and most of all not your Grunkle Stan.”
“Uh-” Hank was totally lost now. 
“The ‘Pines Dark Streak’“ and wow did Dad always have a talent for not only audibly announcing Capital Letters but also in speech quotation marks-
“-Hank, that’s bullshit.”
What.
“What?”
His dad gave his shoulder a gentle, almost condescending pat. “That’s just something your Grunkle Stan made up to justify both the horrible things he had to do in his life to survive and to rationalize the behavior of his father.”
“Uh-”
“And then your mom and uncle latched onto it because it makes them feel better about the things they choose to do.”
Hank, for once at a total loss for words, finally managed to squeak out, “Dad that’s really uh, observant for you.”
“I’m your dad’s subconscious who is just putting together a lot of little clues he’s noticed over the years, and am able to better articulate it in this liminal space we find ourselves. Also your uncles and your mother are not subtle people.”
“So...not therapy then.“
“No, why?”
Hank resolved to find a good therapist for himself after this dream was over.
"Look, I’m not just saying that to be unkind, though I have worried about what extent you children have internalized that, and I will be having talks with your sisters some time after this... No, Hank-”
His father gently took Hank by the chin, to look him in the eyes.
“Forrest Henry Pines, you are ambitious. You are ruthless. And you are capable of great cruelty and viciousness-”
Hank wanted to cry.
“-but that is not all of who you are, those are only the small parts of you, leashed by the parts of you that are good, that are kind, that seek to help others around you. So you leash those feelings. You put it in the service of your friends and family and those you love, which you have already been doing. You leash it, and you take responsibility for your actions, which again you have done and will continue to do.”
Hank’s dad leaned in to kiss him on the forehead.
“Go freely my son. Go freely and gently forward, and know you have my blessing.”
They sat like that for a minute, heads touching, Hank crying, and tears going down the face of his father as well.
Finally, Hank noticed that his coffee had grown cold, the edges of his vision had grown fuzzy, and the loudspeaker was announcing that the bus to Gravity Falls had arrived.
“There will be consequences for your actions son,” Henry said, somewhat regretfully as they parted and his dad picked up his suitcase.
Hank had already been running through the socio-politico-cultural implications for days, but still asked, “Like what?“
“Like that you are going to call your mother and tell her what you did when you wak-”
---
The sun was shining through the windows as Hank blearily opened his eyes.
In the kitchen he could here Toby whistling as he attempted to make pancakes in their tiny apartment set up, and Lucy Ann talking with Vivi about observations Lucy Ann had made among the other kindergartners.
The sheets smelt clean. His knee was in agony, but already it was fading down to something more annoying than anything else. The sky was blue.
He wasn’t sure why, but something in him prompted him to gently roll over, and pick up his cell phone.
He owed his mom, and his sisters, the truth. 
104 notes · View notes
pascalispretty · 2 years
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Breathe Me In
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Rafael Barba x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 2510
Warnings: Oral Sex/Cunnilingus
Summary: You try to convince Rafael to be a little sweeter to you after bringing him lunch. He obliges.
Written for @lannister-slings-and-arrows, @melk917 and @pascalispretty's Wet Hot Summer Bingo, fulfilling the 'Watermelon Sugar' prompt. As always, an immense thank you to @lannister-slings-and-arrows for editing; any remaining Britishisms are my own. Also on AO3.
The cafe is only ten minutes from Rafael’s apartment but by the time you’ve walked there to pick up lunch and come back you’re so sweaty you look like you’ve just finished a 5k. Your tee shirt sticks to your back as you catch your breath just inside the door, steeling yourself for the trip up four flights of stairs. 
The city is in the middle of a heatwave, the humidity rendering the air thick and oppressive and still. While the AC was on the fritz at your own apartment, you had temporarily decamped to your boyfriend’s in an attempt to escape the record temperatures. 
When you finally let yourself in you notice that the front room is empty. Rafael’s desk, where you had left him working earlier, is no longer occupied and you frown. 
“Raf?” you call out, pausing to grab one of the napkins that had come with your takeout and dab at your forehead. 
“Back here,” he answers and you roll your eyes. The bedroom is the coolest room in the apartment thanks to the unit in the window–you’re surprised he hadn’t moved his work there earlier. Kicking off your sandals, you make your way back towards his hideout. 
You sigh in relief when the cooler air washes over you as you open the door. Rafael is sitting up against the headboard writing careful notes in the margins of the thick case file in his lap and he perks up noticeably when he sees the brown paper bag in your hand. He sets his pen down. 
“Oh, thank God,” he huffs, shoving his work aside and reaching eagerly for the bag. “Did you get me more coffee?” 
“Nope.” He looks comically crestfallen, as though you’d informed him of a national espresso shortage. “Man cannot live on caffeine alone, Rafael. Besides, it’s not like you don’t have coffee here.”
“I have to make that myself,” he grumbles, rifling through the bag and grabbing the sandwich he’d ordered. “What’s this?” He pulls one of the bottles free and holds it up. 
“Watermelon lemonade. I got myself a blood orange one.” Before you join him on the bed you unbutton your shorts and kick them off. “I don’t know how you can even think about drinking coffee when it’s this hot out.” Rafael pulls a sceptical face, eyeing his drink suspiciously. 
“Watermelon lemonade? They didn’t have regular lemonade?” 
“Nope, just flavoured,” you tell him as you sit cross-legged on the bed beside him. He mutters something under his breath and you think you catch the word ‘gentrification’ as he passes the bag back to you. 
“Hey,” you protest, knocking your knee into his thigh. “I walked forever in a heatwave to get you lunch and a cold drink. Just taste it.” You pull your own drink out and take a sip, pleasantly surprised at how well the flavours work together. Rafa is still looking doubtfully at the pink drink in his hand and you roll your eyes. 
"You're such a baby, would it kill you to just try it?" you laugh. "I did, after all, nearly die of heatstroke bringing it to you. I thought you might be a little sweeter to me after my valiant sacrifice." 
"Oh, is that what you're after? A little sweetness?" He gestures to your bare legs, arching a blond eyebrow at you and finally opening the bottle. "Is that why you're half naked? Trying to give me a hint?" He takes a sip and carefully maintains his neutral expression.
“I’m half naked because I’m sweaty and gross and as soon as I finish my sandwich I’m gonna hop in the shower.” You take a bite and cast your eye over the files scattered haphazardly on the bed.
“Maybe you should join me,” you tease. “You look like you could use a break.” He had been working all morning, already bent over a legal pad at the table when you had finally gotten out of bed. By the time you’d arrived at Rafael’s place last night, you’d been too tired to do much more than brush your teeth and fall into bed. Certainly too tired to have sex, despite how much you’ve missed him over the last week. He chuckles around a mouthful, shaking his head and swallowing so he can reply, 
“You know as well as I do that that shower is not built for two people. One of us will fall out and I don’t have time for a trip to the emergency room today.” You pout even though you know he’s right.
“You seem to be enjoying your drink just fine. What happened to being sweeter to me if you liked it?” you ask, prompting another laugh from your boyfriend. 
“It’s not terrible. Though it’s not caffeinated and it tastes more like strawberries than watermelon,” he informs you, holding the bottle out so you can try some. “And I don’t remember actually agreeing to that,” he teases. You make a face at him and he smiles. 
“Maybe they added strawberries to improve the colour?” you suggest. He takes a sip from your proffered bottle and shrugs.
“Not bad. For not being coffee.”
“At the rate you’re building a tolerance, someday drinking coffee won’t be enough,” you laugh. “If you don’t slow down I‘m worried I’ll come home to find you freebasing the stuff.” Rafa laughs with you, almost choking on his lunch. 
“If my coffee consumption bothers you you can go back to your own apartment with its broken AC.” He tries to sound threatening but the effect is slightly ruined by the fact that he has barely stopped eating long enough to speak. 
“Yeah, yeah, as if. Then who’d bring you lunch?” You wink, crumpling the paper your food had been wrapped in and throwing it back into the bag. “I’m gonna shower.” 
The bathroom is warmer than the bedroom was so you strip out of your remaining clothes as quickly as possible. You turn the water as cold as you can bear it and stand under the spray for a while, letting it cool you off. If you could, you would stay under for hours but you don’t want to rack up a huge water bill for Rafael. So you wash quickly using some of Rafa’s fancy shower gel and reluctantly turn the water off. 
Wrapping yourself in a towel, you briefly head into the living room to grab your book. You had thought about making yourself comfortable on the couch and reading so you don’t disturb Rafael while he works but it’s too hot in there for you to consider it. 
“Raf, it won’t bother you if I read in here with you will it?” you ask, as you make your way back to the bedroom, shivering a little as the cooler air hits your damp skin. “It’s too hot–” 
Instead of returning to his file, Rafael had stacked it carelessly onto the bedside table with his legal pad and pens. He’d also taken his tee shirt and shorts off, leaving him sitting on the bed in only a pair of black boxer briefs. 
“Why are you half naked now? Copying my cold shower idea?” you tease, throwing your book onto the dresser. He shakes his head. 
“Come here,” he demands, holding his arms out for you. Raising one of your eyebrows, you do as you’re told; dropping the towel and settling yourself on his lap. You twine your arms around his neck and your fingers find the short hair at the nape of Rafa’s neck.
“What’s made you decide to stop being such a grump?” you ask, eyelids fluttering closed as his large hands stroke down your back and knead absently at the base of your spine. He doesn’t seem to care that you're still damp from your shower as his hands roam further south. 
“Made an espresso while you were showering.” He says it jokingly but you’re pretty sure you can actually smell coffee on his breath. “And you did tell me I should be sweeter to you.” Rafael lowers his head to your neck, running his lips lightly over the delicate skin of your throat. 
“I did.” You gasp softly when you feel his teeth drag against your pulse point, your fingers digging a little tighter into the nape of his neck. 
“So…” Rafael murmurs, rolling the two of you until you’re pinned to the bed beneath him. “Let me be sweet to you.” You’re sure you’ll never tire of the feeling of him on top of you–his warm, broad body pressing you into the mattress. 
Yet, for all that you normally love his bulk covering you like this, it’s not the most comfortable in this heat. Seemingly conscious of this, Rafael presses a quick, filthy kiss to your lips that stops as suddenly as it starts and begins making his way down your body. 
You let yourself relax, sinking back against the sheets as Rafael sweeps his hands over you, sighing contentedly when one of his thumbs brushes against your nipple. Thoughts of your email that you’d wanted to check and the book you had wanted to finish leave your head within the space of a heartbeat as you concentrate on Rafa’s touch, his shoulders pressing against your thighs. 
He takes his time. He trails his fingers down your chest, his mouth following to press kisses and nips across your collarbones and breasts–never pausing for very long. You shift restlessly underneath him, all too aware of the heat rising in your core and the slick starting to smear down your thighs. 
“If this is your idea of being sweet to me, I might actually bring you coffee tomorrow,” you say softly, carding your fingers through his thick hair. 
“Beautiful,” Rafael sighs, his breath warm on your sternum as he traces a slow, meandering path down your body with his lips. You whine when his tongue darts out to lick one of your nipples, the flesh stiffening further as his spit cools on your skin. His lips close over the tight bud, and the warm pull of his mouth makes you moan quietly. Those broad hands of his spread out over your hips, holding you steady as he finally settles between your thighs. 
“You don’t look so bad down there yourself,” you manage, feeling more than a little breathless as he lazily presses kisses along the inside of your thighs. His hair tickles but his hand closes around your thigh when you involuntarily jerk away. 
“I love your thighs. God, they’re so wonderful and warm around my head when I eat you out.” Rafa’s voice is rough, a low rumble that you feel vibrating against your leg as he drags his tongue down the inside of your thigh and stops just short of your cunt. The sight of him worshipping them with more kisses and licks is downright heavenly–you want to burn it into your memory, to have it keep you company on the nights when he works late. 
“How mad would you be if I took a photo of you just like this?” Rafa doesn’t dignify your teasing question with a response, preferring instead to nip at your soft flesh until you’re sure you’ll have marks.
It seems to take an eternity for him to duck his head down and swipe his tongue between your folds, an obscene moan ripped from his throat. 
“Fuck, querida. You taste so sweet.” You’re barely listening, focused instead on the way he pushes his shoulders a little further under your thighs and the way his hands slide up to grab your ass. That one pass of his tongue is nowhere near enough. It’s a single drop of rain trying to contain a wildfire. 
“God, Rafael–” Your brief attempt at pleading is abruptly curtailed when Rafa closes his mouth around your clit, his tongue swirling lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. The noise that is ripped out of you sounds broken, high and needy and desperate and you wind your fingers into Rafa’s soft hair. 
Your nails scratch at his scalp as he groans against you and heat surges down your spine, lighting all of your nerve endings on fire as it goes. Your back arches and you tilt your hips, presenting yourself to Rafael’s mouth as best as you can with his hands still holding you in place. 
He adopts a slow, almost teasing, pace that you think is probably payback for attempting to deny him his coffee. Rafa’s tongue sweeps messily along the seam of your cunt and traces lazy shapes over your clit, ignoring your attempts to buck your hips up against him. Occasionally his lips close around it and suck, unfailingly making you moan sharply and send more electricity lancing through your body. 
When he pushes his tongue inside your cunt it rips a sound out of you that you can only describe as a wail. His eagerness to press as deeply inside of you as he can makes his nose bump against your clit, a twin assault that has you tugging harder at his hair in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself. It only encourages him, his hands gripping your ass tighter as he tries to pull you down impossibly further onto his tongue. 
Something about his fervour, his attempt to get even closer with no regard for his own ability to breathe, makes your hips lock and your heart hammer so fast that you can hear your blood roaring in your ears. You can feel the barest exhalations against your slick skin as he breathes you in. 
“Fuck, fuck Rafa—‘m gonna come, don’t stop,” you babble, your fingers twisting in his hair. Rafael groans against you, the vibrations sending you spiralling higher. The bed creaks beneath you as Rafa shuffles forward on his knees, trying to push his whole body closer. His fingertips sink into the flesh of your ass, his grip turning to iron as he pushes you over the edge. 
Every muscle in your body feels like it tenses and then lets go, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you can’t breathe. Heat floods out from your belly, familiar and primal, making your toes curl and your fingers twitch in Rafa’s hair as the warmth reaches them. You feel more slick flooding your cunt and you’re vaguely aware of the hungry moan it elicits from Rafael as it hits his tongue.
You come back to yourself slowly, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as Rafael carries on lazily stroking his tongue inside of you. When you manage to look down at him your eyes meet his, the pale green almost completely eclipsed by the black of his pupils. You finally loosen your grip on his hair and your fingers feel stiff as you uncurl them. 
A soft noise of protest escapes you when Rafa pulls away to press more kisses against your thighs. You catch a smug grin curling across his lips. 
“Imagine the orgasm you would have gotten if you’d brought me my coffee in the first place.” 
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comphy-and-cozy · 8 months
Note
congrats on your milestone, c! 🩷
🦋 may i please request the prompt “you always being in my life is gift enough” with brady skjei? - @pyotrkochetkov
always @pyotrkochetkov 🖤 this is kind of an unofficial sequel to midnight rain since I still haven't quite gotten around to writing you a full fic
celebrate 1K with me
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Prompt: "You always being in my life is gift enough."
Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (gn)
Word Count: ~800
Warnings: Just some really heart melting, tooth-rotting fluff with our handsome Disney prince who is the world's most perfect boyfriend
Though it’s your second go at a relationship, you’re still getting used to all of the feelings and comforts of having a boyfriend. As if he wants to prove himself, he’s always pulling out all of the stops: holding the door open for you, calling you to say goodnight every night on a road trip, sending you love notes when his flights land. It’s almost overwhelming, in the best possible way, your cup overflowing with love and adoration from the man who never gave up on you.
Tonight is date night, and he hasn’t told you anything except to dress comfortably and be prepared to be outdoors. You’re both excited and perplexed, looking through your closet for what might be the perfect outfit—except you don’t know what that looks like, because you have no idea what he’s got planned. 
Eventually, after tearing apart half of your wardrobe, you’re dressed and ready to go, just in time to see a text come through from Brady telling you he’s on his way to pick you up.
It’s not long before there’s a knock on your door, and, like always, you’re blown away by the handsome smile that waits for you when you answer it. This time, he’s got flowers and a gift bag in his hand, and he leans forward to peck your lips.
He ushers you inside, sitting you at the kitchen counter to set the beautiful bouquet of flowers in a vase, then to open up the gift bag. Inside the bag is a poorly-drawn handmade map of what you believe is Raleigh, complete with sticky notes and barely legible chicken scratch.
Confused, you look up at him. “What… is it?”
He laughs. “It’s a scavenger hunt. I made it.”
Your eyebrows raise. “You made it?”
“Yup.” 
Eyeing the shoddy color-coded key on the bottom, you click your tongue. “Actually, yeah, that checks out.” 
Brady snorts, playfully nudging your shoulder to reprimand you for teasing him. He checks his watch, then adds, “Let’s get going so we can stay on schedule.”
“On schedule?” you ask as he grabs your hand, tugging you out the door.
The scavenger hunt is extremely well-planned, and you wonder whose help he elicited to execute it so flawlessly. Probably one of the wives, no doubt, and you resist the urge to giggle at the image of Brady sitting at his kitchen counter doing his best to copy the map on his laptop screen.
His hand-drawn map includes several stops throughout Raleigh, each of them holding a special meaning to you: your first date location, favorite ice cream shop, coffee shop, the bar where you ran into each other again, causing you to rekindle your relationship. At each stop, you pick up another clue that ultimately leads you to your final destination: a candlelit picnic at Moore Square. 
“Brady, this is so sweet and thoughtful,” you gasp, eyes taking in the soft blanket and wicker picnic basket, a bottle of Pinot Grigio and two wine glasses balanced gently against the edge. Your heart warms at the effort and attentiveness he put into this—by all accounts a normal, mundane date night—but you can't say you're surprised.
His smile is beautiful, the evening sun casting a glow over him and highlighting the grays in his hair. He’s perfect, you think. 
“Happy 6 month anniversary, baby.”
Oh shit. You forgot all about it—due in part to the fact that you didn’t really think people celebrated milestones like that, and secondly that you weren’t really sure which date really counted as your anniversary. Your heartbeat quickens as you rack your brain for anything you can think of last minute—something lying around at your apartment that you could throw together—but nothing comes.
“But I didn’t get you anything,” you say, guilt washing over you as you look over the spread inside the picnic basket: assorted fruits and veggies with what appears to be homemade (!!!) dips, pasta salad, and a smattering of finger foods.
“Hey, it’s totally fine. I don’t care about that,” he replies, tucking a finger under your chin to encourage you to look back up at him. “You always being in my life is gift enough.”
His words, as always, make your heart melt into a puddle, and you know that you have the most disgusting lovesick expression plastered on your face. When did you become such a simp? “Brady, I’m serious.”
“So am I, love. You don’t ever have to get me a gift as long as you kiss me goodnight every night.”
You hum, pushing the food to the side in favor of leaning in towards him. His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning, and you hope to yourself that you will always feel this way around him. As you press your lips against his, the world around you stops spinning, quiet and empty save for just the two of you, kissing in the park.
“I think I can manage that.”
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clusterbuck · 2 years
Note
“You said I had nice lips. Who says that?” for the prompt please!
also for the anon who sent “do you have a crush on me or something?” bc it also fit<3 also for @thatbuddie and @gayeddiaz and @queerpanikkar who tagged me in seven sentence sunday and this totally counts bc i said so
three rounds into truth or dare, buck remembers why they stopped playing firehouse truth or dare a long time ago.
long enough ago, it turns out, that when they finally managed to get everyone together for a team night in—all the kids with a joint sitter at hen and karen’s place, all the adults together at bobby and athena’s for wine and dinner and some more wine—and someone suggests it, no one remembers that truth or dare tends to be a bad idea.
buck loves his team. he does. they’re like family to him, people he’d do anything for, people he trusts to have his back no matter what. but none of that takes away from the fact that when they get drunk together, they tend to mostly resemble a junior high slumber party.
ravi’s just finished a dramatic rendition of jabberwocky, the only poem he says he knows. hen, who’d dared him to recite a poem, sits back and nods in approval, taking a long swig from the glass of colourful punch in front of her.
(they’d put buck on bartending duty, but no one had given him any specific instructions. he figures they’re long overdue for a good old-fashioned jungle juice party.)
ravi reaches for the wine bottle and gives it a vigorous spin. it rattles perilously close to the edge of the coffee table, slowing to stop barely an inch away.
when it settles, the open mouth is clearly pointing at eddie.
“okayyy, eddie,” ravi says, gesturing at eddie with his glass. some of the punch sloshes onto his hand, but he doesn’t seem to care. “truth or dare?”
next to buck eddie blinks, slowly, like it takes a moment for him to realise ravi’s talking to him. “huh? oh! me, okay.” he sits a little straighter in his seat, then lurches to the side, catching himself on buck’s leg. he leans into buck, settling against his side as he regains his balance.
it’s one of the rare nights eddie doesn’t have to worry about christopher, and it shows.
“dare,” eddie decides.
“ooookay,” ravi says. he looks around the room, his eyes settling briefly on eddie’s palm still resting on buck’s thigh. ravi opens his mouth, still looking at eddie’s hand, and buck’s heart rate picks up. “eddie, i dare you to compliment everybody in this room.”
“booooooo,” chimney calls out, reaching for his drink. “boooooooring.”
hen elbows chimney, raising her eyebrows at eddie’s hand on buck’s leg. “let the man speak.”
“hm,” eddie says, looking around the haphazard circle gathered on bobby and athena’s patio. he starts on his left side, narrowing his eyes at each person one by one until he gets all the way around and lands on buck, pressed against his right.
“oh!” eddie says, delighted, his entire face lighting up. “buck! buck has really pretty eyes.”
across the room, hen snorts, and chimney’s eyebrows fly up into his hairline.
“thanks, eddie,” buck laughs, bumping his shoulder against eddie’s. “you gonna—”
“also!” eddie says, cutting him off. “good legs. thick. very nice.” he pats buck’s thigh, and when his hand settles again his fingers brush the seam along the inside of buck’s leg. heat flutters along buck’s skin, spreading when eddie’s fingers start tapping along to the music, soft and a little off-beat.
“that it?” hen asks, and eddie frowns.
“nice lips,” he says. “buck has nice lips. so pink. so pretty.”
buck blinks, and the room goes silent around them. eddie doesn’t seem to realise he’s said anything weird, but everyone else is staring at him.
“uh… okay then,” chimney says slowly, looking between buck and eddie. buck’s pretty sure there’s a flush spreading across his cheeks, and he can’t seem to stop himself glancing over at eddie every seven seconds. he catches eddie’s eye, once, and eddie grins at him, wide and dopey. it nails buck to his seat, burrows into him and warms him from the inside out.
“ready to give that bottle a spin there, eddie?” hen asks.
“oh!” eddie exclaims. he reaches for the bottle and it breaks whatever moment was building between them, leaving buck with flushed cheeks and something hollow like hunger in his chest.
eddie spins the bottle and dares chimney to do three cartwheels without throwing up, and then it’s chimney’s turn to spin. the bottle teeters along, finally coming to a stop by buck.
“dare,” buck says before chimney can even ask, leaning back against the couch and crossing a leg over his knee. “come on, give me your worst.”
“okay,” chimney says. “i dare you to kiss eddie.”
“okay!” eddie says immediately, bright and happy, turning to face buck.
“chimney, man, come on,” buck says. “look at him, he’s wasted.”
“yeah,” eddie agrees, nodding vigorously. “but you can still kiss me.”
“it’s not right,” buck says. “he’s—”
“he’s fine,” eddie says, reaching over to cover buck’s mouth with his hand. he misses at first, landing mostly on buck’s cheek, and fumbles for a moment before finding it. “and he’s fiiiiine.”
“he’s clearly not in his right mind,” buck finishes.
“hey, he says he wants to,” chimney shrugs.
“he’s wasted,” buck says. “that’s not consent.”
“it’s just truth or dare, buck,” hen frowns.
“still kissing,” buck says. “how would you feel if denny got drunk and kissed someone he didn’t want to? that still not count?”
“but—oh,” hen says. “oh. okay. i see. buck, you want to just spin the bottle?”
“but he didn’t—” chimney starts, and hen elbows him until he shuts up.
buck ubers home with eddie, still unsteady on his feet. christopher is staying at hen and karen’s until the morning, so they don’t have to worry about being loud when they stumble in, when eddie bumps into the coat rack and the armchair before collapsing onto the couch.
buck sits on the coffee table. eddie shifts on the couch, blinking up at him.
“you didn’t kiss me,” eddie mumbles.
“you don’t actually want me to,” buck says. “you’re just drunk.”
“what if i’m both?” eddie asks, crossing his arms over his chest. the movement almost makes him fall off the sofa, and he scrambles around for something to hold on to.
buck catches him by the hand without thinking about it. “you’re not, though,” he says. “you don’t want to kiss me, so it wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
“would be so fair,” eddie says. then he squints. “why wouldn’t it be fair to you?”
“uh—” buck starts, casting around for an excuse. before he can come up with anything, eddie snaps his fingers.
“what, do you have a crush on me? you have a crush on me!” he declares, victorious. “you want to kiss me. i want to kiss you. it aaaaaall works.”
buck looks up to find eddie staring at him, quiet and intense. “eddie—”
“i have a crush on you,” eddie says. “no, that’s stupid. we’re not twelve. i’m in love with you.”
“eddie, you’re drunk,” buck says, his heart beating in his throat and his every fingertip vibrating with how much he wants the things eddie’s saying to be true.
“probably,” eddie agrees. “i still mean it, though.”
“tell you what,” buck says. “if you still mean it, you can tell me again in the morning.”
“okay,” eddie sighs, flopping back on the couch. “i’ll tell you tomorrow. and the next day. probably the day after that, too.”
“sounds like a plan,” buck murmurs. “now you just need to get into your bed. think you can do that?”
buck wakes up on the couch the next morning to find eddie sitting on the coffee table. there are two steaming mugs of coffee behind him, but eddie sits with his forearms braced on his thighs and all his attention focused on buck.
“eddie—” buck mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “what—”
“hey,” eddie says, his voice a little gravelly from his hangover but steady and full of conviction. “if memory serves, i said some things last night.”
buck grins. “yeah, you said i have nice lips. who says that?”
“you know what—” eddie starts, then bursts out laughing. “clearly, i said that. and i stand by it, for the record. but that’s not—”
“no, it’s not,” buck murmurs.
“i said i’m in love with you,” eddie says. “and i meant it. and i still mean it.”
eddie looks at him then, his eyes dark and intense, and buck feels it all the way down to his bones. eddie looks at him, and in that one look buck sees afternoons at the park and lazy sunday mornings, days spent together with christopher and nights tucked up with eddie with nothing else between them. eddie looks at him, and in one look buck sees his future.
“hey, eddie,” buck says, letting a smile settle over his face. “i dare you to kiss me.”
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Omg!! Thank you for taking your time in writing prompts. I would like to request Levihan 26. 'The diamond in your engagement ring is fake' (not sure if this the correct name haha) thank you little sunshine 🌞
Drunk Drabbles 26: “The diamond in your engagement ring is fake.” This has got to be the silliest and most un-canon thing I've ever written. I also totally got carried away with the word count. Hope you enjoy it, Anon! Thanks for the ask and calling me Sunshine 🥰 You're too cute. Anyway, this one's for you. Offer Your Hearts (But, Seriously, Keep Your Secrets) Characters: Levi x Hange, Erwin  Word Count: 1425 words Erurihan x Friends Crossover
There was something inviting about the parlour despite the meagre light cast from the small open fire. A single candelabra had been lit and placed upon the low table, around which Erwin and Levi had gathered. The Scout’s Commander was sipping red wine from a long-stemmed glass whilst his companion held a china teacup by its rim. However, the calm which had settled over the room was not to last. In the corridor beyond, there came a thud followed by the frantic rattle of the door handle. Before either of the men could utter an exclamation, Hange had flung themself into the room, barely managing to pant out an apology.
“We’ve only just started!” Erwin assured them cheerily, lifting an almost-full bottle of merlot. “I got you a glass.”
“Ohh… no, no, no.” Hange waved their hands. “Not after the last time. I haven’t been able to touch red wine since!”
“Probably… for the best.” Erwin glanced at Levi who promptly averted his eyes. As Hange sat down beside him, they could not help but notice the way Levi’s mouth twitched. Their head turned towards Erwin who was pressing his lips to his glass, his shoulders shaking. A nasty, lurking feeling had settled upon Hange. It was as the men’s barely-suppressed tittering became unendurable, that realisation suddenly dawned.
“No… no way… you told him?”
At this, the two men dissolved into laughter. Hange leapt to their feet, the belt from their dressing gown whipping the air.
“Look, I wasn’t drunk!” Hange gestured at them violently, even as Erwin howled and Levi covered his face with his palm. “Erwin’s the one who insisted that I visit a merchant in the city. He was a potential sponsor for the Scouts so I had to make a good impression. It wasn’t my choice to go! The wine was disgusting - far too rich! Give me that flat, pisswater beer they serve at The Hole in the Wall in town anyday!” Hange dropped their arms as the volume of their mirth increased.
“It’s not like I chose to throw up in his coat closet!” they tried helplessly, “I wasn’t thinking ‘oh, this’ll make the evening go faster!’”
Still, the two men rocked with laughter. 
“Fine!” Hange stammered, “maybe I should even the score then!” Whirling round to face Levi, they raised their finger triumphantly. “Did you know that Erwin gets his eyebrows threaded at a salon in town?”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” Levi lifted his cup to his mouth.
“Yeah? And he gets his hair bleached?”
Levi choked on a mouthful of tea.
“Well, if that’s how you want to play it, Hange!” Erwin set down his wine glass upon the table. “I wonder if Levi knows that you once gave Sawney a foot massage?”
Hange chanced a look at Levi. He was regarding her with an expression of abject disgust; eyes narrowed and mouth hanging open.
“To think I let you touch me with those hands, Four Eyes…” 
“Erwin owns a copy of ‘Love in the Time of Titans’ and I know for a fact that he’s read it at least twice!” Hange exploded.
Levi gave a husky little laugh. Even as he leaned forward for his cup, the smile still lingered upon his face.
“Oh, think that’s funny do you Levi?” There was a dangerous glint in Erwin’s eye. “Let’s tell some of your secrets, shall we?”
All at once Levi’s features turned to stone. “Hange and I are getting married. We already know everything there is to know about each other.” His eyes flicked from Hange to Erwin. “You’d best keep quiet if you know what’s good for you.”
“Levi couldn’t tell the time until he was twenty eight!” Erwin announced, his stare with Levi unbroken.
“Wha-” Levi gestured fruitlessly. “It… It’s hard for some people!” He glanced again at Hange, this time for reassurance. His fiancée nodded with visible confidence. 
“See?” As Levi took another sip of his tea, Hange widened their eyes in unspoken shock.
“After Marie started dating Nile, Erwin grew a goatee!” Levi snarled in retaliation. Erwin inched so far forward that he almost slid from the sofa onto the floor.
“Once, Levi was ordered to redo his cleaning chores by his first Scout Leader so he stole the guy’s face mask, used it to wipe down the bathrooms, then put it back in the guy’s room.”
“One time, Hange wore my underwear to work!” Levi cried.
“Hey!” 
“Sorry!” Levi clapped a hand to his forehead, “I just couldn’t think of any more for Erwin.”
“When he was living in the Underground, Levi slept with an elderly fortune teller just so she would give him a discount off tea leaves!” Erwin declared.
“Holy shitwalls!” Hange gripped their sides, wheezing noisily. “I can’t! I’m laughing so hard…”
“...so hard you need to find another closet to throw up in?” Levi lashed back at them. Hange snapped upright, their back pressed against the sofa as though rearing for an offensive move.
“Levi entered a singing contest at The Hole in the Wall and won.”
“Hange came in third and broke a bar stool!” Levi returned the serve.
Erwin collapsed into renewed laughter, his face his hands. Hange clucked their tongue, shaking their head slowly and deliberately.
“You go on and laugh Erwin… I’m still picturing you with a moustache!”
Erwin readied himself, as though considering whether or not to seize the bait. Finally, he snapped. “Be my guest, Hange. I bet you don’t know that Levi told me that the diamond in your engagement ring is a fake!”
Hange’s wheezing laughter drew to a sudden halt. They shared a bewildered glance with Levi. Then Hange stretched their arms above their head.
“You know, Erwin, I just don’t think diamonds suit me!” They yawned and cocked their head to one side. “Besides, I spend half my time looking down a microscope, so surely I would have noticed?”
“Now that doesn’t surprise me.” Erwin’s voice carried a tinge of pride. To his left, Levi shifted uncomfortably. 
“It’s not a diamond. It’s a piece of crystalised wall-” He stopped, eyes widening as Erwin swept out a hand.
“Don’t tell me! Because… Hange discovered the crystallisation process and you wanted to commemorate their success as well as your love.” He brought his fist to his mouth and shook his head. 
“Oi…” Levi sighed, “you sound like you’ve read ‘Love in the Time of Titans’ all over again.”
“You haven’t read it!” Erwin’s voice struggled and broke as he waved his free hand. “You don’t know real fluff and angst!” …
Beyond the window the night was black and still, only broken by distant patches of streetlight. Erwin’s wine bottle had emptied without Levi or Hange’s help. Dying embers glowed in the metal grate. Two empty teacups stood upon the low table. Behind, three exhausted figures had sunk into the sofa’s backrest.
“In my defence… it was winter so the goatee had its practical use.” Erwin punctuated his point by placing his wine glass down a little harder than he meant to.
“And in my defence, the fortune teller came onto me.” The shadows thrown from the low flames flickered over Levi’s pale face. “Thirsty bitch.”
“Sounds like you were the thirsty bitch.” Hange chuckled. “Thirsty for tea anyway… I don’t suppose you still have trouble telling the time now right?”
Levi was glaring towards the opposite wall when Hange thrust their pocket watch in his face. With a quick flick of their thumb, the catch clicked open.
“Quick - what time is it?”
“I don’t know, time to rub some titan feet?”
Hange lowered their arm.
“You know… just because we’re getting married, it doesn’t mean we have to tell each other every little thing.” They regarded him imploringly, eyes rounded in the gloom of the parlour. “Some secrets are best kept that way. Right… Levi?”
Levi’s thin smile returned.
“Right.”
“Then we should keep all the secrets we've shared here this evening.” Erwin stood, smoothing down the creases in his slacks. He leaned down to pick up the empty wine bottle and glass. “In that case, I’ll plan to avoid the company of anyone who knows that I have my hair coloured.”
Levi reclined so that his arm rested against the back of the sofa. “I would avoid Miche then.”
“...and anyone in the pub at this time of evening,” Hange added, craning their neck around to regard Erwin. The military commander briefly looked as though he was about to answer before he stormed from the room. ... Step right up! Step right up! New Drunk Drabble Prompts! 👈
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