#shower cuddles

[chicgeekgirl89]

T.K. and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand

Summary: T.K. comes home cranky from a terrible day, and the only thing that can fix it is Carlos. For the @badthingshappenbingo​ square "headache."

A/N: Eternal gratitude to @bluenet13​ for being the best and beta reading everything! 

Read on AO3

T.K. Strand was generally a fun, happy, enjoyable person to be around. But Carlos had learned early on in their relationship that when his boyfriend was grouchy, it was like dealing with a toddler having a temper tantrum. And today T.K. had come home from work C. R. A. N. K. Y. 

T.K. let out a sigh and closed a cabinet door with a little more force than necessary for about the fifteenth time in the last hour.

“Can I help you find something?” Carlos offered lightly from where he sat on the couch.

“No,” T.K. said, wandering to the refrigerator, looking inside, and closing that in huff too. “There’s nothing to eat here.”

Carlos knew for a fact that wasn’t true. They had gone shopping two days ago and restocked on snacks and drinks, including Ranch Pringles, one of T.K.’s guilty pleasure snacks. There were plenty of options for T.K. to choose from. “There’s leftover pizza,” Carlos told him. “And beef bourguinon.” 

“I don’t want that,” T.K. said, slightly petulant.

“Why don’t I make you something?” Carlos started to get up, but T.K. waved him off. “No, you worked all day, I don’t want you to have to do that.”

Carlos sank back down into the couch cushions. “We could order something in?”

“It’ll be too late by the time it gets here,” T.K. groused, wandering aimlessly around the room.

“Well just come sit and watch this with me then,” Carlos offered, patting the open spot on the couch next to him invitingly.

“I don’t like this show,” T.K. said immediately.

“I can change the channel,” Carlos said patiently.

“It’s fine, whatever,” T.K. huffed. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Carlos said, reaching for the remote and turning the TV off. “Come here.”

T.K. moved toward him with a look of long suffering, like a teenager who had been asked to do the dishes. 

“Sit down,” Carlos commanded and T.K. slouched onto the sofa next to him, his arms crossed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” T.K. muttered.

“It’s not nothing, you’ve been moping around here since you got home.” He ducked his head, trying to catch T.K.’s eye. “Talk to me. Let me help.”

T.K. looked at him moodily for a minute and then sighed, deflating a little bit. “I had a bad day.”

“Oh really? I couldn’t tell,” Carlos teased.

T.K. harrumphed. “It wasn’t like a bad day, bad day. But Tommy is all freaking out about the twins going to summer camp, and Nancy is mad because she went on a date and they still haven’t texted her back and I accidentally left the jump bag at a playground so we had to go back for it, which made us miss lunch, and then I got chased by a dog and a kid threw up on me and I’m tired and hungry and I have a headache.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said sympathetically. “That does sound like a bad day.”

“It was,” T.K. said. “It was very bad and I didn’t like it.”

“I really think you should let me make you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Do you want me to get you something for your headache?”

“No.”

Carlos cast around for another suggestion. “Do you…want to hug in the shower for ten minutes?”

T.K. was on his feet in an instant, grabbing Carlos’ hand and towing him toward the staircase. “Yes I want to hug in the shower,” he said in a tone that suggested Carlos should have known all along that this was what would make the day better.

Half an hour later, they lay cuddled in their bed. Carlos’ hair had gone extra curly as it dried, a stray curl falling into his eyes as he slowly ran a hand up and down T.K.’s back. “How’s your headache?” he asked.

“Better,” T.K. mumbled, his eyes closed. “Thanks.”

Carlos pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Good. In the future, let’s skip the moping around and go straight to shower cuddling, okay?”

“Mhmm…” T.K. nuzzled in closer to Carlos’ chest, making him smile. If shower cuddles were what it took to turn a bad day around, he was happy to help. 

[wolf-and-bard]

Knowing Where My Glasses Went

-geraskier, ~950 words, rated T

Thank you @jaskierswolf for the idea for this!✨

---

When the door slams shut hard, Geralt looks up from his tablet. He is currently a hundred pages into proof-reading Jaskier’s newest manuscript, a romance novel his husband wants to publish under his penname Dandelion, and Roach is a golden pile of fur on his lap. A glance at the clock tells him it’s past three, not an irregular occurrence in Jaskier’s line of work, but Geralt worries nonetheless. And he always stays up, waiting for him to get home from whatever gig he’s been playing, no matter the time.

Jaskier stumbles down the hallway, past their living room without so much as a glance at Geralt.

“Jaskier?” Geralt calls out, turning off the tablet and putting aside the pen he’s been marking the novel up with – a thirst-fest of hard-packed muscle and glistening skin, tailored to the tastes of Dandelion’s masses of fans. Geralt tries to be constructive, but he gets distracted so easily. “Come now, girl, get down.” He gently nudges Roach and she glares at him, jumps down when he adds ‘pretty please’.

Geralt crosses the length of their living room, bare-footed and in nothing but sweatpants, the way he is most comfortable and Jaskier likes to be greeted. Usually that is. He pops his head through the door frame, just about seeing as Jaskier emerges from their bedroom with a fresh towel and one of Geralt’s shirts. A worn one. Geralt smiles, heart warming at the sight.

“How’d your show go, love?” he asks and Jaskier glances up at him, one hand on the bathroom door handle. His hair is mussed and his glasses hang askew on his nose which is reddened and runny.

“Shower first,” he mutters. “Talk later.” And disappears into the bathroom.

Which is worrying. Usually, Jaskier likes to hop onto Geralt’s lap when he comes home, likes to snuggle up to Geralt and tell him all about his gig. Then he has a shower while Geralt makes him a hot chocolate and they go to bed, Roach already sleep-drooling onto their comforter.

“Fuck,” Geralt says and debates whether to go after his husband. He glances back into the living room at Roach who glares reproachfully at him. “You’re right, you’re right.”

Geralt approaches the bathroom door and gives a slight knock. From inside, he can hear the shower going and steam’s already curling underneath the door. He can also hear Jaskier making some stifled noises. He doesn’t reply to Geralt’s knock though and Geralt sighs.

His shoulders sag as another sob sounds over the hiss of the water, and he slips out of his sweatpants and through the bathroom door, drawing it shut behind himself.

“Jask?”

“Go away.”

Which is how Geralt knows he shouldn’t leave Jaskier alone at all. He pulls back their daisy-patterned shower curtain and steps into the tub where Jaskier’s standing in the spray, motionless. His arms hang limply at his sides and his glasses are still crooked on his nose, fogged up and speckled with water. Underneath, his tears are made invisible.

“Jask,” Geralt says, biting down on his smile. He draws the curtain shut again and reaches out to tug at Jaskier’s glasses, then deposits them with their shampoo bottles. Jaskier’s eyes widen and Geralt melts inside. The poor thing didn’t even realize.  “C’mere,” Geralt opens his arms wide for Jaskier to fall into.

“I’m such a mess,” Jaskier wails, hiccupping because he has to laugh and cry at the same time and he buries his face against Geralt’s neck, clawing at Geralt’s biceps.

“You’re my mess.” Geralt buries his nose in Jaskier’s sodden hair. It smells of smoke and sweat. “Bad crowd?”

“No, they were fine,” Jaskier says, kissing Geralt’s collarbone. It’s something he does to ground himself and to help with that, Geralt starts rubbing slow circles over Jaskier’s shoulder blades.

“Hmmm.” It’s an open-ended hum. Either Jaskier wants to talk about it or he doesn’t, Geralt knows to respect that. He kisses the top of Jaskier’s head and draws him even tighter and hopes to be the steady anchor Jaskier needs right now. Gradually, Jaskier’s mangled hiccups subside and he sighs softly.

“I wanted to play a new song,” Jaskier whispers. His grip on Geralt’s arms has loosened and he wraps his own around Geralt’s neck, drawing himself up.

That’s right, Geralt thinks, filled to the brim with pride and love and adoration for his husband. Use me for purchase, stand tall again.

“But I bailed. I wasn’t sure how it had come out and I fucking bailed. I’m so disappointed in myself.”

“You wanna sing it now?” Geralt asks, grinning as Jaskier pulls back a little to bump their noses together. His azure eyes are shot through with red, but a spot of sunshine has returned to them. He’s beautiful and messy and he’s Geralt’s. Geralt still can’t believe that on some days. “Sing it just for me?”

“My favourite audience,” Jaskier laughs. He looks at Geralt, nuzzles his cheek as he starts to hum softly under his breath, then gains confidence. The first verse is a little shaky as a few leftover sobs loosen in his chest. The second one comes out a little flat, the third is all Jaskier. Bursting with emotion and confidence and wit. He’s so witty, his husband, in a way Geralt could never be. By the time the refrain starts, Geralt’s kissing the words off Jaskier’s lips and he has to revert to humming once more. Geralt will listen to the rest of the lyrics later, right now he needs to show Jaskier how fucking much he loves him.

“Thank you,” Jaskier breathes when they part. “I needed this.”

---

not a tag list:

@littoraly-art

[deaf-david]

Morning surprise

Jack gets up getting ready for work,he gets in the shower probably dead tired, Head against the wall trying to stay awake and he hears the shower curtain move ... and feels a big body press up behind his. The scratch of a beard behind his neck pressing kisses against his shoulders “Wake up sunshine” Gabriel chuckles and Jack smiles, he leans Back and lets Gabriel hold him, it was a good morning.

[aqua-scorpion2020]

So ignore the horrid amount of pencil strokes and eraser lines, but here's a sneaky peek at my next Fraxus work (one of them, anyway). Laxus has atrocious hair because they're in the shower, and with his new hairstyle it's longer on the top, so I thought this might be a good representation of what it looks like when he doesn't slick it back or spike it up or do whatever he does with it to make it look decent. As for Freed's lightning bolt flyaways/cowlicks/whatever, I have a headcanon that they stay that way no matter what he does with them (after all, besides when he cut it super short them lightning bolts always be poppin'). P.S. I live for overly-affectionate Laxus. Forehead kisses and cuddles ftw.