coffee morning kiss

Morning

I kiss her forehead and slip out of the room and into the kitchen. She doesn’t really eat breakfast so I finish the coffee and pour her a cup, returning to the dimly lit bedroom. I slowly open the curtains and push open the window to let the fresh spring air into the room. She sits up in bed and holds out her hands, simply saying “coffee”. I smile and hand her the mug, my favorite part of the morning. Sitting next to her and watching her drink her morning coffee, still sleepy.

archiveofourown.org
Love By Any Other Name - Devereauxs_Disease - Hannibal (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

A goofy fic about the different ways to say “I Love You”. 

         “You didn’t come to bed last night.” Will stood in the kitchen, feet bare and eyes red. He’d spent all night waiting for Hannibal’s familiar weight to dip the mattress, only to stare at the door in the dark, straining his ears for any clue as to where the doctor was.

         “I did.” Hannibal didn’t turn around, busying himself with the dogs’ food.

         Will noted Hannibal had made coffee for himself but had neglected to pour a cup for Will. He used to wake up to fresh coffee and kisses each morning, now, Hannibal couldn’t even be bothered to pull out an extra mug. He knew Hannibal had been spoiling him after they fell into bed together six months ago. The doctor fussed over Will’s clothes, left him sappy notes every time he left the house, and couldn’t seem to be in the same room with the empath without nuzzling into his neck. Will had blustered at the attention, rolling his eyes affectionately and smacking at Hannibal’s questing fingers.

         Every amorous assault was a silly imposition – until it wasn’t.

         Will had done his best to spoil Hannibal in return. He washed their cars regularly, added little improvements to the house so Hannibal would have better light for sketching and more counter space for baking. He had spent seven days bothering the older manager of the paint shop until he found a shade of purple exactly like the blooms of Hannibal’s favorite flowers, so the dining room would be perfect. He re-tiled the shower when Hannibal fretted over the quality of the work. Will glared and groused as much as he could, trying desperately to keep the foolish smile off his face as he tried to think of new things to fix or make for Hannibal. Every night, he waited for Hannibal to drag him into his arms for a dance, fussing with embarrassment, but delighting as the doctor spun him around the kitchen island.

         But, just six months into the life Will had just admitted he wanted, and it seemed Hannibal was done with him. The notes had stopped altogether. Kisses and touches that were stolen before were ignored when Will offered them freely. Hannibal barely even set the table anymore, forgoing skulls and flowers, merely shoving a plate and cutlery at Will as they dined in silence. Now, just as he had found comfort in Hannibal’s touch, Will was left in an empty bed and wondering what the fuck had changed in the past two weeks.

         “You didn’t come to our bed,” Will explained, as if talking to a small child. He could feel the rage creeping up his spine, making his head pound and his hands twitch for a weapon. He tamped it down, there had been too much blood spilled in kitchens for his lifetime.

         “I went to my room.” Hannibal began feeding the dogs one by one. As was his ritual, each dog had to sit and wait politely for Hannibal to nod before they were allowed to eat. Will’s cannibal believed in good manners for all creatures.

         “Your room is my room.” Will crossed his arms, feeling the cold of the morning air on his skin. This was the first morning he could remember that his appearance in boxers with ruffled hair didn’t earn him at least a kiss on the shoulder in passing.

         “I know my attentions can be onerous at times, you seemed like you needed sleep.” Hannibal turned to the dishes in the rack, carefully re-washing them rather than looking at Will.

         “How long do I have?”

         “I haven’t thought about breakfast yet, there’s plenty of time to-”

         “You know that’s not what I mean.”

         “When have I ever been so silly as to use obfuscation?”

         Will raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. “Just promise me whatever you do, you won’t hurt the dogs.”

Read the rest on AO3..

In one universe, I wasn’t the one that cared more. I go to sleep at night without remembering the feeling of your fingertips ghosting across my skin. I never got lost in your eyes or captivated by your smile. I knew your body but not your soul. There were no strings attached and we were both okay with that. We both moved on with our lives, and I never looked back.

In one universe you loved me. You never had commitment issues. You meant it when you said that all you needed was me. You saw a future with me. And I let myself fall for you knowing that you’d be there to catch me. We were together. I made you coffee every morning. And you kissed me every night. And we were happy. We were so so happy.

In one universe we never even met. You never kissed me that night in the fall. Or held my hand in the museum. I never traced your skin with my lips. We never fell asleep in each other’s arms. You never made me cry. I never dried your tears. We never screamed at each other that night. You never took me to bed for the last time. You never turned cold. We live our lives without the knowledge that either one of us even exists. Life is tragically quiet and we don’t know why.

In this universe though, it all happened. Your smile took my breath away and your laugh rattled my bones. When you kissed me the world around me faded. We spoke everyday and never grew bored. We were fire and gasoline and we burned brilliantly, until we didn’t. And it was extraordinary.

—  In this universe I’m not the one for you. But somewhere, somehow, maybe I am.

anonymous asked:

Sanvers prompt of them kicking ass together and then both being sore the next day and staying home for cuddles

When she first started with the DEO, she stopped changing in front of Kara.

She stopped changing in front of Kara and she learned, expertly, how to not flinch, even when a movement – even the slightest one – caused her excruciating pain.

She learned, essentially, how to hide all her pain. Physical, emotional, psychological.

She learned, essentially, how to lie.

And she was good at it.

Beating polygraph-level good at it, telling all powerful aliens who have her securely kidnapped to go to hell-level good at it.

But Maggie Sawyer?

Maggie Sawyer broke all that down, in a way that DEO training had never quite prepared her for.

Because she found family in the DEO.

People – people other than Kara – to die for, or, as J’onn kept insisting on, to live for.

But that family had a mission together. Always.

Alex and Maggie?

Alex’s sole mission with Maggie is to be happy together.

And that is the most beautiful thing, and that is the most absurdly challenging thing, about being with Maggie Sawyer.

Because Maggie is a spectacular cop. She’d make a kickass agent.

But she also is teaching Alex – just by caring about her, just by loving her, just by making her coffee in the morning and kissing the back of her neck as they fall asleep entwined in each other’s arms at night – she is also teaching Alex to unlearn so much she’s learned at the DEO.

About barriers. About walls. About suppression and about ignoring her own pain.

Discounting it as insignificant.

Maggie Sawyer thinks Alex’s pain, no matter how small, is significant.

Deserves space and deserves healing.

And that is why Alex Danvers calls to let J’onn know she’s taking the day off to recoop from yesterday’s mission. And it’s why J’onn smiles in approval, in gratitude for what he knows to be Maggie’s influence, when he tells Alex he’s proud of her for taking care of herself.

Because yesterday’s mission involved bruised ribs and busted lips and a truly ungodly dose of stiffness for both of them.

And instead of ignoring it, Alex is drawing a bath for the both of them while Maggie lights candles. Both of them moving slowly.

Both of them partially groaning and partially chuckling when even the slightest movement shoots through their entire aching bodies.

And when they finally sink into the lavender-scented bath – sink into each other, Maggie laying between Alex’s legs, Alex playing idly with Maggie’s hair, with Maggie’s breasts, with Maggie’s shoulders and her stomach – Alex understands this whole not-shoving-down-your-feelings thing. 

Because at first, she thought it was just about emotional feelings. And god, it is. But now she understands – like she understood the first time they kissed, the first time they grinded until she came, blushing bright red, on Maggie’s thigh, the first time Maggie slipped inside her with gentle, sure fingers – that the whole not-shoving-down-your-feelings thing is also about taking care of her body.

Letting herself rest.

Letting her eyes flutter closed and listen to the candles flickering, listen to Maggie breathing, listen to the slight swishing of Maggie’s fingers lazily skimming the surface of the water, lovingly tracing patterns of I-love-you in at least three different languages in the bubbles accumulated on Alex’s thighs.

Letting Maggie use their fluffiest towel to pat her dry when the bubbles eventually disappear, when they finally admit that it’s time to transition out of their bath.

Letting Maggie give her the best massage she’s ever had, and – after napping with Maggie half on top of her – rolling over to give Maggie the best massage Maggie’s ever had, complete with kisses to the back of her neck, to every vertebrae of her spine.

When they eventually flip on the latest season of Project Runway – “come on, Alex, they make that stuff so fast, and they come up with it on the spot like that, it’s pretty amazing!” – and melt into each other’s bodies on Alex’s couch, their couch, their couch, Alex thinks she truly understands the whole resting thing, now.

Because maybe her body is worth taking care of, after all.

The woman dozing peacefully in her arms certainly seems to think so.

Nextdoor Neighbor

Every morning she gets out of bed, puts on her slippers, ties her robe, brews her a cup of dark coffee the way she likes her men & walks out side. She walks out side to feel the sun on her face, to breath in the fresh air, takes a seat, opens her book of emotions, looks over, waves at her next door neighbor and then takes a sip of her dark coffee & begins to write.

One morning she gets out of bed, puts on her slippers, ties her robe but this time she didn’t walk outside to feel the sun on her face, nor to breath in the fresh air. But instead she brewed two cups of coffee and as she handed the second cup to her next door neighbor, he simply kissed her forehead. She whispered “I never walked outside to feel the sun on my face, nor to breath in the fresh air…it was just to see you my dear”

—  Ayahpapayah
Coffee in the Morning | Sebastian Stan

Character: Sebastian Stan

Warning: none

Summary: Imagine having coffee with Sebastian in the morning

The smell of coffee filled the kitchen as you went to reach for a mug. You sighed as you struggled to reach the cupboard. With a sigh, you climbed onto the counter carefully hoping that you didn’t accidentally hit anything. Sebastian was still sleeping and you knew he needed all the sleep he could get after his press tour. You quickly grabbed the mug and went to pour yourself a cup of coffee. As you went to take your first sip, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and a warm pair of lips pressed against the back of your neck.

“Can I have some?” Sebastian whispered as you set the mug down.

“You can’t pour your own cup of coffee?” you teased as you rested your hands on his arms, resting your head on his chest as he swayed slightly.

“I think you look better in my shirt than I do”

You smiled softly before spinning around in his arms. You rose on your toes and pressed your lips against his. Sebastian let out a small moan as he kissed back, pressing your body against the counter. You felt his tongue trace your bottom lip and you opened your mouth slightly, tentatively touching your tongue to his. He groaned as he entwined his tongue with yours, he gripped your waist tightly with his hands. As his hands began to wander towards the hem of your shirt, the door slammed open causing you and Sebastian to jump apart.

“Seriously, can’t you two keep your hands off each other for a second?” Chris sassed as he caught sight of the both of you.

“Not really” Sebastian replied before leading your lips back to his.

mAsTerLiSt

I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
—  Charles Bukowski