#all i really care about is needing a coffee

[galactic-magick]

A Collection of My Viktor x Reader Headcanons

Here’s the long list of headcanons I have about Viktor and my self-insert OC that’s been sitting in my notes app. Many of these will likely make their way into and be more fleshed out in my fics. I just have so much love for him and so many ideas that I had to post them.

Most are gender-neutral besides a couple. All the fics I’ve written in this AU so far are in my masterlist and in a series on my AO3.

Enjoy 😊

Drinks his coffee either black or with a shit ton of milk and sugar, no in between. You’ll catch him drinking the darkest roast in existence and then the next day he’ll be drinking a sweet milk Frappuccino or something

If you’re the same size or bigger than him, he likes to steal your clothes. Especially when it’s cold, he’ll layer a bunch of your sweaters, claiming yours are “warmer” than his

He loves when you play with his hair. It calms him down and soothes him like nothing else

Sometimes he feels bad he doesn’t have the arm strength to pick you up, so one time he asked Jayce if he could borrow his gauntlets

He can be very forgetful, but it’s never because he doesn’t care. Be patient with him his mind is a crazy place

He gets quite the ego boost when he realizes “talking nerdy to you” turns you on. He’ll purposefully start explaining science shit and get you embarrassingly flustered

He’s definitely a cat person. If you guys got one they would be basically attached to each other, to the point the cat would escape the house and follow him to work in the lab sometimes

Also likes to steal your hair and shower products. He loves all the scents and how soft they make his waves and skin

He can play the Viola, a skill his mother taught him when he was a kid. He’s very rusty but he’ll play for you occasionally

His favorite way to annoy you is poking you with his cane. He’s a little shit about it too, mainly doing it when you’re in the middle of something

When he works longer hours in the lab, you like to bring him snacks, only to find out Jayce is the one who eats most of them after you leave

He likes to see your face when you’re cuddling, so spooning isn’t really the go-to position. But if he does he’s not really partial to being the big or little spoon

He still has the toy boat he made as a kid. It sits on the mantle over your fireplace

He technically needs glasses, but his vision isn’t bad enough he has to wear them. He considers getting them only because you told him he’d look cute with them

If you’re afraid of bugs, he has no problem catching them and putting them back outside. He likes to let them crawl on him for a bit first though, he doesn’t mind them at all

If you ever get in a fight, he can be very stubborn in his opinions, and he often tries to fix the problem before understanding your side. Once he realizes that sometimes you just want him to listen to you, though, misunderstandings become much more infrequent

He loves food with lots of spices and strong flavors. Especially if you’re the one who cooks it

He snores when he sleeps, and pretty loudly at that. If you’re not a deep sleeper who can sleep through it you’ll probably need a white noise maker or something

He uses you as a fidget toy quite often, playing with your hands, massaging your arms and thighs, twirling your hair. Sometimes he’ll mindlessly start squeezing your tits, not even in a sexual way necessarily, just cuz they’re squishy

Wants kids with you, but is terrified of leaving your children fatherless if his disease gets the best of him

Everything in your house has the potential to be a new invention, you’ve lost count of how many appliances have been modified in some way

He likes puzzles, on the rare occasion he has free time to do them for leisure. He can even do those crazy multi thousand piece ones

One of his main love languages is definitely parallel play. He loves spending time with you even if it’s in silence doing separate things

Loves when you lay on top of him. He doesn’t care how heavy you are, you’re his favorite weighted blanket

He likes to keep his personal life private from most people, but never in the sense that he hides you. Everyone knows you’re together, but very few know how much you actually mean to each other

He leaves marks and hickeys on you even when he doesn’t necessarily mean to, simply because his canines are so sharp

Whenever he and Jayce are asked to travel anywhere to meet with Hextech investors, he always brings you with him. You couldn’t afford a honeymoon when you first got married, so he makes up for it by turning work trips into vacations

He likes to leave you love notes sometimes when he wakes up and leaves before you, but his handwriting is so messy you can rarely read them. He usually says what he wrote when he sees you next anyway though

[harringtonsbnbg]

Juno • S.H

♡ a/n: oh hi! my first steve oneshot ever! I'm a little bit nervous but drunk enough to not care! hope however read this, likes it!

♡ pairing: boyfriend!steve x girlfriend!reader

♡ summary: While waiting for Steve’s pie to get ready, you and him spend some time together, talking about (and experiencing) making babies together.

♡ warnings: inspired by the song Juno by Sabrina Carpenter, established relationship, kissing, no use of y/n, SMUT, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pillow talk, breef talk of pregnancy. This onesehot is +18, therefore MDNI!

♡ word count: 1700k

♡ dividers by: @cafekitsune

“I can feel you staring, you know?”

You couldn't help it, not when Steve was bending over the balcony of his kitchen, carefully cutting out the pie dough to make some kind of pie art that he insisted to keep as a surprise from you.

“Oh I do, but you know, your butt looks really amazing on those pants”

“Oh my god, you're making me feel so objectified right now.” He scoffed.

You let out a laugh as you let your head fall back, and waited patiently for Steve to finish his handmade art. You got back to your book, quickly remembered since you couldn't stare at your boyfriend for too long.

As the minutes passed by you got immersed in the story, not hearing Steve closing the oven, or even his steps to your direction, surprising you as he laid between your legs on the couch. You raised the book to the height of your forehead, making a little book cabin, and Steve got even closer as he passed under it.

“Hi” He said as your noses touched.

“Hi, pretty” You smiled.

He kissed you softly, not a worry in the world as he was in the arms of his favorite person, with a delicious pie ready in about 30 minutes.

You closed the book and put it away on the coffee table, running a hand through his hair and the other on his soft cheek.

You let out a sigh followed by a whine when he squeezed your waist, deepening the kiss and let his tongue roll over your mouth.

God, you love him so much, that sometimes feels like words weren't enough, you needed to show him physically, you wished he could mark you forever, and you him. As delusional as it sounds, you wished you could impregnate him, but were also happy with the idea of him impregnating you.

As Steve leads a trace of hot, open mouth kisses through your jaw and neck, you let your mind wonder, already drunk in love and lust.

“I love when you do that” You said, feeling Steve work harder on a spot to leave it a mark.

He hummed and then asked “Why is that?”

“Because you always leave a mark. I love it, it feels like you are marking me forever.” 

Your doe passionate eyes made his stomach flip, and Steve wondered if he could possibly be more in love with you.

Kissing him again, this time hungrier and if it's possible, more love, you let your hands travel down his shirt, going under it to gently scratch the skin on his ribs, making him shiver.

“I wish I could mark you forever.” Steve said in a brief moment when his mouth wasn't glued to your body.

Taking off his shirt and helping you with yours, Steve came down to your chest, feeling the hot skin and your hard nipples against him. With the urge to feel him closer, you started to push his sweater pants and boxers down, signaling to him to do the same with your pants.

Retracting your hands from his waistband, Steve only took off your clothes, with patience and a grin on his face.

“Calm down baby, we're in no rush.” 

You whine and was about to protest when he went down at your nipples, nibbling and sucking with such desire, taking his time with each one of them, then leaving a track of kisses and bites all over your stomach and inner thighs, getting closer to your core and making you shiver and squirm under his touch.

Wasting no time, Steve got between your legs in a heartbeat, working his lips and tongue, as you were sighing and finding his hair to pull.

With one hand looking for yours to interlace your fingers, his other was at your entrance, circling around, threatening to get in just to see your frustrating face when he didn't.

“Steve…” You tried to sound like a threat, but it came out as a desperate moan.

As he sucked your clit harder, his fingers finally founded their way in, making you gasp and pull at his hair with satisfaction, letting the most filthy sounds escape your open mouth.

You clenched around his fingers and buckled up your hips in his direction, in a urge to find even more pleasure, feeling Steve curving his fingers inside you.

“Yeah…” You sighed. “You’re always making me feel so good.”

“I know baby, it’s because I love you so much.”

Changing the pace of his tongue and the angle of his fingers, Steve was making you feel overwhelmed, rolling your eyes and letting out the pathetic moans and whines that he loved so much to hear. Steve moved your intertwined hands to your lower belly, applying pressure and making you get to the final stroke, moving your hips in his direction as you let out a high pitched moan and let your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling overwhelmed when he didn't stop stimulating you.

Your hands find his cheeks to push him up, smiling as you see his face half covered in your shining juices. As you open your mouth to speak, Steve attacks your lips in a hurry, passionate and deliciously wet kiss, making you gasp and melt again on his arms.

You could feel his hard dick every time he would stroke his hips into yours, and as you push your hips up as well, Steve fought hard for not to come in his pants.

Breaking up the kiss, he swiftly let go of his sweatpants and underwear, leaving his more than ready member free, gasping as it made contact with your warm tight. Your right hand grab his dick, slowly stroking it’s already wet tip, spreading his pre cum along his lenght. Steve let out a moan whenever your tumb come by his tip, and you just love hearing him beg for you to do something about his painful boner.

Feeling satisfied with his misery, you led his dick to you entrace, sighing when Steve start pushing into you and making you feel full. When he was fully inside, you pushed him into a hearty kiss that turn into a mess of moans and sighs as he start moving ina delicious and slow pace.

“Have you ever imagined-” You interrupted yourself with a high pungent moan when Steve touched a specific spot inside you. “Have you ever imagined what our kids would look like?” 

“Don’t say that.” Steve whined as he melted and hide his face in the conjecture of your neck and shoulder. 

“I’m serious, imagine two of me to make you go crazy. You would die!” You smiled trhough your panting breath.

“Oh, I would die with a smile.” Steve kissed your cheek. “I think about it every time baby, you have no idea how much I dream about it.”

You got lost in your line of though when your boyfriend change the pace, fast and mercly hitting your favorite spot, making you leave half moon marks on his back, showing the amount of pleasure he was giving to you.

“Would you let me but some babies inside you, my love?” He asked, the front of his face glued to the side of yours, following the movements of your body.

“Yes, please! I’m dying for you to give me more than butterflies!” You got your eyes rolling just thinking about it.

“Oh God, I’m going to fill you up every night, until you’re full with our babies” You feel yourself clenching around him at his words, and his strokes started to come in a erratic rhythm.  

“Stevie!” You whined when Steve found your weak spot righ under your ear, and combined with his tumb over your clit was making you close to reach your second orgasm. 

With Steve hitting you so deeply while his hand worked hard on your clit and his mouth on your neck, you couldn’t take for too long until you started combusting in a hot mess of moans and whines with him, feeling his cum going deep inside you when he kept stroking, making sure every last drop wouldn’t got to waste.

You search for his face that was hiding in your neck, longing for a kiss wicht he gave to you without a second though, melting into it with and let his body relax on top of yours. 

“I meant it” You say as your both breaths got serene. “I’ve been imagining what they would look like, and I’m getting lovesick over perfect little versions of us who doesn't even exist yet!”

“I meant it too, babe.” Steve got out of the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. “I dream about having kids with you basically since the day we’ve met.”

“Well I guess we’ll just to try every single freaky position out there, just to make sure, right?” 

“Yeah right, couldn’t loose the chance!” Steve attack your face with kisses as you let out a laugh, pulling his hair.

The timer of the oven going off got you out of your little buble, forcing Steve to detlange himself from you as he rushed to get his pie before it burns.

“No! Stay for like, five more minutes!” You pout.

“I know this trap already babe,” He laughed. “Come with me, I made it just for you!”

He pulled his sweatpants back on and you grabbed his shirt and underwear, rushing after him to the kitchen, patiently waiting for him to reveal the secret adornments he had made on the top of the pie. When Steve pulled the pie out of the oven, you just wanted to jump on him out of cuteness and love, God he knew how to be adorable.

The dough that sat on the top of the pie was full of heart shaped pieces, adorning even the edges that started to turn into a darker shade, and you cold see the cherry filling through some blank spaces.

“Oh Steve, this is so adorably beautiful, I love it!” You could cry out of his sweetness with you. “I love you. So much.”

You kissed him passionately, wishing you could transfer all your love through it.

“I think I love you more, I mean look at this pie, you think you can compete with that?”

thank you for reading! if you enjoy it, likes and reblogs are always appreciated! see you soon!

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

I'M (NOT) FINE!

a/n: requests are open!

jude bellingham x gf!reader

warnings: fluff fluff fluff

summary: You absolutely loathe being sick—the sniffles, the coughs, the shivering... And Jude? He hates seeing you in that state even more. So, what's the solution? Simple: pretend you're fine. You put on your best “everything's okay” face, a face that could fool everyone... except Jude. Yikes. With his signature mix of teasing and tenderness, he refuses to let you suffer alone. He'll keep pushing, pestering, and caring for you until you finally admit you're not as fine as you want to be. And in the end, it’s his care and persistence that makes you feel a little less miserable.

You should’ve known better than to let Jude stay up so late watching Netflix with you the night before. Or maybe it was you who needed to rethink staying up until 2 a.m., curled under a blanket with a bowl of popcorn between you two as he whispered silly commentary into your ear.

Today was different, though. As the morning crept in through your bedroom window, an unusual weight seemed to settle behind your eyes. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and a tickling cough bubbled up every time you tried to swallow. But you refused to acknowledge it.

Outside, the wind rattled the windows, hinting at the kind of day that makes you want to burrow into blankets and disappear. Jude sat at the kitchen counter, scrolling absently on his phone, his focus darting to the ticking clock as he waited for you.

He hadnt miss that you’d been odd this morning—quiet and sluggish, the kind of quiet he noticed instantly. You weren’t the type to miss a chance to tease him over breakfast or steal sips of his coffee, so when you shuffled past him earlier, mumbling something about needing first a long shower, it planted a seed of worry.

He didn’t like when things felt off. Especially not with you.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and face freshly washed, you looked almost fine. Almost. Your usually bright eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, your cheeks were a bit pale and you were wrapped up in a hoodie far too big for you. One of his, of course.

Jude’s cheerful voice rang through the apartment as you shuffled into the kitchen, pulling your sleeves over your hands. “Babe, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Just toast,” you mumbled quickly. Your voice cracked on the last word, and you froze. Oh no. Jude turned to look at you, brow furrowing ever so slightly.

“Feeling all right, love?” he asked, his brow creased as he leaned back in his chair, studying you.

You smiled—quick, small, practiced. “Yeah. Fine.”

You walked straight for the kettle to pour yourself some tea, deliberately avoiding him. You could feel his gaze on you, like a silent interrogation. Your boyfriend lingered near the counter as you plopped two slices of bread into the toaster, biting the inside of his cheek like he always did when he didn’t believe you. He didn’t say anything, though—not yet.

Jude Bellingham was many things, you thought to yourself, but oblivious wasn’t one of them.

Unfortunately for you, that made this whole charade harder.

“Didn’t look like you slept well,” he said, pushing the conversation gently.

“I slept fine,” you replied too quickly, taking a sip of hot tea and keeping your eyes on the mug.

“Well, you look... I don’t know a bit tired.”

“I am tired. You made us stay up late.” You shot him a pointed look, hoping the deflection would work. It almost did. Almost. “But really, I slept fine.”

Liar. Liar.

He frowned, but before he could press further, you turned, flashing him a look that you hoped was convincing. “I promise, Jude. Don’t start getting all dramatic.”

“What? Dramatic?” He placed a hand to his chest, feigning offense, but his eyes never lost that sharp edge. “I’ll let it slide this time. But you’re not fooling me, you know. You’ve got that thing going on.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you’re trying to act normal, but you’re just a little bit too normal.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You sound insane.”

He sounded just right.

“I sound attentive,” he countered, grinning, though his voice was still soft.

You turned back to your tea, gripping the handle a little harder than necessary. In truth, you could feel the early signs of sickness creeping in—your throat tickled, your head felt heavy, and warmth pulsed at your temples like a faint drumbeat. It wasn’t bad yet, but you knew it would be soon.

And that was exactly why you couldn’t let Jude in on it.

He was attentive—almost painfully so—and you knew he’d go straight into overprotective mode the moment he suspected something was wrong. He’d fuss. He’d worry. He’d probably cancel his plans and hover over you for hours like a mother hen.

You didn’t want him to cancel his plans. And you really didn’t want to be the reason he stressed.

So, when he looked away to grab his phone, you took the opportunity to stifle the cough that clawed at your throat, turning your head quickly and clearing it in a way you hoped sounded natural. A master plan.

But when you turned back, Jude was staring. Staring into you, frowning a little and questioning you with his eyes.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That sound. Did you just cough?”

You blinked, feigning innocence. “No? I don’t think so.”

His brow furrowed, lips parting slightly as if to call you out, but you were already ahead of him, changing the subject. “Are you still meeting the guys later?”

He eyed you skeptically for a beat longer, before reluctantly sighing. “Yeah. We are supposed to meet at nine.”

“Good.” You smiled sweetly, though it was mostly a distraction. “Don’t let me keep you from it.”

The shift in his expression was subtle, but you caught it anyway—something in the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes lingered a second too long on you. Jude had spent enough time with you to know your tells, and he wasn’t stupid.

He let it slide, again. For now.

The hours went on, and your act grew harder to keep up.

Jude had been in and out of the living room while you lounged on the couch, buried under a blanket and claiming you just wanted to “relax.” You were also clutching a steaming cup of tea that Jude had made for you. You hadn’t even asked for it, which was a sign he was already onto you. You scrolled your phone lazily, trying to appear normal, but you could feel him watching you.

He plopped onto the couch beside you, spreading his long and fit legs across the coffee table. “You’re acting weird.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“You’re imagining things.”

He shot you a look. “You’re wearing two hoodies, a blanket, and you’re sipping tea in 26-degree weather. It’s summer.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then came the moment you’d been dreading. You were mid-scroll when an itch seized your throat. You tried to suppress it—tried to swallow it down and breathe through your nose—but it was no use. The cough escaped, sharp and sudden, your body shaking slightly with the force of it.

Jude whipped his head toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash.

“Got you.”

You froze. Slowly, you looked up to see Jude next to you, arms crossed and an annoyingly smug look on his face.

“I knew it,” he said, shaking his head.

You sighed, sinking lower into the couch. “It’s just a tickle. Don’t start.”

“Don’t start? No no no. Babe, you’ve been hiding that all day, haven’t you?”

“I haven’t been hiding anything,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“Alright, that’s it,” he said, scooting closer. “Let me feel your forehead.”

“No!” you blurted, immediately shrinking back into the cushions. “Don’t touch me. I—uh, I haven’t washed my face. Gross, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Like I care.”

“Jude, I swear—”

“Stop being stubborn and come here.”

You hugged the blanket tighter, as if it could protect you. “I’m not coming, Jude.”

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he shot back, though his voice was tinged with affection. “Let me feel your forehead.”

You recoiled slightly, eyes narrowing. “I don’t have a fever.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me feel your forehead,” he moved closer to you.

You squirmed away from him, practically sliding down the couch as he reached for you. He only managed to grab your ankle, pinning you in place.

“This isn’t fair! You’re bigger than me!” you yelped, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous the two of you must look—him holding onto your leg while you squirmed like a fish out of water.

“I don’t care. You’re not getting away from me.”

You gasped for air as you finally gave up and collapsed back onto the sofa. Jude grinned in victory, his palm landing gently on your forehead before you could protest further. His grin faded as quickly as it appeared.

For a second, you both stared each other down, and in that moment, you realized how ridiculous this little standoff had become. He looked at you like he couldn’t decide whether to be exasperated or amused, his head tilting slightly.

“Y/N, you’re burning up.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Think again then cause you are.”

“Maybe I’m just hot,” you tried to joke weakly, but he wasn’t having it. His lips set into a thin line.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” he demanded softly. His tone wasn’t angry—just disappointed. Somehow, that was worse.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your resolve wavering. “Because I don’t want you to worry.”

His expression softened instantly, and your heart sank.

“Babe,” he said, crouching down in front of you so he could look you in the eyes. “You know that’s not possible, right? I’m always going to worry about you. You’re not invincible, no matter how much you try to act like it.”

You swallowed hard, guilt and affection swirling in your chest. You didn’t want to admit it, but part of you was relieved that he’d seen through you.

“I just didn’t want you to cancel your plans,” you muttered.

Jude rolled his eyes fondly. “You think I care about plans more than you?”

You didn’t answer, because the look in his eyes told you he already knew what you were thinking.

“Come on,” he said finally, standing up and offering you his hand. “We’re taking your temperature.”

You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically. “Jude—”

“You’re done arguing.”

“Jude, I don’t need the thermometer,” you grumbled, but he was already standing up, mumbling something about how he would decide that. You slumped back against the couch with a sigh, pulling the blanket higher around your face.

“Up.”

You shot him a glare, but took his hand anyway, letting him pull you off the couch. You knew you’d lost this round, but as you followed him into the kitchen, you caught the small smile tugging at his lips.

And you couldn’t help but smile, too.

Ten minutes after, you both stared at the thermometer, you chewing the inside of your left cheek nervously, while Jude crossed his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing deeper by the second.

“38.9,” he read aloud, his tone flat but edged with concern.

“It’s not that bad,” you muttered, trying to wave it off, but the tightness in your chest and the dizziness that followed the cough made the words feel hollow.

His eyes snapped to yours, sharp and unyielding. “Not that bad? That’s literally a high fever.”

“Barely,” you quipped, attempting a half-hearted shrug, though the effort made your head feel heavier, and your limbs suddenly felt like lead. You had no choice but to lean against the counter for support.

“Y/N…”

“Jude, I’m fine,” you argued, turning to put the thermometer back on the counter like it didn’t just confirm his worst suspicions. “I don’t need a doctor, and I definitely don’t need you hovering over me.”

His lips parted, words on the tip of his tongue clearly sharp, but he held them back. Instead, he took a deep breath, his frustration melting into something softer, his gaze still filled with concern. Jude wasn’t having it. He stood up suddenly, towering over the couch where you moved and where now curled up. “That’s it. You’re going to bed.”

Your head whipped around, eyes narrowing. “I’m not going to bed.”

“Yes, you are,” he said firmly, already reaching for your hand to pull you up. “You need to lie down properly, not camp out here on the couch like you’re hiding from something.”

“Jude, no.” You tugged your hand away, shaking your head. “I’m fine here. I like the couch. It’s cozy.”

He raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “The bed is cozier.”

“I don’t want to go to bed yet,” you said stubbornly, sinking deeper into the cushions as though you could become one with the furniture.

“You’ll feel better if you rest properly,” he argued, his tone soft but insistent. “And the sooner you rest, the sooner you’ll get better. That’s logic. You can’t fight logic.”

“I’m not fighting logic. I just don’t want to go,” you insisted, pouting slightly for effect. “The bed is boring. I’ll just lay there staring at the ceiling, and then you’ll make me drink disgusting medicine. No thanks.”

Jude exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead in that way he always did when he was losing patience. You knew exactly how far you could push him, but it didn’t feel good to see that frustrated look in his eyes. You hated making him worry, but part of you didn’t want to be stuck in bed just yet, even if you could feel the exhaustion weighing you down.

“Jude, please,” you said, your tone softening, almost pleading. “I don’t want to be stuck in bed. I’ll rest here, I promise. Let’s just watch something, yeah?”

You offered him an innocent smile, though it quickly wavered when you felt another cough building. You turned away, covering your mouth as you hacked into the blanket. Jude’s hands twitched at his sides, but he didn’t press the issue—at least, not yet.

When you finally caught your breath, you glanced up at him warily, half-expecting him to scoop you up and carry you to bed despite your protests. He looked like he wanted to, but instead, he sighed again and sat back down on the edge of the couch.

He sighed deeply, clearly torn. His jaw worked as he considered your plea, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease. Finally, he relented with a short nod, though his eyes still carried a hint of warning. “Fine. But only because I know you’ll sulk if I make you move.”

You flashed him a weak smile, already pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“But the second you look worse, you’re going to bed,” he added firmly.

You opened your mouth to say something, probably to complain, but another coughing fit cut you off—deep and rattling, like your body was staging a mutiny. Jude was on his feet in seconds, disappearing into the kitchen as you tried to catch your breath.

When he returned, he was holding a fresh glass of water and a bottle of cold medicine. “Here,” he said firmly, handing you the water first.

“Thanks,” you muttered, your voice hoarse. But when he held out the medicine, you grimaced. “Do I have to? I mean, maybe in a couple hours this will wear off...”

“Do you want to get better, or do you want to keep hacking like a 90-year-old chain smoker?”

“You’re so mean,” you groaned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“And you have high fever. Take the damn medicine.” He was loosing his patience, but it returned every time you smiled at him.

Reluctantly, you unscrewed the cap and took the tiniest possible sip, immediately pulling a face. “This is disgusting.”

Jude snorted. “Medicine’s not supposed to taste like candy.”

“It should,” you muttered with a dramatic pout, glaring at the medicine bottle like it had personally wronged you.

Jude rolled his eyes, fighting back a grin as he took the glass from your hands. “Well, when you invent miracle medicine that tastes like chocolate, let me know. Until then, take it properly.”

You groaned but relented, though your face twisted in disgust. “I swear this stuff is just punishment in a bottle.”

“You are such a dramatic,” he countered, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms with a smug expression.

“I’ll get you back for this,” you threatened weakly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

Jude’s grin widened. “I’m counting on it.” He settled back down beside you, his hand finding its way to your back, rubbing slow circles that felt unexpectedly soothing. With a sigh, he grabbed the remote and flicked through channels, trying to find something to watch since you were clearly avoiding the idea of going to bed—much to his dismay.

The movie started playing, but you weren’t really watching it. You were fighting the drowsiness creeping in, but your body seemed to have other ideas. The fever had started to set in fully, and it made every movement feel sluggish and lethargic. You burrowed deeper into the blanket, your skin hot and clammy, and instinctively you leaned into Jude’s side, seeking the cool comfort of his presence to counter the warmth suffocating you.

He didn’t miss it. His arm immediately instinctively curled around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, as if he could offer some comfort against the fever that seemed to consume you. You shifted, nestling your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. His hand gently brushed against your arm, the coolness of his skin providing a brief relief from the heat radiating off yours. You closed your eyes, too tired to keep up the act, but you could still hear the sound of the movie playing softly in the background.

He could feel your body trembling, your warmth pressing against him in a way that only made his concern grow. “Baby, you're shivering,” he murmured softly, his voice low and filled with worry. His hand moved to your forehead once again, his fingers cool against your skin as he traced the lines of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You didn’t have the energy to argue, too tired to offer your usual deflections. Instead, you let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes as the weight of your body seemed to pull you deeper into the couch. Your breath was slow but labored, each inhale a bit more shallow than the last.

Jude didn’t miss the way your body seemed to sink into him, the way you let yourself fall into his arms without resistance. The quiet, unspoken admission that you needed him, even when you refused to admit it aloud.

“And you are burning up,” he said, his voice low and gentle.

“I know, it’s okay,” you mumbled, though your teeth had begun to chatter slightly, betraying your words. You buried your face against his shirt, feeling the slight chill of his body against yours.

He shook his head, tightening his arm around your shoulders. “It’s not really okay, love,” he whispered, voice full of concern. The touch of his hand against the back of your neck, cool and soothing, sent a wave of comfort through you, but it didn’t stop the shivering.

You tried to smile up at him, but it was weak. “I’m fine here, Jude. Honestly.”

He wasn’t convinced. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and the way you were leaning into him for that extra bit of coolness only confirmed what he already knew.

He stared down at you, a mixture of tenderness and frustration swirling in his gaze. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” he whispered, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. His hand lingered, fingers tracing the curve of your jaw with a softness that contrasted with the firm set of his jaw.

You tried to smile, but the effort was half-hearted, your lips barely lifting.

“Right. That’s enough,” he said suddenly, untangling himself from the blanket and standing up.

“Juuude,” you protested weakly, trying to clutch at the soft fabric as if it could somehow shield you from the inevitable.

“Don’t even start,” he interrupted, shaking his head with a small but stern smile. “I let you win with the couch thing before, but now? Non-negotiable.”

You glared at him half-heartedly, the fever clouding your ability to stay upset. “You’re so smug.”

“And you’re so stubborn,” he countered with a grin, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

His hands rested gently on your knees, his gaze steady as he met your eyes. “Come on, love,” he said, his voice quiet but insistent. “Let me take you to bed. You’ll sleep better, and I’ll stay with you. Okay?”

You hesitated, staring up at him through fever-fogged eyes. There was something so comforting in his touch, in the way his thumb brushed over the inside of your knee as if he could ease the discomfort from your body with just a gesture.

“Can’t we just stay here a little longer?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, vulnerable and tired. You were falling asleep in the couch.

Jude’s heart ached at the sound of it, but his resolve didn’t falter. He reached down, gently cupping the back of your head and pulling you up to your feet. “No more fighting, baby.”

Before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, one arm supporting your back, the other under your legs. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning against him as if your body could draw strength from his.

“Jude!” you gasped in surprise.

“Shh,” he soothed, walking you toward the bedroom with gentle steps. “You’re not getting out of this. I’m taking care of you.”

You pressed your cheek against his shoulder as he carefully laid you down on the bed, tucking you under the covers with the same tender care he always showed. As he reached for the blanket, smoothing it over your shivering form, you closed your eyes, feeling a sense of safety that you didn’t want to admit you’d needed.

“Promise me you'll rest,” he said after a long moment, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might disturb the fragile quiet between you.

He brushed his hand across your forehead, feeling how much warmer you were now that you were lying down. His fingers lingered, caressing your skin in slow, soothing motions. He let out a quiet sigh, looking down at you with a softness in his eyes.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let out a quiet breath, feeling the warmth of his hand caressing you. It felt so comforting that you couldn't resist, your body finally surrendering to the heaviness of your fatigue.

“Promise me,” he repeated softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your back.

“I promise,” you mumbled, your voice thick with the weight of exhaustion.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he replied, his voice low and tender. He leaned down and kissed your forehead lightly, the feeling of his lips against your skin almost a promise.

You felt your eyelids grow heavier, and the warmth of his presence slowly lulled you into a deep, feverish sleep. Jude stayed beside you, his hand resting protectively on your back as he settled beside you, never once breaking contact.

And as you drifted off, you felt a quiet sense of gratitude wash over you. You were sick, yes, but you were also cared for in a way that made everything feel a little more bearable. With him so close, it was hard to stay awake, and soon, your breathing evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep.

[bcacstuff]

Sunrise somewhere near the east coast of Brazil.

I’m not sure what time it is, or really where I am. Somewhere near the coast of Brazil, I know that; sometime during my birthday - I know that, too. I've flown past the Hindu Kush Himalaya, Pamirs, Caucasus, and Atlas Mountains, and will soon cross the Andes. I'm headed to Chile to meet my family after a long time away. A blessing, to be sure, and made even more sweet coming as it is on the heels of an incredible adventure in Nepal.

I’ve spent much of the 12 hours since Istanbul sorting through photos, visual portals into experience far away yet close at hand, pixel-born reminders of a trip, a trail, impact and experience and immersion.

I’m never quite sure how to share tales of any adventure, less so one with such meaning (to me at least) as this past one. The standard travelogue seems too mundane, too pedantic, to capture it all. Some deep and philosophical tome equally missing the mark.

So, perhaps neither, maybe some of both, a hope of struck balance, or at minimum translation of time and place and experience and people. And not all at once: Like any expedition, these things must be savored, a bit at a time, building and percolating and settling and expanding yet again. So, first, the beginning…

Me on the Kongma La back in 1993, wondering about remote valleys less-trodden than Khumbu.

I guess it was about 31 years ago - December 1993 - that Stuart Sloat and I bashed our way across the lower Khumbu Glacier from Lobuche and, laden with heavy packs, made our way to the Kongma La. We had no map, just a vague point from locals and the knowledge that there was a lake up there somewhere. We found only a puddle and a frigid night, but awoke to a splendid sunrise and the Star Wars zaps of sun-warmed ice cracking, alerting us to the real lake on the east side of the pass (as opposed to our mud wallow on the west). Glorious views, backlit Lhotse and Nuptse and countless more unknowns behind, peak on peak and valley on valley leading who knows where. I knew someday, maybe, I’d get into those valleys, wander the paths away from it all.

Thirty years later, I sat in a teahouse in Chheskam, the northern triumvirate of Mahakulung, with Jhanak Karki and Harka Kulung Rai, talking about opportunity over a steaming mug of tongba. We had just trekked parts of the Mundum Trail from Phedi over Silicho to Mahakulung visiting dZi Foundation work and communities; and then we went up above, following the Hunku Khola just enough to get a taste, an idea of what may lay above. The townspeople and government were excited as we were, having had the same idea for years: create a trail up the Hunku, connecting Chheskam to Kongme Dingma and the quite-popular Mera Peak trek.

It was all possible, all doable, but like the proverbial tree falling silently in the woods, this new trail would be all for naught if no word got out about it. But, I had an idea, and it seemed possible.

Two months before, I shared coffee in a small cafe in Glasgow with Sam Heughan. We’d “met” months earlier on Zoom calls for an ill-fated film project, and then I stalked him down in Scotland; he was, as is his manner, kind enough to indulge me rather than call the cops. I mentioned this idea, going to Everest Basecamp, but doing it the back way, the hard way, the way no one would know or understand or really care about, but the way that would be far deeper, more profound, more meaningful and purposeful and fun. He was game, but I needed to see some of it, understand it more, before committing to guiding anyone up there.

Tongba steaming and heads spinning, Jhanak, Harka, and I knew now it was doable. A route possible, something that promised to bring meaningful tourism and tourist dollars to this long-forgotten part of Nepal, so close to Khumbu and yet utterly left out of the economic boon of the Everest economy. Now I just had to convince Sam.

Trekking to Basecamp is not for the faint of heart, even doing it the standard way from Lukla up the Khumbu Valley. There’s long days, cold nights, high altitudes and dry air and new foods and more. It kicks people’s butts with glee. But this route? It promised much more: camping rather than lodges; an unknown trail through unknown country (How steep would it be? How long each day? Would we find water where we needed it, flat ground?); a 19,000-foot, semi-technical pass to cross into Khumbu; and more.

As I thought and hoped, though, Sam took little convincing. An adventurous soul with a heart of gold, he was excited immediately about it all and was on board. And, to be honest, my little coffeeshop meeting was both to suss out his interest and let him meet me (and judge me) in person, but also, more importantly, to feel him out. Guiding for me is not simply an economic thing, transactional, but about time and people and experience. I’ve done too many “off-the-shelf” trips in the past to have zero tolerance for sharing the mountains with people whose goals and values are misaligned with mine. It took but minutes with Sam to know our worlds, while vastly different, were built upon similar ideas and ideals and approaches.

And so, on December 3, we met in Kathmandu, a year’s planning finally coming together.

Unfortunately for Sam, I don’t really believe in the sugar-coated version of Nepal; fancy hotels and windowed views of life are little more than television with smell. I want people to see the real Nepal, wander the back streets, immerse in the smoky incense of dawn on cobbled streets, bells chiming and dogs barking, ambling through the visceral reality that is Pashupatinath, taking in the respite of Bodhanath, embracing the comforting chaos of alleys and backways of Lalitpur.

Sam rose to it all, never flustered or bothered, always interested and engaged and inquisitive. We had but 24 hours in the Valley, but Sam saw and did and digested a lot.

And then we were off, an Altitude Air B-3 piloted expertly by Moreno whipping us up and out of Kathmandu, through the clenching smog of the city to sprawling views of the Himalaya: the Ganesh and Langtang ranges, on to Dorje Lhakpa and Gauri Shankar as we fluttered high over Kavre Palanchok. Then the jumbled jags of Rolwaling and behind, finally, the Everest range, giants piercing the morning sky, Cho Oyu, Nuptse, Lhotse, Everest. Makalu behind, hiding a bit, masked by multitudes, a distant Kangchenjunga almost a mirage eastward.

Before long, some 40 minutes, the show was over, the reality about to begin. We dropped down, our mark Chheskam, a small village clutching the flat ground hundreds of meters above the Hunku Khola, a river raging and carving down from above. Moreno, Swiss to the core, politely but abruptly ushered us out with our duffels and, counting fuel minutes, was off in a jiffy.

We were here, and town was ready.

Going into this trip, I knew Chheskam was excited. A new trail represents economic possibility for the village, the chance to not just be small pawns in the bigger Khumbu trekking economy, but rather to capture some of that themselves, to control it, to reap the benefits and build it out in a way that fits and flourishes.

I guess, though, I didn’t know how excited: We were met at the chopper by many, locals and officials, all adorning us with kathas and warm welcomes. We then walked around the village, Sam getting to see firsthand the impact of dZi Foundation’s work here, projects like one house-one tap, one house-one toilet, kitchen gardens, and more resulting in a very self-sufficient, healthy, clean, place with relative prosperity. Thanks to Jhanak’s connections, we met the oldest man in town as he demonstrated traditional weaving of nettle fabric, sipped raksi in our friend Prashanta’s house, and briefly sat with wedding guests tipsy from revelry. And then we were summoned to the local school for a bigger gathering.

Our team ready to leave Chheskam for the Hunku Khola valley and the new Muddhi-Kongme Dingma trail.

It was huge, much of the town was gathered, hundred of school children, the local government officials, and more, all in the school grounds. We were run through the welcome gauntlet of ceremonial recognition, our necks strung with dozens of kathas and marigold garlands before being treated to local cultural dances and speeches of excitement and gratitude and welcome. Gratitude and ceremony are big in Nepal, and it was strong enough in Chheskam to feel a bit awkward: after all, Sam and I and our team were here just to walk up the valley. We had no guarantees of success - for us or for the future trail. But, the point I think was far bigger than either of us, any of us; the celebration on that day was one of excitement for the future, of possibility, of potential signified by the two of us being willing, caring enough, to come and do this and see where it leads, literally and figuratively.

Thirty-one years before I stared off into these valleys, selfishly hoping that one day I’d wander them, filling my personal cup with some adventure. It took a long time, and was beyond gratifying to finally be here, but doing so with great people, a great team, and a goal beyond anything personal.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Exchange

Warnings: allusions to parental abuse, non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: Your father surprises you for Christmas.

Character: Cole Turner

Day Twenty-Three of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - let me dust the snow off your coat/hat/shoulder 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Your father’s snarl sends the turkey slipping back into the sink. You spin to face him, holding up your cold hands. 

“Daddy, just doin’ up the turkey,” you blink. “It’s thawed now--” 

“I don’t care about the fuckin’ turkey,” he retorts. “Should be gettin’ yourself ready.” 

You frown and look down at yourself. You wear one of his old shirts, the Ford tee with the hole near the hem and a loose cardigan Shelby from down the way gave you, over loose sweats that were once also his. Nothing you have it really your own, it’s only his scraps, what he doesn’t need anymore. 

“Ready for what?” 

“You questioning me, girl?” He growls. 

You gulp and shake your head. You lower your hand, keeping them away from your clothes as you’re all too aware of the raw poultry all over them. You stare at him. 

“Yes, sir, I'll get ready,” you step forward hesitantly, uncertain as you watch him.  

He huffs through his nose and curls his lip, “presents on your bed. Figure it out.” 

You nod as you come close to him, wary of a lunge as you thank him under your breath. He only shoulders past you and goes to the counter. You’re confused.

Your father doesn’t get you gifts. He doesn’t get anyone gifts. You spent weeks thrifting what you could to give to your aunt and uncles when they got here, altering it all to make it presentable, but he only ever reads his sci-fi books and makes demands. 

You go to the bathroom to wash your hands. You look at yourself in the mirror. Anxiety tenses in your cheeks. Every day roils with the same uneasiness. Every day for more than two decades. You should want to get away but complacence is easier. He hates you but for whatever reason he won’t let you go. 

You go to your room. There’s a bag on your bed. You don’t know why you expected something wrapped or a bow. Still, your surprised by the contents of the paper bag. 

A pink dress with long bloused sleeves and a short skirt. You lift it out and stare in disbelief. You lay it on the bed and take out the shoes with it; little white booties with fur. At the bottom, there’s a box with shiny colours streaked across it; makeup? 

Your father’s footsteps have you facing the door and he appears in his stained flannel, slurping his instant coffee. “Well?” 

“Thank you, daddy, it’s really nice--” 

“Get a move on,” he snaps his fingers at you. 

“Oh, uh, yes, sir,” you shrink down and turn to gather up the things. 

“Make sure you wash all of ya,” he sneers. “You smell like a dead bird.” 

You swallow down your embarrassment. It feels like a trick. Why would he get you such nice things but still be so mean? Where did he get the money? His Christmas bonus always goes to whatever car he’s clanking around on in the garage. 

You go to your dresser and fish out a bra and some clean underwear. Everything you have are handmedown. They are all forgotten, like you. It feels so strange to have anything brand new. 

You take it all to the bathroom and start the shower. You stick to the golden rule; no more than three minutes to get washed up. Don’t waste the damn water, your father’s voice haunts you. 

You dry off and dress. The dress is nice but a bit snug. It’s too short, isn’t it? You tug at it until you can breathe. 

You once more face your reflection. You are lost. You do your best to tame your hair then put on the dollar store cream.  

You open the box of cosmetics. You read each label and search for any instructions. There’s nothing.  

You uncap the liner and examine the tip. You pull your eyelid taut and meticulous draw a thin line over the edge. You let it go. It looks okay. Not tacky or anything. You do the other and do your best to even them out. 

Next the mascara. You fear scraping your eyes but coat your lashes without incident. It looks better now. You blink as you take in the effect. The blush... you’re not very sure. You blend a bit into your cheeks but don’t think it makes much difference. 

Finally, you gloss your lips with the stick of pink. You like the colour but the sheen feels unnatural and sticky. Your father clears his throat as he prowls outside. You sniff and pack everything up. That’s as good as it gets. 

You step out as he grumbles in the kitchen door frame. You glance over and he huffs. “Put the damn shoes on. Whatcha draggin’ your ass for?” 

You flit back to your room and grab the boots. You think of grabbing socks or something but you don’t have anything to go with the dress. Your legs will just be cold. 

You come back out on the heels, wobbling slightly. Your father storms at you from the front door, moving quicker than you’ve seen. He shoves your coat at you. You pout as you try to unravel his intent. 

“Daddy?” 

“Go wait outside. He'll be here soon, won’t he?” 

“He? Daddy?” 

“You’re so fucking mouthy, go.” 

He jams his thumb at the door and you flinch. You take the coat and pull it on. It doesn’t go with the dress or boots. What’s going on? 

“Are you coming?” 

“Fuck off,” he pushes you toward the door and you stumble into it. 

You put your chin down as you plant your feet and pull away from the door. You put the coat on before you untwist the lock. You are lost. 

He slams the door behind you before you can shut it yourself. You shiver as you step onto the porch and search the wintery country fields. There isn’t much snow, enough to dust the ground, but the air is crisp. Your legs are scalded by the early freeze. 

You stare off in the distance. Your heart pumps faster as a thought startles you. Did your daddy just kick you out? Why? On Christmas? 

You see the square headlights first. The pale blue truck winds down the hidden dirt road and steers towards the old homestead. You squeeze yourself as another chill sweeps over you as you watch the approach. Hooked to the back of the truck is a long trailer, the contents covered. 

You recognise the silver trim of the truck. You squint at Cole through the windshield as he pulls up, the exhaust clouding the frigid air. The door shrieks as he pushes it open and you chatter as you bring your hands to your raw cheeks. 

“Hey, you look frozen,” he says. “Merry Christmas.” 

“M-merry Christmas, sir,” you call back. You still don’t understand. 

“I’ll just unhook the load for your dad, then we can head out,” he grins as he keeps his hand on his open truck door. “Got the heat going, you wanna get in before you freeze your knees off?” 

You wince and turn to peek at the windows. Huh? You shrug and come down the steps. You’re so cold, you don’t care. You just want to stop shivering. 

Cole closes the driver’s door and leads you around to the passenger’s side. He pauses to dust snow off your shoulder as flakes swirl down lazily. His touch somehow makes you colder. He opens it and holds out his gloved hand to help you up. He’s always polite but you don’t see him very much. Your daddy did a few repairs on his truck and he would help with the garden in the summer. You were always inside, locked up. 

You let go of him, your hand thrumming from his warmth. He gently shuts the door and continues towards the rear. The truck jostles as he unhooks the trailer. You peek in the mirror and see the thick ends of the wooden planks poking out from under the tarp. It’s a lot of wood. Expensive, probably. 

None of this makes sense. Cole comes up to the driver side and gets in with a ‘brrrr’. You blow into your hands and he reaches to turn the vent up even higher. He smiles at you as you avoid looking at him. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

You hunch down and rub your hands together, “for what?” 

He’s quiet. He peers through the windshield at the house then back at you. You shrink under his gaze. 

“Did your dad... what did he tell you?” 

You heart thumps. Will you get in trouble if you don’t go along with whatever this is? “He didn’t... he just told me to wait for you.” 

“Ah,” he reaches once more to wipe away melted snow from your sleeve. “Well, er...” He stiffens in his seat. “I thought he’d... say something.” 

You just nod. Whatever you say or do will get back to your daddy somehow. He’ll be mad if you ruin whatever this is. 

“It’s a lot of wood. Your dad says he’s going to add onto the garage,” Cole speaks as he shifts gears and steers away from the trailer, circling back towards his tire tracks. “Not many folks got that kind of money and I don’t really need anything done on the truck.” 

Your lashes flutter in furious thought. It feels like this should be obvious but your mind isn’t clicking. 

“Did I say you look really nice?” He clears his throat. “Cold, but nice. I shoulda bought some stockings too.” 

You look down at the rosy skirt and shake your head. A piece slips into place. Of course it wasn’t your daddy who bought it all. 

“Oh, you—thank you, Cole,” you squeak as you smooth the short hem. 

“Well, I figured you’d want to look pretty. I mean, you always do, but... it’s Christmas, right?” 

He sounds nervous, just as much as you. You wring your hands and look around the white landscape. Your stomach is a storm. 

“It was nice of you to bring daddy all that lumber, sir,” you say. 

“Please, call me Cole,” he insists. He’s quiet for a moment as he steers, then sucks his teeth. “Or you could call me something nicer. Like... honey?” 

“Honey?” You eke out. “Why-- uh... oh?” 

You furrow your nose and rub between your brows. That dark feeling crawls up from your stomach as the doubt in your head trickles down to meet it. It’s not making sense but... 

“You still look cold,” he reaches over to rest his hand on your knee, “you can get warm...” He tickles along your skirt then bends his arm up and stretches it out to grab your shoulder. “Come here.” 

You blanch but make yourself slide over. You tremble as you do. He curls his arm over your shoulders, his other hand on the bottom of the steering wheel. 

“See, isn’t this nice?” 

Your eyes prick as that rotting sensation in your chest overwhelms that voice in your head. You sniffle and touch your nose. You squirm as the cold seeps away to unbearable heat. Your denial melts under the flames of dread. 

“Sir-- Cole,” you twiddle your fingers. “Where are we going?” 

He chuckles and slows, turning to plant a kiss on your hair, “you’re going to come meet mom and dad. They are very excited to have you for Christmas.” He squeezes you even tighter, “not as excited as I am though.” 

Your chest hollows out as if you’ve been hit directly in the heart. You can’t breathe as it sets in. It’s absurd but there’s no other explanation. Did your daddy really trade you for a cartload of wood? 

Well, he always did love his cars more than you. You hope it’s a nice garage, that it’s worth it. Well, it would be worth more than his useless daughter. 

[gingerkunoichii]

☆ Yandere Naruto Men and their Obsession with You ☆

Characters: Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, Itachi Uchiha, Obito Uchiha.

Warnings: abusive relationships, control, emotional manipulation, lovebombing, obsessive crazy love, isolation, intense jealousy, violence, almost physical abuse.

His Loving Obsession • Naruto isn’t just obsessed—he’s everywhere. His sunshine demeanour means no one questions it when he’s constantly by your side, always checking in, always making sure you’re okay. But behind the smiles and laughter, there’s something darker—a need so strong it borders on suffocation. Every time you smile at someone else, every time you talk about your plans without him, his stomach twists, and that friendly grin becomes just a little tighter. • Naruto doesn’t just love you—he worships you. He remembers every little thing about you, from your favourite snack to the way you like your coffee. He’ll show up with small surprises—your favorite candy, a new book you mentioned in passing, a blanket because he noticed you shivering the other day. He’s always thinking about you, always looking for ways to make you smile. • Naruto is a master at making you feel guilty without ever outright saying it. If you spend time with someone else, his expression falls just enough to make your chest ache. “Do you really think they care about you the way I do?” There’s no malice in his voice, only a quiet vulnerability that makes your chest ache. He’s not trying to control you (or so it seems)—he just can’t bear the thought of losing you to someone who doesn’t love you as deeply as he does.

• His jealousy is weirdly explosive. If someone flirts with you, his entire demeanour shifts. The laughter stops, his voice drops, and his eyes harden. It's like he's a whole different person. He’s quick to insert himself between you and the “threat,” acting like the person speaking to you is some sort of strange pervert, making it awkward for everyone.

• Naruto’s love becomes all-consuming. His hugs are tight, his hands always on you—your waist, your arm, the small of your back. He needs the reassurance of your presence, needs to feel your warmth under his fingers. His kisses are soft but desperate, like he’s trying to pour all his feelings into every movement, whispering against your lips, “No one can take you from me, Y/N.” You're so bombarded by him that you have no space to ever question it.

His Toxic Obsession

• Shikamaru doesn’t just watch you—he studies you. Every word you say, every nervous habit, every glance you throw at someone else—it’s all meticulously catalogued in his mind. He knows you better than you know yourself, and he uses that knowledge like a weapon. When he speaks to you, it’s with a precision that leaves you reeling and self-doubting, his words cutting straight to the heart of your insecurities and desires. • He isn’t loud or obvious when he cuts people out of your life. He does it quietly, methodically, in ways you don’t notice until it’s too late. Maybe he “accidentally” forgets to tell you about a group hangout or makes plans that conveniently overlap with your commitments to others. Before you realize it, he’s the only constant in your life, the only person you can turn to. “See? It’s just us now. It’s easier this way.” • Shikamaru doesn’t need to raise his voice to control you. His calm, measured tone is enough to make you second-guess everything. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Y/N? I mean, do what you want, but…” His words always trail off, leaving you to fill in the blanks. And when you do change your mind, he’s there with a lazy smirk, like he knew you would all along.

• When Shikamaru finally confesses, it’s not a plea—it’s a statement. “I’ve been patient with you. I’ve let you figure things out on your own, but it’s time you see what’s obvious.” His voice is low, steady, leaving no room for argument, your self-worth is so battered down from everything he's done you actually believe him, actually want to be with him.

• Shikamaru’s love is suffocating, an intricate web of manipulation and control that feels impossible to escape. But beneath the darkness, there’s an unsettling tenderness—a quiet devotion that makes you hesitate. “I only do this because I love you,” he says, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. And in those moments, you wonder if he truly believes it. If maybe, somehow, he’s convinced himself that this twisted, obsessive love is what you need.

His Unrelenting Obsession

• Sasuke’s fixation is nothing short of paralyzing. His eyes follow you everywhere, dark and unblinking, like he’s dissecting you piece by piece. It’s suffocating, the way he can hold you in place with just a look, his intensity seeping into every interaction until it feels like there’s nowhere to hide. He had never been so entranced by someone or something before you. • Sasuke wouldn’t hesitate to dismantle anything—or anyone—that threatens his control. A co-worker who’s too friendly? Suddenly, they’re fired over a baseless rumour. A friend who tries to intervene? They start receiving anonymous threats. It’s never loud or messy; it’s surgical, precise. He’s a ghost in the machine, orchestrating your isolation with a chilling efficiency that leaves you wondering if you’re imagining it when he acts the same as he always does - cool and detached. • Sasuke would make you dependent on him without you even realizing it. He’d insert himself into every aspect of your life—your confidant, your protector, your only constant. When things fall apart (because he made sure they would), he’s the one picking up the pieces, whispering, “You don’t need anyone else. I’ll take care of you.” And in your weakest moments, it feels like the truth. • If you ever try to leave him, Sasuke’s calm exterior would shatter. He wouldn’t yell or beg—he’d act. Your phone? Smashed. Your keys? Gone. Every avenue of escape meticulously closed off until the only person you can turn to is him. His voice would drop to a dangerous whisper: “Everyone has left me. You don't get to do that, Y/N.” And when he says it, it feels like a vow—a terrifying, irreversible truth. • Beneath the darkness, there’s a twisted form of love—a desperate, all-consuming need to keep you safe, to keep you his. Sasuke genuinely believes that what he’s doing is for your own good, that no one else could possibly love you the way he does. And in his mind, it’s not obsession—it’s destiny. You were meant to be his, no matter the cost.

His Devoted Obsession

• Kakashi’s tactics are subtle and insidious, cloaked in warmth and care. He’d insert himself into your life in ways that feel natural, like he’s just a dependable friend who’s always there when you need him, always appearing when things are going dire. But it’s calculated. Every comforting word, every thoughtful gesture, every perfectly timed “coincidence” is part of his plan to weave himself into the fabric of your life. “You looked a little overwhelmed, so I thought I’d step in.” • Kakashi convinces himself that his obsession is rooted in a desire to protect you, that it's normal he would be like this after everything that had happened to him throughout his life. If you’re in danger, he’s the first one there, stepping in with a calm authority that leaves no room for argument. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d do anything for you.” • His charm is his greatest weapon. He knows how to put you at ease, to make you laugh, to make you feel safe. His lazy demeanour and soft-spoken words hide the intensity of his obsession, lulling you into a false sense of security, that he would never do anything to hurt you. When he teases you, his tone is light and playful, but there’s an edge to his smile that makes your pulse quicken.

• Kakashi doesn’t need to be loud or aggressive to isolate you—he’s far too smart for that. Instead, he subtly plants doubt in your mind about the people around you. “They didn’t seem very supportive of you earlier, did they?” “Are you sure they have your best interests at heart?” His tone is so soft, so thoughtful and seemingly wise, that you don’t realize he’s slowly nudging you into relying on him alone. • He doesn’t see his actions as manipulative or controlling—they’re protective, necessary. “I can't lose you, not after losing everyone else,” he’ll say, his voice so soft and convincing that you genuinely believe him. But the truth is, Kakashi’s love is a cage, and no matter how warm and comforting it feels, it’s one you’ll never escape.

His Desperate Obsession

• He loves you so desperately, so tenderly, with full unrestrained love. It feels like you were swept off your heels by him and his intensity, the way he knew he wanted you from the beginning and the way you completely crumbled underneath him was almost pathetic. He loves you like no one has before, gifting you thoughtful things he knows you like, listening to everything you say with genuine interest. He protects you, no one bothers you whilst you're with him suddenly - and you don't quite understand. • Itachi carries the ghosts of his clan in every step, every breath, every calculated action. He’s spent his entire life sacrificing, losing everything to protect what he loves. But you? You’re something he can’t sacrifice, something he won’t. He tells himself that this time, he won’t fail, won’t let the people he loves slip through his fingers. This time, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, no matter the cost. • Itachi’s protectiveness goes beyond reason. He’s already failed once, letting his clan fall under his blade for the greater good, and he refuses to fail again. He doesn’t trust the world to keep you safe, so he takes matters into his own hands. The friend who’s too nosy? Gone without a trace. The ex who tries to reach out? Shows up in the news dead. You don’t see the strings he’s pulling, the shadows he’s working in, but the world around you becomes eerily smooth, free of threats. “You’re safe with me,” he’d say, his tone so calm, so certain, that you believe him. • His obsession is fuelled by guilt as much as love. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, not after what he’s done, but that only makes him cling to you harder. You’re his second chance, his proof that he can protect something without destroying it. He doesn’t tell you this—he doesn’t want to burden you with his darkness—but every glance, every touch carries the unspoken weight of his guilt. “You make me feel human again,” he’d admit in a rare moments of vulnerability. • If you ever tried to leave, Itachi wouldn’t react with anger or desperation. His voice would stay calm, his movements controlled, but there would be a finality in his words that makes your stomach twist. one that you know you can't resist because at this point he had made himself the top of the pyramid in your life. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. The world isn’t safe for you without me.” And if you push further, he’d step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve already lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I won’t let it happen again. Not with you.”

His Masked Obsession

• When you first meet him, when you're only friends he keeps up the guise of Tobi. Tobi is a harmless goof, all smiles and playful antics. He makes you laugh, brightens your day, and slips into your life so easily it feels natural. But Tobi isn’t real—he’s a shield, a distraction from the storm brewing beneath. Every laugh, every clumsy joke is calculated, a way to draw you closer, to make you trust him. “See? Tobi’s a good boy!” he chirps, his eyes gleaming with something darker than innocence. • As Tobi, he drowns you in affection. He remembers every little thing you like, shows up with thoughtful gifts “just because,” and tells you how much you mean to him at every opportunity. “You’re Tobi’s favourite person! No one else compares!” His voice is light, his tone warm, and it’s easy to feel safe around him. • The switch happens when you least expect it. The moment you cross a line he doesn’t like—talking to someone else for too long, brushing off his affection, or even hinting at distance—the mask shatters. His voice drops and lowers, his posture stiffens, and the playful Tobi disappears. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his tone sharp and cutting. It’s a complete shift, like you’re staring into the eyes of someone you don’t recognize. • Losing Rin shattered Obito, and the thought of losing you pushes him over the edge. Every moment he isn’t with you feels like a threat, every smile you give someone else feels like a betrayal. He projects his pain onto you, his desperation spilling out in violent outbursts followed by trembling apologies. “I can’t lose you,” he growls, his hands fisting in your hair as he pulls you closer. “Not again. Not ever.” • After every outburst, Tobi returns, full of apologies and desperate affection. He showers you with gifts, clings to you like a lost puppy, and whispers tearful apologies. “Tobi’s so sorry! Tobi didn’t mean to scare you!” His voice is trembling, his hands gentle as he cups your face. He tells you how much he loves you, how he can’t live without you, how he’ll do better. • Obito’s love is suffocating, destructive, a wildfire that consumes everything in its path. He doesn’t see his violence as cruelty—it’s protection. He doesn’t see his obsession as wrong—it’s love. “I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you from me,” he says, his voice calm but his eyes wild. “Even you, if I have to.” And in his mind, that’s not a threat—it’s a promise.

[kanyerealdaughter]

#EX BOYFRIEND

sexual content , masturbation , sub (fem,reader) , cussing , intercourse , dom(suguru geto) , creampie , size kink , degrading , cum eating a bit.? .

—————————————————————————

right now you're currently driving to your ex boyfriend suguru house. you have no clue how to handle it to be completely honest, you never been too good with emotions but you both left on good terms and everything but you just can't stop the need you feel him one last time.

you pulled into his driveway preparing yourself to get all your stuff and leave as quickly as possible. you walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. after a few minutes he appears in the doorway, looking sexier than ever. you were snapped out of the battle with your subconscious by his voices speaking out in a concerned tone.

" uh- you good..?"

“ mhm, uh y-yeah, fine i just came to get my stuff remember.” you replied weakly.

" well you're gonna come in?" he asked in his raspy voice, stepping out of the way, letting you into his house.

you look over at the kitchen and remember all the times he fucked your from behind. so deep in you, so... rough. and the living room where he'd prop your legs up on the coffee table and eat you out. suckin on your clit...

your breathing picked up and you don't know what to do. your underwear is getting wetter by the second and you can't do anything about it... or can you? once the idea pops into your head, there's no turning back. you have to do it. you need to do it.

" um suguru can i use your bathroom?" you ask, pretending that you have to use the bathroom badly.

" oh uh- sure. you remember where it's at right?" you nodded and headed off to the bathroom.

once you're outta sight, you rush in, shutting and locking the door behind you. you don't waste any time taking your jeans and underwear off. mmm you're so wet... you don't even bother taking your shirt and bra off, you wanna make this quick.

you slowly insert your middle finger and it slides in with ease from all the wetness. you start to pump and move your hand. in and out. in and out. in... out. over and over. fuck it. you need this. you pick up speed, lifting your left leg up onto the sink for better access.

" mmm." you moan softly before putting your free fingers into your mouth to shut yourself up.

you can't be loud but it feels so good. you bite your knuckle harder in an attempt to hush yourself but it's useless. you move your hand quicker. the lightning fast speed of your fingers is amazing. you started to think of suguru. his big dick thrusting into you with quick speed. both of your skin hitting together because of his fast, hard pace.

" fuck." you muffled into your knuckles. his balls slapping against your ass cheeks. both of your moans and grunts are drowning out the others. you're whimpering. you want to scream but you can't. you want him to fuck you so bad. you imagine him talking dirty to you even more.

“ fuck, you like that i know you like it..”

" scream for me ma.." that was all it took to drive you over the edge.

" fuck yes..!"

you came all over your hand, hard. as much as you wish it were him you were cumming for, you guess this will have to do. you clean yourself off realizing you've probably been in here for too long. you washed all your wetness and juices away from your hands, dried them and then went to leave.

as you opened the door, you found a very satisfied ex boyfriend suguru getting off right in front of the door. either he didn't care if you saw or he hadn't heard you come out.

whatever the case may be, you didn't care. you suddenly felt hot again. you once more felt the urge to have him inside of you again. watching him get off because of your moans from the other side of the door really turned you on. you need to feel him in you, at least one more time.

as you watched him, you could feel your juices pooling up as they did before. bitting your lip, you reach out and touch his dick. he looks up at you and you could see his once big dark purple eyes. eyes darken.

he stops and in a blink of an eye, you're pinned up against the bathroom door. with a strong large hand over your neck, his lips dive towards yours, connecting in a passionate yet lustful kiss. it was harsh and forceful, making your knees go weak. if he wasn't holding you up you would have fallen.

your hand instinctively wrapped around his hard cock, pumping in an attempt to please him. a quiet moan could be heard escaping his lips, that were molded together with yours, sending a long satistying shiver down your spine. i need him in you now.

" i need you." you said in between kisses.

" i'm glad you said that ma i need you too my dick hard." he said as a smile crept up on his face.

and with that he pulled his pants up and picked you up, carrying you to his room. when we reached your destination, he threw you on his bed and began stripping.

starting with his shirt, then his pants, then his boxers. you both kept eye contact as you began to get undressed with him taking off your shirt along with your push up bra.

when you both were done, he crawled up between your legs pushing you up on the bed. he once again connected your lips as he moved one of his hands to your breast. he squeezed and rolled your hard nipple earning soft moans from you.

you started to whine, letting him know that you can't wait any longer. a smirk draws across his face while he moves his hand down to your heat, collecting some of your juices on his finger, he stops kissing you and puts it in his mouth. he moaned lightly at the taste of you causing your hips to buck up at the sight.

he looked down and grabbed his dick and started rubbing it against your slit. pushing it a little to your clit, your legs shook. you're so wet that he accidentally slid in hard, slamming into you, causing him to groan at the pleasure.

" you're still so tight fuck ma." he said in a low whisper. you moaned in response his pace started off slow but then soon quickened as his heavy breaths you felt in the crook of your neck. his thrusting grew harder. the bed creaked and rocked with his and yours movements.

" u-uh yess!." you moaned. it feels so good his grunts fill the room along with your moans.

" fuck ma you been givin my pussy..?" he whispered groaning at the end of his sentence.

you shake your no.

" words mama." he groaned.

" no o-ohh fuck." you gained the confidence too say no. he smack ass leaving a handprint thrusting into you kissing your cervix fasting into you even more making you moan.

" tell me, who does this pussy belong to?" he said while lifting your legs up by his shoulders, fucking you deeper.

*yesss kinggg Imfaooo ignore this.*

" y-you." you barely got out in between your panting and loud moans.

" louder." he demanded.

"y-you suguru you suguru FUCKK.! u-uhh so deep..!" you ended up screaming, causing him to smirk.

" mhm." was all he said.

" fuck. f-faster." you said wanting more. his pace quickened from what it was before as all you could hear was his and yours skin slapping together.

" n-nugh!" you screamed. he was so deep and big he filled you up kissing your cervix once again

" s-shit.!" your back arched as your felt your orgasm forming.

" i-im gonna c-cum!" he stopped causing you to whimper.

" no.. fuck why suguru..?" you whined. he didn't answer but instead flipped you over to where your ass was up in the air and your back was arched. face in the comforter.

suddenly there was a sting on your ass cheek. smack. the skin on skin contact of his hand colliding with your plump ass made you moan.

" you like that." he said with a smile forming on his face.

smack another hard slap echoing throughout the room, the sound bouncing off the walls. you moaned again, this time a little louder. without warning he slammed his dick back into your soaking wet pussy making you scream at the sudden pressure.

his thrusting was quick and hard just like before. your pussy throbbed. your ass slapped against his front, reddening your cheeks smack.

" ooh fuck!"

it feels too good smack. he continued his thrusting that soon became irregular and uneven, getting even more sloppy. he was close and so was you.

" cum for me ma. cum all over my dick mamas." you couldn't hold on anymore. your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave, but he didn't stop.

" ahh! f-fuck! fuck suguruuu!" his dick twitched inside you.

" mmm." he hummed.

" scream my name again." he said, his breath being just as scattered as his thrusts.

" suguru!" you screamed moaning right after.

" f-fuck ma..!" he stopped deep in you, filling you up with his hot spurts of cum. you shook and screamed into the comforter. you both stayed in that position catching your breaths for a few minutes and then he pulled out.

he cleaned up and then you both laid in his bed talking for about an hour until you finally decided to get dressed and head home. he stopped you right outside his front door by grabbing your waist and pulling you into a kiss slapping your sensitive ass making you yelled out a yelp. he broke it off and tilted your head up to look at him looking him in his dark purple eyes.

" come back anytime you'd like and we can do this again ma." he winked at you but being all serious and then disappeared back into his house.

the drive home was silent. you didn't listen to any music, you just sat there thinking...

𖣂 KANYEREALDAUGHTER SPEAKS - *reposted* sorry for any errors.!

words - 1.8k

» , ᴀ ᴋᴀɴʏᴇʀᴇᴀʟᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

copyright ©️. ᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ . «

[altcvnningham]

i'm sick w the flu (and have had a terrible day at work) so take some cringe self indulgent adler x sick!reader s/o headcanons

straightforward and practical. i really don't think adler would initially be the type to coddle or baby you- just very to the point, sternly telling you to drink water and take some meds and painkillers. but he'd make it so much easier for you; he keeps your water bottle filled by the side of the bed, he'll always make sure you've got painkillers in your drawer- he won't dare make a point of it (can't have you knowing he's too sweet on you) but he pops a couple pills out of the packet and puts them at the bedside next to your bottle so you absolutely won't forget. offers to make you hot tea under the guise that i'm makin' myself some coffee, so i might as well. not that he cares, of course. just happenstance.

but i think longer into a relationship with him and he'll let his softer side show. runs you a bath the second he gets home and hears you sniffling, never mind if he needs a shower or not; makes you honey and lemon tea and passes it off as some old army trick he knows and not just common knowledge, because he wants so badly to be the reason you are well taken care of, that only he could look after you like this. washes your hair and gives you deep, slow massages, 'cause it's important for the muscles, obviously, or whatever impartial excuse he gives, not because he's worried about you aching all over or anything. swaddles you in blankets and cuddles you up under his arm on the couch while he puts on an old movie, every so often accidentally brushing a hand over your temple to check for fever.

he doesn't care if you protest that he ought to keep his distance in case he catches whatever you've got- because he won't. or so he insists.

[visionsofyouandme]

It's a Wonderful Life, Javier Peña!

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Javier does not indulge in the holidays, not caring for the lights, the cheer, and togetherness. But then you come along, and bring a little Christmas spirit in your wake.

𝚠/𝚌: 7.1k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: Javi POV. Afab!Reader. Fluff. Talks of Christmas. Banter. Javi trying to suppress feelings. Office romance. Swearing. Several Christmas movie references. Really, a lot of pining (my staple at this point?), fluff, and feels. Not really proofread (sorry not sorry!)

𝙰/𝙽: Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Here is a Xmas gift from me to you. Thank you for reading and joining me on this rather fresh and unorganized blog for my writings. Here's to a good, easy, and fun holiday for those who celebrate, and an easy transition into the New Year for us all ❤️

Read on AO3!

Javier Peña did not celebrate Christmas.

He had felt less and less “in the holiday spirit” over the years of adulthood. With his job and how stressful and time consuming it was all around the clock, it was hard to even think about it when that time of year came around. Sure, the office attempted to be festive with a sad excuse for a foot-tall, skinny Christmas tree with ornaments from the 60s. Maybe some garland around the doorways. But, that was if anyone remembered that year, or any year before or after.

And then, there came you.

You were hired on as a secretary, and when he met you, he knew you would just be another notch in his bedpost. And he tried to be as charming and suave as he did with every other woman who worked for the DEA and every woman after that, but it never seemed to work. You were polite, and annoyingly so, and turned him down every time with a smile that annoyed the hell out of him. 

He gave up after a month of trying, moving on to easier prey. And somehow, you still wanted to talk to him. Nothing serious, but asking how things were going, if he needed anything- he’d make a quip like “just you, cariño,” and give you his best smirk. You would only roll your eyes and if he didn’t annoy you entirely you would bring him coffee. Some days, it came with a biscuit.

He didn’t know what kept pulling him into your orbit, but it was around Christmas when he noticed. You put a little more effort into decorating- some lights on the windows, a new, two-foot tall plastic Christmas tree with updated ornaments. The garland was now wrapped in ribbon, and the place just felt… better.

But, Javier Peña did not ever indulge in the season.

He would spend late nights at the office the nearer to Christmas Day, leaving Steve to go home to his family and celebrate with them. It was about 4 days until Christmas, and around 7:30 at night when you approached him, looking like you were ready to leave.

“Agent Peña, you’ve been here since 6am. I think you need a break.” you said, tilting your head to the side. He looked up from the stack of papers on his desk and leaned back, rubbing his face. He sighed,

“No rest for the wicked, as the saying goes.” he said with a frown. You shook your head, and gestured for him to follow.

“Put it to bed for the night, which I know you’re good at,” you said with a glint in your eyes that made him roll his eyes. “And come with me.” 

He cocked an eyebrow up at this, and sighed, knowing his eyes were about to fall out of his head from staring at words all day, his hand cramping from the pens and pencils he gripped. Besides, who was he to turn down going with you anywhere?

He followed you to a bodega a few blocks from the office, and he watched as you conversed easily with the shop owner as they prepared some food for you both behind the counter. Some kind of homemade special that Manuel had cooked up just for you before closing.

“You take good care of her now, amigo. She is a good one, si?” the shop owner said with a grin as he handed the bag to you. You rolled your eyes, but he could see the shy way you didn’t meet his eyes. But, he gave the man a nod of acknowledgement and an awkward smile. 

“Thank you, Manuel. Buenas Noches.” you said and Javier held the door open for you-

Since when the hell did he do that?

He followed you to your apartment, and he swallowed. Was this really what was going to happen tonight? You had turned him down night after night, and now you had lead him to your place with food? What was he doing? 

“Are you… um- are you sure, cariño?” he questioned, the uncertainty in his voice that made you turn your head as you fished out your keys. You cocked an eyebrow at him, and rolled your eyes,

“Unless you wanna eat on the street, come on.” you said, and wrestled the door open. He quickly moved up the steps and held the heavy door open, allowing you to step inside first. He followed you, glancing around as if searching for threats. None were there, of course, except a barking dog in the distance. Other than that, it was quiet. Peaceful.

Your apartment was small, but homey. This didn’t surprise him, as you seemed to leave comfort wherever you roamed. And, your apartment was also sparsely decorated for Christmas- lights hanging on doorways, another small tree (looking suspiciously like the only one-foot one from the office), and it smelled faintly of fresh balsam. Noting the blown out candle on your coffee table, he had deduced the source.

“You stole the tree from the agency?” He questioned with a smirk as he shed his jacket. You set down the food on the small, sad excuse for a kitchen table and looked back at him.

“I replaced it. Upgraded it, even. Thought it would be a fair trade.” you said with a smirk and began to dish out the food.

Javier was a bit surprised, to say the least. You invited him to sit, and you ate, talking over the food which was still hot and absolutely delicious. He scarfed it down, unaware of how hungry he was. 

“Jesus, Javier, don’t choke.” you laughed, and he wiped his mouth hastily,

“Sorry. Wait- did you just call me-?”

“We’re off the clock, figured it would be fine. Or do you get a kick out of being called “Agent Peña” all the time?” you said with a smirk. He shrugged,

“You can call me anything you’d like, cariño.” he chuckled, and you shook your head, still working on your food. The conversation was easy, comfortable, nice. He hadn’t sat down with anyone except some other fellow agents and Steve for meals, but never pleasantly like this. 

“What are your plans for Christmas Eve?” you questioned, and Javier snorted.

“I don’t do Christmas. Probably pulling an all-nighter at the office.” he said, and you actually frowned at this. He shifted uneasily in his seat, and shrugged it off.“It’s fine. I do it every year-”

“That’s kind of depressing.” you said, and he sighed. He knew it was, but he didn’t exactly have friends or a family to spend it with. 

“Well, what about you, Mrs. Claus?” he quipped, steering the conversation away. You shrugged, and picked at your food.

“I plan on getting home and watching some movies. Call some folks back in the states, wish them the best for the holidays.” you said, but he could sense the underlying sadness in your voice. It was his turn to frown. Him having no one to spend the holiday with was usual- but hearing you saying you didn’t have anyone? Now that was unacceptable.

“You don’t have friends?”

You laughed at that, and glanced up at him.

“I do, but they have families, other friends to spend it with. I don’t mind going solo.” you said, picking up your water and taking a sip. Javier shook his head, and sighed,

“Well, I’d like to at least share a drink with you. Maybe get rid of some of that loneliness for the both of us for a second, you know?” he said. He meant it casually, but he meant it real and truly. It would be nice to at least have a Christmas toast with someone for once. And if it meant bringing two lonely hearts together… why not?

A small smirk spread on your lips,

“I’ll bring the spiced eggnog, then.”

He made a face, and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine. Eggnog and bourbon, then. They pair really well, believe it or not.” you said, and he shook his head.

“You won’t find eggnog here,” he said. He hadn’t had that in years, probably since before he left Texas to join the agency. Even then, he must have been a child when he last had it.

“I have my ways.” you said with a wink. He couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face, and he shook his head.

“You are funny, cariño.” he said, and you hid your smile in the rim of your water glass, but cocked an eyebrow.

“Javier Peña giving a compliment? Somebody put that on the record.” you laughed, and he shook his head, but a warmth spread in his chest. 

“Anything for you,” he said quietly, but you didn’t look up. Maybe you didn’t hear. 

But, he meant it.

“What’s with the face?” Steve questioned one afternoon at the office. 2 days until Christmas, and Javier was typing away furiously at his typewriter with a cigarette dangling from his lips. 

“What face?” He questioned without looking up. Steve cocked an eyebrow, leaning back.

“Your “something pissed you off” face. Or it could also be your “trying to hide something” face.” Steve said, and Javier picked the cigarette from between his lips and huffed out smoke.

“Just stressed.”

“You don’t get stressed. Well- you definitely don’t admit it.” Steve said, and Javier sat up from his hunched position. He put the cigarette between his lips momentarily and then exhaled. 

“It’s the holidays. Everyone’s gone, which means I have to pick up the slack.” He said. 

“Way to be in the Christmas spirit, Agent Peña.” Steve chuckled, and Javier heard an elated cry and turned in his chair to see you carrying a plate of something, handing them out to the staff as you passed down the rows. Javier sat up a bit, and quickly stubbed out his cigarette. When he turned to face Steve, he was looking at him with a shit eating grin.

“What? Free food’s free food.” Javier said, and you smiled as you rounded to Steve and Javier’s cluster of desks.

“Afternoon, boys. Interested in a holiday sweet treat?” 

“Oh, absolutely. Haven’t had sugar cookies in a minute.” Steve said, picking one up and Javoer gave you a nod of recognition as he picked his own.

“I was planning on making buñelos, but those were a spectacular fail. So, I went with something safe.” You laughed, and Javier found the cookie was sweet, almost sickeningly so. He looked at you and gave you a half smile and a nod, swallowing the piece dryly. 

“Homemade? That’s… good. Nice.” Javier said with a nod, and both you and Steve looked at Javier. You were the first to shrug it off,

“Well, I thought it would be a good Christmas present for everyone to enjoy.” You said with a shrug, glancing at Javier, but not for too long.

“You boys continue the good work. If there’s any left over, I’ll come to you first.” You said with a wink between the two, and walked on to the next set of desks. Steve was watching Javier like a hawk, who set the half-eaten cookie to the side.

“Too sweet for you?” Steve chuckled. Javier didn’t meet his eyes, and continued typing away.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Three days before Christmas, you continued to bring holiday cheer to the office. You had brought a radio in, and a handful of cassette tapes of Christmas music. Old stuff, easily accessible… Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Elvis Presley. You would play one all way way through and then let the usual local Colombian radio play for an hour. And at the turn of a new hour, you’d start another one. 

Javier should find it annoying. Anyone else, he would have said something. But, you just looked so damn happy humming and nodding to the music, that he just couldn’t bring himself to. 

He still avoided you outwardly, though. Cold, closed off. You didn’t seem to mind, and still gave him smiles and variations of “how are you today, Agent?” He felt like an ass, but he still felt the need to create distance, even despite your holiday plans. 

And that? That scared him. He had never had plans for the actual holiday- usually staying home or working a long night. If home, maybe invite a prostitute over to fill the void for an hour or two.

But to spend time with you? Someone who was quickly taking up space in his mind and thoughts? He wondered what caused your change of heart- was it the holiday and you didn’t want to be alone, either? Or was it… God forbid, was it something deeper?

He remembered all the times you had turned him down. Certainly that wouldn’t be the case, actually having liked him. No one liked Javier beyond a one-night stand. He had never convinced you to come home with him, much less have a drink with him. But, you had given in so easily this time around, that it left him puzzled.

His sleuthing skills were not serving him well, apparently.

“What should I play next? Bing Crosby or Dean Martin?” you questioned, and Javier looked up as you set more files on his desk. He rolled his eyes,

“If I have to hear “Let it Snow” one more time, I might throw that damn radio out the window,” he said, which was true. You only laughed, and it rang in the office like sleigh bells. He noticed you wore a Christmas tree broach, and at least complimented your restraint of personal Christmas accessories. 

“I’ll skip over that one for you, then. It does get a little old, doesn’t it?” you questioned, and Javier snorted. 

“You’re killing me slowly, cariño.” 

“Well, i’m trying to bring some Christmas cheer. Don’t turn into a Scrooge on me, okay? Or a George Bailey. I’d hate for a ghost of Christmas past to visit and foil our plans.” you said, and Javier’s eyes snapped back up to you, files forgotten.

“Oh,” he said, like he had just remembered. He leaned his elbow on the desk, “Right. Your place or mine?” he questioned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Agent, this is not a ploy to get you in my bed. I don’t have that kind of agenda. Figured we could share a drink here before heading home. I don’t care for the busy bars, it makes the loneliness feel even more pronounced.” you said, and Javier nodded, but it clicked in his head right then. Loneliness. The only reason why you wanted to bother him during this holiday- and it was no secret that Javier was alone on any and all holidays. He just didn’t think anyone noticed. But you,... You did.

He wished he could say he was grumpy, angry at the thought of someone taking advantage of him and trying to quell their own loneliness. But, that would make him a hypocrite. Sure, he was at work all the time, but it was mostly for the sake of the job. With you, he couldn’t- wouldn’t, you deserved better than that.

“Here?” he reiterated, and you nodded. 

“Right.” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He felt his chest deflate, but he nodded with a smile. “Still working on that eggnog, by the way.” you said, patting the files and began to walk away. He chuckled, shaking his head,

“I am expecting the best of the best. Do not disappoint me.” he said, and you threw him a look over your shoulder and winked. He shifted in his chair, pulling up closer to hide his growing hard-on. 

Fuck. This was bad.

“You got a date?” Steve questioned from behind Javier as he rounded to his desk. Javier opened one of the files you had set down on his desk, and shook his head.

“Nope. Just coworkers having a drink.”

“Right. I have never heard that one before,” Steve said sarcastically, knowing full well Javier would say that and have the stink eye from the woman he had bedded the night before. Steve wasn’t an idiot, and some girls made it obvious for their distaste for Javier in the workspace. All of them except you, it seemed. Javier’s one failed attempt at getting a female coworker to sleep with him.

Steve wondered if you had finally given in. Or if Javier was changing his tune in time for the holidays.

Either way, he couldn’t wait to see the results.

Two days before Christmas, it was quiet. You still played the music, but not as frequently. Probably to give the office a break from the same 10 songs sung by different artists. But, Javier was watching you smile, converse, and walk around the office. When you left for lunch, he found himself looking out the window in hopes of your return. 

He was in the breakroom, smoking a cigarette by the window and holding a new cup of coffee. He huffed, and looked down at the street below, suddenly leaning in close to the glass that his nose nearly touched it. 

You were walking up the street back to the building, with a man at your side. You were smiling, nodding, and laughing. That laugh where your face scrunched up and tilted your head back a bit, one he had never had the pleasure of inciting himself. 

And you were next to Miguel Garcia, from the internal operations department. He had never interacted with him, except maybe once or twice. He didn’t even work on the same floor as you and Javier. How did he manage to snag a conversation with you?

Unless…

His jaw ticked, and he rubbed it to ease the tension. When you disappeared back inside, he could see Miguel duck first and open the door for you. When you both walked inside, out of view, he took a very heavy drag of the cigarette. He set down his coffee mug and crossed his arms, the other hand still holding the cigarette to his lips. Feeling a tightness in his chest that was typically only reserved for stress on the job, he tried his best to smoke it off.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but he had stubbed out that cigarette and another, lighting up a third. He really shouldn’t care about this. It was none of his business, and you didn’t belong to him. But, to know you two had plans, and you walked up with someone else, made him feel… some kind of way.

You didn’t belong to him, he reminded himself. And he doesn’t belong to you.

He wouldn’t realize it then, but later (much later) he would come to the fact that he finally understood what those poor women felt when he went from one to the other in the office. Karma kind of stings.

He heard footsteps and didn’t look up, but he heard your voice ring out in greeting. He looked back, and that tightness in his chest coiled up again.

“Cigarettes and coffee for lunch?” you questioned, and walked to the coffee maker. He shrugged,

“Hasn’t killed me yet.” 

You laughed, and shook your head, making a fresh pot of coffee, “Yeah. “Yet,” being the word.”

“How was lunch?” he said stiffly, unable to help himself. His eyes were trained on your back as you faced away from him to the coffee pot, but you didn’t flinch or tense up.

“It was good! Ran into Miguel from Ops, he was at the same diner as me. He’s a lot nicer than I expected- always thought he was so serious.” you said, and pressed the button, the coffee began to brew. “Kind of like you. Well- I still think you’re serious. But, you have your moments of… not-seriousness, I guess.”

You turned back to him, and he didn’t realize he was staring holes into your back until you looked at him pointedly.

“If you take a picture, Peña, it’ll last longer.” you laughed, and his eyes moved back to the window. He lowered the cigarette to his waist, his thumb ticking against it lightly.

“Everything alright?” you questioned, and if he wasn’t a seasoned agent, he would have flinched. The fact you noticed… that was dangerous, too. 

Too close. Too, too close.

“Yeah. Fine.” he said, and picked up his coffee mug, stamping out his cigarette. The leftover smoke that had accumulated in the room suddenly felt oppressive, and he needed an escape.

“We still on for tomorrow?” you questioned, your body turning as he began to stalk out.

“Maybe. Had something come up- i’ll let you know.” he said, trying his best not to look at you. Because if he did, he knew he would see a look on your face that would make him fold.

“Oh. Okay,” you said, trying and failing to hide your disappointment in your voice. “Yeah, just… let me know.”

Javier sat at his desk, and sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

Yeah.

Too close.

Christmas Eve. Javier was tired. He had stayed late the night before, drowning himself in work to combat the growing feeling of loneliness and melancholy over the holiday. He had tried to push you out of mind, and tried to decide how he was going to tell you he wouldn’t be available for that drink. 

You weren’t avoiding him that day, but you certainly didn’t go out of your way to talk to him. You wore some dangly, Christmas-themed earrings that made little tinkling noises when you moved your head. He was achingly aware of your every move, every word that was within earshot, and every smile that graced your face.

God. Focus, Peña. 

Steve wasn’t there that day, having taken off to spend time with Connie and his kid. Javier was fine with that, meant less snide comments that would be pointed his way. He kept his head down, and didn’t bother interacting with the few people who were there at the office.

Quickly enough, the sun had set and the workday was over, but Javier made no move to leave. Everyone had vacated by now, save for himself, the janitor, and you. He looked up when you approached his desk, and he could see something in your hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Try not to stay up all night,” you said and set a tall mason jar on his desk filled with something off-white. He frowned, and looked back at you, “Homemade eggnog.” You offered an explanation.

His heart dropped.

Fuuuuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Merry Christmas, Javier.” You said with a smile when he just sat there, staring like an idiot. You turned and walked to your desk, picking up your bag. You stole another look his way and nodded, and headed to the door. When it shut, his head swiveled to the jar on his desk.

He pondered for a second. Then another second. Then a minute.

God, he couldn’t be this much of an ass. Not on Christmas Eve, of all nights.

Javier quickly gathered everything up, shutting the lights off since the janitor had left minutes ago. Pulling on his jacket hastily, he grabbed the jar. As he hurried out the door, almost forgetting to lock it before turning back and fumbling with the keys. He pulled it once to make sure it was locked and then flew down the hallway.

He struggled to find a taxi, and took it to your place that he struggled to remember. It got him to the right neighborhood, and he found your building moments later. He jogged up the steps when he got inside and approached your door. He hesitated, and wondered if this was a good idea. He pushed the thought from mind and knocked hastily. He didn’t care what the outcome was, he had to say something. Whatever he was going to say, he didn’t know. Good thing he was quick on his feet-

Javier frowned, and looked down to see an elderly gentleman in a white shirt answer the door, looking tired and sleepy.

“Quién eres?” The man questioned, and Javier gulped. He quickly gave his apologies, and the man grunted and waved his hand, cursing under his breath about drunk men knocking on his door. Javier shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck, and looked at the next door. He could have sworn it was this one, but he must have been mistaken. 

He walked to the next one, and knocked. He would have to knock on every door on the right hand side of the hallway if he had to-

You opened the door with a frown on your face, phone pressed to your cheek and dressed in sleep pants and a t-shirt.

“H-hi.” He greeted, and cleared his throat. He said your name, and you cocked an eyebrow, obviously surprised.

“I just- I-“ Javier began, but you turned to the side,

“Mom, let me call you back. No, it’s- It’s carolers! How cool is that-? Yes, I know- Okay, love you, bye!” You said quickly and pressed the button hard to hang up. You looked at him, eyes narrowing.

“Did you come to give me back the eggnog?” You questioned, gesturing to the jar in his hand. He looked down at it, then back at you.

“Well, I- I was hoping we could-“

“Christ, Javier. Get in here, you’re gonna let all the cold air out.” You said, and gestured for him to come in hastily. He stepped inside and you closed the door, you both turned to face each other. You crossed your arms.

“Hoping we could- what? Just because I gave you that does not mean-“ 

“No! No… I just- I’m sorry. I feel bad.” 

“Javier Peña feels bad?” You scoffed, and shook your head, reaching for the doorknob. He stepped forward, hand outstretched,

“Yes, I do! I do. I… Wanted to say thanks...”

“For the eggnog.” You stated, finishing for him. He sighed, and knew this would be a shit show. He had to recover it somehow.

“Not just that. For offering to hang out, for bringing cookies… for making Christmas a little more… Like Christmas, I guess.” 

You stared at him. And then you laughed. It started out as a nervous, breathy laugh, and then you crescendoed into a cackle. You wiped your eyes, and shook your head,

“Peña, you are something else.” You said, and reached for the doorknob again. “Now, get ou-“

“At least have that drink with me first.” Javier said quickly, and you looked at him. You seemed to ponder it for a moment, and your eyebrows furrowed with frustration and he thought for sure that you would throw him out by his ear. But, your shoulders relaxed, and you shook your head.

“Fine. Not like I have anything else going on.” You said, resigned to it and locked the door, walking to the kitchen. He followed along quickly, and you reached into a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, looking half-drunk already. He wondered how much you indulged in it, and the thought made him smirk slightly.

“I’m just doing this to be nice,” you said pointedly when he set down the jar, and you found two mismatched glasses, dividing up the eggnog and alcohol ratio. “And to keep from being on the phone with my mother.”

Javier nodded, and hesitated to take off his jacket or make any other move to make himself comfortable. He stood there rather awkwardly before you gestured to the living room.

“Go ahead, sit. I’ll meet you there.” you said, and he nodded, feeling some kind of relief to do something other than stand there like an idiot. He walked to the living room and shed his jacket, draping it over the back corner of the couch and looked at the TV, which was playing some black and white movie, the accents dramatic and distinctively old-timey. He heard the name “George Bailey” cross the lips of one of the actresses, but still had no clue what you were watching. He sat on the edge of the couch, and looked up when you came in, carrying two glasses.

“It’s a Wonderful Life,” you said, and handed him the glass, which he took carefully. He looked at you with a cocked up eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes. “The movie, Javier.” you chided, and sat on the other side of the couch, a respectable distance.

He took a sip of the drink, and found it to be sweet, like the cookies. The bourbon gave it a bit of a stronger flavor, and he swallowed.

“It’s good,” he said, and he could see your unconvinced glare and he leaned back slightly, trying to recover some of his confidence. “I’m not lying. It’s good. Reminds me of back home.”

You seemed to relax at this, and nodded, satisfied. You shifted your eyes to the movie, and he could see the fondness in them as you watched the movie. 

 "What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word, and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

“He reminds me of you, you know.” you said quietly, and he kept his eyes trained on you as yours never left the screen.

“A little misguided, unaware of the bigger picture around you. Maybe a bit cynical, too wrapped up in work to remember the finer, more important things in life.” you said, and he chuckled.

“Yeah? That’s your assessment?” he said, and you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink.

“Yeah. I’m just wondering what’s going to kick you in the ass to realize what you’ve been missing. I don’t think it’s going to be an angel, exactly, but… It is Christmas, after all.” you said with a shrug, and he glanced over your face. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips as they sipped the drink, the way your eyes sparkled in the TV’s light.

What was he doing? Sitting here, on Christmas Eve, drinking eggnog and watching a movie with a woman who had no intention of sleeping with him? Why was he allowing himself to be in a situation like this? Javier didn’t do… whatever this is. 

“Yeah, who knows what could happen.” he said into his glass, his eyes finally moving away from you to the screen. He inhaled gently, the smell of balsam and something distinctly you filled his senses. He had experienced it in passing, like when you walk past his desk or he visits you at your desk. Something just has him pulled towards you, and he has no idea why. It scares him, though.

The movie played on quietly between the two of you, and you had pulled your knees up to your chest at one point. The silence should have been weird, awkward. But, it wasn’t. Javier felt comfortable just sitting in your presence, a sense of calm coming over him. Without the stress of having to converse to fuck things up further, he allowed himself to sink back into the couch a bit. 

The movie wasn’t what he would exactly pick for casual viewing, but you seemed enamored with it. Every time he glanced at you, your eyes were glued to the screen. Soon, your respective glasses were empty and set on the coffee table.

“Hey, Javier?” you questioned after a silence settled in the movie, nearly startling him. He did his best to recover, and cleared his throat, making a hum of acknowledgement.

“If you could have anything for Christmas, what would it be?” you questioned, and he looked over at you to see your eyes were finally torn from the screen, and were on him. He thought for a moment, leaning his head back and slung an arm across the back of the couch, lips parted in thought.

“I guess… maybe a true day of rest. No stress. No paperwork. No having to deal with Steve, or anyone else at the office-” he said, almost on autopilot, but then wanted to kick himself. He fucked up- shit, shit, shit-

But, you laughed.

“I don’t blame you one bit. Place can be insufferable, sometimes. Especially coworkers.” you said, and he could sense the jab right back at him. He shook his head, a small smirk on his lips as he tilted his head back straight to look at you.

“What about you? What’s on The Best Secretary Ever’s Christmas list?” he questioned, and you rolled your eyes, but smiled, looking down at your nails to busy yourself instead of looking at him.

“Ha, ha. Well… Maybe-” you said, but stopped quickly, and shook your head. “A car. So I can go anywhere I want… explore everywhere, and escape, and-”

“Now, why do I feel like you’re lying?” Javier questioned, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t have to use much sleuthing skills to figure that one out. You looked at him darkly, but then back to your nails.

“Fine, in the spirit of the holiday, I’ll be honest.” you said, and Javier shifted on the couch to angle his body towards yours a little more. 

“I just… want someone to- God, this is so stupid. I should not be saying this, especially not you-” you said, the regret already coming out in your voice. But, when you looked at Javier, there seemed to be something on his face that told you to go on. You seemed to relax a bit, and he wondered what exactly you saw on his face. He was just being patient, quiet, listening- something Javier Peña rarely did. 

“I want someone to buy groceries with. Get coffee with, even if it’s too hot outside. Someone to talk to on the phone or come home to after a long day.” you said, your voice getting more and more quiet, and your eyes shifted down to your nails again, and he noticed you were picking the cuticles slightly. Nervous habit, he noted. Why were you nervous?

“It’s dumb, I know. I wouldn’t want to sacrifice my independence, my work, or anything, just… Someone to share life with, I guess.” you said, and Javier felt his throat close up gently. When it was apparent you were done, he nodded slowly.

“I see.” he said, and he could see you visibly flinch.

“Like I said, dumb stuff. I guess the holiday puts me in a lonely, longing mood. 5th one in a row without someone.” you said, and Javier frowned at this. How was that possible, no one being worthy enough to spend time with you? He couldn’t understand it. You were smart, kind, incredibly and achingly good looking, and knew exactly what you wanted in life. Better than him in any and all aspects, really.

“It’s not dumb.” he said, and you raised your eyes to his, momentarily stopping your picking. You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, and he shrugged.

“We’re human, right? We want connection like that. It’s in our nature.”

We, we, our. What was he doing? Roping himself into this whole thing?

“Right.” you said, and nodded, but that skeptical look was still in your eyes. But, you smiled small.

“Never thought Javier Peña would admit any of that.” you said, and he shrugged it off, his eyes moving back to the movie.

“I’m full of surprises.”

You updated him on the movie that you missed while you conversed, and as he watched, he could tell more and more this was a pretty depressing movie. This George guy was on the brink of losing everything, and if he didn’t straighten up, he would be sad, lonely, and probably better off dead.

Javier wanted to scoff. Were you trying to teach him a lesson or something?

He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for this George guy, though. And maybe that sympathy was extended to himself for a second.

As the movie went on, you stretched your legs out slightly, but not enough to touch Javier’s thigh, though it was dangerously close. If he wanted, he could move his hand from his lap and touch your ankle, your smooth and delicate skin. 

But no. Don’t push it. Not on Christmas Eve.

He heard you sniffling at the particularly sad part of the movie, and looked over at you to see you wipe your eyes hastily. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and shrugged.

“What? Old Hollywood makes me emotional, okay?” you laughed lightly, though he could understand where your emotions came from. He let you have this moment, though, and looked away. 

But, the movie had a hopeful turn. And a happy ending that only Hollywood could deliver.

“No man is a failure who has friends.”

Javier pursed his lips, and wanted to shake his head. Maybe he couldn’t relate, after all.

“We’re friends, right?” you questioned, and Javier swiveled his head to see you still wiping tears from your eyes, sniffing before you looked at him. His eyes moved over your face, and he nodded without much thought.

“Yeah. I think so.” he said. Whether it was for your benefit or his, he wasn’t sure. But, it felt right to say it. And your light smile you gave him knew it was the right thing to say. Probably the only right thing he had said all night.

You picked up the glasses as the movie ended, and rinsed them out in the kitchen. He stood up, stretching and followed you without much thought. He leaned against the doorway, watching you and then assessing the room, his eyes roaming. Looking above him, he saw a green and red plant and swallowed. He looked back at you just as you turned back to him, and walked towards him. When you stopped in front of him, and you opened your mouth to speak, he gulped.

“Merry Christmas, Javier.” you said with a smile, and he could feel the subtle shift to get him to leave. But, you were under mistletoe, and he couldn’t help himself.

He kissed your cheek gently, pulling away just as quickly and smiled.

“Merry Christmas, cariño.” he said quietly, and you frowned, then glanced up above the two of you and your cheeks reddened.

“Javier, that’s, uh- that’s just holly.” you said, and he froze. Oops.

“Oh, uh- I just-”

“Well, I give you a point for trying to keep the holiday spirit.” you laughed, and he relaxed a bit. He nodded, and gave you a smile as he moved back to collect his jacket. 

“You should take a break from the office tomorrow,” you said. He shrugged and pulled his jacket over his arms, then adjusting it on his shoulders.

“Why? May miss the chance to see you.” he said, and you rolled your eyes so hard he thought they were going to fall out of your head. But, a smile quickly followed it, and he smirked. 

“I’m taking the day off, like many others.” you said, and he began to back up to the front door as you rounded closer to him to usher him out. He bumped up against the door,

“Well, that’s a shame. I’ll miss my favorite secretary and her holiday cheer.” he said, and you stopped at a healthy distance. He could see you trying to suppress an amused expression, and grinned. “Come on, cariño, it’s true. You are my favorite. No one else would bring Christmas cookies to me unless they were trying to poison me.” 

“Who says I wasn’t trying to?” you teased with a smirk, and he shook his head,

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already. Several times over.” You nodded, but shrugged slightly. 

“I guess you’re more tolerable than I thought.” 

Silence hung in the air as you two gazed at each other. He looked up for just a moment and spotted the clock hanging on the wall. Midnight had just passed, and when he looked back at you, you were stepping closer and closer to him. He looked down at you, having nowhere else to go with his back pressed against the door. You were so close now that he could feel your body heat hovering just above his chest. He inhaled, but as you reached down, the lock clicked to unlock.

“I’ll see you later.” you said, and the tension in his chest melted away almost instantaneously, and he nodded as you moved to open the door. He pushed off of it, and watched as you opened it, but a little slower than he would have thought.

“Merry Christmas.” he said with a smile, and you looked up at him with a nod. He stepped out, and jerked back when he felt you tug on his jacket before he could move away. He turned on his heel, thinking you wanted one more quip, but was shocked (to say the least) when you pulled him down by his collar to kiss him. He stiffened for just a blink but immediately resigned into it and kissed you back gently, eyes falling closed and his hand moving to your waist. When you pulled away he attempted to chase your lips, but his eyes opened for a moment to see you looking up at him. You searched his eyes, like you were trying to weigh the options presented before you. 

He felt that familiar tightness in his chest, and when your hands dropped from his jacket, his hand regretfully dropped from your waist.

“Merry Christmas, Javi,” you whispered, and smiled lightly. He smiled small, the proximity between you two still minimal. He wanted to pull you in, kiss your sweet lips again. 

But as you backed up into your apartment, his hand twitched at his side from the thought. But, your hand rested on the door, and as your eyes fell, you began to close it. He quickly pushed up a hand to stop the door, and said a bit breathlessly,

“New Year’s Eve. What are you- where will you be?” You looked up at him in surprise, blinked, and then responded,

“The office is having a party at the bar down the street. Figured I’d go, at least for a little…” you said, and he nodded, having forgotten all about it until this point. Now that he thought of it, he had heard Steve and some of the other agents talking about it. 

“Perfect.” he said, and nodded. You waited for a moment, and he could see the confused look in your eyes, but you gave him a light smile.

“‘Night, Javi.” you said, and he lowered his hand as the door shut quietly in his face. He stared at the dark wood before him, and gave himself a confident nod.

New Year’s Eve, he thought. Do not fuck this one up, Peña.

divider by @/saradika-graphics!

Comment, like, reblog, anything is appreciated! ❤️

[bullet-prooflove]

Heya! May I request "Running on two or three hours of sleep" for Jamie Dutton?

(My Yellowstone blog is "Stupidyellowstoneshitposts, by the way. Just so you can see I'm active😝)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @kcloveswrestling @dakotapaigelove @noxytopy @chaostwinsofdestruction

Companion piece to:

Break Free - Jamie decides it's time to break free from Yellowstone.

Colorado - Jamie takes off to Colorado for a break after John's betrayal.

Enough - Jamie questions his self worth.

Jamie’s already on his third cup of coffee by the time you awaken. He hears your light footsteps padding across the hardwood floor and looks up to see you standing there in the doorway of the kitchen, the blanket from the bed draped over your shoulders to ward off the chill in the Colardo air.

“How bad is it?” You ask gesturing at the phone clasped between his hands.

He swallows hard as he sets the device down at the breakfast island, pushing it away from him with his fingertips. It’s been a week since he’s looked at his phone, he’d locked it away in the glove compartment of your car when the two of you first took off to Colardo and hadn’t retrieved it until the early hours of this morning because he couldn’t sleep. The two of you are returning to Montana today and he’d wanted to see what he was coming back to.

“Over 100 missed calls, a dozen voice mails and some texts.” He tells you as he rubs his palm across his chin in agitation. There’s dark stubble starting to blossom across his jaw, something you’ve never seen before because he’s always been forced to play the role of the clean cut lawyer. It’s a sign that he’s changing, that he’s starting to work things out for himself.

“Have you been through them?” You ask him as you take up residence on the stool alongside him, shifting the blanket so it covers your bare legs. You’re wearing one of his shirts and a pair of blank panties, both of which aren’t conducive to the cool mountain air. Jamie gets up and moves to the thermostat, altering the temperature before he answers your question.

“I started to but…” He trails off, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

But it’s overwhelming, you know. Jamie’s departure from Bozemen had thrown a spanner in the works for a lot of people and their clambering for his attention, trying to draw him back, trying to manipulate him. Your man, he’s in a very vulnerable position right now, his life is in flux, his identity shaken, he’s trying to find his own way in the world, the one that allows him to live his own life, one not in the service of others.

“Let me help.” You say picking up the phone and scrolling through it. It’s a jumble of notifications. You decide to dismiss the calls and delete the voicemails as they’re all reactionary and Jamie doesn’t need his father growling in his ear about his disappointed he is.

You work through the texts as Jamie starts to heap teaspoons of coffee into the French press, waiting for the kettle to boil.

“Bullshit, bullshit, Beth, bullshit, bullshit. A nice one from Kayce, we’ll save for later.” You murmur as you get rid of the blatant disregard for Jamie and focus on the more important ones.

You set the phone back down on the worktop, your mission completed as Jamie returns to you, a freshly brewed mug of coffee in his hand. You take him from it gratefully, rising it to your lips to take a sip as he sits down alongside you.

“Thank you for all of this.” He says softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “For seeing I needed to get out of town and take a breath and for dealing with that.” He indicates to the phone.

He looks down at his hands, his thumb chasing over the brown leather strap of the watch you got him for his birthday.

“I’ve never been with someone who could see the real me, who understands me the way that you do.”

The women before you, they never wanted him, not really. They wanted the prestige of his political career, the hope of his inheritance. He has none of that now and still you’re here, taking care of him, protecting him.

“Jamie.” You say tenderly, capturing his hand in yours, fingers entwining. “That’s what you do when you love somebody, you try to help them when their struggling, you support them because they’re your person and you want them to be happy.”

Jamie tips his head up to meet your eyes. They’ve always been such a vivid shade of blue. Sometimes they’re as tempestuous as the ocean, others as calm as a clear sky on a sunny day. Right now they’re ambient, collected and resolved.

“I don’t know what the future looks like Dani.” Jamie tells you as he raises your hand to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the knuckles. “But whatever it is, I’m glad you’re here, that it’s something we can move forward with together.” 

Love Jamie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[susiekern]

9. the one in Kyoto

warnings: swearing, suggestive, mentions of sex, change of pov's in the last part (it was much easier to me to put what I wanted in like this, sorry)

word count: 1.704

lyrics from: The Apparition - Sleep Token

masterlist

Why did you think that sharing a room with Megumi would be a good idea? Why, God, why? Your brain keeps going in circles as you lay in bed and scroll the reels on Instagram. You really try to focus on anything, from weird 5-minute crafts to tarot card reading, but as soon as the girl starts with how your sign is in a ‘space for love life troubles and enlightenment,’ you block your phone and put it on the nightstand. Love life troubles, yeah, who would've guessed? You don't need an Instagram witch to tell you that. It's been what, two weeks since you've slept with Megumi again… for the first time? One more time, huh? That's what you've been telling yourself, when the next day you found yourself knocking at his door with a coffee and a book or when he invited you for a movie night two days later. It just felt too good. Having someone you're heavily attracted to, you feel comfortable around, and you actually like talking with.

Should you two talk about what's going on? Yeah, definitely. Are you going to be the one to start this conversation? Hell no.

A buzz of your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, at least for a moment.

"You’re sure you don't want me to just take the couch?” So focused on texting with Nobara, you don't even notice when Megumi comes back from the bathroom. His hair is a little damp, and he's wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. Way too low for your brain to function properly. “I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Megs, we've slept in one bed like three times this week. Was I uncomfortable back then?” You smile a little, signaling him to the other side of the bed.

“Fair.”

When he lays down, there's a space that feels like a valley between you. Why does it feel awkward? It's not any different from how you've been sleeping two days ago. Well, except now at least you're clothed. Both of you lie on your backs and look at the ceiling like it holds an answer to this unspoken question.

“Yeah, we're not sleeping like that. Come here.” Maybe after a minute or so, Megumi sighs and opens his arms to invite you in. And he doesn't need to repeat himself. In a second you're by his side, head on his chest, and a leg draped over his hips. He rests his arms, one over your waist, the other behind his head, as he leans his cheek on top of your head.

“This is nice.” You murmur into his skin, breathing in the smell of his body wash. “Goodnight, Megs.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

Your alarm is going off, there's a heavy weight on your body, and you're overheating. Great.

“Turn this shit off.” The weight moves slightly, only to bury itself more into you, as Megumi groans in the material of your shirt. 

Somehow you manage to reach the nightstand and blindly tap the phone until it stopped screaming. With open eyes now, you can finally see the ‘weight’ that is in fact a bigger part of Megumi's body. You must've shifted throughout the night, because now you're the one lying on your back with the man wrapped around you like he's holding a teddy bear. His face is buried right above your navel, arms keeping you close, so all you can see right now is his messy hair and muscles on his shoulders and back. You sigh and try to move, but his hold is harder than you've anticipated.

“Megs, I need to get up.”

“No, you don't.”

“Um, yes. Yes, I do. I need to be at the event in two hours.” It's like talking to a wall, you think. Megumi couldn't care less, and somehow he wraps his arms even tighter. “If you squeeze me to death, I'll haunt your ass, I swear.”

“5 more minutes, come on.” He raises his head a little to look at you, and hell, how are you supposed to say no to his sleepy eyes and messy hair?

“5 minutes and not one longer.” His head is back where it was before, and you can't stop the smile that makes its way onto your face. One of your arms is on his shoulder, circling the soft skin; the hand of the other is playing with his black strands.

5 more minutes won't hurt, right?

'Why are you never real? Whenever you appear You leave me with that grace’

She should be excited. Trembling with emotions, right? She's at the show of the band she adores, invited by the vocalist whose voice itself wakes up the feelings in her that many people could never. She can see him clearly, standing in the middle of the stage, hands gripping the microphone, words flowing from masked lips with so many emotions behind them it makes her shiver.

‘I am trembling with fear But I know that you will disappear Just as I awake, whisper in my ear ‘

So why is her brain focused on something else? Or rather, someone else. She recalls this morning and how her heart warmed up seeing Megumi right after waking up. How good it felt to lie in his arms, brush her fingers through his hair, and trace his muscles with her fingertips.

‘Well, I believe Somewhere in the past Something was between You and I, my dear’

Her eyes are fixed on Zenin, and a stupid voice in the back of her head tells her he's looking at her too. She wants to believe it. That somehow she managed to catch his attention, that she was in a way special enough for him to spend his time watching her streams and talking to her. He suggested more than once that he actually wanted to get to know her. He showed her he was interested in her thoughts. The hopeless romantic deep inside her mind wanted to think, ‘What if?’.

‘And it remains With me to this day No matter what I do This scar will never fade’

What if they kept it up? What if both of them would open up and let the other one in? Would Zenin even be able to do that? With how secure he is about his real life? Hell, would she even allow it to happen in the first place? Trusting someone whose face she's never seen, not even learning his real name or hearing his voice while talking, not singing, seems insane. The rational part of her is saying how stupid she was. Telling her, she shouldn't waste time on either of them, Zenin nor Megumi. Zenin is an unattainable dream of a teenager. A love story written by a fangirl, something she has seen many times on the internet. Megumi is… a challenge. The one she wasn't sure she wanted to take up. A few weeks ago they couldn't stand being in one room without fighting, and now they share a bed and cuddle in the morning? Their relationship is evolving fast, but it only means she isn't sure how thin the ice beneath them is and how long they could keep it up before it collapses.

‘So let's make trouble in the dream world Hijack heaven with another memory now’

He knew she'd be here, obviously. So why did his heart speed up like it was surprised when he saw her? When picking a spot for her, he tried to put her as close as possible, but why? To keep an eye on her? To help himself with just her presence? He knew how pathetic it was, and he didn't need the looks his friends sent his way just minutes ago in their private room when Toge saw y/n’s Instagram story. Why did it even matter?

‘I make the most of the turning tide. It just split what's left of the burning silence’

She wasn't here for him, for Megumi. She was here for Zenin. He once thought he and Zenin were one and the same person, but it's never been true. It took him some time to understand it. Zenin is his mask. The one he'd put on when everyone and everything became too overwhelming, when he couldn't meet their expectations or deal with his own emotions. Because when Megumi was terrified of his own feelings more often than rare, Zenin would put them in beautiful words; he'd let them flow onto the paper, sometimes hidden in sentences so well he himself had a problem with decrypting them.

‘Don’t wait, ‘cause this could be the last time You turn up in the reveries of my mind’

Maybe that's why he reached out to y/n as Zenin. Sure, a part of him wanted to make a little dream of hers come true, but he had to admit to himself it was a selfish act. Talking to her as someone she doesn't see almost every day, someone who didn't start their relationship on a bad note. He wanted an opportunity to open up to her, to show her the part of him no one had seen before. Even if she had no idea that it was part of Megumi. But what is he going to do next? After building two separate relationships with her? Would she hate him if he told her all about it? If she found out that Zenin wasn't real, that it was Megumi all along? That it was his voice she adored so much? That Megumi was too scared to show her his feelings?

‘I wake up to a suicide frenzy Loaded dreams still leave me empty’

He should tell her. Fuck. He should've told her before they had sex again two weeks ago. Before he found comfort in holding her body so close to his own. Before he caught himself missing her, not only her body, just her, throughout the day. But what exactly should he tell her? That he was Zenin? Or that he started falling for her and he doesn't even know when? He will tell her tonight. He has to.

‘I believe Somewhere in the past Something was between You and I, my dear’

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added!): @nytylie @fresa-luna @syrooo @zaranobiyuyu @jvpit3rr @pandabiene5115 @good-mourning0 @pearlydays

[mullermilkshake]

Twelve days of fluffmas

On the twelfth day of fluffmas, my true love gave to me...

Yakuza!Kento getting his Christmas wish.

Tags: Yakuza AU, Fem!reader, first meeting, unexpected and fate driven, spilt coffee,

"Coffee please. Thank you."

Kento's favourite part of the Christmas market stalls that lined the street were any that involved coffee. That and the type that served toasted sandwiches with his favourite bread.

Hot steaming coffee on his morning walk through the snow, icy breeze nipping at his cheeks, warmed coffee cup stopping his fingers from freezing and-

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Spilt coffee. All over his suit and coat.

Kento turned around slowly, padding his pockets for anything to wipe it up with before it stained and seeped through enough to burn him.

"That guy barged past me- but I should have seen where I was going..." it was you.

You who did not know he existed. You who had no clue how much Kento had watched you off in the background never getting the courage to speak with you. And here you were, right in front of him all glassy eyed because of a cup of coffee on his coat.

"I'm such a klutz..." your voice trailed off when you made eye contact and your head dipped down before you looked around for napkins. "I know someone who's really good at cleaning expensive suits, which I'm sure yours is- shit, I can have this cleaned."

Kento stood there speechless that you were stood there fussing over him and pulling napkins out to dab his coat. Instinctively, Kento drew his hand up to stop you and ended up cupping your napkin filled hand in his.

"Please, don't worry. It's only coffee," it was then he realised what he'd done, because your eyes widened and looked right up at his. "Sorry."

"No, it's alright," tucking a strand of hair away from your face, Kento noticed the blush in your cheeks. "I wasn't looking where I was going, it's totally my fault. Here-"

He watched you pull out a little note book and scribbled down on it. "Here's my home phone, call me and let me know what the bill is... and here's the address of the laundromat. She's a good friend of mine and she'll take care of you."

Not five minutes and you'd already given him your number and- Kento's eyes widened a fraction before he reined it in. Mei Mei was a prolific money launderer and everyone in the Yakuza world knew who she was.

So how did you know her? Were you aware of what she did behind closed doors? This coincidence begged the question as to how Kento never saw any link to Mei Mei whenever he saw you on the network cameras.

Perhaps he was slipping, it was true that he'd become burned out this close to the new year.

Kento never mentioned it, there was no need to. "Thank you, but I won't burden you with any bill for this. It's just coffee."

"I just feel so terrible, I'd be pissed if I got coffee all down me."

He realised just how cool he was being. No way in hell did he ever think he would react to you meeting by accident like this. Though now he was thinking about it, Kento felt himself shift uncomfortably and noticed he'd just been staring at you.

"Uh, it's really no bother."

By the relief splashed across your face, you were intent on leaving shortly and took one step backwards.

Yet you didn't lead the conversation that way. "I insist, really. But I'd like to buy you another coffee," your eyes paid him attention closely. "Or maybe lunch if you're not in any rush? I feel awful, it's such a beautiful suit."

A lunch invitation and compliment? Did you not know what sort of life he was leading, or what people he affiliated himself with- who you were being affiliated with? You should have known the moment you laid eyes on him. Most people suspected.

Yet you showed no signs of distress.

"Please?"

And now you were practically begging him to go with you. Kento contemplated all the times he'd talk down to himself for not pursuing you and how much of a bumbling idiot he would have been. There was nothing bumbling in the slightest.

Just long drawn breaths and pauses he used to figure out what to say though it flowed off of his tongue naturally like a waterfall into a lagoon.

"Alright, but I'll buy lunch."

You smiled sweetly and nodded. "Then I'll buy the coffee."

"It's a deal."

Kento let you lead through the stalls though it was really a chance to soak you in and let the realisation in that he'd just had his first conversation with you. A conversation he had agonised for months over.

"I know a really nice stall. It's off the beaten track a little, but I promise that it's great. It's only ever here at Christmas," once the stalls had dispersed along the street, you pulled back and matched his pace.

"If you recommend it, I'm sure I'll enjoy it," Kento was never a fan of group meals of crowded places to sit down and eat in.

A stall where he could sit off to the side was perfect. Especially uninterrupted time with you. Kento could not believe his luck.

"It has some of the best fried chicken I've ever tasted but if you prefer something different, the stall next door serves raw fish which just melts in your mouth..."

You stopped right in your tracks and watched Kento as he turned. "I'm talking too much. I apologise... I'm talking to a stranger with so much familiarity. I hope that didn't make you uncomfortable," you bowed like Kento did not enjoy it.

"Not at all," he was quick to reassure you. "I admire enthusiasm. I never would have known where the best fried chicken was if you hadn't told me."

Kento took the information on board. Ino was partial to fried chicken every now and then.

He listened to that sweet little chuckle leave your lips. "That's good, otherwise I would have been a weirdo that talks too much and spills coffee on people."

"You're no weirdo..." You never heard him say that and carried on walking. For a moment, Kento watched you leave with a quickness in his breath.

Some would say he made a Christmas wish. But in reality, it was fate. A thing he never believed in until now.

And all it took was a little coffee spilled on his coat.

I was going to wait much longer for Kento and reader to meet, but it's Christmas and I'm feeling all fuzzy inside. THEY MET AT LAST.

Me rn writing this stuff.

[koalapastries-writes]

What would be paul love Language be i feel it'd be a mix of acts of service be they sexual or platonic and physical touch, what about the other drivers love languages?

Also yes i did mean paul off handedly mentioning something about aron!reader that caught their attention, love the way you wrote it out btw.

–🍑

oh i'm glad i read it the right way! and very glad you liked it <3

there's so many possibilities with this so i'd like everyone to remember that this is just my interpretation / characterisations of the drivers. and also i probably won't stick into one love language and just go broader with how they show affection.

under cut bc, as in the ask, suggestive content

paul aron:

okay so first you're absolutely right abt him

he's showing how much he loves you by doing things he hopes will make your day easier or better

sometimes that means making you breakfast or texting you photos of the animals he sees on his training runs

and sometimes it means letting you use him like a toy

either way he's 100% up for it

charles leclerc:

if he had his way, you'd never be out of arm's reach

i'm convinced he'd try to get ferrari to let him bring you into team meetings, even if you had to wear noise-cancelling headphones

he'd also be giving you little gifts pretty much non-stop

every time he comes back from a race he's gotten you at least one souvenir

you have to build a display case and everything

max verstappen:

okay for starters his dad definitely messed him up so he has trouble with verbally expressing affection

so he shows it in other ways

he makes the bed every morning, makes your favourite drink (coffee, tea, etc), makes sure all of your favourite foods are stocked up before he leaves for race weekends

he's also definitely into being free use for you but you do need to be careful about it because he's still getting used to safe words, so you need to know his body language and cues really, really well

oscar piastri:

i think in public he's more interested in subtle acts of affection

opening doors, opening food, making sure you eat, making sure you don't get overwhelmed in the paddock, that sort of thing

behind closed doors i think he'd be more blatant?

we know oscar likes to keep his private life private

i think he'd be the kind of guy to just randomly blurt out that he loves you or that he's grateful for you out of nowhere

i also think he'd like playing board games or video games with you because it just gives him a chance to be oscar and not oscar piastri, f1 driver

i'm also very inclined to believe that he's a dom-leaning switch and a bottom. he jokes about it too much and he's built too much like an hourglass for me to believe otherwise

would definitely ride you while calling you a good boy.

[stellarsturniolos]

INTRODUCING: nurse!reader ... paired with matt sturniolo. ( inspo credit: @mattsbows )

the bitter scent of antiseptic, hands that are always cracked and dry from washing them so often, always stressed from working too hard yet still feeling like you're not doing enough, back pain that never seems to fade, and the intense desire to stay in bed for an entire weekend.

it had been an exhausting, hectic, and just plain busy day in the emergency room at the largest hospital in los angeles. from severe cases like an elderly man who went into cardiac arrest, to a basic case of the common fucking cold, you'd seen it all. and you just wanted to go home. or, more specifically, to matt's home.

but you couldn't. because you had to work the goddamn 24 hour shift, and you were currently only on hour 12. you hadn't been able to stop for a snack or a piss or even a simple drink of water because you'd been running from room to room, checking vitals and administering medications and answering questions.

at two o'clock in the morning, when most of your patients were snoozing and the hustle in the ER had calmed down a bit, you decided to step away for a quick moment... just to catch your breath.

you walked outside and turned on your phone for the first time in hours. you grinned when you saw text message after text message from matt. just telling you about his day, telling you about the video he and his brothers filmed that afternoon, sending you a picture of a cute dog he met on his run, telling you he missed you.

it was all very, very sweet but it just made you long for home even more.

the latest message was sent only ten minutes ago, so before you could stop yourself, you were dialing his phone number. you had his number memorized, of course, even though you don't even have your own number memorized. which matt never failed to tease you about.

"hey, baby.." he greets you, his voice so soft and full of love. "how's work?"

"it's... work," you say with a gentle laugh before unloading on him like you do way too often. "i'm so tired, babe. like, i desperately need a coffee, but the closest coffee shop is closed because it's the middle of the fucking night and i'm too lazy to walk all the way down to the cafeteria." you exhale heavily. "i wanna come home. i miss you."

he chuckles softly. "i miss you more, pretty girl." you can almost hear his smile through the phone and it warms your heart so much. "hey, i hate to cut this call short, but i really have to take a shit."

you're glad he can't see your sad pout. "that's alright, baby. i should probably get back to work anyway. i love you. see you in, like, ten hours."

"i love you too, my baby. take care of yourself, okay? i'll see you soon." and then he hangs up. he must've really had to shit, you think to yourself.

you allow yourself a few more seconds to pout and miss him and feel sorry for yourself, but then you go back to work. you get water for a few patients and then decide to sit and do some paperwork whilst you can.

that's when one of your fellow nurses taps you on the shoulder and informs you that you have a surprise in the waiting area. you frown at her, confused, but she just winks and waves you away.

when you go out to the waiting room, your eyes widen. because there stands matt, with a large thermos of hot coffee and a few of your favorite chocolate protein bars.

you immediately get teary eyed when you see his beautiful, soft, kind smile. you step closer to him and sniffle, feeling overwhelmed with love and gratitude.

you wrap your arms around him, hugging him tighter than you've ever hugged anyone before.

"matt..." you murmur, your voice muffled against his neck. "you didn't have to come all the way out here just to bring me coffee, y'know?"

"i know, sweetheart," he says, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "but i wanted to."

"you're the best." you say as you pull back enough to look up into his eyes. "seriously, i didn't think guys like you even existed. you.. you're so good to me. and i really do appreciate everything you do for me."

"i know you do, baby." then his lips quirk up into a smirk and he leans in close again to whisper in your ear. "i can't wait for you to come home later.. so you can show me just how much you appreciate me."

you feel a shiver go down your spine. fuck.. now you want to go home even more.

@ stellarsturniolos.

[arthur-side]

@lee1504 don't pretend you didn't just make a masterpiece and didn't think a certain someone would make another one as well using the same prompt you used because they saw you/aff

@primalmagic hi Isa I went insane

A Surprise

A Benlor Coffee Shop AU where the Clark cousins are in the middle of making the new building

~~~

Hopping down the stone steps was Taylor, happily humming to herself as she held a piece of paper tightly, grinning ear to ear. Her eyes brightened further when she spotted Ashlyn and Logan, speeding up to get to them before they got to the other side of the street and the traffic light separated them. It happened before, and she will not let it happen again.

“Lo! Ash!” She called, jogging at the siblings. Logan jumped and almost lost balance while Ashlyn casually turned to her, giving her a small smile.

Logan’s grandparents had been struggling with their health lately and were now resting in a hospital, so during that, the Banners technically adopted Logan as their own, legally even if his grandparents finally let them gain full custody over him. Taylor was sympathizing at the fact that Logan’s relatives were going to leave him for good again, but she was glad Ashlyn and her parents were kind enough to accept him as their own.

“Taylor!” Logan huffed, hitting Ashlyn’s leg with his own as she snickered. Ashlyn reciprocated. Logan's pouting wasn’t what Taylor expected, but at least he was more likely to express himself proudly.

“Taylor.” Ashlyn echoed, raising an eyebrow at her, “You look happier than usual, what happened?”

Oh, she can’t wait to tell them what happened.

“Well, I got accepted to collaborate with a company that I’ve always idolized! Can’t you believe that?!” She twisted and hopped around, beaming so brightly she might have just been the sun.

“Oh~?” Logan tilted his head, hair flinging as a few cars passed by, almost getting smacked in the face by Ashlyn’s braid. “Damn it-” Taylor snorted.

“Anyways,” Ashlyn looked between Taylor and Logan, “Care to tell the story at the coffee shop the Clark cousin started?”

Taylor blinked, huh.

She hadn’t heard much from the two cousins these past few days, their hangout week got canceled a lot in between those, so realizing they’d been using their time to build a coffee shop together really caught her off guard. Also, why wasn’t she informed of this?

“Why wasn’t I…?” Taylor’s smile slightly falter, pointed at herself as she gripped on the paper tighter. Logan and Ashlyn looked at each other, smirked, and chuckled. Taylor’s gaze went back and forth between the two, confused.

“Because Ben wanted to surprise you,” Logan explained, “You lovebirds really need to do your own thing and not drag the entire gang with it, girl.” Taylor blushed at the comment.

“Well okay now-” “I’m going.” Ashlyn turns a full 160 degrees and started walking at the pavement. Logan and Taylor stopped bickering as they quickly followed suit.

It became a tradition, really. Ashlyn usually walks away in a conversation if she realizes they were wasting time affectionately, and the others just follow her, even Tyler! She really is the leader, after all.

Well, now that she thought about it, does Tyler know-?

“Oh, and Tyler knows about the coffee shop, by the way.” Ashlyn interrupted her train of thoughts. The girl’s not only a badass leader, she’s also a mind reader! Ah!

“So am I the only one who doesn’t know of this?” Taylor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

The siblings said in sync. Taylor deflated.

“Buuuuuut,” Logan started again, “It’s because we were doing a little special thing for you!” He turned around to face them as he threw his left hand out towards the sign behind him, reading “Adrenaline Junkie”. That sounds so Aiden.

“C’mon,” Logan grabbed Taylor’s wrist, re balanced the boxes he’s holding with one hand, and dragged her into the work-in-progress building. “Something’s waiting for ya!”

“Logan-!” Taylor almost fell out of balance as the abruptly stopped. She hits over someone, making her yelp.

She quickly backed away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry sir-”

“Hi Taylor!” She perks up from the familiar voice of her brother, turning her head to him who’s currently holding a hammer his free hand on his hips. “You bumped into Ben, by the way.”

Taylor snapped her head back in front of her, now recognizing the familiar gray shirt. “Oh-!”

“[Congrats?]” An AI, monotone voice suddenly erupted, Taylor looked at his phone, blinking a few times, then got swallowed in confusion.

Why is everyone here? What is this place? Why did they all not tell her?

“I’ve told them about your proposal of volunteering to collaborate with that company, they only wanted to support you, Taylor.”

Oh.

Well…That was quite unexpected, Taylor’s questions have been mostly answered, but the question regarding why they’re making a coffee shop is still lingering to her.

Tyler placed a hand on her shoulder, “So, were you accepted?” He asked softly. Taylor stiffled a laugh and a sob.

“Yes. Yes I did.”

The room erupted with cheers, all from her friends, her family. Aiden handed out coffees to everyone then held his own high. “Cheers to Taylor!” He announced, and Taylor laughed.

It’s…So comforting, so warm, this really made her entire week. She then held her own coffee high, and the rest followed.

Her eye captured a glimpse of a certain karaoke machine at one of the counters.

The karaoke machine she fixed for Ben even when he couldn’t use it.

[bellamysgriffin]

being 23 is actually the most evil thing that could happen to a person