Holiday Extravaganza Day 3 — Snowman (Javier Peña)
You were so excited to take Javi to visit your family in the Midwest. Your parents had warned you that snow was in the forecast for the duration of the visit. Your mom is reminding you to bring a heavy jacket and flannel undergarments. You reminded her that this was not your first rodeo.
“I’ll be fine.” Javi sat beside you at the airport. You looked him up, head to toe, and shook your head. Javi was wearing Adidas tennis shoes and a lightweight jacket over a flannel shirt. He looked like he was dressed for a Texas winter, not a Midwest one.
“We’ll see just how fine you are when we leave the airport this afternoon.” Javi chuckled as he pulled you into his side and kissed the crown of your forehead. You sometimes loved Javi’s stubbornness, but at other times you just wanted to shake him.
☃️
Much like you had predicted, Javi cursed when the cold air breached his thin jacket, as your parents waved you down in their Range Rover. You bit your tongue to keep from saying I told you so."
When you got home to the house you grew up in, your sister's little boy ran at you from the spot where he was making a lopsided snowman. He hugged Javi and asked him to join in making the snowman.
Your father told Javi he had a thicker coat he could borrow. Javi couldn’t find it in himself to deny your nephew, so he asked your father kindly for the thicker jacket.
You weren’t sure what it was, but you found yourself somehow more attracted to Javi in a Carhartt jacket, with a beanie your mother had made herself. He looked at home as he helped your nephew with the snowman.
You felt yourself longing for a little one who would drag Javi out into the snow and play. Maybe for Christmas, you’d ask Santa for a little one.
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summary: your friend Marcus starts seeing someone and you won’t let that shit fly
cw: 18+, reader is annoying, like really fucking annoying, borderline unlikeable, not lovers, not friends, weird dynamics, oral (m and f receiving), marcus still gets the marcus pike treatment (sorry), patrick jane cameo, no reader description, no use of y/n, not betaed or whatever that’s called
wc: 4.2k words
notes: this is really just self-gratuitous and self-indulgent. i doubt there’s a big market for this but yeah. heavy on the annoying reader warning. also, i had to make a fucking edit bc the children yearn for fic trailers lmao. read this, or don’t, i’m not the boss of you, have a nice day. oh yeah, the girls in the edit are just what i had in mind but there’s no descriptors in the text other than reader being afab and able-bodied
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
Read on AO3!
“This is exactly what I was talking about, Marcus! You can’t make a decent pot of rice at your grown age!” You giggle, and Marcus shrinks into his own body.
“I tried, okay? I really did! I just… got caught up on this game I downloaded on my phone and it just slipped my mind…” He does that little pouty thing he does, and his eyes crinkle around the corners.
You shake your head, fighting the urge to break out into laughter. “It’s a wonder you solve any crimes.”
“Not fair!” He says, wagging a finger at you. “Rice making skills do not translate to art crimes. So, boom.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance.
“Was… was that meant to be like a ‘gotcha’?” You ask him, dumping the burned rice in the garbage can.
Marcus crosses his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. A sheet of silence falls over the both of you for a second. You can hear his fingers tapping on the cold surface of the countertop.
“Anyways, my grand… gesture is now toast,” he glances at the trash can. “But I have something important to tell you.”
You stop your scanning of the fridge to look back at him. He’s chewing his lip, and the tapping hasn’t stopped. “Oh, come on, since when do you get nervous?”
He swallows and you can see his Adam’s apple bob. “I’m-I’m sort of… seeing someone.”
The tapping stops and he knits his brows together as he waits for you to respond. His eyes scan you, and he almost looks like a kicked puppy.
“That was it?” You scoff. “You were nervous to tell me that?” You chuckle, but it doesn’t quite make it to your eyes.
Marcus tilts his head twice. “I mean,” he clears his throat. “I thought that… it was the right thing to do, you know?” He gestures languidly between you and him. “I know it’s not, a thing, but… you know?”
You’re chewing on the inside of your cheek, hard. “No, yeah, I get it… so… who’s the lucky lady?” You turn back to the fridge. “And does leftover Thai sound good?”
He keeps quiet for a beat longer than feels comfortable. “This lovely woman from work. She was working in the last case I worked. She’s from the CBI. Homicides and… such.” You can hear his soft steps coming over to you. He places a hand on your shoulder. “Leftover Thai is always a go for me, but I’m not… Please just talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say, Marcus? I’m happy for you,” you quip, already taking the containers from the Thai restaurant out of the fridge. “Did you want me to throw a tantrum or something?” The containers make a small thud sound as you place them on the counter. Begrudgingly, you raise your gaze at him. He meets it with a wince, and a deep frown.
“A- a tantrum?” It’s punctuated with his head shaking. “No. I just… Our situation is weird, I just want to make sure you’re okay with it.” He tilts his head and his eyes are glittery.
You shake your head, “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not your mom. I can’t tell you what to do or who to do.”
Marcus’s jaw tightens, his face the same sad-stoic look. “You’re being real immature about this, and you know it. Would you mind talking to me for once?”
“Maybe you do want me to be upset about it. Is that it? My reaction not good enough for you?” You snap, feeling your voice rise gradually.
He sighs, running his hands down his face exasperatedly. “Fine. Have it your way.” He sticks his fork into his soggy pad thai leftovers. You feel yourself shooting daggers at him with your eyes as he chews, loudly.
“Fine, fuck you. Is she hot?” You ask, accompanied with a weird quirk at the corner of your mouth. It’s like you can see as the words hit his ears, his eyes squinting ever so slightly before looking up at you. He turns his hand with the fork in it, an unspoken what the fuck?
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. Like, like I’m a weirdo.” You roll your eyes. “You wouldn’t look at me like that if I was a guy asking that.”
Marcus chews another two times and you can see his throat bob as he swallows his food before licking his lips contemplatively and pressing his lips together tightly, his brows furrow and his little dimple makes an appearance. “Have you met me? When have I ever said something like that?”
You feel a distinct heat creep up the back of your neck. “Did you guys do it already?” Your face scrunches up.
“Do it? What are you, twelve?” He wants to laugh. You know it, you can tell.
You pull his bowl closer to you, away from his reach. “Marcus. You’re not answering my question. So that means she’s super hot, then, huh?”
He glares at you from under his brows and scoots his bowl back to himself. “No matter what I answer it’s gonna bother you, so, uh, I think I’ll pass.”
“Boring. You’re so fuckin’ boring. And for the record, you can’t pass when you’re the one who brought it up in the first place,” you stretch your arm to pick a forkful off his bowl, making a show of it.
His lips flex into a lopsided smile. There it is. “I’ve spent the last 10 minutes wondering what the easiest way to travel back in time is so I can just not bring it up. You’re a pain in the ass. Seriously.”
“Yeah, well, Special Agent Pike, nobody’s forcing you to be my friend,” you make a mocking sound.
Marcus looks serious. “Suppose not.” He stands and picks up both your plates, placing them in the sink with a little clink sound, turning on the faucet before inhaling deeply, looking at the water for a second. His arm twitches a little. “But it feels like you’ve got me in some sort of Stockholm syndrome situation,” he looks at you with a hint of amusement.
“Maybe I should just keep you here forever, then,” you offer, smiling exaggeratedly.
The room is filled with the sounds of water sloshing and the sponge rubbing against the dishes. “If you lock me up here, then who’s gonna solve all the art crimes in this city?”
You shrug once more. “You’ve got a whole unit, don’t you?”
Wiping his hands on his pants, he turns back to you, grinning. “You’re crazy. Batshit crazy. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Well, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you like it.”
Hesitation flashes through his face as he opens his mouth then closes it once more. Then after a second, opens it again. “I,” he taps the tip of your nose, “should be going home.”
“See? One more boring tally for the boring score I’m totally keeping.” You’re pouting, and you know it.
“I promise I’ll see you again soon.” He brings you closer by putting his hand on the back of your neck and pulling you closer to kiss your forehead. “Will you survive?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Maybe I’ll have one of those paintings stolen so you can come see me.” You point at the cheap canvases on your wall.
His plush lips purse, stifling a laugh. “Art crimes don’t really deal with IKEA paintings, sorry to break it to you.”
“Kind of a shitty division, then,” you mumble.
“I’ll miss you, too.” He says, already at the doorway.
Sprawled on your bed, counting the number of squares on your duvet, you listen as Marcus complains about something or other, he tends to get pretty technical and plus, you’re not even sure if he’s allowed to tell you all he tells you whenever he vents about work. Yeah, but, you’re you is always his excuse.
“I thought you’d already gotten that case closed.” You say, absent-mindedly.
“Yeah, but this consultant guy that works with Teresa, he… he swears we got the wrong guy, all based on what, a five-minute conversation?” He sounds annoyed.
“Teresa… that’s your girl?” You ask, switching your focus to picking on a hangnail.
“Yes-I mean, shit, you’re focusing on the wrong thing. That’s all you could glean from what I said?” Scratch annoyed, he’s angry. He very rarely does get angry. You remember his divorce, and despite the messiness and ugliness of it all, he was mostly sad and dejected; never angry. Which was funny because you felt like insulting his ex-wife every time he mentioned they were going to meet.
“S-sorry.” Is all you grumble into the phone. “That guy sounds like a real jerk.”
You can almost hear his nostrils flaring. “He is. But everyone raves about how smart he is and, and I can’t compete with that.” It’s all like word vomit coming from his mouth. “I mean, he’s like a psychic or something. Well, he says psychics don’t exist, but you get what I’m saying.”
A small snort leaves you. “You’re getting all worked up over Zoltar?”
“Why do I even bother calling you again?” He sighs.
“‘Cause you don’t have any other friends?”
Crickets.
“And ‘cause you love me?” You ask, raising your hands in defeat even though he can’t see you.
“Something like that.” He says flatly.
You hum a little before speaking again. “Are we still on for trivia on Thursday? Or do you have a hot date with your little girlfriend?”
“No, yeah, still on.” He mumbles, you can hear him scratching his head.
“Sorry about that thing at your job. But, you’re like, the best agent ever so, it’ll be fine.” You say, lowering your voice.
“Thanks, angel. I’ll call you again soon, alright? Bye.”
Click. Silence.
Motherfucker.
You crack your knuckles and pull your laptop to your bed. It’s time to do a little homework. You open up Facebook. She’s a cop, it’s unlikely she’ll be on something cooler, right? You pull up Marcus’s profile and go through his friends list. Tabitha, Tanya, Tatiana. Jesus, fuck, how many women does he know? Teresa Lisbon. Bingo.
It’s all innocent perusal, just for you to know your friend is in the right hands. Besides, her profile is basically empty except for just like, two pictures. Go figure, an agent would just not post shit at all. Okay, so Google it is then. Teresa Lisbon psychic, you type.
A plethora of interviews from this guy named Patrick Jane. This must be the guy Marcus was talking about. You chew in your bottom lip while you scroll and watch a few of his videos. Jeez, this is kinda grim. You wince, reading about him. You slam your laptop shut.
After a ridiculously long cab ride, you’re finally outside the building. Security is familiar with you, you come to see Marcus fairly often, so you’re handed your visitor badge and sent on your way to his floor. You stand there for a solid ten minutes before one of his coworkers recognizes you, says hi and very kindly informs you Marcus is on the CBI’s floor. You thank the lady and are on your way. When the elevator door opens, you walk in through a small hall, seeing Marcus with Teresa, and out of the corner of your eye, Patrick Jane sipping tea on a couch in the corner, next to a big table. You stride towards him, trying to hold a polite smile as you approach them.
You cover Marcus’s eyes, “Guess who?”
Teresa shares a weirded out look with Patrick. “Excuse me?” She asks, puzzled. Marcus pries your hands off his face and turns to look at you. “Hey, hey? What-what are you doing here?”
You tilt your head, mouth slightly agape. He forgot.
It suddenly dawns on him. “Oh, shit. It’s Thursday?”
“Anyone wanna fill me in?” Teresa interrupts.
Jane peels himself off the couch, striding towards you all, enjoyment etched into his whole expression. “Yeah, well, safe to say Marcus here had other plans with his lady friend,” he turns specifically to you, “Patrick Jane, by the way; and he forgot all about it.” His voice is smooth and dripping with amusement. Your gaze stays on him for a second longer than necessary.
Marcus introduces you to both of them, scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I… I’m not gonna be able to make it to trivia tonight. I have a dinner reservation. It’s cool, right?”
It takes every bone in your body not to roll your eyes.
“If you already had plans, it’s okay-“ Lisbon says, looking apologetically at you.
Marcus shakes his head. “We do this every week, it’s fine,” he beams at Teresa. Patrick cocks an eyebrow, his cocky smile not faltering for a second.
“Yep. No worries.” You feel your nails digging into your palm at your side.
“Let me pay for your cab, it’s the least I can do.” Marcus offers, pulling out his wallet.
You take the money, crumpling it into your hand. “Nice to meet you.” You shoot a half-grin at both Teresa and Patrick and turn on your heel. Behind you, you can hear them bickering.
It took Marcus two days of consistent calling and sending a bouquet of flowers to your place for you to respond after that. The flowers had a note on them that read ‘I’m sorry. Pick up my calls?’
He calls once more. You pick up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Figured the flowers would do the trick.” He chuckles.
You repeat his words back at him with a mocking voice. “I’m still really mad at you, you know?”
“Yeah, the full cold shoulder kinda gave that away,” he crooned. “I already said I’m sorry like a gazillion times.”
Heat begins to invade your ears. “Didn’t you consider that maybe that isn’t enough?”
“Come on, all this over trivia?” His tone is incredulous.
“It’s not about the trivia, stupid. You never, ever forget our plans,” you say, doing your best for your voice not to sound small.
He swallows, the sound faintly coming across the line. “I’m sorry.”
“You said that already,” you huff.
You both go silent for a few seconds that end up feeling eternal before he speaks up, inhaling sharply before, as if bracing himself. “Come on, baby. You gotta throw me a bone here or something. I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what you want.”
“Whatever, fuck you. I’m sure your Patrick is in love with Teresa. I mean, that’s the worst case scenario. Best case scenario, he just really, really hates you.”
Marcus lets out a breathy and humorless chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” You feel your scowl forming.
“Teresa mentioned that Jane told her the exact same thing about you.” He’s trying to make it sound funny, but it’s hard to believe that either you or him are actually buying it.
“She’s not gonna take things seriously with you, you do realize that, right?” It comes out just a bit meaner than intended.
Marcus drops his head on his free hand. “I don’t understand why you always have to be like this.”
“And how is that?”
“Just… like that.” You have that sinking feeling again, he’s angry. And this time, he’s angry with you.
“Well, excuse me for being fuckin’ honest with you, dude. And by the way, I’ll remember this when you show up to my fuckin’ doorstep looking like a sad, sick, fucked up kitten when she inevitably dumps you.” You want to wait to hear his response, but this might have struck a nerve so you hang up before he gets the chance.
This is the longest time you’ve spent without speaking or seeing Marcus. And it sucks. Not that he’d ever find out just how lonely your life is whenever he isn’t around. It’s been at least a few days since you last left your apartment. He can be so infuriating sometimes, letting someone who clearly isn’t as into him as he is into her come between your friendship. It had happened before, but for some reason this time it had been deeper than the latest ones. His eagerness to get into super committed relationships was a real mystery to you. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually been in a truly serious, official relationship. College, maybe? Whatever, honestly. And since when do you have trouble sleeping? It’s silly.
You should just bite the bullet, right? Apologize, or whatever. Hell, you shouldn’t have to apologize for looking after him. It’s stupid. But he hasn’t even called. So, really you must have fucked everything up. Still. Stupid reason. Stupid Marcus. Stupid stupid. You grumble and complain in neanderthal-adjacent grunts all the way to the shower.
The box of apology cookies weighed heavily in your hands as you stood on Marcus’s porch anxiously. You knock your special dundundun-dundun on the wood and wait.
Marcus opens the door, looking miserable as ever, with his rumpled hair and red-rimmed eyes, sporting a lovely wrinkled white t-shirt. “Listen, if you came to gloat, I’m really not in the mood for it.”
You could feel a huge question mark blink over your head like a cartoon character. “Excuse me?” The cookie box almost slips from your hands.
His face is still the same. “About Lisbon dumping me? That’s not why you’re here?”
Words take a second to reach your lips, and you stand there for a second too long, with your mouth open. “I-I didn’t know. These were ‘I’m sorry’ cookies, but now they’re ‘I told you so’ cookies.” You shake the box like it’s a damn Scooby snack bag. “Fuck you, why didn’t you tell me?”
Marcus slumps his shoulder and allows you in. His apartment looks like triple the shitty as yours does, and that’s saying a lot, considering yours qualifies as a depression station. “I was avoiding this fucking conversation.” He states blankly, picking up shit from the couch for you to sit.
“Yeah but, still. You didn’t call or anything.” You tiptoe around the littered floor.
His tired eyes glare at you. “You were kind of a dick last time we spoke, and this time I didn’t feel like running after you like a dog.”
“A dick that was right. Even about the sad, sick kitten thing,” you gesture vaguely around you.
“Not helping your case. What happened to the apology you originally came here for?”
Your shoulders bounce ever so slightly. “I was just looking out for you, asshole. And, see? With reason. You were the one who abandoned me for whatever.”
Marcus stretches his arm and reaches for an opened can of whatever, flat soda if you had to guess. “Did I sign a contract with the devil or something when we became friends?”
“Ha-ha. That’s not an apology.” You instinctively clear some space for him next to you on the couch.
“Who said I was gonna apologize?” He sets the can down and sits next to you.
It’s almost a matter of force majeure, the way you put your arms around him. He goes limp like putty in your arms. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles against your shoulder. “Yeah, so am I.” You whisper, your fingers running through his hair, your nails gently scratching against the skin on his scalp and neck. A quiet, wanton groan flies from his lips. He picks up his face, his big brown eyes pleading in a language that you two have created in your own little world. In your bones, you know it could never be any other way.
You gently push him back, and straddle him, careful with his pliant form. His eyelids flutter shut and he exhales, as if he had been holding his breath in for ages. You pepper tiny, soft kisses on his cheeks, and the length of his nose, and the corners of his mouth. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling the familiar pattern of his heartbeat. His lower lip quivers, and his eyes shut furiously all the way. Another kiss, and another on his forehead, on his temple, below his ear. “Please,” he murmurs shakily.
“I know.”
Gently, you remove yourself from on top of him and instead sit on the floor in front of him, finding your place inbetween his knees. His tattered sweatpants are already strained at the crotch, his cock impatient for some loving. You pull the waistband down, wiggling it from under him to pull it down to his ankles; his cock springing free. He hisses, his hips bucking towards you. You keep your hands on his thighs for now, using your tongue to trace upwards, from the seam of his balls and up the underside of his shaft to capture his tip in the wet warmth of your mouth. Finally, he glances down at you. His lips part and his nostrils flare as you swirl your tongue around his cock, making sure to take your time with each movement. Your eyes remain glued on his as you exhale through your nose, readying yourself to take all his length, slowly but surely. His hips twitch, making his cock hit the back of your throat. You wince, eyelashes fluttering attempting to contain the tears caused by the strain.
Marcus moves his hand to your head to keep it steady as he begins to thrust into your mouth. Spit incessantly drops from your mouth to your chest, and you pick it up with your hands to use it to massage his balls gingerly. An almost curated string of curse words come from Marcus. “I-I don’t think I’m gonna, fuck, not gonna last.” His voice comes out ragged and borderline whimper-y. You pull your head back, “it’s okay.” And go straight back into it, twisting your hand at his base, a practiced ease to your movements as you take his cock in your mouth again.
Your throat’s gonna be sore tomorrow. You’ll have Marcus make you tea. No biggie.
Without warning, his breath catches, his hand steadies him by gripping the couch. The other hand sinks its nails on your shoulder. And your throat is coated in his salty, warm spend. He’s shuddering, twitchy thrusts getting the last of his cum into your throat. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as you swallow it all. “S-sorry.” He mutters, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
You shake your head. “It’s all good, hadn’t had any dinner today anyways.” You giggle, and he smiles at you, really smiles. You can feel your heart hammering in your temples.
Marcus extends his hand and pulls you up to the couch again. “I missed you.”
“You missed my blowjobs, you mean.” You tilt your head back to rest on the back of the couch.
“No. I mean I missed you.” He says, tangling his hand with yours. “My life sucks when, well. You know. I’m glad you’re here.”
You hum contentedly. “Maybe we could DIY ourselves into conjoined twins.” You turn to look at him.
He smiles so wide that his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Batshit crazy. That’s my cue.” He pats your thigh and switches positions with you, now him dropping at your feet and pulling your bottoms down.
Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and a pleasant surprise at that. “Have I like Pavlov’ed you into getting horny when I say weird shit?”
He nudged your legs open, kissing the skin inside your thighs delicately. “Nah,” he looks up at you. “I’m always horny around you.” He licks a strip of skin closer towards your already sloppy cunt. “And I’m guessing the feeling is mutual?” The hot breath of his laugh fans into your pussy, making you squirm.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” You croak. If you had an ounce less of pride, you’d be begging him to stop teasing you. But that would just do wonders for his ego.
He kisses his way to your slit, every touch and kiss feather-light. Zero sense of urgency there. He nips at the side, then laps his tongue over the area, soothing the sharp feeling. Then with his flat tongue, begins to softly lick up your cunt, sneaking peeks at your flushed and clearly desperate face.
A knocking on the door interrupts his ministrations, and he peels himself off your cunt. He looks back at the door and then back at you, ready to dive back in, but there is that knocking again. He lifts a finger. “Hold that thought.” He stands, adjusting his erection and waddles toward the door. You use a nearby decorative pillow for your modesty.
Marcus opens the door and sees Teresa standing outside the door, holding a bag.
“Hey, I just- is this a bad time?” She narrows her eyes, trying to look inside.
He clears his throat. “Yeah, just not feeling too well.” He waves it off. “Can I, uh, can I help you?”
Teresa holds out a bag with an Italian name printed on the front. “Cannolis. Margaret told me you’d been out of the office for a few days, just wanted to check… in on you.” She says, brows furrowed, trying to read him. “I know stuff is, uh, but, I care about you and-“
Marcus takes the bag and nods exaggeratedly, a wide smile on his face. “Yep. All good Teresa, no hard feelings, see you Monday.” He rushes, all but slamming the door in her face.
He tosses the cannoli bag on a nearby table and rushes back to his position, kneeling before you.
When Frankie saw his life before his eyes, all he could think about was you. The things he left unsaid and the things he would not experience with you.
It was like the air was being taken straight out of his lungs. How could he leave you like this? Who would be the one to tell you he wasn't coming home? How would you pull yourself together?
Luckily, Frankie walked away with his life intact. All he could think about was saying those three little words that always got caught in his throat. To pull you close and breathe in the familiar scent that made him feel like he was home. To make the promise, he would be at your side till you both grew old and gray.
If you are interested in a Moodboard, I'm currently taking requests. Please like and/or reblog this moodboard to show appreciation. It would mean the world to me.
Pairing: NoOutbreak!Joel Miller x Reader, Sarah Miller x OMC, OFC x Collin Walsh
Summary: After a nice hike around the family cabin, you warm up by the fire.
Word Count: 550
Warnings: Fluff, lots of fluff.
When Joel asked Sarah what she wanted for Christmas, she told him she wanted a family vacation to the cabin your family had owned. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go during Christmas or New Year's because you guys were always so busy. But you and Joel managed to get time off right after the New Year, along with Sarah and her fiancé, Walter. Ellie was with Dina visiting her sister and couldn’t come. Your best friend, Hollis, and her boyfriend, Collin, had arrived the day after you guys.
The fire was burning, warming both the living room and your feet as you sat in front of it, between Hollis and Sarah. You all had just come in from an early afternoon hike in the snow to visit the lake. Though you wore four layers on top and two on the bottom, you were freezing by the time you got back. Your toes felt like icicles, and your face was numb from the slight wind.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” Joel appeared behind, pulling your attention from the fire. Joel had your thick sweatshirt in one arm and a mug in the other. You smiled up at him as you grabbed the sweatshirt and pulled it on over your head. Immediately, you felt warmth. Joel passed along the mug that was full of peppermint tea. Joel leaned down and pecked you on the lips.
Joel turned and made his way back into the kitchen while you took a soft sip of your peppermint tea. Hollis reached for your mug, and you passed it along, allowing her to take a sip. You could hear Walter working in the kitchen, and Joel helping him. Collin, Hollis’ boyfriend, came and sat beside Hollis, along with a mug of peppermint schnapps hot cocoa for them to share. Letting you take your tea back.
Sarah scooted closer to you so you both could share body heat. You put your arm around Sarah’s waist as she put her head on your shoulder.
You didn’t notice Walter had come in; he was carrying both his sweater and a mug. Sarah smiled up at him when he got her attention, pulling herself from you.
“This should warm you up,” he passed along a mug of hot cocoa that Joel had made after she pulled Walter’s sweater over her more petite frame. You and Sarah both thanked Walter before he turned to go back into the kitchen. You thought about how lucky you ladies were to have such caring men.
“Next time I suggest we go on a hike, someone please remind me how cold it was, and how difficult it was to get warm again after,” Sarah murmured into her drink, as she cuddled back into your side. You laughed as you pulled her closer.
Joel and Walter returned to the living room, their own drinks in hand. Joel pulled the rocking chair up behind you and sat with his legs against your back. You learned back into his touch. Meanwhile, Walter sat on the floor beside Sarah, putting his feet in front of the fire.
This was what life was about—spending time with those you love, going on adventures, and trying new things. It was a great start to the New Year.
Happy New Year, I’m cutting back on making moodboards to prepare for school starting in a week. I have about 15 prompts I’m going to use throughout the month, but I’m also taking requests/suggestions for moodboards. ☕️ Also if you have the chance you should check out my friend @pascalispunkczechia, she posted some Javi Peña smut today and it’s so good. 🥹 Please like and/or reblog this moodboard to show appreciation. It would mean the world to me.
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Harry knew how to make you feel loved and cared for, like you two were the only ones in the world. Your date nights every Friday night, no matter the type of day either of you had or the weather outside, were both of your guys' favorites. Flowers arrived in the morning, always fresh from the Florist a few blocks away, half days at work, as you came home to prepare for the evening, whether it was a night in or a night out. Harry made you feel like you were his queen, and he was your king. Nothing beats date nights.
I made this board to celebrate my birthday today. I haven’t seen Materialists yet, but I hope to see it soon. I’m not going to lie, I did daydream that it was CEO!Joel Miller, while I made it. 🌹 If you are interested in a Moodboard, I'm currently taking requests. Please like and/or reblog this moodboard to show appreciation. It would mean the world to me.
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You never really expected Javier Peña to ask you out, and honestly, you never thought you’d go out with him. He was known manwhore around the office, and it didn’t help that you were annoyed by his cocky attitude. But you folded the day he sauntered up to your desk, leaning his up against it, as he looked down at you.
Javi asked you to call him, complimented the new hair color your best friend had just done, and complimented your nails, which were also freshly painted. You found yourself a giggling mess, like he suddenly melted your insides. Honestly, looking back, it was embarrassing. He asked you to be his plus one to a charity event. Maybe you caved because the philanthropist in yourself was excited?
Your best friend came over the afternoon of the event, she did your makeup, which you barely ever wore, and styled your hair into beautiful waves that cascaded over your shoulders and down your back. Javi was surprisingly 5 minutes early. When you opened the door, Javi was dressed in a suit, your stomach fluttered with butterflies as he gave you his half cocked smile, admiring you. He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.
The charity event was put on by Steve’s wife, Connie, who both greeted you with a hug. Javi placed bids on items you both were interested in. As the night went on, he kept complimenting you, making you think he was buttering you up for a nightcap, but when he took you home, he walked you to your door, placed a kiss upon your lips, and left—leaving you stunned.
When Javi approached you for your second, fourth, and tenth dates, you always said yes.
If you are interested in a Moodboard, I'm currently taking requests. Please like and/or reblog this moodboard to show appreciation. It would mean the world to me. 🥃 This was originally a collab with DrinkinPedro on Instagram. You can see it HERE.
Holiday Extravaganza Day 8 — Frozen Lake (Joel Miller)
You rubbed your gloved hands together, hoping to warm them a little. The thermometer outside the barn read that it was 11 degrees, and your body sure felt it. Agnes, the favorite of your and Joel’s sheep, was leaning up against your legs, as the fellow sheep followed Joel and Piper (your shepherd), herding the group.
You were starting to wonder if you would ever feel warm again when Joel came over and handed you the thermos.
“I told you, you could sleep in and didn't have to come and keep me company,” he smirked down at you as you took a long pull of the bitter coffee.
“And miss out on this view?” the view being Joel in his tight jeans. “Yeah, no. It’s too perfect. I also couldn't miss out on my time with Agnes.” Handing Joel back his thermos, you leaned down and patted Agnes’s back. Joel just laughed before he, too, patted Agnes on the back.
“It’s so cold that the lake is frozen over,” Joel murmured as he pulled you into his side. “It’s beautiful, but my balls are frozen,” he huffed. You laughed as you used Joel as a human shield from the wind.
“I can think of some ways to warm them up,” smirking, you watched as Piper chased after Coal.
“Don’t joke, I may just leave the animals to fend for themselves and take you to bed.” Joel laughed as Coal bleated at Piper. Clearly annoyed.
“I’ll meet you back at the house. I’ll be waiting for you.” You pulled away from Joel, giving Agnes one last pat.
“I’ll be there before you know it.” Joel hollered after you. You waved back as you thought about the red lingerie set you had been hiding from him.
I honestly almost forgot to post this. I’ve been busy becoming one with my sofa and watching The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives. I don’t even know why they call it that when some of them aren’t even married. 🤔 I hope you had a great start to your week. ❄️ Please like and/or reblog this moodboard to show appreciation. It would mean the world to me.
“Are you sure he won’t get sick from eating all these cookies?” You looked quizzically at your boyfriend Djarin, as his son Gregory picked up what had to be his seventh or eighth cookie of the night.
“Nah, he can go pretty hard on cookies. Besides, if I could, I would be eating just as many. You make the best cookies.” You blushed as Djarin placed a kiss on your cheek. Gregory made a gagging noise, making you and his father laugh.
“Will he be able to eat some protein and vegetables?” You took your spatula and peeled the most recent gingerbread from the cookie sheet. Gregory made another gagging noise.
“Yeah, surprisingly, he can put a lot away, especially in the holiday season.” Djarin took a naked gingerbread and bit into it. Rolling your eyes, hip checked him. Both of your boys were clearly cookie monsters. At this rate, you’d be baking all weekend to have enough cookies to sedate them, and for the cookie exchange party that your friend Megan was hosting.
“You're lucky I love you both so much,” you joked as Djarin laughed, pulling you in for another kiss.
“Blegh,” Gregory moaned as he reached out for another cookie. Yeah, you wouldn't change your two boys for anything.
This is a Mandalorian AU, my friend @acockius gave me the idea and I loved it! I renamed Grogu, Gregory, but we can pretend Grogu is his nickname. I hope you are having a wonderful weekend! 🍪 Please like and/or reblog this moodboard to show appreciation. It would mean the world to me.
