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dodgerkedavra · 3 months

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Word Request: excited/excitement

MMMM this is a good one!!

First, one from In the Presence of My Enemy:

“Draco. Wake up.” Harry’s hand flexes against Draco’s ribs, his fingertips tickling. Draco pins Harry’s hand with his arm and squints toward the windows. It’s not even bloody dawn. “No.” Draco turns over, dragging Harry along with him so that Harry’s folded against his back instead of his side. “Yes.” Harry climbs over him, and Draco experiences the very peak of excitement, followed by the valley of disappointment when Harry’s feet hit the floor. Three days ago, when Harry woke up in the parlour, he’d been angry. Draco thought he was angry until he saw the fear in his eyes. Harry has refused to eat with the others since then. He’s all but barricaded them into their bedroom. The only people he allows in are Draco’s mother and Bibsy. Draco hasn’t asked Harry why, but he thinks his mother is allowed because she lied to the Dark Lord for him. Granger and Weasley told the truth to Harry, and it scared him. Harry hasn’t smiled, other than a few tight-lipped imitations, since that day. He turns his face resolutely into the pillow while Harry pads around nearby. Soft thumps say he’s levitating clothes into his hands and getting dressed. Draco would prefer that Harry not get dressed. In fact, he would prefer that he got completely undressed and came back to bed with no intention of sleeping, but the attempted bond-breaking in the parlour was an ordeal. It’s the most unfortunate coincidence that it happened so soon after they talked about shagging. Fucking. That’s what Draco had called it, and that’s what he’d meant. That’s what he still means. Fucking in all its many forms. With Harry. His heart ticks up a bit. Before it’s too late. An arm slides over him. Yes. He’ll get back into bed now. Then Harry’s other arm slides under him, and Draco is being dragged bodily out of the bed. “Harry!” He pushes at Harry’s hands in a way that seems half-hearted even to Draco, then narrows his eyes and glares at him. “It’s too early.” A smile—a real one—flashes over Harry’s face, and then he tilts his chin down a bit, makes his eyes huge. “Please? For me?”

And the old standby Now I Know In Part :)

Harry’s mind is a wash of silver magic and champagne bubbles and I’ve never been able to stop thinking about you. Draco’s done something to his lungs. He can’t catch his breath, but it’s not panic at all. It’s sheer, unadulterated excitement. In that haze, it occurs to Harry that Draco might actually kiss him forever. It wouldn’t be so bad to die in the bathtub, still kissing Draco Malfoy. But Draco’s arms are around him and his hard body is pressed against Harry’s and there is a bed very nearby, and Harry wants Draco to fuck him in that bed more than he’s ever wanted anything. It takes several tries to pull away from the kiss, mostly because Harry doesn’t want to stop. “You—the bath. You wanted to finish washing me.” “Oh, that’s right,” Draco says, as if he’s forgotten about the whole thing. “Turn around, then.” Harry kisses him again instead.

And finally, an "excitement" from the VERY deep cut fic From The Day We Met, I Loved You:

Harry desperately wanted to know what was in the little advent calendar, and he desperately didn’t want to go to his office. He woke up early on Christmas Eve and couldn’t go back to sleep. The thought of that box on his desk, and the tree, tugged at him. What if it was all gone after the holiday? He should’ve taken it, but it hadn’t seemed right. Not after it had been there all month. And…he didn’t want it to end. As long as he didn’t go, the last day was still ahead of him. He could put off opening it indefinitely, which seemed like the best idea. That way, he’d keep a piece of the excitement for… For as long as he could. It had been so good, that silly thing. He’d loved every minute of it. Even the parts that made him cry, bloody hell. He made it past noon, then two, then three. The sky was fading in the winter afternoon by the time Harry finally broke. “Accio coat.” He pointed his wand in the direction of the coat rack and put too much power behind it. The whole thing fell over, but the coat flew right into his hands. What had he been thinking, waiting all day? He had to get there now. At least to retrieve the box. It shouldn’t sit alone at his desk over the holiday break, all his ornaments in the dark. Harry righted the coat rack, shrugged into his coat, and threw open his front door, only to find Draco standing there. Draco, tall and perfect in a dark overcoat, the advent calendar box in the crook of his elbow, the tree in his hand.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #my fic #writing #18+ content

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shares-a-vest · 1 year

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Fruity Four Advent Calendar, Bonus Day: New Year's Eve

Prompt List

Happy New Year! How about Steddie just stoopidly in love and kissing to round out the year??? Also, love that I can't remember the most basic shit but I remembered the bonus NYE prompt lmao.

'How About We Just Keep Kissing?'

Eddie props himself up on his elbows, frustrated enough to move just a little too far that he bumps foreheads with Steve.

"Ouch!" his boyfriend grumbles, pressing a palm to his forehead.

Serves him right for squirming around, again and breaking away to check the time on his watch, even though Eddie had set an alarm on his digital one. Steve holds his arm out, obviously to bring the hands into focus and Eddie can't help but huff out a frustrated breath. Of course, he was in love with someone possessed by the spirit of an old man.

"Almost time," Steve breaths, sounding so goddamn soft with his kissed-stained lips that Eddie can't be that annoyed. Well, sort of.

"Can you just… trust me when I say I can hear the party downstairs? They'll be shouting a countdown to midnight."

"Fine," Steve pouts looking back at him as he settles both hands down at either side of Eddie's face.

He reaches up to comb at his fringe, making his stupidly long and pretty eyelashes fluttering. Steve flits a glance at his lips.

"So pretty," he breathes like he's in a trance.

Eddie feels his cheeks flush red once again. They'd been like this for about half an hour, locked together on Steve's silly bedspread, impossibly close as they waited for midnight. The bedroom door was wedged shut with a desk chair, barricading them in the plaid-covered bedroom and away from the party his douchebag parents were hosting.

Steve was begrudgingly allowed a few invites, those being Eddie (who only earned judgemental grumbles upon his arrival) and Nancy and Robin who had disappeared to god knows where. Probably doing the exact same thing.

"Why don't we just keep kissing until the clock runs out, sugar?" Eddie suggests.

Not a moment later Steve leans down to nuzzle into his neck, continuing on the spot he'd torturously abandoned moments ago.

"10… 9… 8"

"Stevie," Eddie breathes, speaking directly into his ear. "Can you hear the countdown?"

"5… 4…"

"Nah-uh," he replies, voice muffled as he remains buried against skin.

Eddie pulls him off, perhaps a little rough as it makes Steve whimper.

"Better kiss me on the lips, muffin."

"You were the best thing about this year, Eds," Steve says, going misty-eyed as he presses against Eddie's lips.

At that exact measurements ment, Eddie hears the partygoers shout "1" and cheer. His watch sounds too, perhaps a second late but Steve doesn't notice. He's too busy prolonging their midnight kiss as long as possible.

He pulls away, brow furrowed and asks, "Is everybody cheering?"

"Yes, baby," Eddie replies, kissing his reddened cheek, lingering in hopes of stopping Steve's little sniffles.

"I love you, Eddie," he mumbles, voice gravely from the welling tears.

"I love you too, Steve."

He kisses his forehead as Steve settles against his chest.

#StrangerThingsFestiveFun #the fruity four #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #hoh steve harrington #steddie ficlet

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lolacatemary · 1 year

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June in the Les mis fandom feels like december in real life. Everyday there's a new little celebration, like an advent calendar with songs and Eponines fighing criminals instead of chocolate. I can't wait for my first barricades day tomorrow, this must be what a baby feels on it's first Christmas, having no idea of what's going to happen but with all those hype it has to be something really cool.

#les mis #one day more

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michaelmilligan · 3 years

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Day 9 of B&B's (@drgarth and @starrynightdeancas) Holiday Advent Calendar Event!

Writing a Letter to Santa // Milk and Cookies // “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”

“Sam? Sam!” Jack rushed into the library, eyes wide, almost knocking into a table in their hurry.

“Woah, hey! What's wrong, Jack?” Sam sprang out of his chair, already reaching for his gun. Was there a monster in the bunker? Was someone hurt? Was-

“Do you know about the Santa Claus?”

Sam blinked at them, needing a moment to process that. Then he needed some more moments. “What?”

“Santa Claus. He's supposed to...” Jack frowned, then gestured with their hands. “Uncle Adam said that you're supposed to write a letter to Santa Claus for Christmas. But he also said that Santa Claus is a magic being who breaks into your house – or bunker – and steals all the milk and cookies. And then later Uncle Adam said that Santa Claus isn't real and that he's sorry for scaring me, but Uncle Michael said that he might be real if enough people believe in him, that it could be a Tulpa and-”

“Okay, okay. Calm down!” Sam stepped forward to put his hand on Jack's shoulders.

“We need to barricade the bunker. Put up more warding. Is there warding against Tulpas? Maybe I should do some research. I-”

“Jack. It's okay.” Sam breathed deeply, motioning for Jack to do the same. They followed his example, and soon looked a little calmer, but still concerned. “Look... Santa isn't real. Many people wish he were, but. Well. We've never encountered him and it wouldn't even make sense, because not everyone in the world just magically gets presents on Christmas. That's not a thing.”

“No, you have to buy the presents and give them to each other. Cas told me.”

Sam nodded. “Exactly! So while Santa is something you might call an Urban Legend... He's not real, and he's not coming to the bunker. He can't harm anyone. Not that he would do that if he were real, but that's besides the point.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jack took another deep breath, then nodded. “I understand. Santa isn't real and there's nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah. Now come on, it's almost noon, we should get something to eat.” They walked to the kitchen together, Sam talking about the book he'd been reading to fill the silence.

As soon as they turned the last corner and heard the music coming from the kitchen, Jack stopped.

He's making a list,

He's checking it twice,

He's gonna find out who's naughty or nice,

Santa Claus is coming to town

Jack's eyes widened as they turned to Sam, and then they ran towards the kitchen. “No!” they called. “Don't let him in!”

“Jack-” Sam groaned and followed them into the kitchen, making a mental note to give Michael and Adam a stern talking to about scaring his child.

#I uh #I have no excuse #Sorry for scaring the four year old #Pretty sure Michael also scared Adam #But Michael probably already warded their home so extensively any intruder will be incinerated instantly #Nonbinary Jack my beloved #Jack Kline #Sam Winchester #Supernatural fanfiction #b&badventcalendar #Will not get prompt 10 done today probably bc it's uh. Getting a little longer than expected.

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the-real-anywolf · 5 years

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Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: A Fuck Ton Of Snow

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, smut, snowed in, surprise blow job for warmth

Summary: On a case in a forest, Cas and Dean get snowed in, in a hut. At least there is a fireplace and a soft fur lying on the ground in front of it. Written by: @anyreiart (anyrei) & @punk-is-notdead (tfw_cas)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21691183

Day 6: A Fuck Ton Of Snow

Son of a bitch. It just kept snowing and snowing, and Dean couldn’t even look out of the window anymore. Everything was white. He had tried to open the door earlier, but snow had fallen from the roof of the small cabin in the woods and had barricaded them in.

Them being Cas and him. Earlier, they had chased down and ganked a Japanese snow ghost that had killed a dozen people. Cas was nearly human, due to his loss of grace, and was freezing just as much as Dean when they had found the hut on their way back. The snow storm had gotten too strong and the visibility was zero so they had decided to wait it out in the cabin.

Dean had managed to jimmy the lock and let them inside, and to their luck the little place came with a fireplace and a bear fur rug right in front of it.

That’s where Cas was sitting at that very moment, holding his hands toward the crackling fire. His hair was wet from the snow and he had pulled off his trench coat that had been totally inappropriate to wear in this weather. He was sitting in only his white shirt and suit pants, his socks also lying on top of his trench coat. Probably drying.

Cas turned around to him with a pained expression. “Is there a blanket somewhere?”

“Fuck if I know.” Dean shrugged, but then felt bad at the sight of the crestfallen expression on Cas’s face. “I’ll take a look around; there might be one somewhere,” he added, going over to the cupboard in the corner of the room and opening it.

Nope , just cobwebs and spiders . He would have to look elsewhere.

In the tiny bedroom leading off from the living room was a closet, containing… more cobwebs and spiders… ugh. But there were also a couple of boxes. Lifting the lid of the first one he found a cowboy hat, and it didn’t look like it had ever been worn. It was too much to resist, and Dean put it on, checking his reflection in the dusty, cracked mirror.

Yeehaw !

This was no time for dress up, Dean admonished himself, as he opened the other box. It was full of Christmas decorations and a Santa hat, and then he had a truly ridiculous idea. Maybe he could take Cas’s mind off how cold he was, in a different way.

He took the hat off his head and wound a string of Christmas lights around it, then put it back on his head and strode back into the living room, with the Santa hat in his hand.

“Howdy, pardner,” he said, tipping his hat. “I didn’t find a blanket, but I did find these.”

Cas tilted his head, a soft smile playing around his lips. "I'm not sure how this will help, but I'll take it."

“Awesome,” Dean laughed. “I read somewhere that you use most of your body heat through your head, so a hat might help.”

He wasn’t sure how true that actually was, but it would be fun to see Cas wearing a Santa hat anyway.

Cas looked unconvinced but he grabbed the hat anyway, his fingers brushing over Dean's. He looked up at Dean from where he was sitting on the soft fur, his blue eyes intense and not wavering as he pulled the hat over his head. There was a little bell at the tip of the hat, that jingled lightly when Cas moved his head. "It's warm, but the rest of me still feels cold. It's very uncomfortable."

Well… wasn’t that just the invitation Dean had been waiting for? He would be lying if he said he hadn’t ever fantasised about being stuck somewhere with Cas, and having to comfort him in some way. He sat on the floor next to Cas and shuffled closer, until their knees were touching.

“There are other ways to get warm too.” He stared into Cas’s eyes and waited to see how he would react to that.

Cas gave him a long look, his expression not giving away anything. It looked like he wanted to say something before his expression turned insecure and he murmured, "W-what did you have in mind?"

“Sharing body warmth. I watched this movie once with Tom Berenger. He was stuck in the snow with… someone else,” he couldn’t remember who the other person was, because Tom Berenger had his shirt off, “and they warmed each other up. Skin to skin.”

Dean could have sworn he heard Cas's breathing hitch with the suggestion. "Um, I see. I should... my shirt is wet anyway," he replied quietly before he loosened his tie and pulled it out of the collar.

“So is mine,” Dean said, pulling his flannel shirt off without thinking. He hoped Cas wouldn’t check, because it wasn’t really wet at all.

Meanwhile Cas had finished unbuttoning his own shirt, slipping out of the sleeves. His body was tanned and toned. Like the body of a runner or swimmer. All hard and lean lines; the hipbones that peeked out of his pants that were to die for, and fuck... his tattoo... Dean had almost forgotten about that. "What... now?" Cas asked carefully as he spread his shirt out next to his coat and socks to dry.

Dean felt the need to lick his suddenly too dry lips, and he quickly removed his t-shirt, before placing the cowboy hat back on his head. “Um… we need to get close; our bodies have to be touching. Lying down would be best, I think.”

This was suddenly becoming very real, and Dean could feel himself trembling slightly in anticipation.

Cas braced himself on his elbow as he laid down in front of Dean, giving Dean an expectant look through thick lashes. "What about our pants? Do we need to remove them too?"

“Sure!” Dean replied, probably a little too enthusiastically. He stood back up, and slipped out of his pants, before sitting back down again next to Cas.

Cas didn't get up. He just opened his pants and shimmied out of them before kicking them away. He was wearing white boxer shorts that looked like they were too wide on him. "Should I, um, hug you? Just that we're lying down instead of standing?"

“Yeah… it’s just like a hug. A lying down hug.” Dean laid down as Cas did the same, then there was a moment where they were not quite touching, but staring into each other’s eyes. He could feel his breathing becoming more shallow, as he wrapped his arm around Cas’s torso and pulled their bodies together.

Fuck, that felt good .

He could feel Cas's hot breath against his shoulder when Cas rested his head there, a low and content sounding hum coming from his chest. "That's… nice."

“Yeah.” Dean breathed out, as his heart raced, giving him away, he was sure of it.

He could feel Cas's fingertips gently drawing lines over his back. "You were right. This was a good idea," Cas murmured, his lips gracing the sensitive skin between his shoulder and throat.

Dean could swear he was melting. The warm feeling he was getting from Cas’s body was nothing compared to the way it felt having Cas in his arms. Cas breathing on his skin. Cas touching him in a way that suddenly felt very intimate.

He tilted his head up, so that their mouths were mere millimeters apart. He was suddenly full of emotion as he croaked out the one word that meant everything to him. “Cas.”

"Dean," Cas breathed out, his voice cracking like Dean's before. His eyes were full of questions... and hope?

Dean couldn’t hold back any longer, and he closed the gap between them, capturing Cas’s lips in a soft kiss. Cas tasted like the wind and the rain… like raw nature, and Dean wanted to taste more as he pressed harder against Cas.

Cas groaned and parted his lips, his fingertips digging into Dean's back to pull him even closer. He could feel Cas's tongue licking carefully at his lower lip, begging for entrance.

Dean parted his lips and reveled in the sensation of Cas’s tongue in his mouth. Why hadn’t they ever done this before? Dean couldn’t think about that question too long though, because Cas had slipped his hand between them and it was travelling south.

Oh yeah .

Cas gently bit Dean's lower lip, a soft growl accompanying his soutwards journey before his palm cupped Dean's cock over the fabric of his underwear. "Dean," Cas breathed out. "Maybe we should lose all the clothing... for warmth sharing purpose."

The situation was so intense, Dean was finding it hard to speak, but he nodded his head in agreement and pushed his hand under the waistband of Cas’s boxers. It was always more sexy undressing your lover, Dean found.

Of course he used the opportunity to grab Cas's rock hard ass before he pulled them down, enjoying the surprised groan he elicited from Cas's lips. Cas kicked his boxers away when they hanging around his knees, giving Dean a nice view of Cas's long and thick erection.

He couldn't enjoy the view for too long because Cas instantly got to work on removing Dean's boxers. "I can't wait to touch you," Cas growled as he pulled Dean's underwear completely off and threw them somewhere behind him.

Cas stared at Dean's dick for a moment, licking over his own lips before he looked up at Dean. "Can I... kiss you everywhere?"

“Oh god… yes please,” Dean groaned, and rolled onto his back. The stupid hat he had been wearing fell off his head, and he reached up to grab it and chuck it across the room. He hoped that even though he was no longer a cowboy, he would still get to ride something.

Cas slid over him with the elegant movement of a tiger, his gaze trained on him, never leaving Dean's eyes as he lowered his head and started to lick and kiss Dean's cock. A soft moan escaped Cas's throat as he wrapped his beautiful, plush lips around the head of his cock and swallowed him down.

“Fuck!” Dean cried out and arched his back off the floor. This felt so good, and how did Cas know how to do that? The things he was doing with his tongue… it was incredible.

And then Cas did something that almost gave him a heart attack. He looked up at Dean with the most sassy smile (as much as he could smile with his lips around Dean's cock). The fucker knew exactly what he was doing and it was a hell of a turn on. Especially when he started to up his pace, sucking him off with ardent moans.

Dean thought he might come right then; in fact, the only thing that stopped him was the fact that Cas’s Santa hat was jingling as he bobbed his head. It was kind of a bizarre sight, but also hot as fuck.

Cas didn't stop there though. His lips let go off Dean's cock with an obscene wet pop before he dragged his tongue along Dean's shaft and down to his balls, giving them a thorough treatment with his tongue, too.

“I can’t… I can’t… Cas, I’m gonna come,” Dean moaned out, trying to hold back, but feeling that too familiar tightening sensation in his groin.

Cas let go of him and looked up innocently, with his fucking head tilt that would be the death of him. "Isn't that the goal?"

Well… when he put it like that. “Yes. Y…” The word died in Dean’s throat as Cas swallowed him down again, and he made a sound that he would swear he had never made before - something between a whine and a groan.

Cas took him in further, bobbing his head like he had a purpose, and Dean couldn’t hold back any longer. He arched his back off the floor again, and came in Cas’s mouth, trying not to choke him in his ecstasy.

Cas swallowed around his cock with a surprised groan, licking and sucking him through his high until he reluctantly let go of him, looking up at Dean with a soft smile. There was a little bit of cum on his lips and Dean watched as Cas licked it off with his clever tongue. "I learned that from the internet," Cas commented before Dean could even ask.

“Thank fuck for the internet,” Dean gasped out, trying to catch his breath. He wanted to return the favour for Cas, but he needed a moment or ten to collect himself.

“I feel much warmer now, Dean. That was a very good suggestion.” Cas murmured before he pulled Dean close, practically cuddling him on the soft fur.

Dean wanted to give a smartass reply like ‘that’s because of the hat’, but that was so not the reason. Instead, he rolled back onto his side and winked seductively, and said, “ you’re still not warm enough though. I think I need to do something about that.”

Cas gave him a quick smile. "Now that you mention it..."

Damn, his angel really was getting the hang of innuendoes. Dean looked down at Cas's delicious, waiting cock.

Well, merry christmas to me.

#Destiel Advent Calendar 2019 #fanfiction #destiel #christmas short fics

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prairiescotch · 7 years

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Day 9 of the Scotch Whisky Advent Calendar started out with a bit of mystery -- offering number 19 was filed in the improper place! After dipping my hand behind the cardboard barricade and checking on slot 19, I discovered the true ninth bottle: a batch strength version of Wemyss Malts’ The HIve!

Batch strength, so far as I can tell, is a term interchangeable with cask strength or barrel strength/proof. It indicates simply that, unlike most commercially-released whiskies, it is not watered down to the standard 40% and is allowed to remain at the ABV (alcohol by volume) level that it was inside the barrel. See, water evaporates faster than alcohol, so as whisky sits in the barrel the water leeches off over time, leaving more and more alcohol behind and making for stronger product.

Like anything in whisky, there are wangs who will insist that cask strength whisky is the only whisky there is, that anything less is an unmitigated and adulterated disappointment. Anyone who insists any one thing is the only true version of that thing is an idiot, and probably supports a single political party and insists that either the Beatles or The Rolling Stones are better than the other. That’s nonsense; there are no absolutes in this world, no blacks and whites, only delicious and beguiling greys. I do happen to love cask strength whiskies, if only because you can water them down to 40% yourself for the ‘standard’ experience and get more drinks out of your bottle, increasing the value for dollar.

The Hive is a very good whisky, as I discovered in my first whisky advent calendar experience a few years ago. The 12 year old version of The Hive was pretty splendid, with lots of honey and fruit and a hint of leather. It was not nearly as one-note as the name might suggest, and well worth trying. I think it may have also been one of the first blended malts I had tried, a type that seems to be getting more and more common. As noted earlier this year and in the original Hive post, a blended malt consists of a bunch of single malts smashed together; different from a blended scotch, it does not have any neutral grain spirits mixed in. It makes for a much more complex and rich product!

So here we have a cask strength version of The Hive, which trades an age statement for a smashing 54.5% ABV. The constituent whiskies are from various undisclosed distilleries, and are aged in bourbon and sherry barrels. This is one of the darkest products yet in this advent, but still has no colouring or chill filtration.

On the nose, I was expecting honey, but there's actually a surprising amount of spicy Sherry influence at the bowl. A little further back in the vapours there's an awful lot of honey that does come through, along with a hint of vanilla and graham crackers. When tasting, the first shot is definitely honey from the bear, and lots of it. But the Sherry influence is just as strong, with lots of warming cinnamon and nutmeg and whatnot. Orange pith is apparent, bringing a touch of bitter, and some ginger heat too. There's a touch of smokiness that enhances the warming latter half and makes for a strong, lengthy, delicious finish. Water sands down the edges off every phase of this and makes it even better, enhancing the sweetness.

This was amazing, especially with some water in it. I would definitely recommend this, as I would have the standard ABV 12 year-old.

If I’m being honest though, the balance of the calendar so far has been leaning really far into the sherry bomb territory, and I could use a break on that. Sherry-heavy drams are nice once in a while, but probably wouldn’t be my personal choice one a day (or twice or thrice a day, as was the case this weekend while I was playing catch-up on this calendar). We’ll see what comes next!

#Secret Spirits #Scotch Whisky Advent Calendar #wemyss malts #The Hive #batch strength #batch strength whisky #cask strength #cask strength whisky #malt #single malt #single malt scotch #single malt scotch whisky #single malt whisky #malt whisky #blended malt #blended malts #blended malt whisky #blended malt scotch #blended malt scotch whisky

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