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alwaysshallow · 5 months ago

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gorgerous, part 8

Simon Riley x f!reader

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You're a vet with a pretty simple life. One day though, things change, when a big guy with a skull mask enters your clinic with a small, ginger kitten in his hands. (4,5k)

A/N: ....guess who's back??

Christmas is usually celebrated with someone you love. Someone you respect, someone that will cherish the moments with you because there’s not only a lot of things to prepare in a sense of duty, the feeling that you have to do this. There's a lot of things that you can genuinely enjoy.

Gifts. You love to think of something special for every person that is close to you, just for the pure satisfaction of seeing a smile on their face and a "How did you know?" question that makes you giddy every time you hear it.

What’s more, everyone gets something personalized, something that is from you, carefully picked amongst the hundreds of choices. You'd hate to give a present that looks like it had been picked at the last minute at a gas station; so, you spend a lot of the time buying and wrapping your gifts to some corny playlist that you made when you were eighteen, and you play it every year. Just for the vibe.

Meal, where you think of everyone. Their favorites, dislikes, something sweet for later, when the meal will be just too boring and the craving for chocolate would hit.

It’s good to note that most of the dishes aren't cooked by you (you don’t have time and skills to do so much), it's catering, but, it's the thought that matters, you think.

And it's like that… normally.

This year, you feel like all the holiday spirit is dead. Your mom and dad already planned the vacation—without you, which upsets you, but you don’t allow yourself to show that—and your friends go to their families. You’re gonna be alone in the most wonderful time of the year, so for some reason, you start to understand the Grinch.

You received an invitation from your friends, but you politely declined it. Feeling it would be either awkward, or you'd feel alienated in a family that you don't really know well. Besides, pity isn’t really your thing, so you prefer to watch Bridget Jones with cookies and milk, instead of being a burden.

Or, you preferred to watch Bridget Jones, before someone showed up in your life and made a little mess.

Before Simon came into view.

Maybe it's his aura, or maybe it's your high expectations and mindless dreaming, but you think it would be right to ask him. Even if he has plans—you think that a man like him doesn’t have plans—it's something that you want to do.

Just out of pure curiosity. Because based on the dinner you had with him, evening that you spent together, you think he'd be a good company. In your mind, you already see the banter between you and him. You already see how he argues with you that you shouldn't really put on a Grinch movie, or any Christmas movie because it’s tacky to think of a Hallmark movie and a meal together. You see how he rolls his eyes, when you hit “play” despite his protests.

How he tries to seem uninterested, but he’s more invested into the movie than you are, commenting out loud stupid choices of the heroes, sighing audibly, as you laugh in the background. How he absolutely devours cookies that you made, so you need to bake another batch of them because he's eating so much—rightfully so, for such a monstrous man in the military. He probably relies on his weight to stay in form.

It's hard not to drool, when you imagine it. His body under all of the clothing, his muscles, body fat. How he looks, how comedically bigger he is, compared to you. Fuck, you’d give a lot to see him without all of those clothes. Compression shirt leaves too much to your imagination to be satisfied with that only.

It’s even harder to maintain a calm face, when he asks you about something from the bathroom, and you jump in place, like you were just caught on something illegal or watching porn. You can’t even recall what he was saying, so with a frown you ask him to repeat the question.

If he’s not dense, he should know by now that you like him. Very much. Maybe too much, considering how far your imagination goes, and it only took… a few months, to fall into this mindset with a man that is rather known for being quiet. A man that did a horrible first impression in that weird mask, yet you’re still interested.

Your polar opposite.

While you love to talk, he rather avoids it. You love crowds (moderately), he does not. He probably prefers to sit alone in the cafe, reading away from the crowd, while you almost every time find someone to talk to, either if it’s a client or a barista that is glad someone doesn’t complain about the coffee. You talk, he’s more of a listener.

Fire and water; ice, even. Something that is on the opposite sides, something that shouldn’t work in the first place, but for some reason, it works perfectly well—for you, at least. You’re more addicted with the passing hours of your weird friendship with Simon, more curious to know him. Trying to adjust to the slow pace that he set in.

The slow dance around the topic is the thing you know Simon likes the most. It’s maybe the only thing that you’re sure he loves to do. Taking his time to observe, pounce and eventually attack, if he feels up to it.

It’d be easier that he’d ask you to spend Christmas with him, but you can’t have it all easy, no?

You bite your cheek and observe how he plays with Sparkles. The cat is invested in catching his fingers with her paws, gnawing on them, when he tries to take them away from her to take a sip of his tea. With a view like that, it’s easy to melt into a puddle and forget about everything that bothers you. It’s also very easy to have a prospect of you three spending holidays in your apartment. Wouldn’t be far from what you have now—big “bad” military man spending time with a tiny kitten, while you try to think of a proper breakfast.

It would be the best reward to have him around, when it’s your favorite time of the year.

But, it’s up to him, if he agrees.

And, for many reasons, unbeknownst to you, you want him to agree.

“You have somethin’ in mind,” he breaks the silence. Deep brown eyes are already scanning you from the bottom to the top of your head, curiously. Challenging himself if he’s capable of knowing what bothers you, before you’ll say it to him.

You’re not gonna make it easy for him, that’s for sure.

“I don’t,” you huff, like it’s supposed to convince him. “It’s just… I don’t know what to make for breakfast. That’s really it.”

Simon’s quick to accuse you. “Don’t lie.”

“I don’t lie?” You raise your eyebrow, like he just didn’t tell you the truth; he scoffs at your high-pitched tone, taking a few steps towards you.

“You bite your cheek, and stomp like a bunny. What is it if not lyin’?” He mimics you, raising an eyebrow too. If it would be anyone else, you’d be slightly offended.

Rather than that, you’re amused a bit. “Like a bunny?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. From Bambi, or whatever that was.”

It takes everything in you to not laugh right this second. “You watched Bambi?”

“With Soap,” he murmurs, almost in shame because of the confession. “Doesn’t matter, what do you have in your little head?”

One confession leads to another, you think. It seems inevitable to say this right now, as finding a lie would be the worst option ever in front of a human lie detector.

Besides, there’s no point in lying when you want him on Christmas.

“I thought that, you know, you could spend Christmas with me. Sparkles would be included, too,” you say, out of breath when you’re done.

In theory, this, telling him what you have in mind, should help you to get rid of that feeling in your chest. Feeling that makes you go back to being a kid, when you felt there’s nothing you can do about certain situations. When you could just wait for the mercy of the other person.

And that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re waiting till Simon says something; a few minutes ago, you felt like it’s just a formality.

Right now, you feel that the ache got worse just by seconds. His blank stare doesn’t help you with anything, it just makes you wonder what is in his mind right now. Is he just so shocked that he doesn’t know what to say? Or is he trying to find the words to politely decline the invitation?

“So, you want to celebrate with me,” he speaks up. You don’t know if there’s been five minutes, ten minutes, or an hour since you’ve asked him, but nonetheless, it makes you mad how he asks another question, instead of answering yours.

Although, you don’t show it; you just chuckle, nervously. “Is that really weird?”

“Kind of? Masochist type of way, if I’m being honest,” he hums, tilting his head. You have this specific feeling behind your head that he’s not taking you seriously, but you try to push it away. You don’t need it, not now.

“Well, masochist or not,” you swallow the saliva, thinking it would give you courage to continue the conversation, “I really mean it. I’d love to have you here.”

He sighs, shaking his head, and you know you’re screwed. “We’re not quite here, bird. Nothin’ personal, but that’s probably the dumbest idea out here.”

“Dumbest… idea?” You raise your eyebrow, laughing at first, but then you look at him in disbelief. “Like, spending time together on Christmas is dumb?”

It looks like he doesn’t even want to hear what you are saying. Riley puts Sparkles to the transporter, getting ready to go, while you still want the answer. “So? That’s… it?”

“I don’t want to spend Christmas with you.” He shrugs, looking at you. “Simple as that, I don’t know what is so hard to understand.”

And then, he leaves.

Not only without breakfast, but without a word that would help you understand why he reacted like that.

As you can imagine, the following days are kind of rough.

Simon isn't a texter or a caller, doesn't have a reason for it anyway, so you're anxious all the time at work. You make more hours than you should just to stay in work and keep your mind occupied with something other than him because it still feels like he was at your place minutes ago, not days.

It doesn’t help. The unnerving wave of shame is overwhelming, so you can’t even enjoy your work the way you normally would. Because normally, work helps you with your inner peace, feeling like a hot shower after a long day. Relaxing your muscles, bringing your mind elsewhere.

Right now, work is just pouring more problems to the already full cup.

Maybe it’s a mistake, but you don’t really share it with anyone; what happened with the British guy. Too ashamed that you even thought it would be a great idea to invite Simon, you bottle the feelings instead of letting them out on a random girls night, when you’d be too drunk to remember what you’ve said. You don’t mention it to your best friend, in case she’d spill it to Soap, you don’t mention it to your parents, in a fear of being judged. Or, Simon being judged in that case, they don’t know him.

You feel like you don’t know him either, but he has to have a reason to not to come, right? It’s not like he decided that just out of spite, right?

Not only you feel bad, but the whole thing feels pathetic. Everything reminds you of him. A damn jar of peanut butter in your apartment (that you hide deep, as you don’t want to even look at that), cat toys at your workplace, LEGO, just because he said that it seems like the stupidest, yet the most interesting “puzzle thing” ever. If this isn’t enough, you catch yourself thinking of him at the gym, when you feel too fatigued to continue the training. Wondering if he’d push you to do the last set, what’d he say. Him, helping you with the exercises, seems like something inevitable. Something that could happen.

You need a cold shower after that.

These days, people tend to get on your nerves too. Your calm clients become someone that you don’t want to see, not even mentioning talking to them for more than it’s necessary. Happy couple in the shop irritates you enough to skip the aisle that they are in because if you don’t get to be happy, you don’t want to see other people happy like that. Not when you thought you’re gonna spend the holiday with someone special to you.

God. If one of your best friends would behave that way, you’d convince them they deserve better because no boy should make you feel like crap.

Now… yeah.

Now you should be the best friend to yourself, but it’s not going well for you. It’s way easier to try to lose yourself at work, watch rom-coms and eat ice cream, rather than face the truth.

You eventually come to the conclusion that spending Christmas would be a scratch on his emo reputation, so it’s better for you to ignore him completely from this point. If he hates this day so much, he could tell you in a different way than humiliating not only you, but your feelings.

It’s the night before Christmas when you see him, as you come back from the shop with your groceries.

He looks... fine, as always. Unbothered, as always.

Walking like the whole world belongs to him, loudly and clearly intimidating everyone who would even think of crossing his path. It's something that you, right now, envy him for. How heartless he seems, which definitely helps him not only with the job he’s doing, but for the moment like this one.

Where people, normally, feel ashamed.

The big guy facade fades just for a single moment—and you hopelessly think it's the moment he sees you, the last droplets of human decency speaking to him. He stops, looking at you from head to your toes and back. Estimating if you’re worth a while.

And when he decides that you’re in his circle of interest, he walks up even closer to you. Not a single emotion on his scarred face, and if you wouldn't know him, you'd be scared that he wants something malicious.

Maybe he does.

"Hi."

His voice feels like he’s under the water. Deep, unreachable, but for some reason, it reaches you. Simon’s presence floods your lungs, making it hard to breathe, or to do anything at this point. You have to take a shallow breath before you’ll do anything.

You can't quite reach out to yourself to bring anything other than "Fuck you", so you don't speak after the "Hi." A nod in acknowledgement of his existence is all you give him; because if you would try to speak, you'd be either aggressive or hysterical.

And it's the last thing you want to give him: emotions. Because he seems to love that you're the emotional one here; he can read people like a book, and you're tired of being one. Tired of being on his shelf, so he can grab you whatever he wants, and you have no control over it. It simply doesn't feel right to you, doesn't seem fair at any chance.

His tone snaps you back to reality. "Dove."

You sigh. "I have a meal to prepare. Can't really talk right now, Riley.”

"Ouch." He theatrically puts a hand on his heart, tilting his head to the side. You can't really say if he's surprised by your sudden change in behavior towards him, or amused. Maybe both, knowing him.

So, you do what you do best: you just start walking to your place, completely ignoring his presence. Pretend like you don’t care about this stupid Christmas, like you forgot what he said to you on that disastrous morning.

He grabs your arm, forcefully. You’re not even sure when that happens, when he jerks you towards him and you can see how he purses his lips in a thin line, looking at you with something resembling remorse, at best. Or something quite close to it, it’s hard to name it.

"'m not gonna let go."

"And I'll start screaming. You know I will. Like, actually, who would believe you that you just wanted to talk to me? You’re big, mean and generally speaking many people would—"

"If the invitation is still on the table, I'd take it, if we're bein' honest."

Like a fish, you open your mouth and close it a couple of times, dumbfounded. You can’t really tell if he means what he said, or if he actually said what you’ve heard; because there’s a possibility you just misheard something. You raise your eyebrow. "What?"

"Your hearing abilities amaze me."

"You told me a few days ago—"

"Changed my mind." He shrugs. So casually, like he didn’t actually make you freaking out about him, thinking you’re imagining things between you two because he rejected your invitation.

You repeat his words mindlessly, barely believing in them. “What changed, then? The big “I don’t spend Christmas” guy thought he’s gonna do it this year? Or something changed between us and it’s not that casual anymore? Or it’s not the dumbest idea?”

He grits his teeth. It’s not rocket science to see that he’d rather you just take his apology, but you’re not like that. At least, not after feeling so humiliated for a couple of days, thinking that you’re the stupidest woman on the entire planet. For what it’s worth, you need to make him regret his decision a little.

You want him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stands right in front of you, the royal brown staring into your soul. It’s not like you will budge, and Simon seems to know it, when he rolls his eyes.

Fire and water. Maybe something that is not meant to be, and you started to slowly accept it after those days without contact. Sometimes people have different views on life, relationships and that’s okay. It’s not like you can change how he feels about you, but right now—

—right now, he closes his arms around you. Before you know it, he places his chin on the top of your head. Trying to isolate you from everything but him.

You try several times to leave his embrace, to punch him hard enough, but he doesn’t let go, and by that alone, you understand that somehow, you needed it. You just shoved it under the rug because it was easier.

Needed him, in general. Needed the reassurance that he probably doesn’t hate you so much. Your anger seems at lower levels right now, tamed, understanding towards him. It’s a stark contrast between you now, and a few days ago, when you wanted his head to be chopped off.

“I thought you passed on the party,” comes out quieter than expected. Like you’re actually afraid to say that, and he seems to know it when he tightens his arms around you for a moment.

“‘s not a party though, is it? Only us three,” he murmurs, shrugging. You could think he doesn’t care coming from the tone, but the look in his eyes, the small glint in them, says otherwise.

You scoff, pretending to be offended. Truth is, you’re far from offended right now. “Two is already a party.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Not a really reliable source, dove. But s’alright,” he says, tilting his head. He looks down at you and then kisses the top of your head. Not even bothered that a few minutes ago you wanted to punch him. “Let’s go already, hm? Probably you’d want to make some shit or else.”

“Or else,” you say. You have a lot to do, that’s true, but right now your focus is elsewhere—and that’s on his heart. You can hear how hard it is beating, the only indicator (besides the eyes) that he really wants to be here with you.

And If you doubted he has heart, now you really can see that, indeed, he has. Beating for no one else but you.

“You… can’t do that,” you say, without even looking at him. Your eyes are focused on the lantern nearby, the yellow light brightening the surroundings. “You can’t just say shit like that and expect I’ll be okay.”

“Listen—”

“—No. No, you should listen. I don’t want you to feel that you can say anything to me, to just come back without the consequences. Just promise me. It’s not hard, it’s not complicated, you know? Communication is actually easy, if you just try hard enough.”

For a few seconds, he’s quiet. Just like he was quiet on that accurst day, when everything got fucked up. You’re quick to open your mouth, but then, he answers, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You lost your hearing or somethin’?” He tilts his head a little to the right. If Sparkles wouldn’t be in a transporter in his hand, you’d smack the shit out of him. “Maybe you do need a doctor’s visit.”

“I said so much and you—”

“There’s nothin’ for me to say. I know, and I acknowledged it,” he says, abruptly, his gaze hardening. “I fucked up. Not denying that, but right now, I want to make it right. That clear?”

That is clear, and as he’s seemingly a man of his words, you go to your apartment without any other word about the past.

You learn that he’s more of an observer than a doer. He waits for your sign, for whatever that gives him a clear message about what he should and shouldn’t do. The effect of the military gets to him even in mundane tasks like hanging the lights or tossing around a few decorations there and there. Simon doesn’t speak until he finishes, and then he just stares at you, until you’re gonna give him the next instructions.

You can’t help but laugh, when you do. He seems so lost when you do that, irritated at first, but he probably gets the message.

"I don't... do, this," he says, when he's busy rolling the dough with his rough hands. For a man like him, he's very tender with how he does it. Caring that you've told him how to do it, not using all of his power.

“Do what?” You look at him, tilting your head to the side. You know exactly what he means, but for what he put you through, he deserves to have a little struggle, to be more vocal about what he feels. He seems to know it, assuming that he pushes the dough to the surface a little harder.

“This stuff,” he explains. His way of explanation is a little different than yours, but you’ll take what he gives you.

“Baking?”

“That too,” he mutters. “It’s weird to do this.”

“But, are you having fun?”

He nods, and you take it as a final answer. As you smile under your nose, you move on to the next step. You think you’re going to make everything on time, with help like him.

“My parents died on Christmas day.”

Or not.

You drop your eggs a second later; it’s the first, genuine reaction at his sudden words. His quick reflex is the only thing that saves them from going to waste. “Christ, dove, just watch it.”

“Simon, I—”

“—Well, everyone died. Tommy, his wife, kids.” He shrugs, continuing the monologue. You don’t know if it’s a coping mechanism, trying to make it seem like it’s the most normal thing in the whole world, but in some way, it is concerning. “That… well. I just don’t do anythin’ on this day. Or before, really. I pretend it’s nothing special, so I don’t summon whatever that shit was years ago.”

To say that you’re shocked would be an understatement. You have to fight your tears right now, to completely not fall apart right in front of him. “How young were you?”

“Twenty two, I think.”

You put your hand on his—trying to console him, give him some support, even if he doesn’t look like he needs one. “I can’t tell you—”

“—No shit like this.” He looks up, crossing his gaze with yours. Despite his words, you see something in them. Something that quietly says thank you. “I’m a magnet for bad things, and for what it’s worth,” he looks at you, “I didn’t want to get you involved, if something would happen. Everyone around me dies, if I let them get too close.”

“You do know that it’s bullshit, right?” You look up at him; the choice of words isn’t exactly the best, but he seems to know that you mean, when his eyes cross with yours. “I’m so close, and I’m not going anywhere, Simon.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. See?” You put one of his hands on your waist, the second on your face. He doesn’t move them.

Simon’s eyes darken, second by second. They’re not a dark chocolate anymore, they resemble more of a dark ocean at midnight. It’s hard to find anything light in them. “I see, but you don’t seem to understand what I mean.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Then, explain it to me.”

“It’s a one way ticket. No backin’ out after this—”

“—I don’t want to back out, so.” You mimic his careless shrugging from earlier. It’s hard to ignore how he rolls his eyes at your act. “What?”

“You’re a brat. Should listen to the elders when they talk, not interrupt them.” He mutters, taking your chin so you could look at him better. “Maybe I could teach you some manners.”

You gulp. “Maybe you could.”

Maybe this interaction is something that needed to be said or done. Maybe Simon needed to reject you at first, and then come to you, so he would tell you part of his story, no filter. Maybe.

You do not care about that, not right now.

“Stay… still,” he sighs right to your ear, his big hand going under your t-shirt.

If you’d tell yourself that Simon Riley is going to be one of the most important people for you, the past you probably wouldn’t believe any of that. The first impression wasn’t the best, you were interested in him only because of the mystical aura surrounding him.

Yet, when one of his hands is under your t-shirt, the other on your throat, you couldn’t ask for a better place to be.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #x reader #simon riley x you #cod x you #simon riley/reader #simon ghost riley fanfic #ghost x you

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sleepyangelkami · 1 year ago

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FADE INTO YOU j.todd

☆ WORD COUNT - 1.1K

JASON TODD X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - slow dancing in the kitchen with domestic bf!jason

☆ WARNINGS - tooth rotting fluff, petnames, intended lower case, nothing I write is ever proofread 🩷

jason's days off were rare, but when they actually happened, they were the best. even hero's like him had to take a couple rest days. today was one of those days.

the living room was dull aside from the little lamp to your right, next to the couch you were laid across, head on your boyfriend's chest as he read the words scrawled across the page slowly. his voice was soothing, so much so that you actually found your eyes falling shut, head gone limp against him.

jason would swear on the bible that he was a grinch, that he hated christmas more than anything. but only you would know how big of a lie that was. frost covered the windows, completely blocking your outside view although the curtains did a good enough job anyway. your christmas tree was sat in the corner of your living room, tacky an decorated in different coloured baubles along with the tacky red and silver tinsel and the blue and gold lights that were never turned off.

it was nights like this, you snuggled up in your christmas pijama's, as he was, matching of course, with christmas decorations sprawled across the entire room that he realised just how much he loved it. though, he was sure that there was one thing he'd always hate about this time of year. the goddamn cold.

when he realised you had fallen asleep on him, he placed the book on the side table, standing up and drawing the reindeer blanket over your shoulders to keep you warm.

his feet moved towards the kitchen where there was little to no light. it was attached to the living room, so the only beacon of light was the tree and the lamp.

his eyes glanced towards the clock that wrote half seven. on his days off, you spent every minute together. today, you had both travelled up the country for a little christmas shopping before stopping home to see the christmas lights. you were going to go for dinner too but you both decided you were too cold and you wished to be home as soon as possible.

the fire lit, heating up the entire house. he realised how long it had been since you'd eaten. he himself wasn't too hungry but he knew how you'd be, sleepy or not.

when you did wake, it was to the smell of food and the sound of low music. the music had been on before you'd fallen asleep, low and muffled but even so, you could hear it. you found yourself smiling into the armchair of the couch, eyes strained on your boyfriend's back as he cooked whatever it was he was making.

he was in a red fluffy pijama bottoms with pictures of little christmas trees, presents and ginger bread cookies along with a plain black t-shirt. you wore the same bottoms only with a black crop top, clinging to your skin comfortably. when you first mentioned matching pijama's, he quite literally laughed in your face.

now look.

as good as the food smelled, you were really more bothered on who was standing in front of the frying pan.

jason had sensed you waking up minutes ago so the feeling of arms wrapping around his wide torso didn't frighten him. "hi, sleepy." he grinned, looking down at the food he was stirring.

"hi, jay." your head buried into his back. "what're you doing?" you mumbled sleepily.

"makin' you some dinner, baby." your stomach felt empty, hungry but you'd seemingly always forget around him. perhaps it was because he made you feel so... full. "wanna sit by the couch 'n watch a movie while i make it?"

despite the fact he couldn't see your face, you shook your head. "jus' wanna be with you." when you got sleepy like this, he was all you wanted. not food, not a movie, not even your family, you just wanted him, your jay.

he hummed with a smile as he turned around, grasping you in his arms. you let him move so that your head was in his chest, not his back. he allowed the food to cook. he held you like that, moving one hand to turn up the music slightly. it was a slow, pretty song that reminded you a lot of him. it was funny because it reminded him of you too, you were both just too shy to say it. "feelin' okay, princess?" you nodded your head dumbly. "day wore you out?" he could read you like a book. if that was true, you were his favourite storytale.

you hummed this time, allowing him to slightly sway your bodies to the song. he did it slowly, so slow it took you a second to register. "what are you doin'?" you mumbled, lips turning up at the corners.

"me?" he feigned shock. "I'm not doing anything, angel." though as he spoke, he led you away from the oven and stopped between it and the counter. you stood in the middle of the kitchen with him.

with one hand on your waist, he used his other to pick up one of your own, your left one to be exact. you'd danced with him many times at one of the wanye gala's. but this. this was different.

this time, the song was one of your own, one that made you smile and think of him, your jason. this time, there wasn't hundreds of eyes on you, whispers through the crowd about jason todd, bruce wayne's son and his 'date' were you his girlfriend? or just an escourt? how long had you known one another? who were you?

none of that mattered now.

you could breathe in and breathe out. all you could smell was jason's cologne and the cooking off in a distance. the sound of the music was relaxing, slow but your feet moved with jason's. this was slower than you'd ever danced with him before, including the slow dances at the gala.

with your head on his chest, eyes closed shut, you could hear the low humming of jason with the music. the small whisper of his voice as the words of the song began. it was quiet, but enough for you to hear.

as the music slowed to a stop, you moved away slightly, glancing up at the man you called your lover and loved him you did. he smiled down at you, his entire world.

his hand moved to cup your face, other one brushing his fingers against your own, dancing upon your skin as he kissed you slowly. in that moment, you felt your knee's actually go weak. you kissed back, of course, lips slowly moving against his own.

he pulled back, lips in a tight grin. "you up for some dinner?" he mumbled, quietly.

you nodded your head, completely overcome with him. "can we watch the muppets christmas carol while we have it?" you loved that movie, as did he.

he chuckled quietly, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips. "of course, princess, go set up the tv." and that was exactly what you did.

main masterlist/jason's masterlist

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ithebookhoarder · 2 years ago

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🎄Spending the holidays with Matt (Matt Murdock x Reader)

A/N: It’s officially the festive season and for some reason my inspiration has returned with a vengeance. Apologies for my absence the past few weeks, but I am back. Keep your eyes peeled for some more festive content in the coming days - oh, and happy holidays to everyone celebrating this time of year!

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist

So Matt may not be that festive by nature, but you can bet he’s willing to indulge every one of your whims when it comes to the holidays.

Honestly, it makes a nice change to have someone to spend it with. It gives him a reason not to spend the entire evening out on patrol, knowing you are back at home, watching an endless marathon of Christmas movies whilst you wait up for him.

He wouldn’t care if you want to decorate the apartment or the office as he can’t really see it anyway so he isn’t bothered by flashing lights or reams of tinsel. As long as it makes you happy, then it’s worth it.

He may pretend he’s above it, but he enjoys the happiness he can feel radiating off of you. Well, that’s his reasoning for his festive cheer even if you have your own theories.

After all, the Devil of Hell’s kitchen is more like Santa than the Grinch - or so you point out one night: ‘I’m just saying, Matty. You run around at night, wearing a red suit, looking for people who have been naughty to punish them, and by default reward people who have been nice-’

‘-I swear to god-’

‘Should I start leaving out cookies for you? Maybe some milk? I-’

Needless to say, he quickly tackles you onto the bed and puts a stop to that line of reasoning.

Matt would almost die with joy if he came home to smell the warm scent of you baking in the kitchen at any point. The mixture of ginger, cinnamon, and freshly baked cookies is heavenly. Almost as heavenly as the soft hum of your voice whenever he catches you singing along to your Christmas playlist.

He’d never say, but it’s enough to warm his ‘cold Scrooge-like heart’ - as Foggy calls it. He’s often stood just outside the front door, listening to you, too afraid to enter incase you stopped.

You have a fairly decent voice, which he appreciates.

Not naming names but Matt wanted to jump out the window when he caught you and Foggy duetting ‘All I want for Xmas is you’ with the radio in the office. Foggy is many things but a singer is not one of them. Luckily, Matt loves him too much to say. He just grins and laughs the whole way through, only able to imagine the ridiculous expressions you must be doing as you dance about the space.

Speaking of singing and dancing and festive cheer, you can bet you’d all make your way to Josie’s at some point, for Christmas drinks with the gang before everyone goes their separate ways for the big day.

Jessica makes a brief appearance, just long enough to down a glass of whiskey, as does Clare when she get off shift from the hospital.

It’s safe to say you all come out the bar a little worse for wear, even Matt, which is a nice surprise. It isn’t very often you get to see your boyfriend grinning like a small child, carefree, and drunkenly trying to pull you under the mistletoe - ‘cause it’s tradition’

When it comes to gifts, Matt would know exactly what to get you - that man has been gathering intel all year long and is ready to surprise you as it’s one of the rare opportunities he gets to show you how much you mean to him.

He’d probably drag either Foggy or Karen along with him to pick it up, just to make sure he gets it right.

When he gives it you better be prepared for a ‘sorry if this gift looks like it was wrapped by a blind man joke’ - which is insane as he still somehow manages to wrap it beautifully (which is incredibly unfair considering wrapping gifts is like the hardest thing ever).

Also. Matt may be blind but he can hear everything. It’s a nightmare. He can hear it when you try to silently cut wrapping paper, or when the gifts you’re hiding under the bed rustle when you put another one under there.

You have to banish him from the place if you even hope of trying to wrap them without him guessing what it is.

He’s good though and would never open them, knowing how much it means to you to surprise him on the big day.

You also decide to do something for him, offering to attend mass with him at the nearby church, knowing how much it means to him to go.

Sitting there together, nestled in the pew, it’s hard not to enjoy the carols and the peace that seems to radiate from Matt. That in itself is worth more than any material gift you can give him.

#marvel #masterlist #christmas #matt murdock x reader #Matt Murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #Matthew Murdock #Daredevil #daredevil x reader #marvel daredevil #thesilentmage #ithebookhoarder #christmas headcanons #marvel headcanons #foggy nelson #karen page #jessica jones #charlie cox

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 11 months ago

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Wrapped Up In Christmas Memories

a Stephen Strange x Hope Collins fic

Part One

genre: fluff & Christmas to begin with; angst, catharsis, with healing later...and as always, love❤️💚

characters: Stephen Strange, Hope Collins (OFC), established relationship

word count: approximately 3.1k

moodboard by the very generous @strangelock221b 💙🩵💜

Stephen should have known that he had fallen in love with a Christmas person. Should have been prepared for what was in store for him come late November. Hope's enthusiasm for all things Yuletide was exactly in keeping with her nature--and of course, she had no way of knowing that when it came to Christmastime, his past had shaped him into a bit of a Grinch.

A week or so before Thanksgiving, she'd brought a mysterious shopping bag to the Sanctum and set it discretely in a corner of the living room portion of his suite. When he'd asked what was inside, she'd flashed him a pert smile and smiling eyes as she answered, "Darling, that's for me to know, and you to find out. Eventually." Then sashayed away, humming 'Good King Wenceslas'. Yup, he should've known then that Hope was...was very much a Who.

They had shared a quiet, homey Thanksgiving; Hope had eagerly prepared a little feast for them, along with far too many desserts prepped in a flurry of baking in the 48 hours ahead of time. "There's supposed to be an abundance of leftovers," she had insisted when Stephen groused that they could never finish it all, "And in my family tradition, the freezer was always stuffed with packages of turkey, potatoes, and what have you--enough for a meal a week 'til nearly Christmas." And she'd relished the sight of him digging into those leftovers--along with a healthy serving of her apple-ginger pie--as a midnight snack, looking every bit the adorable 'told ya so' when she grabbed a fork to help him polish off the pie.

When they'd finally settled into bed and snuggled close, Stephen was happy to tell Hope it had been his best Thanksgiving in decades--and that perhaps it could be the start of traditions of their own. "Good," she replied, kissing his neck and then resting her head on his shoulder, "There's more I'd love to share with you. If you don't mind...starting tomorrow."

Stephen's own family traditions always felt like dusty, ancient history now; memories he seldom allowed himself to dwell upon for the heartbreak of the losses of his sister Donna, and later his mother Beverly, who had never fully recovered emotionally from Donna's death. He sighed hard, not wishing to spoil the moment, but feeling he should give his love fair warning. "If it's Christmas related, Hope--I'm really not that guy..."

"Oh, Stephen..." she started to protest.

"I don't wanna disappoint you, honey, but I...I gave up Christmas a loooong time ago..."

"Gave up Christmas?" Hope tutted. "You don't strike me as a Scrooge..."

"I'm not. Of course I'm not," he countered gently, "There's just a lot of...baggage...that I gave up carrying. Decades ago." For my own peace of mind, he thought but didn't add. "I mean, I'll be happy to see how you embrace the season, Hope, but um..."

He felt more than heard her sigh, understanding that she would not be deterred--while well aware that as ever, whatever form her persuasion would take would be gentle. Patient. Quiet. Stephen couldn't help but love that about her.

"Alright," she told him, laying her palm above his heart, which he always found soothing. "I promise to be mindful of your...baggage...if you help me with just one tradition tomorrow."

Stephen's turn to quietly sigh with his intent to cooperate, "Just the one? Seems a fair bargain to make...if you can stick to it."

"Just the one--I promise," Hope laughed softly, "And after that, well...I'll go about my Christmasing without the sort of fuss that might bother you."

Though he could practically feel the wheels in her head turning to come up with a way to change his view of the season, he chuckled, "It's a deal then. So what will we be doing tomorrow?"

"Getting a tree, of course. That's my mom's thing. Tree goes up the day after Thanksgiving...and comes down on New Years Day. Although, since I've been on my own, I keep it up however long I want. It's an excellent remedy for the mid-winter doldrums."

"A tree it'll be, then," he promised, reaching to turn off his bedside lamp, "And then I'm out."

"Like a light", Hope assured him. "Now, do you wanna be the big spoon or little spoon tonight?"

"Big," he replied, flipping onto his side, then sliding his arm around her waist when she turned to fit herself against him. Stephen brushed his lips on her ear, "For what it's worth, honey, I hope you have some sugar plum dreams tonight."

"Thanks, Stephen," she murmured, clearly on her way to sleep, "Love you too."

By the time Hope awoke the next morning, Stephen had already worked out a plan to keep his promise. One which would involve him in as little Christmas fuss as possible. A quick online search had yielded a few spots in the Village itself where they could find fresh cut trees. After breakfast, he discreetly portaled the two of them to a side street off of Hudson Street, where they found a popular Christmas market adjacent to a city park.

Hope had been so delighted by his initiative that he had felt it necessary to remind her that this would be his sole contribution to the Christmas decorating. She had batted her eyes prettily with her reply, "As you wish," but to Stephen, it had felt more like she was saying, "We'll see about that."

They settled on a seven foot Balsam fir, which Stephen had insisted on paying for out of his Sanctum Master's monthly stipend. The warmth of the lingering kiss she pressed to his cheek in thanks was absolutely worth that investment, and Hope's happiness was a gift that thoroughly warmed his heart. Being quite pleased by how swiftly they'd accomplished their chore--and surprised that the task felt far more pleasant than he'd anticipated--Stephen arranged to have the tree delivered to Bleecker Street by mid-afternoon.

Hope had wandered over to a group of stalls featuring hand-crafted Christmas decorations, and by the time he joined her, she had a small brown shopping bag in hand. He offered her his arm, "Shall we?"

"Shall we what," she countered impishly.

"Head back home."

"Oh...well...", she bit her lip, mulling over her answer for a few moments, "You go on ahead, darling. There's just a few more things I'd like to pick up..."

Stephen hummed, studying her face for any sign that this was a coy play to get him to stay after all. Seeing only sincerity, he found himself offering to stick around anyway. "Thanks, but no, Stephen," she assured him, "I shouldn't be too long--and I did promise not to bother you beyond the tree. You won't even have time to miss me; I'm sure I'll get there before the tree even does."

Stephen hadn't expected her to be so easily accommodated. "Are you sure, honey? I can spare a while longer if...if you'd like me to."

Hope moved in close, placed her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his other cheek. "I appreciate the offer, darling," she husked, "But how about you get a nice fire going in the hearth in your quarters, so they'll be all toasty for when I decorate the tree this afternoon?" She backed away and beamed him a smile, then turned to explore the market further without a further word.

Stephen stood on the sidewalk, the relief at being let off the expected Christmas hook colored with the surprising disappointment that Hope hadn't even tried to ask for more beyond her promise. She's probably got other plans in mind, he decided; bet she's just softening me up for that. Hands tucked deep into his coat pockets against the growing chill in the air--they'd begun to ache in the way that told him snow was on the way--he headed back to the side street, and portaled back home.

The snow arrived before Hope did, with the tree being delivered about a half-hour later. By then, Stephen had a crackling fire going in the hearth and had even used magic to set up a tree stand before one of the front windows of the living room.

Rosy-cheeked from the cold and bearing two Balsam wreaths decked with red ribbons, sprigs of holly & berries, and mini white lights, Hope appeared to be the embodiment of Christmas cheer. "I figured now that it's no secret that a magical building is part of the neighborhood," she explained in answer to the question in his eyes, "You'd at least want the Sanctum to look a little festive..."

Stephen gave a heavy sigh as he conceded that point to her. And though she didn't ask, he cast a spell to keep the wreaths in place on the Sanctum's double doors, with reinforcement to keep them fresh and green for however long they hung there. He would go on to use the same spell for the Christmas tree awaiting decorating in his quarters.

After lunch, Hope practically shooed Stephen from the room when she began to string lights on the fragrant evergreen. With a vintage selection of Christmas carols playing in the background, she was determined to keep her promise to him. "Besides, I'd like to surprise you with the ornaments I've picked. So go keep busy with whatever wizarding stuff is on your agenda, and I'll come get you for the big reveal."

Lazy snowflakes continued to fall well past dusk, looking pretty and perfectly seasonal outside the Sanctum windows, though little stuck to the streets and pavements. Hope had finally popped her head past the door to his study several hours after she'd sent him away and invited Stephen to come check out the product of her efforts. Her excitement felt contagious--and once he spied the tree, Stephen knew she had good reason for her enthusiasm.

She had dimmed the lights for maximum effect, showing off the slow, steady twinkle of the white lights that graced every branch of the tree. The ornaments were a mix of dark blue and gold bells and balls, variously sized, and many of them sprinkled with golden glitter. Featured among them were larger, glassblown ornaments shaped as suns, moons, and stars, as well as other traditional celestial symbols. The total effect was breathtaking--and a telling reminder that Hope was an Artist, deep down to her soul.

Watching him take in the full picture, her eyes sparkled with joyful anticipation of his response. Stephen's jaw had dropped, and he remained speechless as he circled the tree before he came to stand at Hope's side, pulling her to him with one arm around her back. "This is...marvelous, honey. Fantastic. Beautiful...and...and..."

"And nearly perfect for a Master of the Mystic Arts," she replied, a slight tremor in her voice, "Don't you think so, anyway?

Stephen nodded and laid a kiss on top of her head. "I can't imagine anything more perfect, Hope," he agreed, his voice grown thick with emotion. "You were planning this for a while, weren't you?"

"Only since mid-September," she laughed, then pointed to a stained-glass disk depicting the zodiac circling a stylized sun. "I saw that one at a craft fair, and it just sort of...inspired...the whole thing."

"I should've expected something this..." Stephen searched for the perfect word to describe not only the tree, but the sentiment her gift had him feeling, "...grand...from you, honey. Grand. Grand and perfect."

"It's actually a little short of perfect, Stephen," she confessed difidently.

"No, Hope...honey...it's perfect for me," he insisted, "Both as a wizard and as a man."

"I don't mean in that way, darling. It's...it's unfinished," she sighed, motioning to the crowning branch. "It's in want of a star."

"Aaaaaaah." Stephen let the moment linger before smirking, "And is that by design, or just something you overlooked?"

"I just can't reach it," came her plaintive, honest reply.

"I see." Stephen could feel how hard she was trying not to ask for his help, in light of her promise to him. How dear that was to him! A simple yet lovely truth about this woman he loved. How could he not offer to help? "You know, I wouldn't mind adding the finishing touch, honey. If you'd allow me to, of course."

"I suppose that'll be alright, darling. If you wouldn't mind too terribly."

"Not at all," he told her, truthfully. "Do you have one, or shall I conjure something to match your theme?"

"Hold on," she replied, making a beeline to a dark pink box perched on the side table by the sofa. Hope removed an object swathed in tissue paper, unwrapping it very gingerly when she returned to his side. "This star is over a hundred years old. It came to America with my great-grandmother when she arrived from Ireland back in 1921. It passes to the eldest daughter in each generation..."

"And you're the lucky winner," Stephen observed in a hushed tone, immediately adopting the same reverence with which Hope handled the fragile antique.

"Yes," she sniffled softly. "Mom was the middle child, but her older sister didn't have any girls, so when she passed, it came to me. That was during The Snap years. Once she came back, my mother never really recovered from finding out her sister had died alone, without the comfort of family near."

Stephen's first thought was of his mother, Beverly, and of the colorless Christmases between Donna's death and her own. In the face of Hope's bittersweet revelation, he couldn't bring himself to express his observation; that grief had been his mother's cause of death as well.

Hope took note of the pain that briefly flickered across his features. "Stephen, are you alright? You looked so sad, all of a sudden."

"Oh, honey, I'm just...just so, so sorry for your loss. I know that grief doesn't take holidays, and there are times it hits so hard, it feels like the one we've lost...that it only happened yesterday." Mindful of the crystal star in his hands, he drew Hope into his arms, then rested his chin atop her head. "But the best comfort, I'm told, is remembering the best of times you shared with them."

The smallest voice in his head gave an ironic retort. Doctor, why don't you take your own advice and heal yourself for a change? Share your story with Hope, and by doing so, maybe you can put your own ghosts to rest.

Maybe so, he told himself. But not now; not tonight. I'm not ready to face that kind of pain just yet. And the small voice answered: of course you aren't. It seems you never are.

Stephen shook off that moment of weakness--as he always did. And with the gentlest charm he could manage, he floated Hope's star to the top of the tree and fixed it safely in place. That drew from Hope her prettiest smile, so that he dared a change of subject. "Well, in light of the heavy lifting I've just done, I think it's time we fix ourselves some turkey and gravy sandwiches and maybe watch 'The Grinch'. It's one of the few Christmas movies I actually enjoy."

"Jim Carey or the DreamWorks one," Hope asked as they headed, arm in arm, toward the closer of the two Sanctum kitchens.

"Jim Carey," he asserted with a grin, "The other is far too sentimental for my liking."

[to be continued🎄]

If you enjoyed this little fic so far, you can read more about how Stephen & Hope met and fell in love in my stories 'Friday in the Park with Stephen' (meet-cute, flirtation & fluff), and 14,000,604 (hurt/comfort, angst, passion/smut, lovers reunited against impossible odds).

In addition, I've written a couple of one-shots/prompt fills as part of their ongoing series, The Wizard and the Artist

tagging: @strangelock221b @mousedetective @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @darsynia @ben-locked @hithertoundreamtof23 @aeterna-auroral-avenger @lorelei-lee @stewardofningishzida @thelostsmiles @mrs-cookie @paperclippedmime @groovyqueer

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nattinatalia · 2 years ago

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Jack Harlow x Reader Instagram AU

A/N : Read this first 🎅🏼

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, yourbestiename, claybornharlow, and 7,456,245 others

yourusername I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. My poor baby, Mia’s ginger bread house was just not cooperating and her little face expressions were hilarious 😂

View all 1,900 comments

yourbestiename Bitchhhhh 😭

urbanwyatt 😩😩

druski2funnny So she’s dramatic like her dad.

yourusername You know what Dru? 🙄

claybornharlow She’s the best 😂💀

jackharlow Why are you clowning on my baby?

yourusername It’s funny 🤣🤣🤣

jackharlow 😩😩😩 Really was though 😭

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Liked by yourusername, claybornharlow, urbanwyatt, nemoachida, and 7,567,356 others

jackharlow Christmas with The Harlows. My greatest gift in life is my family 🤍

View all 1,900 comments

yourusername Te amo 🥰 🫶🏻😘

urbanwyatt So the Wyatt’s are just chopped liver ????? 🙄

jackharlow Fucker you know what I meant lmao

yourbestiename You know how dramatic he can be… well like youuuu.

urbanwyatt That wasn’t necessary

jackharlow Collect your wife Urban, that comment was very Grinch of her.

yourbestiename Proved my point. You’re welcome ☺️

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jackharlow added to their story

•

Liked by yourbestiename, urbanwyatt, badbunnypr, and 7,677,356 others

yourusername I’m not a regular mom, I’m a cool mom. Thank you mi amor for my Christmas present. I don’t deserve you, and you know I’m not talking about the gifts.

View all 1,900 comments

jackharlow Anything for my baby 💜 I love you.

urbanwyatt Tell the world how you couldn’t stop crying all through dinner 🙄

yourusername They didn’t see so it’s not true.

claybornharlow So I’ll be driving it on the weekends. K thanks.

user She could have bought it with her own money 🙄

jackharlow True, she can buy herself anything she wants and she’d have it with a snap of her fingers. But since there’s this thing called MARRIAGE, and I love spoiling my wife, she gets what she wants. NEXT!!!!

yourusername ☺️☺️☺️

user what did she get him?

yourusername A Rolex with his name and our kids name engraved on it. A chain. Three pair of costumed NB shoes among other things. Y’all happy with this response?

yourbestiename We can never share our gifts because it’s always “what did she get him” or “damn she’s sucking him dry.”

urbanwyatt Can you suck me up dry? 😭😭😭

jackharlow 💀💀💀💀

djdrama Happy holidays fam 🤍 enjoy

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TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux

@harlowsbby

@arination99

@cmalass

@jackharloww

@minkookie95

@deannaard

@jacksmoviestar

@harlowcomehome

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@allyson15

@gabbylovesreading

#jack harlow #instagram au #jack harlow x yn #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x reader #baby harlow #alize mia harlow

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askcaffeinehazard · 11 months ago

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How was your Hearth's Warming, Caffeine?

Two friends spent the day with us and brought homemade ginger bread cut into shapes to represent us! (obviously the capybara is the mod's shape :P ) We made and ate way too much delicious food and chilled out watching The Grinch and other holiday movies :D

#Mod doesn't really celebrate the holidays any more #but we still eat a lot of food and relax with a friend #Unfortunately a severe storm that turned into a tornado tore through on Christmas Day and caused a lot of devastation #We were very lucky to have had it miss us!

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respectthepetty · 1 year ago

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Since I decided the best way to make it through Our Skyy 2 with minimal damage was to drink my way through it, welcome to the FINAL round of

CockTails in the Skyy!

This week's drink is Par-tea-g Ways because once I knew we were ending Our Skyy 2 with A Tale of Thousand Stars, I had to bring out all my favorites to celebrate that the best was saved for last:

tequila because my favorite liquor is meant for my favorite series in this lineup

black tea for those tea sachets that saved the village

chimoy and Tajín on the rim for that tiny 🔥🔥🔥 the Grinch and his husband bring with their eye stares

I love tequila. I love tea. I love a simple cocktail, which is why I made a big glass of it. I love the Grinch and his husband. I love that they have jobs, so I know I'm going to love these episodes because I have everything I love in one sitting. It's already a 9.5/10 for me no matter what happens, and I'm going to love every single thing about this.

Bottoms up!

Tian is not Pat. Pran needs to stop yelling at him like that.

The ways Phupha cares for Tian are very practical. He is a good man who would buy his guy tools and jumper cables for Christmas. A GOOD MAN!

Pran is not someone I would want to be lost in the forest with. Negative Nelly is pouting over here while the kid and the man with the heart problem are walking. You're better than this, Pran!

Even though they are fighting, Tian knows Phupha will do his job and rescue them because he is A GOOD MAN!

I feel bad for Phupha too. Pat is already having issues, so now he has to rescue FOUR people. Say it with me - A GOOD MAN!

Phupha is in full Chief mode, yet Pat is sniffing trees and making jokes to lighten the mood. Pran and Pat are extreme opposites out here, yet both are very unhelpful in this forest situation. They are made for each other.

Kampung does have a lot of energy like most tiny hustlers.

Tian to Phupha - What took you so long?!

WHY IS PRAN SNITCHING?!

Okay, I forgive him since Pat and Pran started fighting.

Kampung is just back there chillin' being the real adult in this situation.

Phupha gives Tian flower tea for good sleep. Kampung was trying to find ginger for Tian. My rural folks may not be outwardly affectionate, but they are givers of practical care. My people.

Phupha gets no rest and NO PEACE with these people.

Pat, being practical now. He is a GOOD MAN! He can stay.

No, literally, babe. Someone needs to stay at the camp! Was nobody a scout?! Stay where you are! What if that child comes back and nobody is there?!

I feel so bad for Phupha this episode. This man earned his paycheck over these past few days.

Pran coming in with the self awareness. He can stay too!

Pat's positivity is good here. Don't sniff trees. Instead give people words of encouragement. This is where he excels.

Kampung and Tian both being stubborn and worrying about the other one is cute!

The color exchange.

Am I hearing a rooster during this touching scene between Tian and Phupha or is that the tequila? Well, I'm about to make another drink anyway, so no importa!

I made a pitcher of Par-tea-g Ways, so I don't even have to take a break to refill. ONWARD!

"He only sits like that because his back hurts." - Yeah, from carrying the weight of EVERYONE'S LIVES ON HIS SHOULDERS. Put some respect on Phupha's name!

I had to pause for the cellphone cover being the same as the doorknob hanger, and now I'm wondering if I really do remember Bad Buddy or not. Is this going to be like 2gether where I only vaguely remember the story? "There was . . . singing." That's all I got.

Pat and Pran got tea sachets and ginger! And Tian got the eye mask. Que cute.

If Pat asked Phupha to rate him after sex, Phupha would give Pat a list of critiques. Pat could not handle Phupha. Phupha would even have timestamps: "A minute and thirty-two seconds in, you did that thing with your mouth. It wasn't good. Minus half a point." Phupha is me.

The colors.

Last week, I wrote only Tian and Phupha got a warm waterfall, yet here they are, freezing.

The sound I just made when Phupha popped up from behind.

This scene is hitting just right with the tequila.

I like that Mix does not take off his shirt. There is no need when we all can get lost in his beautiful eyes.

I tell ya that seeing Earth's tattoo is my favorite I Spy game. FAVORITE!

Phupha, a practical man, is putting in the effort to be more affectionate. He is A GOOD MAN, I say!

I'm going to start using "mosquito net" as code for sex.

I LOVE THIS EPISODE! The mosquito net scene gives me the EarthMix-don't-kiss-until-the-last-episode kiss, and this feels right!

We are going down Memory Lane, but everything is better. So much better!

Give him a 9.5 Tian, just like I'm giving this episode. Nothing is perfect. There is always room for improvement, but give Phupha top honors. He gave him 11!

Phupha is hugging his man goodbye for the whole world to see. I love him so much.

NOW HE SHOWED UP!

Phupha taking pictures of his man taking pictures of his food is my dessert.

This whole date is giving me everything I never thought I'd get from them. Aof, I love you.

It's not a competition, but . . . the high schoolers

The Wai x Korn agenda is alive and strong.

I feel that "we barely got this episode to happen" comment is from Aof about how GMMTV probably wasn't for the crossover, but GOTCHA SUCKERS!

The flowers are even red and blue.

For all y'all hair haters out there, you don't deserve this ponytail.

WHITE! I don't get you enough on my screen. Tell me when I'll see you again. Please!

I feel like the parents proposed to Phupha, and that's the way it should be.

For a person who does not believe in marriage, I'm a sucker for this proposal because I have always considered them the Grinch and his husband.

Oh no! Now we really are going down Memory Lane! I NEED ANOTHER DRINK!

AND NOW THIS?! (Yod is their Pa)

This was EVERYTHING to me. I got color coding. I got Pat's hair in a ponytail. I got Wai x Korn. I got InkPha. I got White! I got my Grinch and his (actual) husband for four episodes. I GOT THE THOUSANDTH STAR! And I got drunk.

But I didn't get Longtae, so . . .

9.5/10 CockTails for giving me everything, but one tiny cutie.

I'm so happy I got to revisit all of these shows to appreciate some in ways I didn't the first time around and have the chance to see the characters I love after their happy-ever-afters.

Until next time

*plays that intro song that annoys all of y'all*

#Our Skyy 2 #A Tale of Thousand Stars #Phupha x Tian #episodes 15 & 16 #Cocktails in the Skyy #bad buddy #Pat x Pran #I MADE IT!#Literally I made all these drinks

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honeyblssom · 11 months ago

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also we got home to this LOVELY surprise

PUmpkin and witch had babies!!!!

I call them grinch and ginger

#only gonna tag #grinch #cos i adopt out for ginger lmao #i cannot handle 4 cats #simblr #sims 4 gameplay #barbie legacy #gen 3: kylie #also im not rlly sure which pets im counting as kylies #she will def have a dog in the future #witch #pumpkin

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marxm-03 · 2 months ago

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List of movies I've seen for Halloween edited every day, most I haven't seen yet (first time watches in red), Starting on 10/4/24:

Scary godmother

Halloween is Grinch night

Garfields Halloween Adventure

Vamps (2012)

Rocky horror picture show

Corpse bride

Sweeney todd

Bram Stokers Dracula

Monster house

Beetlejuice

Blackout (2024) It doesn't seem like people know this one. I REALLY recommend this movie. Small town artist believes he is a werewolf and can only remember what he's done through his paintings. 7/10.

Trick r Treat

Maggie (2015)

What We Do in the Shadows

Ginger Snaps

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

Doctor Who Weeping Angels ep

Bones Sleepy Hollow crossover ep

The Shining

Hocus Pocus

Interview with the Vampire

Night of the Living Dead

Scooby-Doo the Movie

Billy and Mandy

Little Evil

Carrie (1976)

Carrie (2013)

Carrie (2002)

Paranorman

Elvira: Mistress of the Dark

Halloween

Psycho

WWDITS TV (showed to friend)

WWDITS TV (new season)

Halloween baking champion

N/A (costume party)

WWDITS TV

Se7en

Scream

N/A (decorating)

Childs Play

Nightmare on Elm Street

The Exorcist

The Crow (tradition)

The Raven

Sleepy Hollow

END- HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

#halloween #horror #classic horror #spooky #movies

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earlgreydream · 2 years ago

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decorating the house for Christmas with Wanda ♥️

with a bit of smut of course

Golden morning light streamed through the curtains, one of your cats curled up in a pocket of warmth on the floor. You were in that state between asleep and awake, burying deeper into soft sheets that smelled like Wanda's soap.

"Good morning," Soft lips pressed kisses against your cheek, rising you from dreamland.

"Hi," you whispered, turning to meet your wife in a kiss, smiling into it as her ginger curls draped over you.

"I've got coffee on, baby. I thought we could decorate for Christmas today," Wanda grinned, brushing loose hair from your face as you slowly blinked away.

"Really?!" You sat up, surprised that the stubborn Sokovian had given into your weeks of begging to decorate your shared home for the holidays.

Her laughter wrapped around you like a hug as you squealed, pulling her down into the sheets beside you.

"The coffee, my love... and I've got breakfast in the oven!" Wanda tried to protest, weakening as you slung your knee over her hips, kissing her deeply, bunching her shirt around her waist.

She hushed the loud whine of protest you made when she climbed off you, running toward the kitchen and telling you to get up. You washed your face and cleaned up, leaving on your loose white shirt and festive plaid shorts.

Wanda was scooping breakfast onto plates and pouring fresh coffee when you walked into the kitchen, the tiles cold beneath your feet. Your arms wrapped around her waist from behind as you buried your face in her shoulder, kissing the soft skin before taking the coffee she offered.

"You know, I could just snap my fingers-"

"Wanda, decorating is the fun part. Don't be such a grinch!" You argued, shutting her up by forking a bite of breakfast into her mouth as you sat on her knee at the dining table, watching soft snowfall outside.

She gave up on her protests, letting you have the joy of decorating the house, cleaning up breakfast as you put a Christmas album on the vinyl record player.

A fresh tree sat in the corner, smelling clean and evergreen, waiting to be lit with string lights and strands of cranberries you had sewn together the night before. Wanda helped you delicately place them amongst the branches before opening a box of ornaments, bobbles in every color ready to hang on the tree. She knelt on the floor, slipping each one on their hanger before handing them up to you to place on branches.

Wanda hummed along to the Christmas music, wistfully singing Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, and gazing up at you with eyes full of adoration. You couldn't help yourself from leaning down and kissing her, your hand gently cradling her jaw. Wanda parted her lips, your tongue sliding against hers until a soft moan slipped out.

"Distracted already?" She teased, amused that you had so quickly forgotten your task at hand.

"Fine, no more kisses," you pouted, your eyes shining as you held back giggles.

"This is the last of the ornaments, baby. Go open up the village for the mantle."

You hung the last bobble, prying open the box with tiny lights and little houses, trees, and figures skating to place above the hearth. After you set them up, Wanda waved her fingers, animating the tiny people so they appeared alive in their miniature city. Your delighted squeal sent warmth through her chest, and she reached out to pull you into her body, squeezing you tightly.

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning back against her chest, Wanda's cheek pressing to yours.

"Anything for you."

A fire ignited in the hearth, another trick of Wanda's magic. She gently pushed you to the floor, your back lying out on top of a fuzzy blanket she had laid out. You pulled Wanda down with you, your arms wrapping around her neck and dragging her into a surprisingly forceful kiss. Her hips were heavy against yours, your knee hooking over her waist so you could grind your aching core against her thigh, a filthy moan escaping your lips.

"Christ, you're killing me," Wanda murmured, her hands sliding under your shirt to feel your tits, gently fondling you as your kiss grew messier.

You pushed your fingers under her waistband, her skin slick with wet beneath your touch. Your fingertips slipped through her folds before finding her clit and stroking in the way that made her knees weak.

“Baby, fuck,” Wanda whined, her hips rocking against your palm, wordlessly begging for more.

You fucked inside her with two of your fingers as she kissed you hard, swallowing her cry as you curled against her g-spot.

She got more vocal the closer she got to her orgasm, Wanda whining and pleading honorifics as she came on your fingers. Her thighs were shaking, her knees unsteady on either side of your hips, her face in your chest as she took a moment to catch her breath.

You laid beneath her, licking your fingers clean, sending a hot shock of arousal through her belly, her skin prickling with heat.

“My turn,” Wanda flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so you were on your knees — face down. Your head rested on the soft blanket, in front of the gentle glow of the fire, only adding to the heat pooling in your belly.

She grabbed the waistband of your sweet little Christmas shorts, pulling them down to your knees so you were presented to her, your pussy peeking out between your legs. She hushed your shy whine, teasing how easily embarrassed you got, reminding you she’d seen your pretty cunt many times.

You cried loudly as she knelt down, her tongue dragging over your clit and sucking hard. She held your hips still as you writhed, reaching back and grabbing her ginger curls as she ate you out, tasting the honey that dripped from your sex.

She knew exactly how to get you to come hard in only minutes, screaming into the blanket and collapsing into a shaking mess beneath her. She bit her lip with a grin as you shuddered beneath her, trying to catch your breath as the orgasm reverberated through your nerves.

"Merry Christmas, baby," Wanda murmured, kissing your lips softly before pulling you onto her lap in front of the fireplace.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fluff #grey’s holiday fics #holiday fics #wanda imagine #marvel #wanda smut

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