#he’s so fucking patient with all of us and for that alone he deserves the world

[nicoscheer]

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“His stage presence is almost god like”

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X im NOT looking I swear

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[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[latenightdaydreams]

Trucker!König x Stranded!Reader Part2 (fem)

MDNI🔞

For part one click here!

Part1, Part 3, Part4, Part5

Master List

🚫Same as part one, there are HUGE TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS STORY!🚫

Please do not read if you are not in a good mental health head space or cannot handle extreme content. Your mental health matters more than a story! I have other smut and fluff with a kind and consensual König, please enjoy those instead🥰 Remember you're all amazing and deserve happiness in the world. I hope you all have a fantastic day and take care of yourself🩷

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🚫LAST WARNING BEFORE TRIGGERS🚫

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>cw: fem/afab, p in v, non-con, recording, threats, breath restriction.

3.1 word count

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With the sun in your eyes, you wake up on a groggy state; the sleeping pill having been so strong, you feel as if you’re hung over. At first your vision is a little blurry so you try to rub your eyes awake. Going to pull your hands down, you realize you can’t. Instant fear sets in as you realize your hands are bound together with zip ties attached to a bar over your head. You feel the truck moving, König is driving. In a panic you look over to him and with a trembling voice, you speak up.

“König…” you can’t control your breathing.

“Ah! Guten Morgen, meine Liebe.” König’s voice overly cheerful. He looks at you quickly over his shoulder. “That pill took you out for quite a while.” He chuckles as if this is a casual situation.

“Why…why am I tied up?” You like to think of yourself as a strong woman, but you’ve never felt this level of helplessness before.

“So that you don’t run.”

Silence lingered in the air as you stare at the back of his head. “Please don’t do this.”

“It’s already done.” He shoots you an uneasy glare from over his shoulder.

You take a deep shaky breath as your gaze stays on him. “I have friends waiting for me in Germany-”

“No, you don’t.” He cuts you off swiftly. “You said you were here alone already, remember?” He lets out a low chuckle. “You should know better than to give out that type of information from a man you don’t know Liebling.”

In your mind you begin to play back every action from taking a sleeping pill from him, getting in the truck, getting the piece of shit car, to planning this trip. All the small things that added up and left you here. Tears begin to stream down your face as true panic begins to set in.

König stays quiet and lets you have your little tantrum, smirking as he listens to your sobs. He waits for you to relax before telling you the rules. He’s a patient man, he can wait. 20 minutes pass and he let out a sigh as he hears your sobs quiet down.

“Now, I want you to listen closely please. In public, you keep your head down and don’t speak. You’ll get one chance to use the bathroom a day, so don’t fuck it up for yourself. When I ask for something, I don’t want to get any push back. You’re mine now, you have to obey.”

You stay quiet and listen to the words as the world seems like a blur around you. His voice blending into the sound of the tires on the road.

“Do you understand?” König’s voice tone snapping you back to this moment.

“Yeah…” Your voice cracks as you speak.

“Gut.” König ignores you and continues to drive. His mind preoccupied with the thought of what he recorded last night and what he will record again soon.

A voice comes in over his radio and you see a spark of hope, a way out. You watch König press down on the button and respond in fast German that you can’t understand. An idea comes to mind, if you scream for help when König presses to talk, maybe someone will hear you and track König down to save you. Sitting and listening to the men talk back and forth in a language you don’t know, the urge to do it now just overcame you.

“HELP!” You shout as König presses down to speak, “HE HAS ME TRAPPED IN HIS TRUCK!” Your voice strained from all of the crying you’ve been doing.

Panic sets in as König turns his head to look at you, you’re waiting for him to yell or physically hurt you. He doesn’t. He simply laughs. So does the voice on the other end of the line.

“I can see she’s woken up!” The voice jokes with a strong German accent.

Your heart sinks. He knows? And is okay with this? Tears burn your eyes as you feel stupid now and are scared for how König might punish you for trying to get help. Dropping your head back on to the pillow, you let out a long breath and let the tears roll down your face.

“So,” König has an air of arrogance in his voice, “how did your little plan go Maus? Were you expecting to be saved?” He mocks you.

You don’t say anything as you just lay there feeling defeated yet again. You take a deep shaky breath, trying not to cry.

“I’ll let that one slide, but next time I will have to put a muzzle on you Maus.” König shakes his head. “I have a sandwich and water for you if you’re hungry.”

You look at him, your stomach growling. Did he drug the food? Poison it? You have to eat sometime though… “I am.”

“Good girl, I’ll feed you once we get to the motel.”

“Motel?”

“Well, I have to sleep and there’s not enough room for the both of us. Plus, I want to clean you up.”

His words make your heart sink into your stomach. The thought of him cleaning you- just seeing you naked puts you into a panic. Your jaw beginning to shake as you try to suppress your emotions, not wanting him to know how much he is affecting you.

As hours pass, the sun begins to set again. König hasn’t spoken to you this whole time and you’ve just been trying to dissociate so you can avoid a break down. You look out the windows of the truck and see the sign for a motel. König parks the truck and stands. He turns to you and looks you up and down.

“Now Maus, I’m going to give you a choice here.” He clears his throat and kneels in front of you, “You can either be a good girl and walk beside me with your head down not saying a word or I give you another one of those sleeping pills.”

“I- I’ll behave…” You don’t want to be in that motel room trapped with him and not be conscious.

“You better, I’m not above resorting to violence.” His piercing blue eyes bore into yours. He left the truck, leaving you tied up, to go pay for a room.

While he is gone, you try hard to pull your hands out of the zip ties as they dig into your wrist. Pulling with all you might nothing happens other than hurting yourself. You stop once you hear heavy footsteps approaching the truck again.

He opens the door and steps inside. He begins to gather his things before he turns and looks at you. He took out his pocket knife and kneeled beside you.

“When I cut these, if you try to run, I will catch you and it will be worse for you.” He threatens.

You nod in understanding feeling a deep-rooted fear from his words. You believe him and didn’t want to push him, but also didn’t want to go into that motel room. Getting out alive is your main goal, so you do as he asks. He cuts the zip ties and yanks you up by your sore wrist. With wobbly legs you follow him out of the truck into the parking lot. Looking around there are no other cars other than another semi-truck. Feeling the warm air with a nice breeze makes you feel free, fills you with an illusion of peace.

König pulls you up to the door and opens the door with the keycard. He gently pushes you in and quickly closes and locks the door behind him. You stand there with your body trembling as he turns to look at you.

“Take your clothes off.”

You don’t move and just look at him. In his mind you’re going over a hundred different ways you could possibly try to fight him and flee, but he is massive, has a knife, and you don’t know where you are.

“Now!” He barks taking you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

You grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head before pulling down your leggings.  His eyes stay on you as you undress. Your hands fumble with the clasp of your bra as you become nervous before finally letting it fall to the floor. He walks to you and yanks your underwear off.

“You’re taking too long,” he huffs. “Hands behind your back.”

You put your hands behind your back as he asked. He zip ties your wrist together again, your wrist sore and in pain. He pushes you forward and towards the bathroom. He turns the shower on and checks the waters temp. His eyes looking back at you up and down, lingering on the bush between your legs.

“Get in.” He demands.

You walk to the shower and step in, the water warm as you stand there letting the water hit your body. König grabs a wash cloth and begins to lather it with a soap bar. He begins to wash your body; you close your eyes and turn your head trying to not get soap in your eyes. He aggressively washes your body. Grabbing the shower head, he rinses the soap off of you.

“Get out and follow me.” König turns the shower off and grabs a blue towel. He walks to the queen size bed and lays the towel down. You follow behind him soaking set, leaving a trail of water behind you as you walk. He points to the towel and you sit on it.

“Lay down,” he walks away back to the bathroom as you scoot back on the towel and lie down. The weight of your body on your hands behind your back is uncomfortable.

He comes back with a soapy wash cloth and a razor. You look at him and watch as he drops to his knees in front of you. He opens your legs and rubs your pubic area with the wash cloth. He began to gently shave your pubic hair. You stay as still as possible so he doesn’t cut you, you keep your eyes directed at the ceiling.

“You have a very beautiful pussy Maus.” König’s voice is full of lust and makes your stomach churn. He uses the wash cloth to wipe the hair he has shaved away. “Perfect…” he mumbles.

His hands caress your thighs before he stands and goes to the bathroom to return the razor and wash cloth. He comes back and grabs you by the shoulders to sit you up. He walks to one of his bags and opens the cooler. Placing the sandwich and the water on the small desk in the corner of the room.

“You can eat once we are done. I don’t want you to throw up.”

Going back to the bag he grabs a tripod and a second phone. He pulls the bedside table away from the wall a few feet. He places the tripod on top and places his phone in the phone slot. Taking the lamp shade off of the lamp the room gets brighter. You begin to realize what is going to happen.

“Don’t worry, this is only for me to watch.” He lies.

König begins to undress, pulling his shirt over his head revealing his scarred body to you. He pulls his belt off and tosses it on the bed before he undoes his pants and pulls them down, stepping out of them. You look forward trying to ignore his body, but it’s useless as he walks in front of you now; his erection in your face now. He grabs the belt off the bed and begins to wrap it around your neck. This causes a fight or flight trigger response and you scream and kick.

He puts his hand on your mouth and pushes you back into the bed, “If you scream and the young man at the front desk tries to come and save you, I’ll kill him. So, either save a human life, or be selfish and take him down with you.”

He phrases this as if you’re the bad guy in this situation, as if it isn’t him that would be killing the innocent man. You lay there looking at him, struggling to breathe with his calloused hand over your mouth and nose.

“Do you understand?”

You nod your head in response and he backs off of you, sitting you back up. He tightens the belt around your neck to the point where talking and breathing was hard, but you could still do it. He walked to the phone on the tripod and hit record. He held his original phone in his hand.

“Lay back Maus.” His voice husky as he begins to stroke his cock with his freehand.

You do as he says. The phone in his hand is pointed at you, you assume it’s recording you as well. You turn your head the opposite way of all the cameras to try and disconnect form this moment.

“Look at me,” he snaps at you. You do as he asks. Your eyes meet his icy pale gaze as he smirks.

König moves forward, dropping his gaze down to your sweet cunt. He nuzzles himself between your legs and began to slap his heavy cock on your clit, slowly moving himself up and down. Finding your entrance, he pushes forward. No prep as he pushes in, your pussy tight and dry as it squeezes around him pushing into without warning. He eyes watch your cunt struggle to take his enormous size through the screen of his phone. The belt around your neck muffling the pitch of your pained sounds.

“Ooh, ja. That’s tight.” He groans as he pushes all the way into you.

As your hips squirm with discomfort your walls flutter all around the length of his cock sending waves of pleasure through his body.  Slowly he moves his hips back as he spits on his cock for lubrication. You watch in disgust as he records himself pushing back in. He begins to fuck into you faster, causing the bed to hit the wall. You try to focus on breathing as you feel slightly light headed.

König begins to let out small moans of pleasure as your body begins to react, betraying you, and gets aroused. He smirks as your pussy begins to get creamy and fucks you harder. His hips clashing harshly against yours.

“I knew you’d like this, Kleine Hure.” He laughs as he speaks those words.

With his free hand he reaches up and squeezes your breast before slapping them both harshly; leaving behind red marks and making you whimper slightly. His hand moves to your throat and chokes you. Already struggling for air, you begin to squirm. After a few seconds he lets go and slaps your face lightly.

König suddenly withdraws from you and moves up your body until he is hovering above your face, his cock covered in your creamy white arousal. “Open your mouth.”

You do as he says and begins to shove his cock into your mouth, bucking fast as his balls slap against your chin. The camera in your face making sure to record your struggle. You gag repeatedly, body arching wanting to push him off, but your hands are still bound behind your back.

Finally, he pulls his dick out. A long thick string of saliva hanging from the tip. You begin to cough and spit out more globs on to your own face to clear your airways. König spreads your spit around his cock and goes back down to your pussy. He uses his knees to spread your legs apart to fit his body. His cock easily slips back into you. He lets out a low moan as soon as he feels your grip on his sensitive tip again before pushing fully in.

He bucks his hips in a such a harsh motion he is slamming again your sore cervix. He moves forward slightly to put the camera in your face and record you as you get fucked. You try to turn your head but he quickly grabs your jaw and turns your head back.

“Look into the camera.” He demands and you obey. After a while the camera drifts down your body to your breasts and then back to your shiny cunt. ���Schön, I got lucky with this one.”

Not able to hold off any longer, König pulls out of you quickly and begins to jerk his cock over you, moaning loudly. His cum shooting all over your body, landing on your breasts and stomach as some drips down on to your pussy. He stands there breathing heavy as he moves the camera over you to show off his work along your chest and breast. He slaps his cock on your clit a few times, recording himself playing with the cum that dripped.

Finally, König stands up, stopping the recording on his phone. He walks over to the one on the tripod and stops recording as well. He turns to you and walks to the bed beside you. Gently he removed the belt from your neck, it leaving behind a deep mark that will most likely bruise.

“You did well Maus.” His voice oddly soft as he goes into the bathroom to grab towels and wipe you off.

Grabbing your shoulders, he sits you up and turns around to grab the water and sandwich on the dresser. He opens the water and holds it up for you to drink. He is patient with you and doesn’t rush you as you gulp the water desperately. König holds the sandwich up for you to take bites. You’re hungry but lack an appetite after everything that just happened.

“Come on, don’t waste food Maus.” König still speaking softly to you, it disgusts you. Still, you continue to eat the food not wanting to anger him.

Once you’re done eating the sandwich, he moves your body up more in the bed and pulls the covers over you, not allowing you to get dressed. Hands still bound you feel terrible pain in your wrist and arms, causing you to fidget.

“I’m sorry, I hope you understand why I can’t untie you.”

You don’t respond, just look at him. He looks back at you and walks away. He gets dressed, boxers and a blue shirt, and pulls out a laptop from one of his bags.

“Get some rest, sweet dreams.” He gently kisses the top of your head and sits on the other side of the bed.

On his laptop he uploads the videos he took of you. He begins to watch and edit the videos before putting it up for sale. You lay there listening to the recordings over and over again as he works on it. Finally, you’re able to fall asleep. Wishing to wake up anywhere but here.

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Part 3

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tag: @soosouyoung

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Okay, hear me out. I can't stop thinking about how hard it would be trying to surprise Izana. So I needed to write something about it!

Headcanon + a little drabble of Izana x gn!reader.

Warnings: it's Izana so... Yandere tendencies (I mean, it's kinda canon that he's possessive as fuck xD)

English is not my first language, be kind please 🙈

HEADCANON:

Usually, you don't mind how clingy Izana can be.

You love spending time with your boyfriend, so even if he can be a little or a lot overprotective and possessive you're okay with it.

Except, when you want to give him a surprise.

Buying a present for Izana in secret it's almost an impossible mission.

Even if you manage to go shopping alone (how? Who knows), he would make some Tenjiku member follow you around.

Well, he would make Kakucho follow you around. He doesn't trust anyone else with you.

Luckily for you, Kakucho realizes what you're doing and ends up helping you to choose the perfect present for Izana (really, Kakucho have too much patient with his king, he deserves the world).

After that, you always ask for Kakucho's help when you are planning any type of surprise for your boyfriend.

Izana wasn't happy.

At all.

He was planning on spending the afternoon with you, cuddleling together. But, apparently, you didn't have time for him.

How dared you? Izana was your boyfriend, why on Earth he couldn't be resting on your lap right now?

So, of course, Izana was raging.

After beating up a few idiots that had the bad luck of existing "too loudly", he was venting to Kakucho.

"I don't get it! What could be more important for them than me, exactly? They are mine!"

Kakucho just sighed, completly used to Izana's tantrums at this point.

"Izana, today is 13th of February."

The scarred boy replied calmly, hoping his king would take the hint.

"So?"

"That means tomorrow is Valentine's Day."

Oh.

Oh.

Just like that, Izana's wrath disappeared completly. A soft smile on his face.

His gang could breathe again.

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 3

I wasn't gonna write about the expressions this week but then I got all my Fort-induced crazy out and had a meal and came to my senses, so I decided to write about them this week and every week.

Won't always be in depth like the last one but I do wanna point them out because as @prapaiwife said, Fort and Peat's acting deserves to be appreciated.

This scene is shadowy as all hell but there's just enough light to appreciate the faces that Mut is pulling in this scene. There's a mixture of annoyance and frustration here. He's narrowing his eyes, he's pursing his lips and setting his jaw a little bit. But it also looks like he's trying not to smile and there's a sparkle in his eyes that tells me he's enjoying seeing Tongrak get pissy.

That's the face of a brat tamer if I've ever seen one.

I also loved seeing how Tongrak got all smiley and fondly amused when Mut said he was beautifully handsome.

But then there's this smile after he tells Mut about his family. It's sad and resigned and doesn't reach his eyes. It's different from the last one, and Mut can see that, which is why he tells Tongrak not to smile like that. We're not done talking about this man and smiling but hold that thought, we'll come back to it here in a sec.

This look and the quickness with which Tongrak says no when Mut asks him if he wants to try love break my heart. There's more resignation there and something else, too. Certainty of heartbreak or maybe just plain old fear.

I, too, am struck dumb when I see Fort's smiling face Tongrak's just like me fr.

It's the shift from soft, open vulnerability to sheer annoyance for me. It's a face that says, "this infuriating man is so fucking annoying, I have to fucking kiss him about it fuck him" and I love it. This kiss also made me think of @chicademartinica and her love of tropical eroticism.

We can't see Mut's eyes here but that same sentiment applies to this face, too.

I love the look Tongrak gets when people say nice things about Mut. He may not realize it--or admit it if he did--but he's so fond of Mut already.

I have nothing insightful to say about these expressions, I just wanna make ya'll appreciate the mole Fort has on that giant fucking arm of his and how normal I've been about it this whole time.

Also more stretch marks. But we're getting off track.

Look at the face Mut makes when he realizes Tongrak's gonna be leaving in a couple of days. He looks crushed. You can tell that up until now, he hasn't really thought about Tongrak eventually going back home.

And Tongrak hasn't thought about it either. You can see him mentally going through his calendar. Neither of them have thought about it, but they both know exactly when he's going to leave and neither of them look happy about it.

Mut says "could you not leave?" without thinking and Tongrak is very obviously surprised but that's all it is. Surprise without anything negative attached to it. And maybe a teeny bit of hope?

He tries to play it off as a joke but Tongrak doesn't let him. He just says "try asking me". Something about his tone and the way he's looking at Mut and stroking his hair and his face really made me feel the difference in their ages. Tongrak looks and sounds so patient and gentle.

I love how often Tongrak's face answers before he does. He was always going to say yes but I like that he told Mut to try asking and teases him a little bit to get him there. Sometimes we have to be brave and find the words and ask for what we want so it'll be given to us. That's how good communication works.

I don't know about anyone else, but I could practically hear Tongrak thinking, "I'm sorry you had to grow up so fast and alone."

Seeing Mut be giddy and shy for the first time since we met him and seeing unabashed joy on Tongrak's face for the first time since we met him are two of my favorite things about this episode.

Making Mut ask Tongrak to stay wasn't about ego or being a brat, it was about a man who doesn't believe in love wanting to hear that his presence was wanted and a man who isn't used to receiving things without offering something in exchange being told that he doesn't have to change who he is in order to be given what he wants and that he's loved appreciated exactly the way he is.

[hellishjoel]

red

1.3k / pairing: javier peña x f!reader

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summary: Javier Peña doesn't love in black and white - he loves in red. warnings/information:  MA 18+ (minors DNI), allusions to some smutty vibes but no smut, javi in love, reader is described having hair and wears a dress and heels, but otherwise (I believe) no physical description, no use of y/n A/N: this is for the lovely @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! congratulations baby <3 this is an ode to you! I was dutifully given the prompt of forehead kisses - and if anyone gives good forehead kisses (see example above) it's obviously javi. lastly thank you @saradika-graphics for the banner!

You’ve got your red dress on tonight. 

The one that paints your body in confidence and allure. Dusted in a silky, satin red. 

Javi’s never had a favorite color until now. 

Your mere presence demands attention and captures the longing gazes of all who inhabit the room you grace with your stride. You dazzle, you shine, and you’re self-assured.

Your anniversary falls on a rainy night in Bogotá. Thunder claps outside, echoing each step he takes up your apartment stairwell. He brings red roses, a fresh bouquet to honor the importance today holds. 

One year. That’s four seasons of love that Javier has never felt before. 

He wraps his rough knuckles against your door and listens patiently to your delicate steps on the other side. 

“Oh, Javi,” you breathe with a pearly smile, “they’re beautiful.” You thank him with a kiss on his stubbled cheek and he squeezes your hip in return, feeling the soft satin of your dress dancing beneath his fingertips. 

That fucking red dress. 

It transports him to a warm summer night, where the sun blazed an orange-yellow hue across the horizon. Ice-cold drinks giving him the courage to ask you for a dance. Your perfume, that smile, those eyes. Dancing in close proximity, your bodies dripping in sweat as Javi took the lead, your heels clicking across the old wood floors of the cantina. But that was many moons ago. The first dress he ever saw you in, still his favorite. 

“Anything for you, hermosa.” 

And he knows you by now. Knows to make a late dinner reservation to allow you extra time to get ready. It’s a process, you’ve told him. He sits at the edge of your bed and watches you in silent admiration. 

Your bedroom is cloaked in darkness, the only illumination coming from the candlesticks, their gentle orange flames flickering in the breeze wafting through the open balcony doors. Outside, raindrops perform a delicate dance on the metal roof, creating a mesmerizing symphony of tinny notes.

Like an angel, you float across the room. Where are your wings? Where is your halo? Maybe left long ago in that cantina where you traded them for Javi. But you’re still an angel in his eyes, the most beautiful goddess he’s ever seen, the woman he praises day and especially night. In the lap of his lover, he is never alone.

He notes how articulately you pick your accessories, bringing earrings up to your lobe and seeing how they complement the look. Maybe a necklace—no, the bracelet he bought you a few months back. He smirks at the sight, and you catch his gaze in the vanity mirror. 

Javi wonders why he showers you with gifts - maybe a hint of possession, more so that he thinks you deserve the finer things he can offer you. And you’ve always been so gracious and excited with every gift wrap you delicately tear or ribbon you untie. Money doesn’t matter compared to that million-dollar smile. 

“Javi, pick my perfume for me, will you?” 

And now, getting ready becomes a two-person job. But he likes this part; he likes dressing you up, picking your lingerie in the shops, and choosing which heels you wear. There's an undeniable allure in your reliance on him, allowing him to fulfill the role of being essential in your life. Needed. 

He chooses a sweet-scented perfume—not blossomy, more like vanilla and cinnamon—sweet enough to fit your personality, thick enough to make him drunk on you. With his eyes closed and lost in a room full of people, he could find you. And he would. 

“Heels?” He offers, already opening your closet and staring at the different colored stilettos and slingbacks. 

“Yes, please, baby.” You coo, delighting in his attentive presence as the melody of your perfume fills the air, each spritz a tender caress upon your neck, shoulders, and a playful touch in your tousled hair.

He bends down to one knee and guides your hand on his shoulder. 

You hum sweetly, nails grazing the back of his neck and gently scratching the base of his scalp. His jet-black hair is soft and thick, weaving perfectly between your fingers. 

He wasn’t always like this, so warm. He was all the things he wanted to appear as, strong and confident. But that was all an exterior façade, one that took months to slowly chip away at like a chisel to marble.

A boulder was in place of his heart, only growing larger and harder with trauma. Each painful memory, each betrayal and loss added another layer to the stone, making it more impenetrable and cold. Eventually, the weight of it threatened to crush his spirit entirely, leaving him numb and distant from the world around him.

But then you came along, chipping away at the hardened exterior with your warmth and kindness. Your presence began to erode the layers of pain and sorrow, softening the edges of the boulder. Slowly, bit by bit, you managed to reach the core of his heart, bringing light and hope where there had once been only darkness.

Javier Peña had fallen in love. 

“You’re so handsome, Javi,” you praise, “I love you.” The sentiment never grows old. You feel Javi’s head move in and gently place a kiss on the inside of your thigh, just below the hem of your dress. Goosebumps quickly sprinkle across your skin. He always has such an effect on you. 

“Estoy enloquecido por ti,” Javi purrs as he lifts your ankle and slips the heel onto your foot, careful fingers buckling the strap around your ankle. You point your toes admiringly, allowing him to work on the next heel. 

As he stands, his fingers skim up your sides and his height looms over you. His cologne melts your inhibitions, forcing a subtle sigh from cherry-lacquered lips. 

His forehead rests against yours, letting the magnetic charge between you both finally reach its peak. His nose brushes against your own, mascaraed lashes fluttering closed. 

Just as Javi moves in to place a kiss on your lips, you’re quick to gently rest a hand against his chest. The moment pauses and your eyes dance. 

“I just put my lipstick on,” You whisper and softly giggle. 

Javi breaks into a small smirk. His woman has priorities. 

The lipstick is a fantastic red, soft, and a little dangerous. It's subtle, but also not subtle at all. Like the color was made for you, a perfect shade that heightens your beauty and charisma. You’re an artist, the way you perfectly glide the lipstick across your pillow-soft lips; not a smudge or mistake is made. 

“You’re right, mi querido.” Javier reroutes his path, closes his eyes, and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. The subtle gesture is just as good as a kiss to the lips, maybe even better. It wraps around you like a warm hug and it stays there long after he’s gone. Your insides dance with a delightful flutter, a warmth cascading down your spine, enveloping you in a sensation akin to heaven itself.

You nuzzle your nose against his own and sigh peacefully, feeling Javier’s arms tighten around your waist. 

“Do you like my dress, Javi?”

He playfully hums as his fingers teasingly graze the fabric, gently squeezing the globes of your ass beneath it.

“Love it,” he damn near growls. 

You swiftly swat his wandering hands away, sensing his desire to tug at the material. If you stay in your bedroom any longer, you fear you’ll miss the standing dinner reservation you’ve had for well over a week. 

You reward him with a kiss on his neck and you distantly taste his aftershave. 

Javi adores the beautiful mark you leave on his neck, a lingering stain that refuses to be simply wiped away with a napkin and water. It remains a constant reminder of you until he showers, and he thinks about you all over again. You’re forever there, forever his. 

He stares at your figures in the mirror, wrapped up in one another.  

One kiss on his tan skin, and he’s no longer Javier Peña. He’s yours. 

Yours in red. 

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 4

Thank you to everyone who reached out to me about the drop in numbers. I appreciate you and will try to be patient as everyone seems to be really going through shit right now. Honestly if I wasn't a SAHM I probably would be one of those people.

In this we have Steve resigning himself to doing the game show, more of the kids, and we get to the actual game show! ka-shonk, I know!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

“Meow!” Odie cried at the indignity of being shoved in someone’s face.

Steve carefully wrapped his little feet so Odie would feel more supported. He stritched under his chin and Odie began to purr.

Chrissy inched forward until she was close to Steve. “Steve, he’s adorable. Where did you get him?”

“I found him in a cardboard box out by the dumpsters,” he explained, never taking his eyes off the kitten. “It was starting to snow and I just couldn’t leave him there. He was wet, and cold, and alone.”

Robin’s shoulders sagged. “Of course you can keep him, dingus. I wouldn’t have said no even without the Sword of Damocles in the form of the game show hanging over my head. He’s adorable.”

Chrissy tickled his little toes and then looked up at Steve. “Why Odie? For the name?”

Steve blushed, grateful his head was already down so they couldn’t see his blush. “A couple of reasons I guess. To honor Garfield the goldfish, for one. But also because of the coloring the cream body and brown ears is so much like Odie’s.” Just then Odie twisted and tried to leap out his arms. “And there’s the fact he very likely has only one brain cell,” he deadpanned as quickly caught the kitten before he hurt himself.

Robin snorted. “So I see.”

Steve handed him to Chrissy and he allowed himself to be subjected to her neck scratches.

“So are we forgiven?” Robin asked, shyly. “We really didn’t think anything would have come of it. Though we were really building you up, talking about how you really deserved to find love and how your luck had run to catastrophic with those you dated. We made sure be really sweet about you.”

“I think that’s another reason why they picked you, Steve,” Chrissy said, walking over to sofa to cuddle with the new kitten. “You would be a perfect opener if not season finale. All you have to do is fill out the questionnaire and then they’ll tell you when filming is.”

“You’ll need about a week off,” Robin explained on her way to the kitchen to put the beer in the fridge. “It takes two days to film the first half of the episode and a day each for the dates in the second half. Then a whole day filming the choosing ceremony or whatever the hell they call it. They just want you there two days before for interviews and legal stuff.”

Steve sighed and ripped into the bag of gummy worms. “All right, you fill it in while I dictate.”

Chrissy and Robin cheered. Chrissy opened up her phone with the email and started asking the questions.

“Why would they even need to know my measurements?” Steve huffed about half way through. He had migrated to floor where he was using a gummy worm that had fallen to said floor to tease Odie with.

“Probably for costuming,” Robin said sagely. “They just can’t let you wear anything to their show.”

Steve wrinkled his nose, but allowed them to continue. Once it was all filled out most of the bag of gummy bears were gone and he was a little exhausted by it all.

He buried his head in his hands. “Fuck me. What even is my life right now?”

Chrissy and Robin shared a glance and then slid down to the floor where he had Odie curled up on his lap. They wrapped their arms around him and just held him.

He let himself be comforted by their support.

~

New Year’s brought new challenges, especially when he learned he would have to get a sub for his class the last week in March. They couldn’t have waited a week so that he would have it off for Spring Break? Which meant he had to tell Mrs. Byers why he needed the week off. Which meant Will found out. Which of course meant the rest of the little buttheads found out about it, too.

“Do you get to decide the questions?” Mike asked, one day while they were hanging out in the AV room, Mr. Jenner finally having been fired and Steve forced to take over for the rest of the school year.

He had come to class after the winter break, drunk off his ass, stoned out of his mind, and completely trashed his classroom. Thankfully the equipment had been locked up and not subjected to his rampage.

Otherwise the school would have had to have him arrested to recoup their lost.

Mike had actually started to warm up to him after it was revealed he was going on some dating show. Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he decided to count it as a blessing and move on.

“Some of them,” Steve confirmed. “The first question of what is your ideal date is standard, and is part of the game show setup, but mostly they want me to be able to answer the questions myself, and if I can’t there’s really no point in having the suitors answer them either.”

“Suitors is a stupid name,” Max huffed from the corner. She was forced to join the AV because it was the only after school program that ran on Fridays and her mom started to have to work late on those days.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yeah and what would call them?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Contestants or something.”

“Eh, eh!” he said sounding like a buzzer on an old game show. “Boring!”

She cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, whatever, Mr. Catch.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “I’m not sure what the would replace it with consider a lot of the other options are copyrighted due to other similar shows, but yeah. It sounds like I’m a fox and they’re the hounds.”

“What about Hitch?” Lucas suggested. “It plays on the Love Connection theme.”

Steve shook his head. “There’s an old movie called ‘Hitch’ and he’s a matchmaker. So I’m betting they didn’t go that route for that reason. Especially since this show is on its thirteenth fucking season.”

“Mr. Harrington!” Dustin scandalized. “You aren’t supposed to swear at school.”

“It’s after hours and we’re literally outside the school waiting for your parents,” Steve huffed. “Anyone here gonna rat on me?”

He looked around at the bright faces and knew that not a one of them were snitches.

When no one answered, he said, “Here, I’ll tell you what. Each of you come up with a question for me to ask my suitors and bring them by next week.”

All the kids cheered.

~

After Steve got in his questions from the kids, he sent them into the game show and most of the questions were approved. Some were simple Star Wars or Star Trek, others were fun questions like ‘what is your favorite sports team?’ to in depth questions like ‘do you consider yourself to be a good person?’ That last one was from Max. He loved that girl fiercely and only wanted good things for her.

He packed up his things and made sure that Robin would take good care of Odie. He was going to miss the little furball.

He was flown out to LA where the show was filmed. He was shown to a fancy hotel where he would be spending the week. He was told that the suitors were in other hotels are around the city so that they didn’t meet accidentally before the taping.

Steve’s first day was with legal and how much money he would be making for his appearance on the show. It was roughly three thousand dollars to make up for the fact he had to take time off from work. Other than that it was all about them footing bill for all his meals and lodging during his stay.

He wouldn’t get the money until it aired, which he thought was bullshit, but it was whatever.

Robin had been right about the measurements as they gave him a lot of clothes to chose from. Then whatever he picked would be doubled so that he could look the same on both filming days. Then he would have special date night outfits that would be picked based on where they were going for the date.

All in all not a bad gig. Steve definitely preferred teaching though.

Then they did all the pre-show interview stuff the next day. He got to talk about his school and the kids he taught. He got to talk about Robin and Chrissy and his adorable new kitten Odie. That part wasn’t so bad.

Then it was time for the first day of taping.

He got dressed in a cream colored suit with a light blue button up shirt. The shoes and belt were nice leather, too. He briefly wondered if he got to keep the clothes. He couldn’t imagine they needed to keep them.

He wasn’t told anything about the suitors before hand, but they knew a lot about him. Which felt a little creepy if he was honest.

He sat in the ridiculous little booth he would be in so he couldn’t see the contestants. This was because they didn’t want him to judge their answers based on their looks.

The host was Bob Newby. He was one of the best parts of the show, Steve thought. He was sweet and friendly and everything wanted out a dating game style host. He was in a dark grey suit and white shirt with a red tie. A tie he was currently stroking nervously.

Steve smiled at him and Bob blushed.

“I’ve done over a hundred of these things,” Bob admitted, “and I still get nervous.”

“Well that makes me feel better about throwing up breakfast this morning.”

Bob laughed. “So this is how it will go, we will film more than questions required so we can get a good bunch of questions and answers. We will be filming out of order. The rapid fire questions first. Then half of the questions for round one today to round out filming. Then the second half of the round one questions with all of the round three questions.”

“That’s a little weird,” Steve huffed. “But it’s your show, man.”

“Trust me,” Bob said, “this way is easier to film.”

Steve just shrugged.

“You ready?” Bob asked. When Steve nodded, Bob pointed at the camera and counted down from three with his fingers.

“Hey, everyone!” Bob said. “Welcome to a brand new season of ‘Love Connection’ where we help lonely people make that special connection. This season we will be focusing on getting all those fancy letters LGBTQ+ a chance at love. We have your gays, your lesbians, your non-binary folks, your trans people, and one very special ace lady just looking for love.”

The audience politely clapped.

“I’m your host Bob Newby and today we have one very lucky catch. Steve Harrington from Hawkins, IN. He’s a middle school teacher who recently became a cat dad, to the adorable Odie.” A picture of Odie sleeping on Steve’s chest under his chin is shown on the screen behind them. “He coaches basketball and the swim team. And yes he does look hot in a Speedo!” A picture of Steve in a blue Speedo and wearing a white jacket and his whistle.

Steve decided he was going to murder Robin and/or Chrissy for that photo alone. Especially when the crowd goes wild, complete with wolf whistles.

“He enjoys watching sports, swimming, and reading in his spare time,” Bob continued. “He has tried everything to get a partner in this hellscape we call modern life, apps, bars, clubs and not just the ones with a dance floor and sick beats. So he came to us, so let’s see if we can match him to any of our suitors.”

The audience clapped again.

“Suitor number one,” Bob said, “why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself.”

“Hi, I’m Billy,” the first voice said, “I’m a professional surfer with a ton of sponsors. I’m the most decorated surfer both nationally and internationally. I like sex, sex, and more sex. Just kidding. I like other things too. I’m a big car guy and a bit of a foodie, too.”

Steve was grateful that they can’t see him because Bob and he shared an exasperated glance.

“Suitor number two,” Bob said. “Tell us about yourself.”

“Hey, I’m Tommy,” the second voice said, “I’m an investment banker at a prestigious company. I like sports, traveling, and deep sea fishing.”

Steve tilted his head and nodded. Not bad. He wasn’t sure about the whole investment banker thing, but the rest sounded good.

“And last but not least, Suitor number three,” Bob said, “tell us about you.”

“Hello!” the third voice said brightly, and Steve could almost picture a dorky little wave to go with it. “I’m Eddie. I’m a music producer with my own studio. I like heavy metal, all things nerdy, and camping.”

Steve smiled fondly. He sounded a lot like Dustin. He could only hope this didn’t have the ego to match.

“All right, everyone!” Bob said with a winning smile. “Let’s begin the Love Connection!”

~

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @wheneverfeasible @themoonagainstmers @garden-of-gay @little-birch-boy

[dilfsfordinner]

a/n- this was deep in the catacombs of my drafts but Nanami deserves to see the light of day, and y/n’s a very heavy sleeper in this one..

warnings- somnophilia, cnc, unprotected sex, creampie, slight pain intolerance?

—————————————————————————

It was 9:00 pm. 9:00 at night, precisely four hours past his shift. All because of his boss, who was too incompetent, apparently, to close down the office alone. A task Nanami found himself doing instead. And now you, his beautiful, kind, patient wife was home alone, after he said he would be home early today. He promised you.

Exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks as soon as he crossed the threshold of your shared apartment, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as the comforting smell of you filled his senses. The entryway and livingroom were shrouded in darkness, silence radiating throughout the space.

Quietly padding to the bedroom, Nanami found you lying peacefully on the bed, head nuzzled into the pillow, chest rising and falling softly with the rhythm of sleep. You looked so perfect, your body engulfed by one of his long sleeve shirts, and.. nothing else. It was long enough that when standing it fell just above your knees, but laying down- his breath caught as his gaze raked over your legs and up, up, up to your thighs and very plump back half. Lying on your side gave your waist an impossible curve that was accentuated by the panels of moonlight highlighting your figure.

Fuck. His pants started to tighten uncomfortably, heart beating fast at the thoughts racing through his head. Nanami approached your figure, kicking off his shoes in the process. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he pulled his shirt off, belt next, and soon he was in only his boxers, cock straining against the plaid material.

Warm hands grasped your ankles, slowly pulling your slumbering form down the bed and onto your back. His shirt rode up in the process, exposing the topmost part of your thighs, so close to what he wanted the most. Nanami let himself feel you, fingers running up your soft skin, caressing every ridge and crease you offered him. Delicately, he pulled his shirt up over your hips, your lower half now completely visible to him.

He was right, you were wearing only his shirt. Groaning at the sight of your bare cunt, Nanami grabbed your thighs and gently spread your legs, propping your knees up to tilt your pelvis towards him. Gathering some spit in his mouth, he lifted his fingers to suck on, bringing them back down to your cunt. Nanami rubbed his saliva on your entrance, ensuring you were coated to prevent hurting you.

Usually, he would make you come at least once before fucking you, just because of his sheer size, but he couldn’t possibly wait anymore. Impatience flooding his mind, Nanami pulled his boxers down as fast as possible, his cock slapping against his stomach fully erect.

Nanami was big. Very big, and not just long but thick too. His tip was a pretty pink, but right now an angry red, beads of precum forming at the slit, the veins running up his shaft throbbing for release. Grabbing hold of his cock, he lined himself up with you, rubbing his tip up and down your folds, coating you in his slick. Your hips jerked at this, which he found amusing, even in your sleep you managed to respond to him.

“Always so sensitive,” he whispered, and when he finally started to push into you, he swore he was about to come then and there. Eyelids flitting closed and mouth parting in pleasure, Nanami hissed as you clenched around him. “So fucking tight for me,” he choked out, only halfway into your cunt.

His cock dragged inside of you, your walls struggling to take him without any foreplay. Sliding all the way to the hilt, Nanami was trying not to lose his composure. Chest rising with quick pants, he waited for you to get used to him, not wanting to completely tear up your insides for you to wake up to.

Looking up at your face, twisted in discomfort and confusion, he felt his heart drop. He didn’t want to hurt you, and right now all he was doing was taking pleasure for himself. Sliding his hand towards your clit, he started leaving circular patterns, slowly massaging your bundle of nerves. He could feel the immediate relaxation take over your body as your cunt started to leak around him, the lines on your face turning into ones of pleasure.

Taking that as a sign, Nanami started to set a slow pace, his hips dragging against your pelvis, tip so deep it nudged at your womb. In and out he went, keeping a steady tempo and watching as your body reacted to him. He felt goosebumps skitter along his skin at the feeling of your cunt starting to pulse, the unmistakable sign of an impending orgasm.

Your pussy was already soaked, wet squelching coming from the meeting of your two bodies, a sound that spurred him on even more. He never thought he’d be in this situation, apprehensive when you suggested it to him, but now all he wanted was to pump you full.

A strange sensation took over your body, waves of pleasure racking through you, creating one of the wettest dreams you’ve ever had of your husband. Little whimpers left your mouth, Nanami noticing how your body craved his touch. “Dreaming of me aren’t you,” Nanami murmured, his hips rocking against you, shoving your unconscious form closer to release.

He was so close to climax, the feeling urging him to make you come with him. Sliding his hand between your bodies, Nanami lightly pinched your bundle of nerves, your body jolting from the sudden pleasure, a gush of liquid leaking around his cock. Your walls squeezing around him forced a string of moans from his lips, his throat hoarse from the repeated breaths he’d try to keep in.

“Oh f-fuck,” Nanami gasped, your cunt throbbing around him as he continued to nudge against your sensitive spot. This wasn’t normal, he was never usually this worked up, but something about stealing pleasure from you while you were unaware turned his mind into mush, all rational thoughts flying out the window as he rushed to finish.

Your nipples pebbled under the smooth cotton of his shirt, heartbeat erratic, chest heaving from your orgasm, and yet your eyes were still closed, your form still under the same spell of sleep as when he got home, the only difference now being the pool of liquid gathering in between your legs. Cock plunging into your taut walls, Nanami felt fire lick up the base of his spine, your cunt warm and inviting as it squeezed him, hole open and sucking at the base of his shaft. His hips connected with yours, sloppy thrusts turning targeted as he drove into your cunt with strong resolve.

Heavy breaths left his mouth, and as he watched your eyelids flutter, a sign of your approaching consciousness, the band inside of him snapped. Eyes squeezing shut and mouth parting slightly, Nanami unloaded himself into you, your walls sucking every last drop of his warmth into the deepest parts of your body, his hips jerking from the oversensitivity of his cock being milked dry. His muscles tightened and relaxed with every wave of pleasure, body slowly lowering itself onto your awaiting form, your legs now fully open for him, cradling his lower half as his orgasm took its toll.

Letting himself rest for a few moments, face pressed into the crook of your neck, Nanami waited until your heartbeats slowed to a normal pace, chests returning to a soft inhale, a stark contrast to the heavy pants prior. Slowly lifting himself off of you, he found that you were still asleep, now with a satisfied sleepy smile, and globs of cum leaking from you, that of which he felt start to drip onto his own thighs.

Hurriedly grabbing a warm washcloth from the bathroom, Nanami returned to your slumbering form, hands gently parting your lax thighs as he started to wipe up his mess. The fabric of the cloth was apparently too rough, the sensation it left on your used cunt unexpected and unappreciated. A tiny cry left your mouth and his eyes shot up to see if you had awoken. Your face was twisted in discomfort, a frown pulling at your lips, but you still slept, the pleasant dream you had turning sour.

“M’sorry,” he ushered, his hand much more gentle as he continued to clean up the messy streaks dripping from you, his voice cooing reassurances and whispered ‘I love you’s as he finished up. Leaving a kiss to your thigh, nimble fingers held up your hips as he slid his shirt back into place under your bottom, fabric falling back over your front as well.

Pulling up his boxers, Nanami gently moved to get into bed, his arms pulling your body up towards him as if you weighed nothing, your back now flush against his chest. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.. I’ll make it up to you in the morning,” he mumbled into your hair, voice quiet as he imagined the sight of you curling up in bed alone. Strong arms squeezed you tighter, legs twisting to fit your own as he started to feel the grasps of sleep, tender words slipping from his mouth before they could pull him under. “I promise.”

You smiled lightly at his words, your brain still muddled with sleep and eyes still closed. Although he was unaware you’d only just woken up to his promise, comfort flowed through you as his body clutched your own. It wasn’t just comfort you felt though, a strange feeling of soreness radiated from the apex of your thighs as well, a soreness you knew all too well, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe, it wasn’t just a dream.

—————————————————————————

[luvvampz]

TW: Children, Swearing (like once), reader can have their kids born naturally (but no pronouns were used nor nick names)

Word count: 565

Terms: (D/n) = Daughters name, (S/n) = Sons name, (Y/n) = Your name, (N/n) = Nick name

Context: (d/n) is not your kids she's Damian's from a previous relationship, (s/n) if both yours and Damian's. Damian is over 18.

A/n: Do give feedback, my very first fanfic on here :)

If you had told Damian that he'd be drawing coloring books for his baby girl because he thought the other kinds were plain and boring, he wouldn't dare believe you.

But here your husband was sitting at his desk while his daughter watched every brush of his pencil. "Baba (dad), that doesn't look like Jasmine..!" She let out a slight huff not quite understanding that it wasn't immediately going to look like the Disney princess until her father got the finishing touches down.

"I know it doesn't. I still have to add some things, be patient." His voice was cool and calm as he responded to his beloved daughter, the daughter you took in as your own because you understood that if you wanted Damian then you got his daughter as well.

"But it's taking so long.. can I wake up (n/n) then? I wanna play with them!" She pouted, wanting to wake you up so bad. You were her best friend! You took her to the park, you helped her baba not be alone, and you gave her a baby brother which she could admit wasn't ALWAYS the best!

"No you may not. They deserve their sleep as well." Damian shook his head knowing that you'd been awake almost all night with (s/n). "When they wake up you can play with them." His tone was stern, yet not too harsh. (D/n) slightly whined, but just nodded and went back to watching her father.

"Talking about me I see?" You smirked, walking over to the pair in front of you, with (s/n) cradled in your arms. You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Damian's lips and then to (D/n)s chubby little cheeks.

"Good morning, Beloved, good morning (s/n)." Damian leaned his head back returning the kiss. He gently rubbed the infant's arm, noticing how (s/n) cooed. His eyes wandered to your face afterwards with a slight smirk, fuck did he love you. "How are you? You were constantly up with (s/n) last night." His face showed a slight concern, knowing how exhausted you were with (s/n), he was only a few weeks old but gosh was he a little terror. He pulled out a spare chair, waiting for you to sit down in it.

"Morning baby. And.. I'm doing pretty well. He's pretty relaxed." You chuckled. When you sat down you picked up (d/n) and put her in your lap. When she settled in she immediately began trying to play with her baby brother.

Gosh, did you love your mini family.

"(N/n! Did you see what baba is making me?" (D/n) squealed when you placed her in your lap. She immediately pointed at her father, your husband who was drawing her all of the Disney princesses she wanted.

"It's very pretty (d/n). I hope you are going to say thank you to him afterwards for being so nice." You gently smiled at her, kissing her temple which caused her to let out a giggle.

Damian soon enough finished the pages and sent (D/n) off to color (which she did say thank you). He led you to a more comfortable couch where you both could relax with (d/n) in your eye view and (s/n) in his baby rocker. You snuggled into his side, with your head on his shoulder.

[i-mean-y-not]

Why?

It would never last…

It could never last.

On the day you’d discovered it, everything was normal. He acted as if nothing was wrong. Kissed you before he left and gave his dog a light scratch behind the ears. Then he was off to work. With the day off and absolutely nothing to do, you did menial tasks and tidied up to wait for his return. Dating a man as well known as him wasn’t an easy feat.

The misinformation that constantly came out, the long hours at the work, and the overwhelming exhaustion he faced everyday. But despite it all, you never left.

After two years, life finally made sense with him and for him. After dusting off the lamp that resides in the corner of the room, you find your way to his nightstand and open it slightly to make sure everything is neatly arranged.

Everything looks normal, yet there’s something hidden, tucked away in the top right corner that looks oddly unfamiliar. When you see the metallic and the sleek red design you discover that it’s a phone. Now it isn’t odd to have a second phone. However, a phone your partner hasn’t the foggiest idea about is concerning.

So you grab it, turn it on and immediately wish you hadn’t. There are pictures of a woman that scream familiarity. She snaps all the right angles and her faint smile is genuine. Then, there are pictures that make me choke on literal air. Pictures that flatter her lingerie and pictures where she has no lingerie on. You close your eyes softly and softly nod to yourself as a way to stave off the impending anxiety. It doesn’t work.

Then, you look through the message threads. And it seems pretty one-sided. She’s the aggressor and sends unsolicited pictures and spam messages. And he’s answered twice. The first message he sends her simply reads, “last night was a mistake. Don’t contact me again.” And you’d never known him to be so cold. Then when she wouldn’t stop, there’s a thread from just this morning stated, “I’m in love with my girlfriend, okay? Leave me alone.”

To which she responds with, “Sure, why don’t I tell her about our little tryst and see if she feels the same way.” His response is immediate, “I’d ruin your life. You understand that, right? I will make sure that you’ll be seen as a worthless homewrecker by the time I’m through with you. Don’t fucking threaten me.”

Then it’s radio silence. And you’re left taking in ragged breaths to bring yourself down. It was inevitable. That’s what you tell yourself. But you also deserve better. You tell yourself that too. As you stashed the phone back where it was and make your way to the closet to retrieve my almost never use suitcase, the doorbell rings.

You walk to the door and look at the peep hole and see a bouquet of flowers. Peonies to be exact, your favorite. You open the door and my lip quirks up into a wry smile. They’re from him. You bring them in and sit them on the counter, not even bothering to read the card.

On auto pilot, you go back into your shared room and snatch everything off of the hangers. Things are thrown into the suitcase left and right with no rhyme or reason. And when you’re done, you move onto the bathroom. It takes about 30 minutes for me to get all of your stuff.

Two years of your life took 30 minutes to pack up. Staying in a penthouse has its advantages, the view of the city reminds you that this is your prison. You dragged your suitcase out into the foyer and leave it there to retrieve your keys that still reside on your nightstand. You’re doing final walk-through when you hear keys being shoved into the lock of the front door.

You sigh inwardly and your fight or flight tells you to do the latter. So you hide. Although the office is used frequently, it’s a place he’ll never think to look. You duck down below the double pane glass in the office and wait patiently.

There’s no movement for a while and one would assume they were in the clear. So, getting up from your crouch you slightly opened the door to the office and went once you hear his voice booming through the penthouse.

“I told you not to call me again. How did you even get this number? I don’t want to see you, or talk to you. I wish I never met you. If I hear from you ever again in life, you will regret it. And I mean it. Stop with your bullshit.”

And once again, you’ve never heard him speak so venomously. To you or anyone else, and when he turns slightly to the left and sees your baggage.

His mouth parts, slightly, and his eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead. “What the hell?” he whispers, inspecting your luggage. He calls my name. Once, twice, three times. And by the third, he struggling to breathe. His eyes dart from side to side, and he shakes his head vehemently. “No, no, no. It’s okay, she’s here. Maybe she has to take a trip for work that she didn’t tell me about.” His guilty conscious struggles to draw a definitive line between reality and subconscious.

He stalks through the house, opening and closing every door once he seeing that you’re not in them. When he gets to the office door, you open it before he gets a chance to. And you want to feel bad for him. That’s the thing about love. No matter how much you wish it, you could never watch the one you love suffer. With a sigh, you open the door fully and step into the foyer that cause now nauseating nostalgia. He whips his head to the side immediately and when your eyes meet, his face crumples. He knows you know.

The blank and impassive mask you wear, can only mean one thing. But still he asks, “What’s all this?”

He nods toward the luggage and you close your eyes in brief agony. “My things.”

He nods once again, and with a smile that couldn’t begin to reach his eyes, he says, “Were you just going to leave without telling me?”

You offer a protrusion of your lips response. “Sure.” You’re usually very animated and talkative, you see. So one word responses only calls him further strife, you’re sure.

So, like he’s doomed to do he begins his cross examination. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” you respond.

“Is it for work?”

You sigh. “No.”

He blinks once, then twice.

“Who are you going with?” You shrug sheepishly, getting close to the end of this charade.

“Does it matter?” And it takes everything in you not to throw shit. To scream. To cry. To slap him so hard that his ears ring, but in a way, you’re relieved. You don’t have to rehash what you already knew.

Then he asks the million dollar question. “Were you even going to tell me you were leaving?”

With a bleary tone you breathe out. “Were you ever gonna tell me you fucked someone else?”

That does it.

The air whooshes out of him like a geyser on the verge of erupting and you stand there quietly, waiting. Then the word vomit ensues and it’s really all downhill from there. “And what were the flowers supposed to do, huh? Absolve you of your sins? Take those pink ass peonies and give them to the broad you stepped out on me with.”

He’s a big man, not be trifled with even on his worst days, but the absolute way his body caves in on itself frightens you. His body thrums with panic and you watch in mild fascination.

When he decides to speak, it’s quiet and you swear he whimpers when he mumbles, “I’m so fucking sorry, pretty girl.”

He places one hand in his heart and the other on his chest when he proclaims, “I would die a thousand deaths before I even think about hurting you.”

Your head shakes from side to side mirthlessly.

“But you did hurt me.” With mournful and sparkling eyes you repeat, “You did.” He walks over to you calmly as if he moves too fast, you’ll make a run for it. When he gets to you, he reaches out.

You move almost comically fast and he does too. You dodge him and he drops to his knees and clings to your waist. “Let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to,” you mumble. You feel him open his mouth and before he utters a word, I’m leaving flies out of yours. His teeth snap shut at that. And if you didn’t lean back slightly, he would’ve bitten you. You stand there for what feels like eons and then a warmth seeps the underside of your breasts. Belatedly, after a sniffle, you realize that he’s crying.

This is the first time you’ve seen it and hopefully it’s the last. You don’t move to console him.

Who did that for you?

You allow him a moment and step back and out of his grasp. He clings as if his life depends on it and in a way you suppose it does.

For two years, you’ve been his lifeline. Being there for all the ups and downs and twists and turns. But you’re no longer his lifeline. You’re no longer apart of his life. It takes physically everything in you to pry him off.

After much resistance, he lets go and it’s only to sag dejectedly onto the floor. Somehow seeing the broken man he is irritates you further.

“You did this.” You snap, harshness seeping through your tone. “So, deal with the consequences.”

“Please,” he rasps out. “Don’t. Don’t do this. I love you, I swear it was a one time thing. I wasn’t getting any work and I just—.”

You nod once. “Sure.”

And you’re so far detached that it’s scary. Resolutely, you shuffle and cant around him to make a beeline for the luggage. He firmly grabs your wrist and you snatch it back as if you’ve been burned. “Don’t fucking touch me.” And the crack in your voice gives you away.

You shake your head to keep the tears from falling. “I trusted you, Toji. With every cell in my body. But this is unforgivable; you understand? You’re going to let me go and I’m going to walk out of our relationship like you did.”

The fight leaves him after that and you purse your lips in quiet agony. And you shouldn’t do it, you know you shouldn’t but if you’re gonna leave, you’re gonna be petty. So, before you touch the luggage, you make a quick stop in the bedroom. You purposely crinkle the foil package in your hands and pointedly ignore his gaze.

You hear him before you can see him. However, his thunderous steps don’t really scare you anymore and you don’t have too much to lose. That gentle wrist grab was nothing compared to this. “The fuck do you need condoms for, Y/N?”

“That’s not really any of your business anymore, is it?”

With that, you snatch your luggage and before you slam the door, you face him head on, with the tears long gone in your eyes. “I hope she was worth it.”

Then, the door closes, Toji whispers faintly, “She wasn’t.”

[lost-in-fandoms]

This has been something that's been living in my mind for a very long time. Sometimes, when things are hard, I write this in my head and it helps, so I thought I'd share. There's a bit of hurt before it goes to the comfort, but the comfort is there, I promise. This got long so you can read it on ao3 too

cw: non-sexual bathing, depression and a whole bunch of self-hatred

Daniel doesn't hear the door opening, but one minute he's alone, curled up under the blankets, and the next Max is sitting on the edge of the bed, running clothes still on. To be fair, Max might have been there for longer than one minute. Daniel hasn't been great at keeping up with time lately, keeps losing hours to naps and blank stares at walls. He's not been great at noticing Max either, sometimes feeling like he's living alone, even when Max is right beside him.

"Daniel."

Daniel opens his eyes again, hadn't even noticed he had closed them in the first place. Max sounds tired, careful, as he often does lately. It makes Daniel want to curl up tighter, shut him out harder, embarrassed and ashamed of being like this.

"Daniel, hey."

Did he close his eyes again? Max has one hand hovering near Daniel's cheek now, but he isn't touching. The last time Max had touched him without asking first when Daniel had been like this, just a hand on his shoulder, Daniel had flinched so hard he had kicked him off the bed.

Max has been sleeping in the guest room since, and the bed feels big and cold every night. Daniel is still glad Max is not touching him.

"Daniel."

Max's voice is firmer now, a frown on his face. It used to make Daniel feel worse, knowing he was upsetting him, but it's been a reality for so long he has learned to accept he's just made to make Max feel worse.

"Your therapist appointment is in two hours, Daniel, you should get up."

This time, Daniel makes the conscious decision to close his eyes. It doesn't matter how many hours he's been spending in this bed lately, he is always exhausted, and getting up sounds like way too much work. He doesn't want to get out of his blankets, doesn't want to have to sit up, to have to speak, to have to sit in their office to talk about his fucked up brain to a lady through a screen.

For a long moment, nobody says anything. Daniel is expecting Max to argue with him, to tell him he's being childish, pathetic, but Max doesn't.

It's worse when he simply sighs and gets up, leaving the room. It makes the chasm in Daniel's chest grow new teeth, gnawing at his lungs, breath stuttering in his throat. He didn't know he could feel more lonely.

He doesn't know what to do with this, with all the slick tar coating his insides, suddenly threatening to spill out, so he does what he's been doing lately and turns around, back to the bedroom door, and wills himself to sleep.

"Daniel."

Max's voice drags him out of the fog. He doesn't know how long it's been, but when he forces himself to open his eyes again, Max is crouching next to the bed, this other side now, still in his running clothes. Not long, then.

"I ran us a bath, will you come with me?" he asks. He doesn't look mad at Daniel for not speaking, doesn't look upset. He looks worried, and pleading. There are black shadows under his eyes. It's worse than him being angry.

It takes a long moment for Daniel to actually process the words, to filter them through the fog, but Max waits patiently. He always waits for Daniel, even when Daniel doesn't deserve it.

He doesn't want to get up, doesn't want to drag his limbs to motion, but he knows he stinks, knows his hair are a greasy mess, flattened on top of his head. He should. He doesn't want to.

"Please."

It's only a whisper, but it's impossible to miss in the quiet room. It pierces through Daniel's heart, his next breath coming out harsh and choked, his eyes closing on instinct. Even when he's deep in his own pain he can't forget how this is hurting Max too, but it's worse to see it so plainly, to hear the desperation in his voice. He doesn't know why Max hasn't left yet.

"You won't have to do anything," Max continues his pleading, more urgent now, "I will carry you, I will wash you, you just have to give me permission to touch you."

There was a time, before everything got this bad, when they were all over each other all the time, constantly touching, kissing, fucking. Now, Daniel can't remember the last time he even had wanted to come and his boyfriend is asking for permission to take care of him. He feels sick.

He hates the idea of Max seeing him like this, dirty and too skinny, but Max has never been good at letting things go and he doesn't have the energy to argue with him, nor the heart to hear his pleading, so he nods.

Relief shows so plainly on Max's face it's almost a physical blow.

He's still hesitant as he grabs Daniel's shoulder, helping him sit up, holding him still until the dizziness wanes, gently easing the t-shirt he's been sleeping in off. Daniel is gearing himself up to stand up when Max leans in closer, guiding Daniel's arms around his shoulder and his legs around his waist. It's not until his hands are under Daniel's thigh and he's heaving himself up that Daniel processes what is happening. A surprised gasp leaves his mouth, but Max only shushes him softly, walking towards the bathroom.

"I won't let you fall," he reassures, as if Daniel could ever be scared of that. As if Daniel had ever not been safe when in his hands.

In the bathroom, Max puts him down on the closed toilet seat. The lights are off and the curtains are drawn, but it's still much lighter than the bedroom, making Daniel squint his eyes almost all the way closed. The bath is full, the sweet smell of his favorite body wash already filling the room. There is an unlit candle on the edge of the tub, and it tugs on Daniel's heart, how deeply Max knows him, how he was aware that Daniel likes to have candles when he's in the bath, but doesn't like smells mixing when he's already so overwhelmed. How he left Daniel the unspoken option without pressuring him to take a decision with a direct question.

"Daniel." Max waits until Daniel is looking back at him before touching his shoulder, fingers warm on Daniel's clammy skin. "Is it okay if I come in with you?"

Daniel had thought it was implied, when Max had said he had ran them a bath, wonders if Max has changed his mind, now that Daniel is almost fully naked in front of him.

Some of his thoughts, who knows how much, he hasn't had control of his face in so long, must show, because Max frowns, other hand coming up to cradle Daniel's cheek.

"Daniel, I want to, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Can you please tell me? What is best?"

What is best? The best would be to go back four years and tell his old self to make different decisions. Go back two years and tell Max to make different decisions. Go back ten minutes and tell himself to fall back to sleep for a long long time.

He doesn't know how to answer an open question, one that requires more than a yes or no. He nods anyway.

"Yes, I can?" Max clarifies. Daniel doesn't understand why he looks so happy about it, but he nods again, and Max smiles, the lovely crinkly one that makes his cheek bunch up. It's a stab in his chest, realising how much he had been missing it, how long it had been since he had last seen it.

Max is efficient with his own clothes, stripping off and throwing them on the floor, but he's careful with Daniel, pulling him up and gently easing his underwear off, one leg at a time. Daniel finds himself looking at the wall over Max's back, refusing to look down at his own body, refusing to think about another time, when Max on his knees in front of him would have meant something completely different.

He lets Max help him into the bath too, water deliciously hot, scooting forward to let Max sit behind him.

For a second, the inch of space between them feels like a wall. Then Max sneaks a arm around his waist, pulling him against his chest, legs bracketing him.

Daniel lets himself go boneless, knowing Max will keep him upright.

He doesn't know how long they just stay like that, lost in the warmth of the water and the steady movement of Max's chest, but after a while he feels him shift behind him, reaching for something.

"I will wash your hair now, okay?"

Daniel nods, following Max's guidance to reposition himself slightly so that he has easier access to his hair, but keeps his eyes closed, brain for once blissfully quiet.

He doesn't know what he was expecting, but for sure not the smell of his favorite shampoo to fill his nostrils, aware that he had ran out weeks prior and hadn't bothered to buy more, using Max's 2in1 instead, uncaring of how frizzy it made his curls. He doesn't know when Max went to buy more, but it's yet another squeeze to his heart.

Max is slow with it, massaging Daniel's head, his firm and gentle fingers moving down towards his neck and shoulders too, working his tension away.

He holds a hand over Daniel's forehead when rinsing him, like Michelle does with the kids, and maybe once Daniel would have argued against the babying, but not now, not when he feels so deeply cared for.

He's not expecting to hear the click of another bottle opening, wasn't aware Max even knew of the existence of conditioner. He must make a sound, because he feels Max's chest move under him, as if Max is leaning forward to check his face.

"Okay?" he asks, fingers pausing in his hair.

Daniel hums, more sound than he's produced in hours, and it feels like a reward when Max presses a kiss on his wet shoulder.

"I called Vic, before," Max starts talking, hesitant and almost embarrassed, fingers twisting in Daniel's hair. Daniel doesn't know where this is going, but it's nice, to listen to Max's voice, his chest vibrating with it against his back, feeling closer than they had in weeks.

"I wanted to know, I..." Max huffs out half a laugh, self deprecating in a way he usually isn't. "I sent her pictures, of your hair things. I don't know why you have so many, but of course she knew, and..."

Daniel twists around, Max's fingers slipping from his hair, suddenly overcome with too much emotion to be able to deal with it like this. He bangs his knee against the side of the tub, his tense shoulders twinging with pain at the uncomfortable position, and he barely gets a glimpse of Max's spooked expression before he's burying his face in his shoulder, kissing the warm skin there.

He feels Max move, giving him more space to turn around, hands rubbing his back.

"I'm sorry," Max throws out in a rush, voice tense, and Daniel doesn't know what he's apologizing for, not when he's been so wonderful all this time. "I don't know, I..."

Max's voice breaks in sync with Daniel's heart.

"What have I done wrong?" Max begs, both keeping Daniel against him and pulling back, trying to look at him. "Daniel, please, if I..."

Daniel shakes his head grabbing at him to keep him close.

"No, it's good, you..." his voice is raspy from disuse and he can feel Max flinch in surprise when he hears it, but he pushes through, for once, unable to stand Max thinking he's done something wrong. "Thank you."

Tension bleeds out of Max's body as he cradles him close again, lips finding Daniel's hair, uncaring of the conditioner still there.

"I want," Max pauses, breathing out heavily, almost a sigh. "If I can do something to make you feel better, always I want to do it."

It splits Daniel's heart wide open, the candid way Max is able to say things like this, the steadiness with which he's never stopped caring for him, not even back when they weren't together, when they weren't even talking. He hopes Max can't feel the tear he can't stop on his already damp skin.

They breathe together for a long minute, while Daniel tries once again to process the impossibility of Max's love and Max holds him close, but it still feels too soon when his back starts screaming in protest, forcing him to turn back around.

They settle back in the previous position, but it feels like something dislodged in Daniel's chest. He feels lighter and more anchored at the same time, feels like Max's hands on his body are more real, like the fog in his brain has dispersed a little.

After rinsing the conditioner, careful hand still shielding Daniel's eyes, Max moves onto an hair mask.

"Vic said, of course she does not have your hair, but Vic said this was last," he explains, coiling Daniel's curls around his fingers, one by one, focused on the task as he would be on following the perfect racing line. "She said to do this, to make them right."

Daniel tries to imagine it, Max in the living room, or maybe on his run, or in the supermarket, calling his sister for advice on hair care. He knows he talks to his family most days, but it's different, to know he talks about him, about doing something to make Daniel feel good. A spike of shame curses through him, knowing that it means at least Victoria is aware of how much of a shitty boyfriend he's been lately, but for once it doesn't stay, quickly replaced by overwhelming affection. For Max, for asking, and for Victoria, for giving such careful and detailed instructions, clearly invested in making sure Max could do his best.

The water is cooling down by the time Max rinses off the hair mask and presses another kiss on Daniel's shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist once again.

"We can get out, or I can add hot water," he offers, lips brushing against Daniel's skin. Daniel almost asks him to stay, wanting to prolong the time spent in this little bubble of comfort, but their fingers are wrinkly and he knows his therapist appointment will be soon. He had thought about skipping it, earlier, just hide in bed and refuse to talk, but now that his brain is clearer he knows it would just make things harder.

When he moves, Max moves with him, keeping him steady as they both stand up, holding his hip as he rinses him with the shower head, knowing that Daniel doesn't like to just get out of the bath, even without him having to ask, taking his hand as they step out of the tub, offering him a towel.

Daniel doesn't fight when Max starts drying him, or when he squeezes the water out of his hair with another towel, or when he goes to the bedroom and comes back with clean clothes. He lets himself be taken care of, for once enjoying again being the center of Max's full attention.

It's only when Max steps back that Daniel notices how the hoodie Max is wearing is one of Daniel's, and it reminds him all over again how he's not the only one suffering from all the shit his brain is putting him through.

It makes his heart hurt, but at the same time he can't help but feel yet another wave of love for his boyfriend, who hasn't complained, hasn't left, has never made him feel guilty for any of this. His boyfriend, who so obviously misses him, enough to wear clothes that are too warm for him.

"Come here."

Max's head snaps up, surprise clear on his face, but when Daniel opens his arms he goes willingly, folding into himself a little to be able to fit against Daniel's chest.

"I love you," Max whispers it like a secret, hiding it in the folds of Daniel's sweater, and it makes Daniel wish he could fix his brain quickly, once and for all, just to not have to hear him so small ever again.

"I love you too."

He presses one kiss on Max's hair, then another.

He knows that when they'll break the hug, Max will probably try to convince him to have some food, then will sit in the living room pretending he isn't waiting for Daniel to be done with his session. He will try to make Daniel talk about it, go outside, eat dinner, brush his teeth, take his meds. He will be there, and stay there, even when Daniel kicks him to the guest room because he can't stand the touch of another human being, even when Daniel won't speak to him for hours and hours, too lost in his own head.

Daniel wants to say thank you, but it feels like there's so much he has to be thankful for, two little words wouldn't be enough. He hopes Max gets it anyway.

[r04dk1llx2]

Mike Schmidt Headcannons ⋆·˚ ༘ *

This sad little guy has been infecting my brain so badly, take my stupid little headcannons

Tags: NSFW, fem aligned reader, switch!mike, mike being a miserable little guy

SFW:

Mike, who’s hands are constantly clammy for no apparent reason. It deeply embarrasses him but you seem to find it endearing, even better if you’ve got clammy hands too. (self projecting 💪)

Mike, who loves going out for drives with you, even if he has no particular destination in mind. Blasting old rock music or obscure 80’s music, purely so he can hear you sing along.

Mike, who loves to call you a variety of different names. Your his pretty girl, his doll, his dearest. Although he might be too embarrassed to use most petnames, pretty girl seems to be his favorite.

Mike, who brings you and Abby little gifts from his workplace. Even if he may not have the most money, he’ll find ways to give the both of you small things that remind him of you.

Mike, who can’t help but find dumb little excuses to hold your hands. Comparing hand sizes? His hands are cold? No, he just wants to feel your hands intertwined with his, something about that feeling brings him a sense of comfort.

Mike, who adores the way you treat Abby, just watching you play with her and talk to her, the way you spoke to her so softly, or the way you’d always cheer her up when Mike couldn’t. He loves how motherly you can be, how well you treat him and his sister.

Mike, who’s prone to outbursts of anger, usually fueled by his past. He’s not very vocal about his anger, but you can definitely tell just based on his demeanor that he’s upset. The way his jaw ticks, the way his brows knit together, the way his eyes become 10x more intense. It’s intimidating, but he’s got you to calm him down.

Mike, who loves watching movies with you, something about just bonding over something as mundane as a movie has always cheered him up. Plus, in the comfort of his own home? Even better. Cheesy horror films or comedy films are his favorites, he loves getting to make fun of the movies alongside you.

Mike, who loves coming home after work to sleep beside you, carefully wrapping his arms around you. He loves the feeling of having someone he loves feel comfortable enough to sleep around him, it makes him feel safe and genuinely loved. Just having your body against his, and feeling the warmth of you beside him, was always able to instantly put him to sleep. No medication needed.

Mike, who always catches himself staring at you, completely entranced by you. He gets flustered so easily when you notice, immediately apologizing and looking down at his hands in an attempt to avoid eye contact, just for you to reassure him that everything’s alright and that you’d honestly enjoyed it.

NSFW under cut, proceed with caution.

NSFW:

Mike, who’s 100% a switch, he can go from a soft and caring dom to a whiny whimpering sub in mere seconds.

Mike, who’s got a major somnophilia kink, he loves when you “take care of him” while he’s having nightmares. Peppering soft kisses along his neck while he jolts in his sleep, slowly jerking him off as he lets out quiet moans. Only for him to wake up to you bouncing on his cock, desperately reciting his name as he finishes inside you.

Mike, who’s an exceptional brat tamer. Although typically a patient man, if you test him too much he would have no problem throwing you over his shoulder and taking you to his room, just for him to fuck all of the stubbornness out of you.

Mike, who will quite literally beg to eat you out, there’s something about watching your reactions as he thrusts his tongue inside of you, gently rubbing your clit with his free hand while the other holds your thighs apart. It turns him on so much, to the point where that alone will make him cum in his boxers.

Mike, who praises you every chance he gets, his pretty girl deserves nothing less. Whispering quiet praises into your ear as he rails you from behind, something along the lines of “Atta girl, doin’ so good f’me, jus’ a little longer-” before burying his head into the crook of your neck, hips bucking feverishly into you. Even while being on bottom, he can’t help but praise every little touch you give him.

Mike, who is so loud in bed, he physically cannot contain himself. Even the slightest touch will turn this man into a complete mess, whining and begging for more. You’ve considered buying a gag for him, purely due to Abby still living alongside you both, but you can’t help but love the noises he makes, sometimes he just needs something to bite down on to stifle his moans.

Mike, who has a tendency to steal your clothes just because they smell like you. Something about your scent drives him wild, to the point where he can’t help but jerk off just because of the smell. He hopes you’ll never notice the bite marks or barely visible stains littering some of your clothes, but at the same time, would never be opposed to you catching him, desperately humping a pillow, his teeth clenched down on an old hoodie of yours as he unloads into his hand.

Mike, who’s a god when it comes to aftercare. He’ll do all he can to make sure you feel comfortable, constantly checking in on you, wiping down your inner thighs with a warm towel after cumming inside you, bringing you a glass of water and a t-shirt of his until you both shower together. If your hurting, he’ll run you a bath, epsom salt and all. If your tired, no problem, he’ll hold you until you fall asleep, putting on one of your favorite movies in the background just to make sure you feel safe. There is nothing this man won’t do to keep you feeling good.

Apologies for the potentially bad writing- I’m an artist, not a writer. But, if you like what you see, feel free to send me some requests for future fics with Mike. I have a lot more planned with the silly little guy <33

[manjiroscum]

PRIMROSES

Character/s: Pantalone

Warnings: f!reader, a bit of explicit sex, mature language, arranged marriage, hurt&comfort, light angst, fluff, modern au, this is a bit cheesy ngl, reader's father is a dick, pantalone has violet eyes, reader being anxious, pantalone is a banker, pantalone being a simp, mentions of unprotected sex, mention of the use of condoms, hints of pregnancy, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: been long since i wrote so i apologize if it isn't the best 🥹 this piece is dedicated to my lovely bby suki 💖

Synopsis: Your dearest husband got the scare of his life.

WC: 2.4k

Distance makes the heart grow fond but prolonged absence makes the heart forget.

The day Pantalone agreed to marry you despite it being an arranged endeavor was supposed to make a blushing bride feel over the moon. To recall that fateful meeting was akin to viewing a love story just about to unfold on a large screen, blissfully unaware of what was coming next no matter how obvious the foreshadowing is shown. All that occupied your mind that moment was the faint scent of primroses that wafted around the vicinity that was graced by his presence. The scent became stronger with each passing second, especially when you happened to flick off a piece of lint that dared to tarnish his impeccable suit. The mere act alone had Pantalone smiling down at you, causing your poor unsuspecting heart to do a flip.

“Thank you, my dear. I never saw that.”

He was cordial during the first meeting, smiling and casually complimenting you or nodding to your father’s flowery description of his beautiful daughter. The way his eyes followed your every move was enough to have you grow conscious of whatever you do but also made you aware of his interest in his soon-to-be wife. He was every man’s dream—rich, powerful, and unbothered by those who dared to challenge him. After all, who could compete with such a force that is Snezhnaya City’s most wealthy and influential banker? Mere humans can not compete with a demigod of the financial world, let alone those who wish to become like him when there is only one Pantalone in the whole universe who has beaten all odds thrown at him by life to reach the pedestal where he is now.

Nothing would make you happier than to have him fall head over heels for you just like you did with the way he carried himself during the entire evening.

“Is the caviar delicious?”

Pantalone’s lips curled up at your eager nod, unable to take his eyes off of you just like you couldn’t gaze away from the man. He was so patient in explaining things you would ask him, gentle in holding your hand to kiss it as a momentary goodbye. The promise of more encounters shone through his amethyst irises behind those glasses, capturing every fiber of your being to believe in him for he shall never disappoint.

“I hope to see you again, preferably sometime this week.”

A man such as he deserved nothing but the best of the best. To marry Pantalone would be second to reaching those pearly gates—everything to be handed to you on a gold platter and happiness will be served once one gold band is around your pretty ring finger. To be Pantalone’s wife… Such bliss indeed.

And yet, it was damn lonely. After all those months of preparations and making sure the wedding, including the wedding night, was perfect—Pantalone never had free time to spend with you again the second the honeymoon was all over. You have never foreseen the loneliness after all those insatiable fucking, overflowing words of endearment, and sipping champagne with him. Your friend was the occasional helper in the penthouse once the knots were tied. Missing Pantalone dearly wasn’t part of the agreement.

What happened to his vows in keeping you happy?

Your father was the first person you consulted with this sudden change in Pantalone’s demeanor. Yet, he hardly provided any advice or assistance or anything at all to explain the distance between you and your husband. For someone who arranged the marriage, you would’ve thought he’d lend you a hand and be sure the relationship wouldn’t go sour.

“Daughter, I think you shouldn’t be too… clingy, you know? Your husband needs some space from time to time. A man can’t run a business when his wife is hogging all of his time. Just don’t get all emotional. You tend to overreact…”

Frustrated, you slammed the door after walking out of your dad’s office. Hot angry tears threatened to drip down your warm cheeks at his statement. No wonder your mother left his sorry ass too soon.

You? Clingy? Overreacting?

Pantalone couldn’t even keep his hands off of you during the honeymoon period, even going far as to glare at the waiter who was making passes at you at that French restaurant. He tore the dress you wore that night with his bare hands while stamping hot kisses onto every skin his lips could touch. His fingers burying deep in your wet pussy he made possible so easily. The intoxicating smell of primrose and your shampoo mingled in your shared bedroom, with a mixture of sweat and fluids. His mouth claimed yours again and again just like his cock stretching your hole with each powerful thrust. Your husband burned through his stash of condoms meant for a month that night. You failed to recall how many times he came inside you, whispering his devotion directly into your ears while pounding you sore.

Pantalone valued your time like he valued his money. Those lips spoke of unattainable treasures he can buy, pledging he shall get them if you do ask. Yet, you never requested any material things. While you were grateful, it was his presence and his time you sought—far more valuable than any gold or jewel.

He found this far too amusing.

“Dearest, it somehow pains me that you don’t want this Birkin that will absolutely go well with that dress. Normally I would insist, but if you merely want to spend an evening alone with me, who am I to say no?”

It was his sturdy form keeping you from stumbling after too many drinks or the way he tucks back stray hairs from your face that made your soul fall harder. The quirk of his brow or the curve on his lips as he intently listens to you had your heart leaping in euphoria. This may have been an arranged marriage, however, it was better than you imagined. Pantalone may be the best husband there is…

A husband you rarely see anymore due to the drastic change in his behavior.

No matter how you tried to call him every day, you couldn’t help but hang on to his cryptic messages as responses or calls that last for a minute. The meals for two set on the table morphed slowly into one. His chair was often empty beside yours as you ate in silence. Traces of him being in the penthouse was rare, and even if he were to come home, only his warmth beside your side of the bed and the faint scent of primroses were all you could witness.

The ride down the elevator was uneventful as it can be. But your mind was racing faster than the cogs of the machine working to take you to the parking level. Pantalone consumed your thoughts even as you got into the Bentley Pantalone gifted you as a wedding gift. Sitting there and staring into space in the driver’s seat, you sighed.

Where did you go wrong?

You were quite sure everything was going so well between you two. Plus, you made sure not to do anything that will annoy him or anything. Pantalone was straightforward in telling you what ticked him off and what he found pleasant. He laid out his terms just as you did yours before you both agreed to marry one another.

So, what was keeping him so busy that he could barely see his wife, let alone be at home all the time?

Groaning, you leaned back against the seat and covered your face. You didn’t want to shed any tears, not in a parking lot where anyone can see. And frankly, you didn’t want to cry just because Pantalone hasn’t been paying you any attention. Oh god, perhaps you have gone too clingy. Too clingy that he has made his office his home and refuses to see you. For weeks, you have been sick with worry. Mornings, where you refuse to eat and even vomit the food you ate at dinner, were more frequent. To lose sleep over your husband’s absence was not the ideal way to go. But how can you lay in bed when Pantalone was out there doing god knows what?

No longer fighting back the tears, you nodded in defeat. Perhaps your father was right. Maybe you have gone too far as to cling to him in every moment you saw each other. Yeah, that’s probably why… You were quite sure of this, enough to go home and pack your things hastily into a suitcase. Hellbent on leaving him first before he can think of doing it. The rash decision fueled by your sorrows grew more rational with each minute that passed.

Because if he were seeing another woman, you were certain you would die on the spot—right there and then. You couldn’t bare to lose half of your soul when you just found it.

Pantalone, fortunately for him, came home to retrieve papers in his office just in time as you were about to wheel your suitcase out the front door. What appeared to be a normal day went crashing down instantly at the scene in front of the banker. A look of shock flashed in his features that you were sure you have never seen grace his face before. He was quick to compose himself, though, and approached you in confusion. You tried to hide your tear-streaked face, hoping the last image he will see of you is an epitome of immaculate and not someone about to get kicked out.

Yet, fate wouldn’t have it, eh?

“D-dearest, is there something wrong? Why have you packed your—what’s going on?” Despite the urgency and demand in his tone, Pantalone’s voice was shaky. Why on earth was his wife leaving him? Had he done anything wrong? Mind trying to come up with a memory or incident where he might’ve said something to offend you, Pantalone instantly shut the door and blocked it with his body when you moved past him. “Sweetheart, I won’t be able to understand or appease you if you wouldn’t tell me what’s bothering you.”

He watched as you swallowed, trying to avoid eye contact with him. Normally, this type of behavior would irritate him. But this was you. Pantalone would rather set his bank and possessions on fire than scare you away—the charming woman who genuinely enjoyed his company and listened to him rather than worm your way into his life for his money.

“I…I can’t do this anymore,” you responded with a hiccup from all the sobbing you did earlier. Pantalone’s mind haywire at your statement, unsure whether to hold you to keep you from running or to let you go. What could have possibly turned you this way? It wasn’t until your teary eyes met his that the realization of his constant absence sunk into him. “You’ve been… distant lately. I t-tired to reach out multiple times. I know you’re a busy man, but—” you cut yourself off to keep another sob from bubbling out.

Your trembling body was then encased by Pantalone’s, arms wrapping around you. The burst of his familiar scent of those damn flowers that always muddled your mind now cleared your thoughts. Instead of pushing him away, you found yourself crying in his arms, refusing to let go. Your husband sighed heavily, whispering his apologies and rubbing your back to soothe you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I am… aware that I’ve been away. I know my lack of reaching out shouldn’t be excused, but do know that whatever you think I am doing is false.” Cupping your face, Pantalone leaned down to kiss your eyelids and tears. He continued to press kisses around your face until you quieted down, still holding onto him. He resumed his explanation with a small smile. “I shouldn’t have left you all alone, especially when the plans I’ve been busy with concern our house. Will you forgive your stupid husband for his mistake, mhm? Please stop crying, dearest. I can’t bare to see you this sad. I know I truly messed up this time… I am willing to make things right.”

Blinking twice, you registered the information regarding his lack of presence. While you were glad he admitted his mistake, this was a reminder that even such an accomplished man like Pantalone was still human at the end of the day. And a house? For the family that you two will soon have? He thought of this relationship far ahead...

Is this man's mission to make you fall even harder?

“You did. You fuckin’ made me worry so much.”

“Language, sweetheart. You know I only want to hear you say filthy words when you’re underneath me,” he joked that your eyes rolling. Pantalone then fished out a handkerchief from his suit pocket, handing it to you. “Now, dry those tears. I’ll take you to see the progress of the construction tomorrow. We’ll have lunch at that restaurant you have been wanting to go to. How does that sound?”

You grabbed the handkerchief he gave you and blew into the expensive material, giggling at the grimace that he tried to mask.

“Okay. But I’ll forgive you, stupid husband, if you promise not to do this again and communicate. And if you will promise to keep the rest of your days free for me. I miss my stupid husband so much that I’ve forgotten how he feels next to me.” You coupled your statement with a soft teasing smile. Pantalone exhaled in relief and then nodded without hesitation, not minding what you called him.

“Of course, dearest. Anything you want.”

Humming in delight, you hugged him again. Those three words you always say slipped past your lips, relief both in your hearts. Pantalone whispered those words back, squeezing you tighter. The crisis has been averted, but simply letting him get away with this is not happening. He knows this.

“And one more thing, can we eat at a different restaurant? I’ve been craving sushi since last night.”

“Craving sushi?” His brow raised at your request, pulling away to stare at you. “But I thought you couldn’t stand raw food right now? You said so last time. Isn’t that the reason why you wanted to eat Italian dishes?”

While it was endearing that Pantalone remembered that phone call back when he was missing in action, you went still at the memory. Sharing a look with him, perhaps there was something more than simply missing him that was causing your mood to switch faster than a broken light switch.

🎐taglist: @dottores @manjirousagi @festive @tokyometronetwork @saetoru @saeshiraw @saecore

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

hi mo! i want to wish you a HUGE congrats on your milestone (: you deserve every single follow and like and reblog! your writing is so, so good and it brings me sm comfort if youre still taking requests, can i pls request alfie + “how long has it been since someone hugged you?”

Oh Noni this was so sweet! You are so so kind. It brings me immense joy that my writing brings you comfort. That is the greatest compliment I could ever receive. I’m sending all my love to you darling, I hope you enjoy this.

Guys this is the last request from our 100 Follower Celebration!!! This was so fun and I am so in love with the community we have built here together!!! I’m currently working on our final installment of Interviews for New Beginnings!!! Anyway I love y’all so much, have an amazing day my loves!! - Mo

100 Follower Celebration: Always

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing

“Mr. Solomons. I know you don’t want to hear this… or anything I’ve said the past 10 years I’ve been your physician… but you really need to watch your stress levels sir. It may very well kill you one day.”

Dr. Young had been treating Alfie Solomons exclusively for 10 years. Every stab wound, bullet hole, and influenza season had been watched over diligently by the good doctor. But every month his largest concern was Alfie Solomons’ blood pressure and tension headaches. Unfortunately for Dr. Young… Alfie Solomons was the worst patient he ever had.

Alfie ripped the stethoscope off his burly chest and threw it back at his doctor, “Bah fuck off. Respectfully of course. I’m fine. I’m going to live longer than you mark my words. Stress is good for the body.”

Dr. Young shrugged, there was no use fighting with Alfie. Usually Alfie would see reason and silently beckon and repent right before death came knocking, “If you believe Mr. Solomons. Anyway I want you to keep counting your pulse and recording it. Not that you’ll do it I wager. But I’ll be back same time next week.”

“Yeah, right. See Ollie gives you your fee. And double check with my secretary that your window is still open.”

Dr. Young smiles, “I’ll be sure to let her know that I gave you a task so that she keeps you accountable as well.”

As he walked out, leaning heavily on his wooden cane to offset his heavy medical bag, Alfie hollered after him, “You will do no such thing damn you! Ask her the schedule and nothing else!”

Alfie hears the slight chuckle of his ancient physician behind the closed door. Alfie finally lets out the sigh of relief he had been holding tightly all morning. His head falls into his calloused hands. The slow and rhythmic push and rush of his palms against his eyes and temple soothe the panging and banging in his head. An ache that has been ever present for the past few days. One that hasn’t been aided at all by the lack of water in his day to day.

The past few days have been Alfie’s own personal hell. The Americans’ prohibition on spirits has added another layer of problems to the business. New men had been hired and were not all bright, causing more mistakes than their bodies were worth. Cops were getting greedy, and were needing more to smooth their hands and seal their lips. Usually, a boss would have been able to hand off problems to lower levels. Not Alfie. Never Alfie. Alfie doesn’t get to give jobs to anyone else. No one wants to help Alfie. Alfie is to solve every problem. By himself. If he doesn’t do it, it will not get done. If he doesn’t fix it, everything will fall. But it’s always been like this. Ever since his father passed away, he’s been the man. He’s been the fixer. The protector. The boss. The leader. He alone can do it. He alone does it. He alone. He is alone.

Through the barricade of his stress and rage and sweat and stiff muscles, he hears his door click open, and the soft tap of your feet across the floor boards. Your sweet bell voice tingles his nerves, “Alright Alfie I set up Dr. Young’s appointment next week so you are all settled. This afternoon you have two more meetings. Mr. Yusef and Mr. Edmonds. Also you will need to look over the shipping particulars for the shipment to New York in three we- Alfie are you alright?”

You pause looking at his face. He’s always looked rather scruffy and wild but this was different. His face was gaunt and ashen. His usually ruddy cheeks were pale and covered in a thin sheen of sick sweat. Those bright blue and sparkling eyes looked glossy. If you didn’t know better… they could almost be tears.

You don’t even let him try and explain away his symptoms.

“We’re cancelling the rest of your meetings today. No arguements.”

Screaming. Shouting. Bellowing. The glass in the window panes shake. The wood of the desks bang like the sound of gunshots and canons. “VILE WOMAN YOU TOUCH THAT CALENDAR YOU ARE FIRED DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU BRING YOURSELF BACK HERE NOW!”

You ignore him, calling the other secretaries, having to shout over the bellows and cries of your melodramatic yet beloved boss. The excuse you concocted didn’t matter. You wouldn’t care to remember the story you told. You would deal with it later. What mattered was clearing the calendar to make sure that Alfie could be released from his bindings that he so tightly wound around himself cutting the circulation and breath of peace.

You set the cornflower blue and cream colored tea pot on the little stove in the corner. Gingerly stoking the flame, coaxing warmth and light into a sweet roar. You call for hearty treats from the bakery next door, a good array to settle the spirit of your war laden boss. Soon the tea is ready and the soulful remedies are set. The roaring of the animal in the office has settled into rumbles. It was safe to enter.

Upon entering Alfie is again shouting, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve treacle. I am your boss. I am your superior officer. I pay your paycheck. And you have the absolute fucking audacity to…”

You let the hot words wash over you like a summer storm. You place your tools of healing on Alfie’s desk, swiftly and quietly. You take your spot in your chair across from him, grabbing his worry worn wooden pipe and filling it with his tobacco. Like a dance you’ve done a thousand times, he gingerly takes that pipe from you as he’s still yelling and scolding, pausing briefly to light it and suck in that air like it’s his last meal.

You smile as he blusters on like a thunder cloud. There was no true threat. You would never really be fired. Even if he was cross with you. There was a certain comfort in the noise. Like the storm cloud the noise signified that there was still life and that a calm would soon follow. But there was still the tightness in his shoulders. There was still that look you saw before he started to storm and blow. In a feat of courage you cocked your head to the side, “When was the last time someone hugged you?”

Immediate silence.

“What. What the fuck did you just ask me?”

“When’s the last time someone hugged you? You look like you need one sir.”

His index finger might as well have been a loaded pistol the way he pointed at you, “Men do not hug. I have never been hugged nor will I ever hug do you hear me? Hugged?! It’s even a ridiculous word. I mean… hugged?! No! I don’t want one I don’t need one that is completely and utterly ridiculous!”

You smile, knowing that he would say something like that. As if approaching a wild dog you put your hand out, offering yourself to him. Offering your vulnerability to him. Alfie stared down as thought it held an invisible gun, unsure what it was you held. Carefully and out of practice, he slowly slipped his hand in yours. Cool and smooth fingertips against is hot rough hands. Your hands so easily slips around his, finally finding its home. To Alfie’s absolute shock, he watches as your perfect thumb runs patterns and circles around his scarred knuckles and ornate rings. He watches the way your lashes flutter and soft smile blooms on your face. In a gentle caress to his ears you say, “You know you don’t have to keep it all inside. You can ask for help.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. But doesn’t move his hand away, “I don’t need help.”

You laugh, and he feels his heart skip, “Oh I’m sure you don’t. I’m sure you could run this entire thing by yourself.”

“I could.”

“I know.”

Alfie hums, satisfied that he’s won enough. You sit in silence, the muffled sounds of the distillery and street below being the only signs that you’re still on Earth. Alfie never moved his hand, never responding to your ministrations beyond a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you… for… being here.” Alfie finally breaks the silence. He can’t help the blush that rises to his ears and cheeks. He can’t look away from the smile on your perfect lips.

You nod at him, squeezing his hand and shaking it. “Always.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 14- Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Summary: You and Javi celebrate your first Christmas together in Laredo

Word Count: 11.3K (could be worse?)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), oral (f receiving), face sitting (awh hell yes), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink, mentions of food/eating, mentions of grief/death (but it's sweet), children being assholes (I'm a teacher, I'm allowed to say it), our favorite idiots Carter and Miller making a brief appearance (I missed them), Javi being so sweet with kids (this does deserve a warning, I'm sorry) Javi being so kind, patient, thoughtful, amazing UGH he is too good for this earth 🥹😩

A/N: Thank you for your patience as I finally get this chapter done! Life has been absolutely crazy these past two weeks, so I'm hoping now that things have settled down, I can get back to working on chapters at a more regular schedule 🥴 If you're a Christmas girlie (gender neutral) like me, this chapter is for you, because even though it's only October, I really can't help myself (and like these two idiots celebrating Christmas together for the first time?! C'mon 🥺)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

“So you’re leaving early today to do arts and crafts? That’s a new one.” Agent Miller snickered, leaning over his desk to slap his partner, Agent Carter, in amusement as they watched their boss begin to organize his desk and pack up his briefcase, already rolling his eyes in annoyance at the grief he was about to get from his co-workers for his early departure. 

“I’m not the one doing the arts and crafts. I’m just going into her class to help, you idiot.” Javi sighed, glaring at Miller as he finished sorting the rest of his paperwork piles. 

Last week, you had asked Javi if he would be able to come into your classroom one afternoon when he wasn't busy, to help with the project you were planning for your students to give to their parents as a Christmas gift before they left for winter break. You had quickly realized that for the sake of your sanity,  what you had planned was nowhere near a one man job, and because it was a surprise gift for their families, you didn’t want to ask any parents to come into help. Javi had happily accepted, even with your adamant warnings of the case of Christmas Crazies your class had with only days left before winter break. 

“…. To help do arts and crafts. Just callin’ a spade a spade here, Peña. Does that mean we’re gonna start having craft time here, too?” Miller and Carter chuckled to themselves, smirking at Javi, now slinging his briefcase over his shoulder, making his way out of his office. 

“Listen, Miller. Give Peña all the shit you want, but I would way rather be cutting and gluing shit and throwing fist fulls of glitter in the air than working on these fucking reports.” Carter huffed, waving the file folder Miller was supposed to be working on in his face before throwing it back down on his desk. 

“Fair enough.” 

“I wouldn’t trust you dumbasses with scissors and glue if my life depended on it.” Javi groaned, raising an eyebrow at the pair before picking up one of the finished reports off of Carter’s desk, using it to point at the two on his way out. “These better be done by the time I get back tomorrow.” 

“But I’m gonna need extra time to decorate them for you, Peña!” Miller grinned, he and Carter playfully swatting at each other in hysterics, Javi flipping them off as he headed out the door. 

After his mom passed, Javi would have never thought Alma Pierce Elementary School would be a place that would hold any more relevance to him, let alone be a place that he would frequent, now that his future wife worked there. He couldn’t help but smile as he pulled into the parking lot, thinking about the joy it would have brought Lucia to see that her years of having Javi help her with her own classroom were still going to good use with you. He also couldn’t help but smile to himself as he grabbed the coffee sitting in his cup holder he had picked up for you on the way over from the station, also knowing his mom would have had some choice words to say to him if he showed up empty handed to your classroom.  

After checking in with the office, he made the now familiar route down to your classroom, weaving through the tiny bodies patterning down the hallway, screeching and squealing with what had to be uncontrollable Christmas excitement. He gently tapped at your door before opening it, a grin growing across your face as you looked up from your desk as you saw your fiancé with an extra large cup of coffee in his hands at the doorway. 

“Oh my god, you brought me coffee? I owe you my life, you are the best. Thank you.” The sigh you let out felt like the weight of the world lifted off your shoulders as you shot up to run over to Javi, giving him a big hug before snatching the cup out of his hands and taking a long swig of the caffeine you knew you were going to need to get you through the afternoon. 

“I figured you could probably use it.” Javi chuckled, pressing a kiss into the top of your head before looking around, noticing that you were the only one in your room. “Where are the kids?” 

“They’re at lunch, I was just about to leave to go pick them up. They’ve been absolute psychopaths today. I know it’s wrong to say I wanna drop kick a child out a window, but I’m real close.” You grumbled, taking another long sip of your coffee. “I don’t think I would have made it out alive today if you didn’t come in to help, so I apologize in advance for their behavior. I may or may not have told them that because you work for the police you keep track of what kids are well behaved or not to try and scare them a little.” You grimaced, knowing that the comment you had made earlier to your kids when you told them Javi was coming into help wasn’t the most ethical, but you were desperate for anything that would even remotely help control the chaos in your classroom with only 2 days left before winter break. 

“Any kids in particular I need to be on the lookout for?” Javi asked, laughing to himself as you leaned over to set your coffee on your desk before heading towards the door to go pick up your class from the cafeteria. 

“Oh… you’ll know them when you see them.” 

You closed the door behind you, giving Javi a quick wink, leaving him alone in your classroom to wait for the arrival of the promised circus show that was your students. He wandered over to your desk, peeking through the piles of papers, sticky notes of to-do’s and drawings your students had given you. On the wall by your calendars, there was a photo of you and your family, 2 of you and Javi, and a note that he had written you one day and stuck in your lunch box, scribbled down in his rushed handwriting 

Te amo mucho, hermosa. Have a great day.  

-J 

He thumbed gently at the wrinkled note, smiling to himself, still in awe of how the pieces of him seemed to follow you in everywhere you went. The sweet moment was quickly interrupted by the sounds of little voices bursting through the doorway, chattering away as they rushed to go sit on the carpet at the front of the room. 

“Who’s that guy?!” A boy’s voice asked, pointing in Javi’s direction before balling up his body and doing a literal somersault across the carpet. 

“It’s Mr. Peña! Do you not remember when our teacher told us before lunch that he was coming, dummy?” A girl’s voice responded, rolling her eyes at the boy, now laying face down on the floor. As more and more kids came over to the carpet, the more and more voices began to chime in. 

“Don’t call him a dummy, Angela, that’s mean!”

“Well he is!” 

“Why does that guy have a mustache?” 

“My uncle has a mustache!” 

“When are we going home?” 

“Miguel tried to kick me in the nuts at recess!” 

“I did not!” 

You buried your hands in your face, letting out a deep sigh, shaking your head before looking back at Javi, quietly mouthing “I’m so sorry.” across the room before making your way to the front of the class. 

“If you can hear me, clap once.” 

3 or 4 half hearted claps followed over the chatter. 

“If you can hear me, clap twice.” 

More students began to join in, curious to see that Javi was now also following your directions. 

“If you can hear me, put your hands on your head and turn off your voice.” 

Finally, the volume of your room began to ease, all of your students, and Javi, quietly looking at you with their hands resting on top of their heads. 

“Okay, 3rd graders. Right now, we are going to work on our holiday presents for our grownups we’ve been talking about all week. Remember how I told you this morning that we have someone special coming in to help today?” The class nodded, eyes glued on Javi. “This is Mr. Peña. Can you guys say hi?” 

“Hi, Mr. Peña!” The class waved at him, Javi now smiling and waving back at them. 

“Mr. Peña is taking time out of his day to come help us with our project, so we need to show him what a respectful, responsible and safe class we are, okay? If we can follow directions and everyone gets their project done, then we will have time for extra recess at the end of the day.” Javi snickered at the silent grins and high-fives on the carpet in hopes of bonus time outside. “Once you glue your picture on your plate to make your snowglobe, you can come see me to put the snowflakes inside, and then take it over to Mr. Peña and he’s going to hot glue it for you.” 

A tiny hand quickly shot up, waving it back and forth. “No, Miguel. You cannot use the hot glue gun. It’s a grownup's only job.” You tried your best not to roll your eyes as Miguel frowned and put his hand back in his lap, knowing damn well he would be one to try and hot glue his hands together. “Do we have any questions before we start?” Almost all of your class’s hands shot up immediately, all beaming at Javi, frantically wiggling their arms in the air. You laughed to yourself, knowing that none of them had any questions about the project, and just wanted to talk to Javi. “Are these all just questions for Mr. Peña?” The class nodded, now squirming in their spots. “Okay, we can do 3 questions right now, and maybe if we have time at the end we can ask him some more questions. Is that okay, Mr. Peña?” 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.” Javi smiled, trying his best to keep from smirking at you and your teacher voice that seemed to be having a much stronger effect on him than he had intended.  

“Okay, Mr. Peña is going to pick 3 people who are sitting on their bottom and are waiting quietly and patiently for a turn.” You couldn’t help but smirk back at him as he stepped next to you on the front of the carpet, nervously running his thumb over his knuckles to prepare for his interrogation from 8 and 9 year olds. He pointed over to a girl at the back of the group, nodding to her to ask whatever was on her mind. 

“So you’re marrying our teacher? Do you love her? Have you ever kissed her before?” The entire class erupted with giggles as Javi’s face went red with embarrassment. 

“Uh,  yeah. I love her a lot and that’s why we’re getting married.” Javi leaned over to whisper in your ear as the kids continued to snicker. “Am I allowed to answer the last part?” 

“We’re not gonna talk about kissing at school, okay, Maya?” You laughed, giving Javi a little nudge as he pointed to the next student, picking a boy this time, in hopes that he wouldn’t have intense questions about his love life. 

“Our teacher said that you work at the police station. Have you ever arrested anyone? Do you catch bad guys?” One of the boys asked, the rest of the class leaning in with intrigue. Javi rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, trying to maneuver another hard hitting question. 

“Well I uh, I help train the guys who catch the bad guys, I don’t actually go out and catch them.” 

“SO YOU DON’T THROW PEOPLE IN JAIL?!” Miguel shouted out, barely letting Javi answer his question. 

“I’m gonna throw you in jail, Miguel…” you muttered under your breath, hiding your face behind Javi’s shoulder, the both of you trying to contain your laughter. 

“No, I don’t. Uh okay, last one.” He pointed to another girl who had been patiently waiting with her hand raised the entire time Javi had been sharing. 

“One time, my grandpa punched my dad in the face, and they kept punching and punching and so then my mom called the police, and then he had to go to jail and my Grandpa kept yelling you motherfu-.” 

“OKAY, on that note we’re gonna start with our projects, everything is already on your desks. Come see me for snowflakes and Mr. Peña for gluing both pieces together.” Your eyes widened in horror, jumping in to try and cut her off before she could finish the rest of her thought. It had thankfully seemed like the rest of the class had been oblivious, racing back to their desks to work on their projects. You pinched the bridge of your nose before rubbing your fingers against your temples, trying not to wither away from the embarrassment your class had decided to subject you to with their questions for Javi. 

“... I am so sorry.” You sighed, shaking your head as you looked over at Javi, trying his best to keep from laughing at the antics your class was already up to before they had even started working on their project. 

“Is this what it’s like every day?” Javi’s eyes widened as he looked out at the classroom, already overwhelmed by the noise and bodies moving everywhere. 

“It’s normally not this bad, I swear I’m a good teacher. With it being 2 days before break, as long as everyone makes it home alive, I’m calling it a win. Thank you again for coming to help, Jav. You okay to man the hot glue station?” 

“Of course, Osita.” He smiled, giving your hand a little squeeze. 

“Miguel will legitimately try to glue his hands together, so just be… extra careful when he comes around.”  

You couldn’t have been more thankful that Javi had agreed to help you with your project, because passing out confetti snowflakes alone was enough to make you lose your mind, let alone try and glue things together, too. Through the chaos, you and Javi found yourself exchanging quick glances, quietly laughing to yourself at the craziness. You couldn’t help but stare a little longer as you watched Javi your students, patiently helping each of them, listening to them share about who they were planning on giving their handmade gift to, complementing them on their work,  and carefully monitoring to make sure no one (especially Miguel) got too close to the hot glue gun. You’d be lying if  you said it ever got old watching how goddamn sweet he was with any kid he talked to, making your heartbeat a little faster at the thought of how much sweeter he’d be when it was one of your own. 

By some miracle, everyone had finished with their gift before it was time for gym, glady sending them on their way to go burn off some excessive energy to help you through the last few hours of the day. Javi’s mom had clearly trained him well, coming back to find him helping to clean up the leftover mess from your crafts after dropping your class off. 

“You don’t have to help clean up, Jav. You’ve already done more than enough.” You sighed, sitting yourself on top of the desk Javi was next to, reaching out to grab his hand. 

“Osita. If this is what you do every fucking day all day long, the least I can help you do is clean up. Jesus Christ, this was fucking exhausting.” 

“Well, I really threw you into the worst of it, so I apologize. Thank you again for helping. The kids really liked you. They kept asking the whole way to gym when you were going to come back. I told them when they stopped acting like a pack of wild monkeys, maybe you’ll consider.” You and Javi laughed, Javi gently resting his hand on your knee, thumb circling against your jeans. 

“I’ll come back any time, Hermosa. Getting to watch my hot, future wife kick ass at her job is way better than having to harp on Carter and Miller to run the reports I ask them to every goddamn day. I’m more than happy to stay if you need more help, but I figured since I took the rest of the afternoon off, and I have a genuine appreciation for a fraction of how fucking hard your job is, I would go home and make whatever you want for dinner and finish up shit around the apartment so we can spend tonight doing whatever you want.” You smiled up at Javi, reaching your hand under his chin, pulling it closer to you to plant a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Someone’s really trying to make sure they make their place on the Nice List before Christmas.” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at Javi, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You deserve it all, Osita. It’s seriously the least I can do. Although, the things I wanna do to you later are definitely gonna end me up on the Naughty List.” He gripped his hand around the meat of your thigh, giving it a long squeeze as he placed a tender kiss on your lips, trying to use every ounce of self control to remember he was still at your work, let alone an elementary school where an 8 year old could come busting through the door at any moment. 

“You’re such a fucking dork. You’re lucky I love you so much.” You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at him. “Thank you, Jav. You really are the best. Can we do breakfast for dinner?” 

“I had a feeling that was what you were gonna ask for.” 

“Breakfast is the superior food at all hours of the day, and no one can convince me otherwise.” 

“Pancakes or waffles?” 

“Surprise me.” 

You pecked a quick kiss onto Javi’s cheek before sliding off the desk, wrapping your arms around him, giving him a hug, pressing your face into the fabric of his dress shirt, savoring the familiarity of his sweet and spicy cologne that had become the scent that smelled like home. “Alright, as much as I don’t want you to leave, I probably should be a good teacher and print the rest of the things I need and salvage a survival plan for the next two days before the gremlins get back.” 

“I’ll see you at home, Hermosa. Love you” 

“Love you too.” 

With one last squeeze, and a wave as he headed out the door, Javi left you in your empty classroom, looking out at the disaster left in your student’s wake. Christmas couldn’t come fast enough. 

Anything that you had planned for the afternoon had quickly gone out the window after your class had returned from gym, your plans for an extra long recess turning into an even longer recess, and part of a movie before sending the kids on their way home. Some way or another, you were able to drag yourself home, the promise of breakfast food keeping you afloat the entirety of your drive home. 

As you walked down the hallway of your apartment, you could hear the quick pops and sizzles of the bacon Javi was cooking over the muffled Christmas music in the background. Turning your key in the lock on the doorknob, you pushed the door open, immediately dropping your school bag and kicking off your shoes, practically falling to the floor from exhaustion. Before you could even turn around to greet Javi, you felt his arms reaching under your legs and around your shoulders, making you squeal as he scooped you up, carrying you across the entry way towards the living room. 

“Hi?” You laughed, looking up at Javi in confusion as to why you had barely made it 2 feet into your apartment before he was picking you up and carrying you away. 

“Hi.” He smiled down at you, giving you a little shake in his grip. 

“Can I ask why you’re carrying me? Am I not allowed to walk anymore?” You guestrued down at the ground, watching your legs dangle with each step Javi took. 

“Because you work harder than anyone I know, and after today, if I’m fucking tired, you must be fucking exhausted, and my amazing, beautiful future wife deserves to relax.”

 He paused, tilting his head down to give you a kiss before turning his body the opposite direction. You had been so focused on Javi as he carried you from the doorway, you hadn’t even realized what was set up in the living room until he had shifted his position, facing you towards it. You looked over to see a blanket fort built between the ends of the couch, TV paused and ready to watch “It’s A Wonderful Life”, and the Christmas tree the two of you had decorated together lit up and twinkling, casting warm shadows on the walls. “Pajamas are in there, so change, lay down and I’m bringing you breakfast while we watch the movie.” 

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you looked out at the living room and back up at Javi. “Javi, you didn’t have to-” 

“I know, I didn’t have to do anything. I wanted to. I know how much you love Christmas and how we haven’t done much to celebrate since you’ve been busy with work, so I wanted to do something for you.” A grin grew across Javi’s face, watching your jaw hang open in shock as he set you down, letting you go over to examine his blanket creation. You stood there, shaking your head in disbelief, wondering to yourself how the hell you had gotten so lucky that someone cared enough about you to make you dinner after a long day, let alone plan something special for you, even if it was just in your living room. Before you could even respond, Javi was heading back to the kitchen to turn off the beeping timer of the oven, gesturing over to the fort. “I’ll be in there in a second.” 

“Javi, you set this all up for me, at least let me help with dinner or-” 

“Osita. Go put on pajamas and lay down. I swear to God, you’re the only person I’ve ever met that needs more convincing to go sit and relax than get up and do things.” He laughed, pointing at the covered couch, demanding you to get in. You held your hands up in defense before kneeling down to peek under the blankets Javi had draped over the top to see your comforter, all the pillows and blankets you owned, and your favorite sweatshirt and sweatpants of Javi’s folded neatly on top of everything. You quickly stood back up, unzipping and shuffling out of your jeans, trading them out for the sweatpants before stripping yourself of your shirt and bra, peeking around the corner to see Javi biting down on his bottom lip, eyes glued to you as you slipped his sweatshirt over your head. 

“I should have known better than to think you would have put out clothes for me to change into for any other reason than your own selfish gain, Javier Peña.” You jabbed, Javi shrugging as he grabbed two plates of the breakfast that he had finished cooking, bringing them back over to you. 

“Me? Wanting to watch you change on purpose, knowing damn well you were gonna take your bra off before you put my sweatshirt on? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Osita.” He smirked, a devilish grin growing across his face as he ducked into the fort, giving you a quick wink. 

“You? Wanting to see my boobs? Yeah, you’re right, how silly of me.” You groaned, voice oozing with sarcasm as you followed him, snuggling yourself under a blanket as Javi handed a plate over to you. “In all seriousness, this is really sweet of you, Javi. Thank you. Didn’t picture you as a big blanket fort kind of guy.” You giggled, giving him a little nudge. 

“I would make them all the time when I was little. Especially with my mom. I’d play with Hot Wheels in there, or my mom would read with me- I don’t know, maybe it’s from being with you at school today, and thinking about her, but I got home and thought you’d like it. You seem like someone who made their fair share of blanket forts as a kid.” Javi’s face beamed with a soft smile, the dimples of his cheeks creasing as he grinned over at you. 

“That’s really sweet. She sounds like she was the best mom. That’s a lot sweeter than my memories of building forts. My brothers and I had a pretty much permanent one set up in the basement made from old hockey sticks, but it was referred to in our house as Pound Town. We would go in and beat the shit out of each other with pillows until it collapsed on us and we’d have to pause, try to build it again, and beat the shit out of each other with pillows as we argued about if we were building it right or not. My parents let it slide because we weren’t annoying them, until one day when Patrick and I got in a huge fight about which couch cushions to use and he took one of the hockey sticks and hit me in the face and gave me a black eye. Pound Town was no more after that.” You grimaced, taking a bite of one of the  chocolate chip pancakes Javi had put on your plate. 

“I’m pretty sure at this point, you could tell me that you and your brothers robbed a bank and I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“We were always well behaved during December, though. My parents definitely played into the threat of being on the naughty list as soon as Thanksgiving was over. At least they got a few weeks of peace each year. I honestly think that my parents were just as excited for Christmas movies as we were, because it at least gave them an hour and a half of semi-silence.” You laughed, nodding your head towards the TV. 

“I’m gonna be honest, Osita. I don’t blame them.” You sighed, leaning your head against Javi’s chest, feeling it rise and fall with each small huff of laughter. “We don’t have to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” either, I just know you said you liked it and we didn’t get to watch it yet.” 

“No, this is a perfect pick. It’s one of my favorites. You wanna start it?” Reaching over for the remote, you smiled at Javi as he nodded, pressing play as the title credits began rolling across the screen. Javi had quickly come to learn that if you liked a movie, not only were you willing to watch it a million times, you knew just about every line, like you were putting on a one man production of whatever it was you were watching. Although you always quoted everything to yourself under your breath, something about it made Javi’s heart melt, spending more time looking over at you, whispering the lines of the movie to yourself, rather than watching whatever was on the screen. In between bites of breakfast, Javi watched your cheeks turn rosy as you watched a little George and Mary on the screen, eating ice cream at the drugstore, Mary leaning down to whisper in George’s ear. Javi had only seen the movie a handful of times, knowing it nowhere near as well as you, but well enough to know the line you mouthed to yourself wasn’t quite right. 

“Javier Peña, I’ll love you ‘till the day I die.” 

The two of you munched away at the rest of your breakfast dinner, Javi taking both of your empty plates back to the kitchen before nestling back under the blankets, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you laid your head against his chest. Now watching George and Mary throw stones through the windows of the old, abandoned house, making wishes of what they hoped their lives to be, you snuggled closer to Javi, draping your arm over his waist, twisting the ends of his t-shirt between your fingers. 

“I can’t believe they’re actually gonna start building the house in a few weeks.” You looked up at Javi, beaming with excitement. After Javi’s proposal, both to be his wife and to build the two of you your dream home, you both had been working to draft up and finalize plans for construction to physically start happening. All of the design process had been smooth sailing so far, you and Javi easily agreeing on things you wanted for the house- layouts, designs, sizing- the only thing that was stopping you from moving forward with progress was deciding how many bedrooms the house was going to have. 

“Not too late to tell Danny we need to add another bedroom.” Javi teased, gently squeezing your arm. 

“I think 5 bedrooms is plenty, Mr. Ambitious. If we have more than 4 kids, we might as well add enough rooms to house a baseball team.” 

“I’ll give you a football team’s worth of kids, if you want it.” 

“I know you would, but you’re not the one who has to push a football team’s worth of kids out of you.” You laughed, playfully swatting at Javi before he wrapped his arm around the small of your back, flipping you so that your chest was caged with his, bodies laying pressed against each other. 

“I’m happy with 1 kid or 10. Whatever you want, Osita, I’ll give it to you.” Javi smiled softly, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face before cupping your jaw in his palm, thumb delicately circling across your skin. 

“What if I want you?” You whispered, stretching your head up to nibble at his chin, planting kisses along his face and neck, each one more desperate and hungry than the last. 

“You have me, Hermosa. Forever.” He reached down, grabbing your left hand, carefully twisting the gold and diamond band around your finger in his. It wasn’t long before his hand had left yours, beginning to roam down your shoulders and back before slipping under the waistband of your sweatpants, grabbing handfuls of your ass as you pressed the weight of your hips further into his, feeling his bulge starting to grow underneath you. Working his hands back up around your hips, he pushed your sweatpants and underwear down your legs, slightly raising your lower half to help Javi strip them off your body, leaving your lower half exposed. Javi’s grip tightened around your thighs, suddenly locking his arms around them, scooting you closer to him, now sitting on his chest. 

“Javi, what are you-” You protested, taking a second to realize what Javi was prompting you to do. 

“Wanna take care of you, sweet girl.” He rasped, continuing to pull you closer towards him, now sitting on him near his collarbone, as he cut you off. 

“Are you sure, Jav?” You asked, biting down on your lip, looking down at Javi, lust pooling in the dark brown of his gaze, a devilish smirk stretching across his lips. “I’m always worried I’m gonna suffocate you when we do this.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? Baby, if I die between your thighs from you sitting on my face, I’ll die a fucking happy man. Please?” 

“Okay, okay.” You nodded, letting out a little, breathy laugh as Javi tugged you one last time, your already dripping heat hovering over his face. You began to slowly lower yourself down, Javi’s fingertips gripping the flesh of your hips, forcing you to shift your weight onto him, making you moan as you felt his strong nose brush against your clit. You could feel the width of his tongue dragging along your cunt, slowly and deliberately working himself along your sensitive bundle of nerves. His face nestled between your legs, he took his time with each lick, taking extra time to press harder on the spots he knew made you weak, loving how wrecked he could tell you already were as you rolled your hips over his face. You could practically feel his smirk buried in your pussy as the movements of his tongue became more precise, flicking at your clit making you whimper as you braced yourself on the edge of the couch, grasping at the cushions. 

“Javi… Fuck, oh my god.” You whined, feeling the tension begin to build in your belly as Javi wrapped his plush lips around your mound, sucking feverishly as you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding down harder, the hairs of his mustache brushing against your thighs. You could feel him hum in approval against your cunt as your back began to arch, a familiar tingle growing at the base of your spine as his mouth latched firmer around your clit, desperate to make you come undone. 

“Fuck, baby- oh shit- Javi, don’t stop, fuck, fuck, I’m so close. Fuck, I’m- mhhhmmmmmm.” Your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure overtaking your body as you came, whimpering and moaning Javi’s name as he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh, holding you against him as he continued to work you through your high.  Your body went slack, draping your upper half over the edge of the couch as you felt Javi scoot out from under you, looking down to see his face glistening in your slick, accompanied by a boyish grin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he gazed back up at you. 

“Goddamn, Hermosa. Fucking soaked me. That feel good, pretty girl? You want more?” You nodded frantically at him, still at a loss for words as your chest heaved with each shaky breath. Gently grabbing your waist, he shifted you down so your back laid buried in the comforters and head rested against a pile of pillows, planting soft kisses down your body as he quickly pushed his sweatpants and boxers down his legs, freeing his painfully hard cock, its tip already dripping with precum, staining the fabric of the pants and underwear it had been straining against. He reached down, stroking his dick as he lined himself up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds, already soaked with your slick from your last orgasm, before slowly pressing inside you, letting you savor every inch of his length buried deep inside you. His hips flushed against yours as he bottomed out, his fullness stretching you open with the sweet sting that had become one of your favorite feelings in the world. “Always so wet for me, Osita. Fuck, I can’t believe this perfect fucking pussy is mine forever. You’re mine forever.” He mewled, slowly pulling himself back before pressing deep inside you again, each stroke making you feel even fuller than the last. 

“Forever.” You whispered back, your voice trembling as his cock pushed further into your cunt, practically hearing the lewd noises of wetness between the both of you as he thrusted in and out. Sitting back on his heels, Javi hooked his arms under your legs, pressing them to your chest, gently rubbing circles against your already throbbing clit before sinking back into you, the stretch of the new angle and added sensation of his fingers making you whine as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingernails digging into your back. “Fuck, Javi. You feel so big, fuck, it feels so good.” 

“Fuck me.” Javi hissed, the rhythm of his hips hitting yours beginning to become more rapid and desperate as he watched you writhe under him. “You’re fucking perfect, Osita. Gonna be a perfect wife, a perfect mom, fuck- I can’t wait to marry you, live in our house- oh shit- Fill it with our kids. Fuck, te lo daré todo (I’ll give you everything).” 

Everything was making your mind go blank- his words, his fingers rubbing against your clit, his cock pounding into you, over and over in the spot that had you seeing stars. The coil in your belly began to build as Javi buried his face in the nape of your neck, nipping and sucking at your pulse point, his words hot and heavy on your skin. You could feel your cunt beginning to clench tighter around his length, your heart beating fast as your orgasm began to build with each push and pull out of your heat. “I know you’re close, baby. Give it to me, Hermosa. Cum all over my cock. Gonna fuck myself so deep inside you, shit, can’t wait until I can fuck a baby into you, wish I could make myself stick, fucking get you pregnant right now.” 

Just like that, something inside you snapped, your body tensing as you felt yourself squeeze around Javi’s dick, soaking him as your orgasm ripped through you. A string of expletives and his name fell from your mouth, your brain short circuiting from the overwhelming intensity, sobbing into his shoulder as you came. It wasn’t long until Javi was close behind you, rapidly chasing his own high as he pounded into your heat, dripping with your slick. “That’s it, baby. Such a good girl. Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer. Meirda- so wet and tight for me. Oh fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, holy- ahhhhhhh.” Javi gritted his teeth as he thrusted one last time, spilling deep in your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop as he slumped on top of you, your chests rising and falling in unison as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Jesus Christ…” You laughed to yourself under your breath, reaching up to run your hand through Javi’s curls, dark and damp as they stuck to his forehead. “Javi, if you keep saying shit like that when we fuck, I am gonna end up pregnant before we get married.” 

“And that would be a bad thing because…” Javi smirked, pressing a tender kiss against your lips, feeling his grin on your mouth. 

“Javi!” You giggled, rolling your eyes and playfully swatting at his bare chest as he hovered over you, gently twisting his fingers through the messy ends of your hair. “We have talked about this! Once we’re married and the house is all the way finished, then I’ll toss my birth control in the trash. But until then, you’re really making it work unpaid overtime, you menace. I hate to break it to you, but keeping your dick inside me isn’t gonna do anything for you right now.”

“Like you don’t like it.” He chuckled, the both of you letting out a little hiss at the loss of Javi being buried inside you, feeling the mixture of your spend drip down your thighs as he laid back down next to you, wrapping his arm around your back, pulling you closer as you rested your head on his chest, hiking your leg up over his hip. “I’m just saying, Osita, Christmas is only a few days away, you could just throw it away early and-” 

“JAVI!” You scolded him, giggling as he raised an eyebrow at you, giving a little shrug. “You will get plenty of other presents. That one’s gonna have to wait, as much as I don’t want to either. The house should be done right around the same time as the wedding anyways, so you won’t even have to wait that long.” 

The two of you had very easily decided that you didn’t want a big wedding by any means, bringing Chucho endless amounts of joy when you had asked him if you could have your celebration at the Peña ranch. The thought was the first thing that came to both you and Javi’s minds- something small and simple, really only wanting your close friends and family to join you on your big day in a place that held such importance to the both of you. While you and Javi had agreed that you would have married each other tomorrow, you had compromised with the middle of June, giving you a few weeks after the school year had finished to let you have some time to prep or plan anything else that needed to happen, without the end of the year school stressors on top of it.

 After working with Javi’s cousin, Danny, (who finally received your finalized floor plans a few days ago after finally compromising on your bedroom count), he was able to guess that given that the winter was normally less busy for him and his crew, he would also hopefully have the house done by mid to late June, planning to have the majority of the work completed after you came back from your Honeymoon,  you and Javi offering to finish up any last touches that he wouldn’t be able to get to after you returned. 

While the both of you had agreed that you would wait until you were married before your birth control prescription was canceled, never to be seen again, you managed to talk some sense into Javi, telling him the house needed to be finished before you started trying, God forbidding that something went wrong, leaving you who knows how pregnant in an unfinished house. Regardless, it hadn’t stopped Javi from the moment that ring went on your finger to play into just how badly he was ready to give you the family you deserved, making it very hard for the both of you to stick to your plan. 

“I know, I know.” He sighed contently, picking your arm up, draping it over his chest so he could play with the ring on your finger, delicately thumbing at the stone and gold band. “Knowing I get to spend the rest of my life with you is the only fucking Christmas present I’ll ever need for the rest of my life.” 

“You’re really trying to make your way back onto the Nice List, huh?” You giggled, biting down on your lip as you reached up to grab Javi’s face, giving it a little shake. “You’re all I’ll ever need, too, Javi.” A cheeky smirk spread across your face as you looked up at Javi, pressing a hot kiss against the skin of his neck before you spoke. “I gotta shower and clean this mess up, you wanna come with me and hang out on the Naughty List just a little bit longer?” 

“I’d take coal in my stocking any fucking day for you.” 

Someway or another, you managed to make it through the last two days of school, bribing your class with more play time, recess, and movies than you’d like to admit. You and Javi were planning to spend the second half of your break with your family in Chicago, giving you two a few days to celebrate your first Christmas in Laredo together, now that you were on break. You had agreed to spend Christmas Eve celebrating with Chucho, the 3 of you gathering at the Peña ranch in the afternoon, offering to help Javi’s dad with chores around the farm since he had graciously given everyone else the day off to spend with their families. It took no convincing on your end to go out and help Javi feed the animals, one of your favorite chores on the farm, especially when it came to the cows. 

“I can’t believe how big they are.” You cooed, scratching one of the not so baby cows you had met for the first time a few months ago along its nose, giggling as it gave you a little lick. 

“They don’t stay little and cute for very long.” Javi chuckled, throwing the last bale of hay over the fence into one of the troughs, wiping his hands along his plaid shirt before resting his arm around your waist, standing next to you as you continued scratching and petting the rest of the cows that had gathered looking for attention. 

“Excuse you? They are still incredibly cute! Apologize to these sweet babies!” You gasped dramatically, holding your hand over your chest as you swatted at Javi. 

“Hermosa, they’re cows. They’re loud and annoying once they’re full grown, and last time I checked, I don’t think they can understand what I’m saying.” He laughed as you looked back at him with fake disgust, taking a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. Before you could argue back, one of the cows let out a long, loud mooooo, pointed in Javi’s direction, turning to look back at the cow before looking back at Javi. 

“I think that’s cow for fuck you, I am cute.” You smirked, giving Javi a little shrug as you nodded back at the cow. 

“Whatever, you dork.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at you as the two of you grabbed the rest of the feed buckets, heading back to the truck. 

The two of you finished your rounds and  you and Javi made your way back to the house to find Chucho humming away in the kitchen, chopping and dicing up vegetables to throw into his simmering pot of broth for the Pozole he had promised Javi for their Christmas Eve meal. 

“Chucho, do you think that cows are cute?” You questioned, kicking off your shoes at the door, Javi following behind, shaking his head. Chucho chuckled to himself, wiping his hands along his worn apron before picking up his wooden spoon to stir his stew. 

“Why are you asking?” He asked, looking over at you as you made your way into the kitchen, popping a leftover piece of pepper into your mouth, talking between chews. 

“Because your son doesn’t think they are, and had the audacity to tell the cows to their face they were, in fact, not cute.” You glared over at Javi, trying to hold back your laughter as you pretend to be stern. 

“They’re cute when they’re little but once you have to deal with them every day, full grown, they’re a pain in the ass.” Javi sighed, following behind you, sneaking between you and his dad to take down some bowls out of the cabinet, setting them on the table. 

“That is because Javier never pays attention when he walks through the pasture, and always ends up with a boot full of cow shit. I think they are cute, Mija. Not as cute as some other animals, or as cute as human babies…” He paused, raising an eyebrow at the two of you, smirking. “But yes, still cute.” 

“Told you so. You can’t blame the cows for your shit shoes, that’s on you, Jav.” You giggled, hitting him in the chest before grabbing spoons and napkins to set down next to the bowls Javi had placed. “Do you need help with anything else, Chucho? It smells delicious, I’m glad your cow bashing son requested it tonight.” 

“Cabrón (asshole).” Javi groaned. “Mamá would always make pozole and tamales for everyone on Christmas eve. She would put all of the cousins to work kneading the dough and assembling the tamales. She would hold the piñata hostage until we helped her finish, which I can’t blame her for. Her tamales were delicious, but I always think about having her pozole and eating a shit load of candy before crashing on the couch trying to stay up, waiting for Santa when I think about Christmas.” 

“Before Lucia died, every year we would host our whole family here for Christmas eve. Dios Mio, there must have been 30 crammed in here each year, singing and dancing, making more tamales than anyone could count. No matter how hard he tried, Javier would always be the first to fall asleep on the couch, and we would have to carry him to bed. I think he would get so excited he would wear himself out.” Chucho smiled, turning off the stove, bringing the pot of the pozole to the kitchen table, the two of you pulling out a chair to take a seat. 

“She sounds like she was such a fun lady. I wish I could have met her. And eaten her tamales, because I bet that they were amazing.” You beamed, looking over at Chucho and Javi, Javi now settling into the seat next to you, draping his arm over the back of your chair as Chucho stayed standing, letting out a content sigh as he placed a hand on his hip. 

“Well Mija, I was planning on giving your Christmas gift to you later, but now that you bring it up, now seems as good a time as any.” Chucho smirked, waddling his way over to the living room, as you and Javi glanced at each other in confusion, waiting for his return. A few moments later, Chucho was back, carrying a small, red package with a white ribbon wrapped around it, outstretching it towards you. 

“Chucho, you didn’t have to get me anything, I-” You protested, not accepting the gift until Chucho was sliding it across the table, placing it right in front of you. 

“It is a gift for both of you. I know that Lucia would have been so thrilled to know how happy you have made our Javier. How happy you have made both of our lives. She would have loved you so dearly, hija, and would have wanted you to have these as you and Javier start your own family.” Tears welled behind Chucho’s eyes as you carefully took the package in your hands, resting it between you and Javi as the both of you gently ripping away the wrapping paper and bow to reveal what was inside Chucho’s gift. You held a small, leather bound book between you two, Chucho gesturing to have you open it to see what was inside. As you flipped back the cover, you revealed the first page, a picture of a young Lucia in the very same kitchen the 3 of you found yourself in, smiling at the camera as she stirred a pot of something on the stove, apron tied around her waist. Below the photo were bold, shaky cursive letters, reading “Lucia’s Recipes.” 

“Pops…” Javi whispered in shock, delicately touching the page, gazing up at his dad.  

“Your mamá would have wanted you to have all of them. She always told me that she couldn’t wait for the day she could have a daughter to share all of her cooking secrets with. She would have been even more excited to share them with you Mija, knowing the wonderful woman that you are.” 

Carefully turning the page, you could feel your lip quiver as you looked at Chucho, feeling how watery your eyes were now becoming. “Chucho, this is- I don’t- thank you, Chucho. This is so special. I’m honored you want them to share them, I- I know how important these are to your family.” 

“You are family, hija.” Handing the book off to Javi, you pushed up out of your chair, making your way over to Chucho to wrap him in a tight hug, Chucho quickly reciprocating, squeezing you back.   

“Thank you, Chucho.” You whispered into his shoulder, trying your best to keep from sobbing as Javi pushed out of his chair, joining the both of you in a group hug, holding the two people he loved most in the world in his broad grasp. 

“Thanks, Pops.” 

“Los amo a los dos (I love you both).” Chucho sniffed, pulling away to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Now, let’s eat this pozole, I can hear Lucia yelling at me for letting it start to go cold.” 

The 3 of you spent the rest of your night full of pozole, Javi finishing off at least 3 bowls as you talked at the kitchen table, sharing stories of your favorite holiday traditions and memories. Chucho broke out at least 4 different photo albums to share photos of Christmases past, filled with lots of ones of an adorable Javi and his bright, toothy grin as he opened up presents. Chucho was thrilled with the present you and Javi had gotten for him- a new work jacket for out on the ranch, Javi noting that he probably was still wearing the same jacket he did when Javi was first born. 

You and Javi had insisted that you let Chucho help you clean up around the kitchen after making you dinner, practically having to force him to sit down in his chair to relax while the two of you got to work collecting and cleaning dishes in the sink. You got to work washing as Javi dried, taking time to turn on the radio in the kitchen, raising the volume as he tuned in to the local station that had been playing nothing but Christmas music for the past week. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”  began playing from the speakers, immediately beginning to sing along, swaying your hips, scrubbing the last of the pots and pans. Javi snuck up behind you, snaking his hands around your waist, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder as his chest pressed against your back. 

“Dance with me.” He whispered, placing his hands on your hips to spin you around, making you giggle as your sponge splashed in the sink, playfully drying your wet hands against his flannel before interlacing one of your hands with his, the other one resting on his shoulder as he wrapped his free hand around the small of your back. The two of you gently swayed in the dim light of the kitchen, the soft sounds of Frank Sinatra’s voice humming in the background. 

Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more. 

As the sweet and syrupy melody of the song played on, Javi held up his hand, prompting you to spin under his outstretched arm before pulling you back in, resting his hand on your back, the other holding your face as he dipped you down, his lips curled in a tender grin against yours as he leaned in to kiss you. 

Through the years, we all will be together, if the fates allow. Hang a shining star upon the highest bough. And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

“I love you, Osita.” 

“I love you more, you dork.” 

You rested your head on his chest, smiling into the worn fabric of his button up, soaking up the sweet simplicity of the moment- how right then and there, it felt like there was no one in the world but the two of you, slow dancing in Chucho’s kitchen, arms wrapped tight around the man you loved. It felt like holding everything you’d ever need. Everything you’d ever want.  It felt like holding your home. 

 If there was one thing you were not, it was patient, especially when it came to waiting. You never had been, and at this point in your life, you were very much convinced you never would be. Ever since you could remember, you were always the first one up in your house on Christmas, frantically waking up your parents and brothers to let them know presents were stacked under the tree at an ungodly hour, forcing your parents to implement the “If you don’t stay in your bed until 6 A.M. you won’t get any of your presents” rule to try and save some ounce of their sanity for the chaos that ensued after the 4 of you were really wide awake. Even as an adult, you couldn’t help but wake up giddy on Christmas, feeling as bright eyed and bushy tailed as you did all those years ago as a kid. While Javi was very aware of your love for Christmas, he wasn’t aware of the fact that it meant that you would be wide awake, waiting for him to wake up this early in the morning. 

“Merry Christmas!” You squealed, trying your best to contain your excitement as you watched Javi finally begin to stir, his sleepy curls peeking out from under the covers, eyes squinting and blinking heavily as he let out a big yawn, draping his arm over your waist, half awake. 

“Good morning.” He grumbled, rubbing his hand over his face, practically still asleep.  “What time is it?” 

“6:45…” You replied, grimacing sheepishly, wincing at the early hours plastered on your alarm clock. “You can go back to sleep if you want to, sorry if I woke you up.” 

“6:45? Jesus, how long have you already been up for, Osita?” He sighed, propping himself up on his elbows, running his hands through the messy ends of his hair. 

“Not that long…” You muttered, looking away from him, hoping it would deter him interrogating further. Javi said nothing- he only cocked his head to the side and stared with that look he gave you when he knew you were hiding something, knowing damn well his tired, puppy dog eyes would pull the truth out of you. “Fine…” You huffed, turning back to him. “I’ve been up since 6.” 

“6 in the morning? Jesus Christ, hermosa.” Javi laughed to himself, shaking his head as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to lay against his bare chest. “I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. What the hell have you been doing since you got up?” 

“I made coffee, took a giant shit after I drank the coffee, turned on the lights to the Christmas tree, put Christmas music on in the living room, and then I came back to bed and I’ve been trying to read while I was waiting for you to wake up.” 

Javi could do nothing but let out an amused sigh as he pressed a long kiss into the top of your head. “You’re insane, you know that?” 

“You’re the one who proposed.” You sassed back, holding your ring in Javi’s face, a playful smirk growing across your face before giving him a little poke on his chest. His response to your witty remark was grabbing you by the waist, flipping you on top of him as he tickled your sides, pecking quick kisses along your body, making you flail and squirm as you erupted with giggles. “Let go, pendejo! You’re gonna end up with a black eye for Christmas if you don’t stop!” 

“I’d like to see you try.” He grinned, releasing you from his grasp, giving you a little shove. “Alright, well I’m fucking awake now.” Reaching his arms over his head, Javi let out another loud yawn. 

“I made you coffee.” You shrugged, trying to provide at least a little peace offering to him for your early morning wake up. 

“I’d fucking hope so.” The two of you laughed as you shuffled out of bed, Javi lazily throwing on a t-shirt and pajama pants before you both wandered out of the bedroom, you at a much quicker pace than Javi. 

As much as Javi wanted to give you a hard time about your over exaggerated enthusiasm this early in the morning, he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter as he walked into the living room, seeing you sit curled up on the couch, clutching a mug of coffee, beaming at Javi as Christmas music played softly in the background, the walls dimly lit by the twinkling lights of tree, being hit with the realization that every Christmas for the rest of his life, would be a Christmas spent with you. 

“For you.” You smiled, holding out Javi’s mug, steam dancing off the top of the bitter brown liquid. “My family always opened presents before we did anything else, but if you have something else that your family always did, or you don’t want to, we can-” 

“Osita, I know you wanna open presents first, it’s okay.” Javi snickered, kissing your forehead before you shot up off the couch, running over to the tree to grab one of the several neatly wrapped boxes stacked beneath it. 

“Okay, thank God, I think I would have spontaneously combusted if I had to wait any longer to give you your gifts.” Hurrying back over to the couch, you placed your boxes on Javi’s lap, snuggling back up next to him as he began to tear away at the wrapping paper of the smallest package. 

“You don’t have any photos on your desk, so I figured I’d get you one. That way you can stare at my ugly mug all day long.” You joked, nodding toward the picture frame Javi was holding with a picture from your cousin’s wedding a few months back. 

“Shut up. Thank you, I do need more pictures of us in my office, and you look so hot in this picture.” He smirked, giving you a little nudge before picking up the next gift in your pile. “Thank you, Osita.” 

“Says the one who’s in the fucking tuxedo in that photo.” You rolled your eyes, watching Javi shake the wrapping paper off the next box. 

“Fuck, I’ve been needing new boots. Thank you, Osita, these are so nice.” Javi grinned, holding up the dark leather shoes, letting the bottom of the box drop to the floor. 

“I know you have, and you refuse to buy yourself new ones, so I figured I’d upgrade them for you.” You crossed your arms over your chest at Javi, wondering how he’d ever convince himself that he wasn’t just as stubborn as you. 

“Jesus, this is heavy.” He laughed, working away at the wrapping to reveal a plain, cardboard box, giving you a confused look. 

“It didn’t come in a box and I couldn’t wrap it how it was. I promise you your first gift isn’t a heavy cardboard box.” The two of you laughed as Javi tore the tape holding the top together, digging through the tissue paper, eyes going wide at the contents of the box. 

“Osita…” He warned, pulling out the bottle of his favorite Texas branded whisky he would only order for himself on nice occasions, knowing 1- how hard it was to find, and 2- that it was not cheap. 

“Don’t even try to start with me. It’s Christmas and I love you and you deserve all the nicest things in the world. I know how much you love this stuff, even though it tastes like pure gasoline, and that you would never buy it for yourself.” You smirked, grabbing under his chin, squeezing his cheeks. 

“Thank you, Osita. Where the hell did you find this stuff?” Javi looked at the bottle in disbelief, examining it before setting it carefully back on the ground. 

“Steve knew a guy.” You shrugged, only pausing for a moment before pushing yourself off the cushions, only to be stopped by Javi’s grasp around your wrist, pulling you back down. 

“These are all perfect, baby. Thank you so much. You're too good tot me. My turn.” Javi grinned, grunting as he got up off the couch, looking through the boxes to find the one he wanted, snatching it up and handing it over to you, immediately beginning to shed the box of its paper. “If you don’t- if you don’t like it or don’t want it, that’s okay, but I figured-” 

“Javi, I’m sure whatever it is, I’ll love it.” Taking a pause from your unwrapping, you reached over to give Javi’s knee a squeeze, smiling at him before shuffling the lid off the top of the long box. “Oh no way! Are you serious?!” You squealed, holding up the emerald green and black Dallas Stars hockey jersey. “Javi, what the fuck, this is so cool! Thank you!” You dropped the jersey in your lap, leaning over to give him a tight hug. 

“Thank god, I was worried you were gonna be pissed it wasn’t a Blackhawks jersey, but I think you already have 2 here, and like 3 more at your parents house, so I figured, you might like one for the Stars, too.” Javi sighed, relieved that his gift wasn’t about to stir up any unwanted hockey tensions. 

“I will wear it every game, except for when we play the Blackhawks- Then I will bury it deep in the closet.” You giggled, picking it back up to stare at it, oblivious to the fact that Javi had already gotten up again to get you another gift.

“These two go together.” He smiled, handing you over the much smaller box as you tilted your head in confusion. You quickly unwrapped the second box, a smaller version of the box for your jersey you had just opened. Still unsure of how something so tiny could go with your new jersey, you suspiciously lifted up the lid, your jaw dropping as you saw what was inside. “Holy fuck, Javi, are you serious?!” You gasped, pulling two tickets to the Dallas Stars vs. Chicago Blackhawks game, clutching them like you couldn’t believe they were real. Taking a second to actually read the ticket, your mouth gaped even further. “Jav, holy shit, these seats are-” 

“Against the glass.” Javi smirked, watching your eyes dart back and forth between the tickets and his smug grin. 

“But what about- how are we, wait- wouldn’t we have to-“ you mumbled to yourself, trying to process the gift while figuring out the logistics of getting to and from a night game in Dallas from Laredo. 

“I’ve got it all taken care of. The game is on Friday in February, the other 3rd grade teachers said they would do whatever to help you take that Friday off, our flight leaves at 2, we land in Dallas at 3:30, and I have a hotel booked for Friday and Saturday. Figured we could make a weekend of it.” 

“Javi- You can’t- Javi this is too much- baby, are you serious?” You whispered, breath shaky as you looked up at his beaming face, leaning in to kiss you. 

“I can, and I will. You deserve it. Merry Christmas, Osita. There’s one more thing.” He smirked, raising an eyebrow at you, grabbing one last present from under the tree and setting it in your lap. 

“Javier Peña, you do not need to get me anything else, I swear to God-” You protested, giving Javi a stern look as you stared at the present in your lap. 

“It’s not anything big, I saw it when I got the jersey and couldn’t help myself. Just open it, please?” He sighed, picking it up and bringing it even closer to you. 

“Okay, okay.” You shook your head, quickly tearing away the wrapping paper to reveal the box underneath. Lifting the lid, you dramatically rolled your eyes at Javi as you lifted up the red, lacy, lingerie that was tucked away in the tissue paper it had been delicately folded under. “This looks a lot more like a gift for you than a gift for me, Mr. Peña.” You laughed, giving Javi a playful nudge. 

“Well, if you put it on and let me unwrap you like the pretty little present you are, I’m sure I can find a way to make it a gift for the both of us.” Javi rasped, leaning over to nip at the exposed skin of your neck, making you let out a breathy moan, before coming to your senses, immediately darting up off the couch towards your bedroom. 

“Where the hell are you going?” Javi asked, laughing at you as you sped off, lingerie in your hands. 

“Changing so you can unwrap your last present!” You winked, wiggling the lacy outfit in the air before ducking into the bedroom. “Hey!” You shouted, your voice slightly muffled from behind the bedroom door, creaking it open to pop your head back out. 

“What, hermosa?” Javi laughed, awestruck smile glowing across his face as he stared at you. 

“I love you, Javier Peña. Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Osita. I love you more.”

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @blackfemalenerd @deppydelta @beware-my-thorns

[jackiepackiee]

What if, hear me out, Chuuya wasn't left to suffer alone after Dazai left the PM? What if he had someone that would really be there when he went to hardships/silent breakdowns.

Chuuya xmale!reader (patiënt reader)

𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾 𝐿𝑒𝒻𝓉

It’s gn reader, I don’t do male

Life without Osamu Dazai in the port mafia was different

Not better, but not necessarily worse

Less people died, Mori became self sufficient without the prodigy

But Chuuya felt strange

Even if feeling the same as the general consensus of his absence

He wasn’t better or worse because he felt nothing

Then there’s you

Patient with him, understanding

Throughout every stage

Denial

Chuuya Nakahara was fucked

And so was the port mafia is any larger than life issue happened to come by

He could no longer use corruption safely, not without dying

So when the moment comes when a mission requires that sort of strength, only you can save his life

“I have to! You don’t understand, half our god damn organization will die if I don’t!”

Quick words shot from his mouth to your ears, aimed for you. His gloves being removed from his hands will he glared at you. Why were you so stubborn?

“No Chuuya! You’re going to die! You’re going to die and leave me all alone. What if it happens again? What if you can’t save me?”

That was plain cruel, using yourself to convince him. Making a hypothetical of you in pain, but it was necessary. He wouldn’t listen otherwise.

“Fuck… Fuck! Alright, fine!”

Anger

Why would the one person in this world who felt similar to him leave? Get taken away

One who didn’t feel human

He never blamed Dazai, no

He knew it was for the better, he needed help

But your empathy could only go so far

Verlaine didn’t count, because they weren’t close

You didn’t count because you were fully and wonderfully human in his eyes

But Dazai, he was off the same vine of pain

A creature other than

“Chuuya? Hey, I just wanted to check up on you”

His apartment was the place you knew he’d be in not at work. No more late night motorcycle rides or wine galleries. He let you in, of course he did.

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to-”

He cut you off.

“I’m. Fine.”

“Chuu, this place is a mess. You’re clearly needing help.”

He didn’t even look at you. Still glued to the glass infront of him, sloshing his wine.

“Do you ever just mind your own business?! I mean fuck! You come into my place, and judge me? I’m sorry I’m not perfect enough for your bullshit standards.”

He was being short with you, uncharacteristically so. Usually this rudeness was reserved for particularly stressful days, in which he’d apologize for after. But for now it’s best not to push.

“…I brought you some chocolate covered strawberries?”

Your meek voice caught his true attention. More than that, the kindness of it. The kindness in you. And guilt ran through like a damn train.

Every little thing was seemingly ticking him off, but you weren’t “every little thing.” No, you deserved better.

He walked over to you, took the container of sweets you offered into his hands, and stared.

Why would someone ever be so kind?

He ate one, wincing at the taste of love you had put in. Pain on his tongue from the unfamiliar feeling of care.

“…I’m sorry, thank you.”

Only you could calm that storm of anger now, and calm the storm you did.

Bargaining

Chuuya’s office was soundproof just like every other room in the headquarters

Locked only on certain occasions

But you knew today was nothing special, and he hadn’t answered to your insistence knocking

So with your key, that he gifted you, you entered his office

To find this

Chuuya was looking through every phone number in the most recent phone record kept by the port mafia.

All across Yokohama, he called every one without a name attached.

“What are you doing?”

He snapped out of it, and stared at you. Confused and a bit hazed after such a long time of silence.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing is nothing, this is psychotic.”

You could tell what he was doing, of course you could. You knew him well.

“What?”

He was no longer snappy as he usually would be with one of your insults, but struck. He knew you meant it this time.

“He isn’t come back, Chuuya. He left, for himself. He didn’t leave because you or I, he left because he needed to. You know that, don’t be a fool.”

Your stern attitude scared him straight, and he stood up. Then walking over to you before giving you a hug.

He seemed so desperate for a reason. You gave him that, and he was grateful.

Depression

Late nights sometimes meant sharing a bed

Staying over each others places after a mission if it was closer

So him turning up at 2am was not shocking

But that fact he looked so down was

His eyes looked dead, and his body trembled. He held nothing, not even a wallet or phone.

Just standing at your door, looking abandoned.

So you ushered him to your bed, and let him settle. You never questioned his moods, but were always there. Petting his hair, in silence.

The silence he needed, only from you.

Acceptance

A glass of wine always represented a victory for Chuuya. A celebration of something. This something though was confusing him.

But if you bring him a vintage bottle and say congratulations, he won’t complain.

Half drunk, bottle half gone, night half over. That’s when your conversations always got the deepest.

“Say, why’d you bring this bottle over anyways?”

“To say congrats, duh!”

You laughed, and smiled at him teasingly.

“No no, I mean seriously. What for?”

“For grieving.”

He stopped. Noticing his expression, you continued.

“You got over Dazai, believe it or not. Even if you’ve been a real bitch about it.”

You giggled, drunk. But a certainty clarity reached your mind. And you looked at him happily, with content.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been terrible”

“Shh, don’t apologize.”

But you let him, he needed to speak.

“I don’t understand why I’ve been so damn wild. He’s a dick, but he’s my ex partner.”

“Because maybe the world didn’t end when Dazai left, it just kept spinning.”

Not proofread