#hallmark holiday specials

[howlingday]

This is my absolute favorite post on [tumblr]

i realized this was also lost in the fall of the CH website so

since it’s That Time of Year again, i’m just gonna bring back my Every Christmas TV Rom-Com comic

[porcelain-animatronic]

How I (someone with social anxiety) manage to survive large family gatherings with my fiancé’s (very nice) extended family is to pretend I am Business Man from Hallmark Movie that doesn’t have a backstory and only knows business but in a cute awkward way.

The only downside so far is that I think his family knows that I am incredibly on edge the entire time I don’t know most of their names and I have almost no connect to them but hey at least I’m getting sentences out and I’m not just hiding in the bedroom avoiding all human interaction

[blarrghe]

“I don’t know how to ski.” Dorian protested, but very lightly, an amused smirk centred on his face where the pushy smile had been. 

“I’ll teach you,” Taren offered, taking another careful sip of his coffee to smooth out his nerves. 

Dorian chuckled, looking out the window with renewed interest. Then he shook his head, just as in front of them a large, lumbering man came gliding too fast to the bottom of one of the steeper slopes, failed to properly stop himself, and fell rolling in the snow. He got up momentarily, offering a thumbs up to the small crowd of people nearby who had rushed to his aid. 

“That’s going to be me.” Dorian pointed, “I’m going to fall.” 

Taren chuckled, and flashed Dorian one more genuine, encouraging smile. “I’ll catch you.” He promised.

Art by @gaysolavellan for the gay Hallmark movie fic Twelve Nights! it is December so I am promoting this thing Again.

[amelia-mariee]

[aparticularbandit]

🌹

🌹🌹🌹

...

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

(I'm being aggressive and I'm only a little sorry)

for every “🌹” received in my inbox i’ll post one random sentence of a random WIP i’m currently writing

oh, fuck you. (affectionate)

READ MORE BECAUSE YOU GET NINETEEN OF THESE. JOKE'S ON YOU. HAH!

...but also a table of contents for anyone else who might want to creep in on these:

Dark!Eve

Agatha Birthday fic

Take A Sad Song and Make It Better Ch. 3

Post-Finding Family Agatha - Stephen Encounter

The Haunting of Westview Manor

What Dreams May Come Ch. ???

Mexican Stud (Epic Superhero Crossover Book 1)

Collateral Damage (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???)

The House on Ridge Road (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???)

Dottie as Sin Rostro

Love is Not a Victory March (Roisa Soulmate Timer Book 4)

Clara Ruvelle and the Heir of Slytherin (Roisa HP AU Book 2)

A Christmas Hideaway (Roisa Hallmark Holiday Special Reversal)

Roisa Grinchmas Special (this one’s in rhyme!)

On Myths and Hideouts Ch. ???

On Myths and Hideouts Jess Prequel

Paradise Lost post-canon

Timeless/Noir fusion

The Story of a Girl (Noir fic; Title pending) Ch. 3 - “Shielded by Black Robes”

Dark!Eve:

It’s boring when they don’t struggle.

Dottie’s let her practice on her some, let her bind her hands together, made sure she’s tying her victims down properly, grinned around the gag pressed into her lips, and just stared without making any noise as Eve’s explored. She’s learned – you can’t just rip someone’s fingernail off.  That hurts, sure, but you want to extend the pain.  Start with something small and then build.  You shove splinters and nails under their fingernails first, then you rip them off, if you want, provided there are other nails that you can do the same thing with.

Dismembering usually isn’t necessary.  The people they send her after break long before then, which is good, because she’s never actually gotten to try the dismembering thing. She can’t just cut one of Dottie’s toes off.  Besides breaking a bone is better than cutting it off because then you can still peel the skin back with a knife later.  If you remove stuff, it should be teeth, pried out with pliers.  Sure, they can’t grow back, but there’s not really much more you can do with teeth.

The thing about playing with Dottie is that she doesn’t break, which is fine, really, although she’s pretended to break so that Eve gets the idea of what that’s like, but Dottie is intentionally unbreakable so that Eve can deal with her own frustration when torture just doesn’t seem to go the way it’s supposed to go.  But also playing with Dottie usually ends up in—

She can’t think about that right now.  She needs to focus.

Eve picks at her teeth with the tip of her knife, fitting it carefully beside her canine with a little creak.

Maybe it’s the gag.

Agatha Birthday fic:

It literally goes wrong from the moment Eve wakes up.

Agatha refuses – absolutely refuses – to answer her phone.  Which, you know, on a normal day, that’s just fine.  Agatha has a life.  She has a job.  She’s juggling a lot of things all at once, and sometimes it takes a bit before she can call Eve back if she missed her call.  Usually, when she knows it’s going to be a while before she can call back, she shoots Eve a text to let her know, to check and see if the conversation is something that can happen over text (most of the time, yes, but not always).

But on her birthday?  None of that. No returned phone calls.  No texts.  No texts back, either, when Eve texts her. Just very clear and complete avoidance.

Now.

Eve likes to consider herself a good girlfriend.  She isn’t particularly worried that something has happened to Agatha; she’s too aware of the date for that and figures that Agatha is just hiding. (On a normal day, yes, she would be worried.  This is not a normal day.)  It isn’t like she didn’t do the same on her worst day ever, when Jane wasn’t available as a distraction (for very good reason), but even she had reached out to Agatha.  Eventually. When she’d desperately needed someone there and hadn’t—

Look, Eve understands needing to hole up and mourn, but it is Agatha’s birthday, and Agatha needs her, and Agatha would never admit that she needs her, so she’s going to go pound on Agatha’s door and barge in and make her feel better.  As soon as she gets off of work.  With the hope that Agatha is actually home.

Take A Sad Song and Make It Better Ch. 3:

The thing about hospitals is that—

Well.  There’s a lot of things about hospitals, and we really don’t have quite the time to get into all of that.  Andi’s still out, which does give us a fair amount of time, but I highly suspect that you would prefer to get back to the action, back to the fam, back to the search for the envelope to determine whether or not that they might find it.

Give me a moment.

The thing about hospitals is this: If you have an emergency contact listed with them, then when something happens to you, they call your emergency contact. Regardless of whether or not someone else is there with you, your emergency contact is the person who has the right to make decisions about your life when you are unconscious, the way that Andi currently is.  It’s just simple protocol.

And here’s the thing about that – up until just recently, Claire was Andi’s emergency contact.  Claire knew that.  Claire knows that.  It hasn’t crossed her mind, however, that when Andi reached the hospital they did not call her.  Duke did, but the hospital didn’t.

Because once Claire lied on the stand, Andi took some time to herself. Reconsidered a few things.

And changed her emergency contact.

Post-Finding Family Agatha - Stephen Encounter (because it got prompted):

She told herself she would never actually go in the New York Sanctum again, after that last time, but the problem with telling herself that is knowing that, well.  As long as she literally had an apartment right next door.  Inevitably.

But honestly, she had a rent controlled apartment in New York City.  Sure, sure, she could use magic to override her landlord’s mind and make it completely free (and, sure, she might have already done that once or twice over the past few decades, when whoever inherited the building tried to fuck around with her (How can you be the same resident from over a century ago?  That’s not possible! – Dear, you live on a planet of superheroes that gets visited by aliens, and you think you have some normal human being just hanging out in this apartment?  That you can boss around?  This is why New York gets attacked by every new wannabe villain; it’s not the Worf Effect or a symbol or anything – it’s entitled landlords not remembering that people with powers exist and can punch the ever-loving shit out of them when they get pissed off.  Almost as bad as working in customer service.  Yeesh)) – but what would be the fun in that?  She’s not Wanda, after all.  She doesn’t need everything to go her way all of the time.

Admittedly, Wanda is the reason she’s here in the first place.  Something about America and Wendy being part of this new Baby Vengeance team or something like that (she knows the real name, but she enjoys seeing the frustration in Wanda’s expression when she refuses to use the right term, loves seeing her pinch the bridge of her nose, delights when, eventually, Wanda says, “I’m not even going to correct you anymore, Agatha; I know you’re doing this on purpose” and still sighing with exasperation anyway); something about how they’ve been gone for far too long this time. That thin tremor under her voice that suggests just how worried she’s trying not to be.

For a witch able to control the very fabric of reality in this universe, Wanda has gotten surprisingly good at not sticking her nose into everybody else’s business.

Why would she need to do that when she has Agatha to do it for her?

(In most cases, Agnes would be better, but they can’t get Agnes without having America open a portal to that universe she and Ash are shacking up in, so she’s the next best thing. Besides.  She has centuries of being the New York Sanctum’s nosy neighbor.  It’s just a shame that Cian is no longer here to see it.)

The Haunting of Westview Manor (aka THOHH/THOBM and WandaVision infusion):

She’d always had a hard time sleeping in Westview Manor.

Or.

Well.

She’d always had a hard time sleeping starting with Westview Manor.

She remembers, in flickering fragmented memories, moments before her family had moved into the not-yet-decrepit manor, but they’re few and far between.  Her time living there had so shaped and shifted everything else that it is hard to reach back to earlier, simpler, happier times.  Times when she could sleep and dream of something good – like flying into a sky full of stars and reaching out to each one in turn, hoping to make friends with them. Times that she hadn’t had since—

Well, since Westview Manor.

She’d always had a hard time sleeping in Westview Manor, even before things went bad, and she’d always had a hard time sleeping after Westview Manor, even now when things could almost be called good.

It’s the closest to good she’d had in a long…in a really long time, actually.

But we’re not there yet.  We’re still looking at Westview Manor, we’re still looking at her, slumbering, trying to slumber, and shifting beneath her blankets, unable to stay still, turning this way and that, tangling herself in them, hands gripping her throat until she sits up, gasping for air, blankets falling to her waist.  Back then, she was only a child, brown hair nearly down to her waist if it was ever let free, although she cut it off a few days later, not liking the way it could so easily catch on anything – everything – around the manor.  She always felt like something was reaching out for her, grabbing and tugging on her hair with thin spindly fingers, and it didn’t matter that she would turn and see a statue with a bow or something like that, she still felt like it was someone and not something.

What Dreams May Come Ch. ???:

You are you and you are aware of yourself and you are aware of nothing at all.

Your name is Viola Lloyd, nee Willoughby, or something like it.

Your name is Viola Lloyd.  The year is 1680.  You are at Bly Manor.  Your daughter, Isabel, is five years old.  Your husband is gone on one of his business trips.  The money is running out.

And your sister wants you dead.

You have lived in this room – in your room, you know this room, you know it well, you know it from the way you have paced it so often, so often since you have taken up space within your host’s body – and yet you do not have a host.  You are you and you are yourself and you are nothing at all.

For the past five years, you have been stuck in this room, barely leaving it and being forced back into it when you do by family who are afraid that you will infect them or even more afraid that you will somehow ruin the image your daughter has of you.  This angers you – a rage that has been building over the past five years, not just from this alone – a rage that, it appears, has not left you, even in death. Your daughter remembers you as nothing else but this.  Why should seeing you at your worst make her hate you?  She has only ever seen you like this.

And this?

You know now.

This is not your worst.

Mexican Stud (Epic Superhero Crossover Book 1):

Joan clasps one hand over the hollow where her left eye once was – or she tries to, but it isn’t as hollow as movies and books would lead her to assume.  The bulb that was once her eye is splattered, blood covering her face, the sheets, probably the face of the woman who had been lying above her – but none of this matters.  The only thing that matters is the nerve she now holds in her hand and the popped vessel at its very tip and the incomparable pain pulsing behind where her eye once was.

She doesn’t scream.

Her throat is torn raw, but she doesn’t scream.  She shivers as the pulsing slows down, sparks flying about her fingertips. The rings she’d been wearing – the rings the other woman made to ground her – are smashed, shattered much in the same vein as her eye is, and their metal edges feel shoved into the flesh of her thumbs, her middle fingers.  There’s probably blood there, too.  She can’t tell.

Joan takes a deep breath and sits up in the bed, still cradling what was once her eye in one hand, trying to clasp it to the hollow where it once lay, and it’s only then that she notices how far the electric jolt has carried Rose.  No longer is the redhead on the bed with her; instead, she has been thrown across the room by the force of the blast, and she sits crumpled on the floor beneath a wall that looks cracked by the weight of her. One of her hands cradles her head.

“Was it worth it?” Joan asks, her voice raw, rasping.  She can’t keep the venom, the bitterness out of her voice, even as Rose looks up with a blood-spattered face.  “Was this what you wanted?”

Rose doesn’t say anything at first, and Joan is certain that’s because there is nothing left to say.  With her free hand, Joan tries to prop herself up so that she can move from Rose’s bed, but the hollow where her eye once was throbs.  She takes a deep breath, her free hand gripping the edge of the mattress so tight that her knuckles turn a bright white.  A tile from the ceiling drops with a loud clang between them, but neither of them jump.

“I can fix this.”

Joan starts to whirl to face Rose, but the movement makes her stomach clench.  Her teeth grit together.  “What?”

Rose struggles to her feet.  “I can fix this.”

Joan stares over the other woman’s naked body with her one remaining good eye, and she chokes back a sound that could either be a laugh or a sob. She intends for it to be the former, but she’s in so much pain that the latter wouldn’t be unimaginable at this point. “You can fix this?” she snarls.  “I’m missing an eye!”

Collateral Damage (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???) (Luisa/Wendy backstory/interlude/etc.):

“Rose?”

It has been three months since the accident.  She didn’t like to think about it in public if she didn’t have to, and for those first few days, she had holed herself up in what was their apartment, because no matter where she went it felt like everything playing on every television in every restaurant or train station or anywhere that had a television on playing in the background was that recurring footage and the big white letters on the blue background: SUPERVILLAIN THE GHOST KILLED IN EXPLOSIVE FIGHT WITH—

The rest didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter who had killed Rose (it was an accident, the reporters said; there were no witnesses), only that she was destroyed so completely that all that was left of her were her teeth and an imprint of her on a wall otherwise covered with shadow and ash.  There hadn’t been any body for her to identify, hadn’t been any call for her to come to the morgue, hadn’t been any funerary arrangements or urns or anything – just POOF! and then the love of her life was gone.

Luisa stared at the redheaded woman standing just in front of her, and her breath catches in her throat because Rose was dead.  But, then, maybe that was why Whitney had directed her to this hair salon to get her hair done instead of her normal one. Maybe Whitney knew something she didn’t.

But, no, before the girl could even say anything, Luisa was convinced that this couldn’t be Rose. She was too young.  Far too young.  (Okay, maybe not that young – she looked the same way, perhaps, that Rose should have when they first met, if Rose hadn’t been changing her appearance to fit how she thought she should look.)  Her blue eyes were brighter, calmer than the tempests that had often been in the midst of Rose’s, and the freckles on her face stood out more starkly beneath her make-up.  Rose had always tried to change her face enough to cover them up, to not have them at all unless Luisa specifically requested them, but this girl didn’t seem to mind hers at all.

And she was—

“No, I’m Wendy,” the girl said, and her voice made Luisa’s heart ache.  “But if you’d like to see someone else, I can arrange for that. You had an appointment, didn’t you? You’re Miss—”

“Alver, yes, I had an appointment, a friend of mine set it up for me, and no, don’t get someone else, I….”  Luisa took a deep breath to steady herself and looked up to meet the younger girl’s eyes. “You just look so much like someone I used to know.”

The House on Ridge Road (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???) (Dottie Backstory):

You run a hand through her hair.

Present tense – run – when it happens, you’re present; when you remember, you’re present – you understand the past and the future as detached concepts, but you are present in them and within them; you remember and you relive.

You run a hand through her hair.

It’s soft, softer than her hair has any right to be after hours, days, years of being pinned up, sprayed into place, not one strand moving unless you – you, yourself, or someone like you, but there is no one like you, only weak men who fail beneath your own prowess – force them to move.  Her hair is soft and smells of roses.  That’s the bathwater.  You scented it, before—

You scent it and run your fingers through the warm water as you sit on the edge of the tub, rippling, rippling, rippling.

There are no candles.  She doesn’t like candles.  She caught you once playing with the flame – baby lightning in a bottle – sometimes you burn your fingers – Peggy doesn’t like candles or maybe she just doesn’t like it when the skin of your fingers feels raw from playing with them, doesn’t like the way your skin grows back and heals all too easily and the rawness is gone in only moments, doesn’t like the abilities your people stole from vials they were never meant to have.

You’re weaker, in that regard, than the boy she lost years ago.  You know his name, but not because she wants you to know it. She tore it at you, screamed—

She tears it at you, screams it, louder than anything – “He’s a better man than you will ever grow to be” – and you let her say it because she means it and because she needs to say it and you brush the dust of broken plaster walls from your dress and wipe a track of blood from just above your right eye and pop your right shoulder back into place and you stare at her, chest heaving, face all rage and hate, and you know it’s just redirected at the nearest person and that person just happens to be you—

You can take it.  She needs to get the venom out.  All out.

When you look again, her hands are no longer clenched into defensive, aggressive fists; her fingers brush those loose strands of hair back into place; she’ll be sore tomorrow, but she’s not bloodied the way you are.  If you were a normal person, you would have a black eye, but you aren’t a normal person, no matter how much they force you to act like one until they need you.

You rotate your shoulder and it hurts but not too terribly.  You like the pain.

“Are you done now, Peg?  Get it all out?”

Dottie as Sin Rostro:

Time off.

The words are a nuisance for Dottie Underwood, who would far prefer to be sitting in a lair waiting for instructions or set up on location, gathering intelligence or preparing for a hit under yet another alias.  Even the name she used now wasn’t the one she was born with, not that it much mattered.  Crime lords and their best associates rarely used their real names – Elena di Nola was Mutter and her second-in-command was Sin Rostro, whoever happened to be wearing the name on any given day.  Sometimes it was Elena; sometimes it was her son, Derek; sometimes it was her daughter, a woman Dottie had never met; and sometimes, on the rare occurrence that the other two were not available and Elena wanted a proxy, Dottie herself would wear the name.

Names on names on names.

She wasn’t even Dottie anymore now.  When the word slowly grew more and more associated with insanity, she’d needed something a little more sane, a little more…consistent.

Not that it mattered during time off.

She’d painted her hair a bright red to match the blood of her nails and her lips, heightening and contrasting her pale skin, her ice blue eyes.  Some might use smaller terms to describe her – attractive, pretty, hot – and she hated that last one in comparison with the others she’d grown accustomed to in the earlier years – alluring, magnetic, mesmerizing.  Hypnotic.  But she wasn’t looking for words when she walked into the bar, as amusing as the murmurs and the collective hush were.

It was the eyes suddenly trained to her that made her blood rise, the heads tilted in her direction and following her every move that started the bubbling giggle clasped in the back of her throat, the turning of bodies open to her every whim that assured her control.

But it’s to the mostly empty bar that she made her way, the crowd parting for her like hot butter for a knife, and it was at the sole occupant that she paused, brightly painted nails tapping on the counter.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, her voice soft and full of the innocence and wonder she’d been trained to exude.  “I wouldn’t want to intrude if you’re waiting for someone.”

Love is Not a Victory March (Roisa Soulmate Timer AU Book 4):

Michael Cordero, Jr. had never had a strong fascination with hotels like the Marbella.  He knew they existed, but to him, they had always seemed like tourist traps, destinations for people who didn’t live in Florida, meant for an elite sort of people that he and his family had never and would never be part of.  That made it sound as though he had a strong distaste for them, and maybe, to some extent, that was true, but for the most part, he just didn’t think about them.

That was until his timer went off for one of the waitresses who worked there.

At the time, Michael couldn’t have guessed that’s what she was, and in the years since, years he’d spent watching her from afar while he tracked down a crime lord who had grown mysteriously silent until, finally, he’d been connected to the very same hotel where his soulmate worked, he’d found that distaste slowly growing.  His soulmate deserved better, and he couldn’t wait to see her grow into whatever that better would be.

Mostly he couldn’t wait to spend his time watching something other than this stupid tourist trap hotel and its absolutely unattractive current manager with his rippling muscles that looked like they could burst out of his shirt at any moment or his leggy blonde wife who seemed to have no sense of propriety and wore bootie shorts everywhere like she wanted to be seen as a piece of meat. Not that he was one of those misogynistic assholes who thought that women couldn’t wear whatever they wanted, because he was not that.

He was just growing very, very tired of watching all of it.

Until Roman Zazo fell from a window on the twelfth floor and landed with the sharp point of an ice Marlin piercing through his chest.

Then everything seemed to suddenly grow a lot more interesting.

Clara Ruvelle and the Heir of Slytherin (Roisa HP AU Book 2):

“Hey!”  Clara pushed back against Hermione, shoving her over.  “I told you I didn’t want you to sit with me!”

But Hermione stayed where she was, refusing to get up, refusing to move even after Clara shoved her.  She just turned and gave her a flat stare.  “You’re not supposed to be fighting on the train.”

Clara’s eyes narrowed.  “You’re not supposed to set professors on fire either but—”

“Wait, wait, wait.”  Ginny held up her hands, palms out, and stared at Clara.  “Hermione set a professor on fire?” Her eyes widened, and she looked at Hermione.  “You really did that?”

Hermione gave Clara a blank stare and then turned to Ginny.  “No.  Of course not.  Good students don’t set their professors on fire.”

“Yeah, well, you must not be a very good student, then.”  Clara crossed her arms and leaned back against the plush back of the train bench.  “Since you definitely did that.”

“Clara.”  Hermione elbowed her harshly as she whispered through gritted teeth at her.  “Stop.”

Ginny just turned to Luisa with wide eyes.  “You’re the Hufflepuff!” she exclaimed and grinned.  “You’ll tell me the truth, right!”

Luisa just looked from Clara to Hermione and then winced.  “I, uh, I—”

“Quit making house assumptions,” Janet interrupted, voice flat.  Cat the cat had made his way out of her arms and woven around her neck, his head resting on his paws on the shoulder closest to the window so that he could stare outside with his one remaining eye, his tail on the other end, occasionally flicking against Clara as it moved.  “Just because Luisa is in Hufflepuff doesn’t mean that she’s a pushover—”

“Hey!” Luisa interrupted.

“—just because Hermione’s in Gryffindor doesn’t mean she’s brave—”

“Hey!” Hermione echoed Luisa.

“—and just because Clara and I are in Slytherin doesn’t mean we’re going to kill you or try to take over the world.”  Janet’s wand tapped against her arm a couple of times.  “Although, now that I mention it, taking over the world does sound like fun.  We may try and do that anyway.”

“Janet,” Clara hissed, elbowing her. “We’re not going to take over the world. That is way more work than either of us wants to do.  And you would have to pretend to get along with people – all that hand shaking and playing nice and everything – and I don’t think you’d like that very much.”

Janet sighed and nodded once.  “You’re right.  I wouldn’t. Maybe we postpone the taking over the world thing.”

A Christmas Hideaway (Roisa Hallmark Holiday Special Reversal):

“No, Daddy, I won’t be home for Christmas.”

Luisa has perfected the art of lying to her father about mundane things, particularly over the phone.  It started years ago when she was in high school, lying about stealing liquor from his cabinet whenever he asked with eyes that had initially shifted to look towards the ground and then eventually grew to facing him directly with a strong jaw, and continued through college, lying about how much time she was spending studying for her classes when really she was spending most of her time out with her friends doing almost anything except studying.  At some point, he stopped calling (or she stopped answering).  His time was – and still is – much better spent working on his company than inquiring into his children’s life.  Not because he doesn’t care.  He does. Luisa is certain he does.  That just isn’t how he shows it.  Mostly he shows it by staying out of her life or by giving her whatever she needs, money-wise, whenever she asks for it.

The not being home for Christmas part isn’t the lie.  The next part is.

Roisa Grinchmas Special:

Down at the hotel, far from their harsh glances, lived the other woman, whose drunken dances on tabletops naked with far too much glee were probably not meant for you or for me, especially since she had gone off the drink, tore it from her bar, and poured it down her sink. Yet still in her form she held both style and grace and often used these to make others’ hearts race. Her smile lit the room far better than fire and her heart burned like it would on a pyre for people and family who she held most dear, for whom she would shed far much more than a tear.

On Myths and Hideouts Ch. ???

City Hall feels like a bad marriage between Greco-Roman architecture and modern, streamlined, minimalistic design.  The former is a bad habit of all American political buildings; the latter is likely Storybrooke – or Regina – specific.  There are columns and a lot of black and white, which Rose hopes is not indicative of Regina’s way of thinking or her morals (she doubts this), and some wallpaper of trees, which should be rustic, but because it’s in black and white, it isn’t.  It works a little better than most people would think, but Rose – who spent way too long as Emilio’s interior design decorator for his hotels – doesn’t think it works at all.  She likes the black and white better than the Miami beach vibes that the Marbella put out, but only because she’s gotten plain sick of the Marbella after the last several years.

Regina stops at the secretary’s desk before heading into her office, leaning over just enough to give Rose a good view of her ass.  This is intentional.  At least, if Rose had done it, it would have been intentional, and she suspects that Storybrooke’s mayor runs on the same general wavelength that she does.  She can’t say just why she suspects it, but she gets that general vibe.

“Jessica, dear, clear out my meetings for the rest of the day.” Regina glances over her shoulder at Rose as though she hopes to catch her staring.  Her expression falters and quickly fixes itself when she realizes that she isn’t.  “I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Regina’s secretary – Jessica, apparently – lifts her head and glances over to Rose.  The two of them look quite similar, although Jessica is, for the most part, thinner and more angular than Rose is, with the exception of her chest, which almost seems impossibly big for how small the rest of her is.  Her Crayola red hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and she pushes thin black frames up her nose, brilliantly cerulean eyes peering out at Rose with a lack of interest as she takes her in.  “Of course, Ms. Mills,” she murmurs, and her voice is at once both demure and alluring.

Regina Mills might try her hardest to seduce Rose Alver, but she will not get anywhere near as close as this Jessica does within the first five seconds.

Rose swallows once, and her gaze flicks back to Regina.  Maybe that ass view wasn’t for her at all.  Luisa had thought Regina had something going on with the sheriff, but at this moment, she’s pretty sure that she actually has something much more interesting going on with her secretary.

On Myths and Hideouts Jess Prequel:

Jessica Krupnick sees a lot that she does not mention.

Well.  This would mean more if she had someone to mention it to.  She has no friends in this little town, although she is certain that she could if she tried.  She has never felt that impulse to try.  People seem to think of her first as Mayor Mills’s secretary, the woman the mayor chose not as her right hand woman – the closest person in Storybrooke who came to that was Sheriff Humbert, who insisted that everyone refer to him as Graham (or at least, he insisted that to Jessica every time they spoke, and she consistently pretended as though he didn’t) – but as the protector of….

Well, her, if you wanted to think of it that way.

Sheriff Humbert protected the people.  He was a physical failsafe.  Jessica protected her office.  She was a mental failsafe.

And sometimes, Jessica considers as she sees Henry speeding into the office, skidding across the marble floors on his shoes with the biggest grin on his face she has ever seen, she protects her heart.

Paradise Lost post-canon:

Francis tapped the steering wheel of the U-Haul with the pad of her thumb. The air conditioner rattled a little too loudly as she drove, overwhelming the soft tunes crooning through the radio.  Davis sat in the middle seat, belt tight across his waist, and Reynolds sat in the passenger seat, elbow resting on the door and staring out the window at the passing landscape.

“It’ll be cooler once the car warms up,” Francis remarks, reaching over and tousling her youngest son’s hair.  He’s sticky with sweat; U-Hauls were nothing more than metal boxes, and in the Southern humid heat, it had cooked itself until even touching the seats felt like it would burn through their skin.  It was only made worse by the shorts they were all wearing, pushing exposed skin against burning fabric.  At least she had convinced the boys to wear t-shirts instead of tank-tops.

Davis was easy enough to convince, but Reynolds….

Reynolds wasn’t wearing a t-shirt the way Francis wanted.  Instead, his shirt was stretched so that it hung about him more like a wife-beater than a shirt, and the sleeves were stretched so that they might as well have not been there at all.  She was certain if he was wearing a normal shirt, the sleeves would be rolled up to feign a tank within seconds.

This was all just the influence of the football team and his father’s friendship with Dickie.  That may have fallen lax in the past few months as the divorce dragged on, but Reynolds had maintained his friendship with Dickie’s son – and no amount of Francis telling him it was a bad idea did anything.  In fact, she’d refrained from saying much at all, outside of suggesting that he should choose his friends wisely and hoping that Yates suggested the same.

Considering the fight he’d allowed between the two of them, Francis sincerely doubted he had.

Timeless/Noir fusion:

It happened at the end of her last class of the day.  Lucy felt the vibration of her phone – a longer buzz indicative of an email instead of the shorter one for a text – where it rested in the left pocket of her slacks.  She stepped outside of the lecture hall, shuffled her students’ papers and folders (it was essay day, and some of them still used folders although she’d said multiple times that she preferred they didn’t), and pulled out her phone.

Emma Whitmore.

Lucy didn’t recognize the name, but it could be from a student wanting into one of her classes or a professor asking for her expertise on one of their projects.  This wasn’t too unusual.  Probably a student – she knew most of the professors on campus by name; even if she’d never met them, she’d likely heard about them from one of the other students in passing.  She’d never heard of a Professor Whitmore, though.

Her eyes scanned the email.

Standard fare for a professor help request – doing a bit of research, wanted to speak with someone more knowledgeable about the subject (mostly time period, maybe some political history), etc.  There were a few lines that felt a little off, but Lucy chalked that up to what she expected was likely a new hire who was unnecessarily intimidated by her own pedigree.  And while it was odd that Emma hadn’t used her school email, given the more professional setting, it might be that she wanted to keep everything involving her research organized separately from her student emails.  Lucy couldn’t fault her for that, either.

She sent a quick reply – yes, along with perhaps meeting for coffee or drinks Friday afternoon – and then promptly forgot about the entire thing as her phone rang, another incessant and immediate buzzing.

“Amy?”  Lucy braced the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she moved her pile of essays and folders once more.  “Slow down!  What happened this time?”

The Story of a Girl (Noir Fic; Title Pending) Ch. 3 - “Shielded by Black Robes”:

The attackers dodged.  That was the first thing she noticed, the first of many problems with this scenario. They dodged.

The second problem was when one of them somehow caught the knife she threw at his forehead.  He smirked at her and threw it back so fast she barely dodged it herself.  These mooks were good.

But Chloe was better.

Whereas before she stood her ground next to the pillar with only the occasional dodge, now she began to race forward, a knife in each hand. The men pulled out their guns, finally finished reloading them, but she was upon them before the first trigger could be pressed.

Below.  Sweep the leg.  Beneath, behind.  Knife to the side, the neck.  Catch and hold while shot at – meat shields are the best kind because the shots go both ways.

Throw him away.  Dodge.  Roll. Bite.

The blonde stepped out from behind the pillar, aiming and shooting and moving, all one fluid motion, she a panther, lithe and strong, and Chloe a cheetah, swift and deadly, spotless.  She saw the shot from the gun, aimed toward the blonde, fast, too fast – the blue eyes once so icy now so warm and wide—

No.

Her teeth dripped blood that day.

[hottakehoulihan]

More than eight years ago I let my family and friends know I don't really need presents, and that I wouldn't be getting them any presents on calendar holidays. If want to get you a present, I said, I'll get it and give it on a random day; any day other than a gift day.

I cannot express how much anxiety this has saved me. I don't feel the building panic as Christmas approaches. I don't stress that I've forgotten a birthday. I don't worry about looking grateful or grateful enough. I get fewer gifts in general which mostly means I get fewer white elephants that I have to take care of and occasionally display or comment about. I haven't had to grind my teeth at banal premade greeting cards. Oh, and money's not randomly tight because of major holidays either.

No exceptions. No anniversaries. No valentine's day. No birthdays. I might give out candy on Halloween if I'm feeling it, but if I'm low on spoons I'll just hide.

Any lover, friend, or family member worth being in touch with will be able to understand and embrace your decision.

It's a hard jump to make, and you can only decide for yourself, but it's really a thing you can choose and it really can make your life easier and happier.

There's a lot of going on over the Christmas season - it's understandable to get overwhelmed. Happy holidays and take care of yourself <3

[trendynewsnow]

Hallmark Channel Launches Niche Streaming Service Amid Industry Changes

The Hallmark Channel’s Bold Move into Streaming This fall, executives at the Hallmark Channel made a surprising decision: they launched a new streaming service. This move comes at a time when many media companies have already established their presence in the streaming landscape, often with mixed results. Competing against giants like Netflix, Amazon, and Disney, which have dominated the market…

[strandedtoodeep]

Poolverine fics rec' ✨

Yes, FINALLY.

So, basically what the title said: some poolverine's fics recommendation because i have nearly 100 bookmarks and sharing is caring so let's go!

I'll put title, link, tag the author (if they are on tumblr), numbers of words & chapters and probably silly summary or thoughts

I'll be adding some in the future with a red exclamation❗

The one without smut have a bunny emoji 🐰

My faves are on top

If you have some recs i'm happy to take them thank you 🤲

Faves

Come Hell or High Water by @farmhandler 84k, 11 ch. || love when a fic take mental health seriously and talk about it in a way that feel so right? (bonus the smut is *chef's kiss*

Promise Me We'll Be Back In Time by @back4destiel 108k, 17 ch. || 50 First Dates was one of my favorite movie when i was a preteen (yeah) so this fic fill me with nostalgia and happiness

where soul meets body by @edgebug 33k, 3 ch. || one of my first poolverine's fic and it sets the bar so HIGH (and tbh i cried so much reading it, it's concerning)

silence is what i do best (but still i hear it all) by @cainroses 25k, 3 ch. || feral! logan is very dear to me and the character's voices in it?? absolutely delightful (beware the smut is very good but spicy)

Until you get sick of me, honestly by @3koboldsinahoodie 121k, 23ch. (on going) || i love it so much i want to forget it and discovers it again, the peak of two idiots in love it's beautiful

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) by @wickedscribbles 16k, 4 ch. || love some genderplay, bottom and protective logan, my dear, i love it but most importantly the writings is scrumptious

The Void by @rovingotter 115k, 23 ch. || i'm still trying to process what i feel with this fic, please please read this blindly and i assure you, you'll never be the same

The Soundtrack by @greatsnakestintin 39k, 14 ch. (on going) || love a good road trip fic, love music so it's absolutely perfect for me! and the plot is so?? fascinating???

Kaleidoscope by Space_wanderer 79k, 14 ch. || CHAPPELL ROAN REFERENCE! when Logan is such a idiot Wade need to go get him AGAIN in his universe

Don't you want me to run? by @decaying-lover 62k, 19 ch. (on going) || if you love angst, this fic will serve you ANGST! love their dynamics, the tension, their voices, everything

On going

Somewhere I belong by @terrasilvershade 24k, 6ch. || another girls dad AU but this one, my god!!! the feels?? it's so interesting to see Logan being envious and it's writing so well

Baby(girl) Don't Hurt Me by @peargreen-jellybean 16k, series with 4 works || 4 fics and i love them all! some good poolverine pining & domestic bliss + men in lingeries (my weakness)

In Another Life by @flash-bastardd 32k, 10 ch. || x-men origins but better! (bc it's gay) i have some feelings with this movie but this fic healed me and i love it!

call me when you’re ready to be real by @maroonmused 23k, 9 ch. || "and they were roommates" ofc like it's not absolutely obvious for EVERYONE except themself; a very good domestic bliss!

Don't Want To Be A Fool For You by @cuntylogan 45k, 2 ch. || bartender! logan who try to fight his addiction (and slowly fall in love) has a special place in my heart, you go boy

How To Pay For Rent 💸 by @fictionfeast 42k, 3 ch. || this fic feels like a fever dream, but a OH SO GOOD and well writing fever dream! (ngl as a french person Craig List scares me)

❗🐰 Christmas in Canada by @thatoneartyishperson 7k, 3 ch. || listen, Halloween is still my favorite holidays but Poolverine AU Hallmark Christmas Movies ? URGH i'm here for it!!

❗Synergy and Entropy by @artemis-pendragon 32k, 13 ch. || i was so sure that i'd put this fic here but no??? anyways, the hurt and angst in this fic are so astronomically good, so beware

❗🐰 make me into something sweet by @mothgardens 30k, 8 ch. || AU poolverine WITH MUSICAL CLASS? it's... it's beautiful! particularly love the dynamic between Logan and Wade in this one

Complete

🐰 the dollhouse by @kanashikute 4k, OS || love the fluffiness in this fic, love how Logan accept to love, be loved and doesn't left Wade behind UGH they're so cute in this one!!!

Girl Dads by @starburstsobsessions 40k, 16 ch. || AU poolverine's fic are fire and this one, THIS ONE, omg! this fic makes my dream (aka seeing dilf! logan) a reality

🐰 Glass Shards by greaserbabes 9k, 2 ch. || always love when Logan and Wade are SO STUPIDLY in love; ngl the scene with the glass shards make me cry every time

❗You Should Feel My Nature Too by sterlingstars 10k, OS || so uh, i love stripper! Wade okay? it's not really that with this one but it's as good AND wholesome (and spicy too) so yeah

🐰 The Folly Of Playing Gay Chicken Too Hard (Phrasing) by GayLord3000 3k, OS || the domestic fic where Wade is the stupid one, being so stupid in fact it's nearly cost him his relationship with Logan whoops

Love shot by lillygoeson 28k, 6ch. || another bartender! logan one, but AU no powers AND with a good "twist" in the middle; this fic is so bittersweet and good oml

look at you by @weedwilson 3k, OS || yes it's shameless smut and mirror sex, my beloved... and I LOVE when Logan worshipping Wade this much bc he deserves it

It's Just Chemistry by @farmhandler 37k, 5 ch. || in the same universe of Come Hell or High Water, there is so... so much angst but it's very good angst!!! still love this specific dynamic

🐰 We Should Just Kiss (Like Real People Do) by @nikaandtea 8k, OS || HOZIER REFERENCE! i'm still so happy when a fic talk about chronic pain combined with domestic bliss i'm totally sold

Night Terrors by educatedwish 50k, 13 ch. || love how Logan is written is this fic, how PTSD messed with his feelings in a serious way... my heart melt everytime i read it

second nature to me now by @edgebug 36k, OS || a investigation in a gay club??? with my two idiots in love?? and with old gay Logan? i giggled so hard reading this, i LOVE IT

🐰 It Feels Like Home by @twentyghosts 10k, 6 ch. || one of my favorite trope is the 5+1 and this one... my god, right in the feels! so much fluffiness, coziness, it warm my heart

❗a loaded gun, can't contain this anymore (i'm all yours, i've got no control) by @obihoebikenobi 6k, OS || i have nothing to say other than read the tag hehe! but yeah love the concept, the smut is spicy (always like some focus on the claws)

🐰 stuck by the glue (oh and you) by prngslvr 3k, OS || a good rewriting of (some scenes) from DP&W, and one of my first fluff and non-smut fic that i read after watching the movie!

Let Me Get Back to You by ratflavored 14k, 2 ch. || pls i want to read more fics with phone sex in it (i know it's specific) but in the meantime, this one is SO good (and full of feels too)

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by signifier 10k, OS || i have a thing for time loop and this kind of fuckery, it's short but good and i love the title it make me chuckles

🐰 Take Me Through the Darkness to the Break of the Day by The_Colour_Yellow 17k, 10 ch. || a very good fic around hanahaki disease with my two favorites idiots??? sign me in! even with so much hurt and angst UGH

Oh, God, I Think I'm Fallin' by @slut-arc 15k, 5 ch. || the return of domestic poolverine and YES I KNOW but it's my weakness... and Logan is so emotionally constipated it's concerning

❗🐰 Little Reflection by @wickedscribbles 11k, 5ch. || poolverine + cute cat + Logan suffering from anxiety and i'm sold! because ofc Logan is a true and pure cat (and dog) dad

the bucket list by @kanashikute 33k, 4 ch. || read this one, please, really, it's so bittersweet BUT i promise there's a good ending (and i cried so much while reading it)

🐰 he’s the headlights, I’m the deer by NatalieK 7k, OS || it's interesting to see Logan's losing his healing factor for once instead of Wade! and seeing Wade taking care of him, my heart

❗when you get a taste, can you tell me what's my flavor? by @slut-for-a-good-latte 5k, OS || one of my favorite thing with poolverine is psychic/quantum thingy bond because of the Time Ripper and this one DELIVERS!!

🐰 holding out for a hero by @splinnters 6k, 3 ch. || once again, i have a soft spot for Logan trusting Wade so much he called him when something is wrong and this, THIS is good

🐰 I've got some color back (he thinks so too) by @mid13s 3k, OS || just a short fic with non-sexual intimacy because these two need comfort, hugs and a lot of affection (and the Hozier reference is chef's kiss)

❗who are you, really? by @edgebug 45k, 4 ch. || the sequel of where soul meets body and it's also an absolutely masterpiece! and still trying to process my feelings for this fic

[ssahotchnerr]

I saw your request for aaron hotchner valentine’s day! maybe an aaron hotchner x bau wife reader and they are all away on a case and they’re still there on valentine’s day and it’s been a rough case and y/n has been extremely stressed but Aaron makes sure she still feels special and treats her to a nice dinner and surprises her with flowers

too married

happy vday pt 2!!! cw; fem!reader, your usual cm case descriptions, mentions of food/alcohol, fluff <333

"it's disheartening, isn't it?"

aaron hummed from in front of you, fiddling with the key to grant the two of you access into your hotel room. "hm?"

"that we're here. on valentine's day." you could laugh if pushed, your voice sharp and inches away from wavering.

no matter how little the inflect, and even if you hadn't shown it at all, aaron still noticed it. he paused and turned back to you, a forlorn expression on his face. "sweetheart-"

"it's fine." you brought your hands to your face, frustratedly and tiredly rubbing your eyes for a moment. "sorry, i'm just looking for something to complain about. it's been a long day."

"a hard day." aaron added in your regard, reaching out to touch your arm soothingly.

your current unsub clearly hadn't felt the universal love within the air; he's been most brutal the bau had endured in a while. full of mutilation, a sickening signature, devolving by the minute.

truthfully it had gotten to you; you were finding it extremely difficult to compartmentalize, and spending most of the day staring at the graphic crime scene photos didn't help. at one point you couldn't bring yourself to look at the pictures, lowering your head down to the table and wanting nothing but to cry into aaron's shoulder.

but he was nowhere to be found, you've barely seen him. he had spent a good portion of the day conducting interviews, off following leads that only resulted in dead ends.

you did see him at lunch, but ignored his occasional, concerned glances. if you were to make eye contact with him, and despite how tempting that was, you would have lost it. in addition, the fact it was valentine's day, made it kind of worse.

sure, it was partly a hallmark, commercial holiday, but you couldn't help but yearn to be out to dinner with aaron - eating ridiculously priced food in a restaurant you could barely see him in, giggly and warm from the wine, serial killers being the least of your concerns.

and rather than going to bed to continue the night, you were going to bed to get a few hours of shut-eye if you were lucky - given the late hour and horrors of the day to keep your mind awake. before it was right back to where you had left off.

"besides, we're also too married to do anything too special, right?" you forced a laugh, the sound sounding foreign in the empty hallway. aaron internally winced, the strain and exhaustion in your voice tugging sadly at his heart.

you continued, "and if we were home, it'd be a quiet night-in wouldn't it? maybe we'd get take-out, watch a movie, go to sleep early."

a lie, but anything to make yourself feel better.

but, that's where aaron, without fail, always stepped in.

"well," he started, but didn't finish his thought - finally managing to get the room key to cooperate and pushing the door open, entering with you at his footsteps.

his back constructed your view, but once he sidestepped towards the bathroom to your right, he revealed a bouquet of red roses, chocolate covered strawberries, accompanied by a card waiting on the desk.

"i know it's not much." aaron explained as you froze, his hand finding the small of your back. "and it's not everything either, i do have more planned for once we're home but-"

maybe it was the near delirious exhaustion, the day you had, him, or all the above, but you only had one means of responding.

you grasped onto the lapels of his suit jacket, bringing him to you and kissing him so forcefully he nearly tripped up against the wall. aaron laughed gently in your mouth, but the kiss was long and deep, the two of you melting into each other.

not enough? it was everything, and the kiss alone silently proved that.

"thank you." you whispered once the two of you separated. your palms were resting on his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft under your fingers.

aaron smiled, the kind that caused the ends of his eyes to crinkle happily. "i love you. and although today wasn't how it should've been, and i would've loved to have spoiled you endlessly, and jack would've definitely been staying at jessica's for the night." his lips turned upwards into a light smirk, a wicked glint in his eyes before turning to their softness. "just like any day, i'm reminded how lucky i am you're my wife. whenever i'm with you, wherever we are, i'm home."

you blinked at him, in utter bafflement and awe. "how do you always know just what i need to hear?"

"because you're my beautiful wife, and like you said, we're too married." he teased, but his playful demeanor sobered, his voice lowering to a whisper. "i'm sorry you had a bad day."

"it's okay. it's better now," you answered just as softly as you looked into his eyes, stroking your thumb along his cheek before turning back to your surprise, "and when did you manage to do all this?"

"i can't reveal all my secrets, can i?" aaron quipped with a smile, pulling you in for another kiss. you reciprocated, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"happy valentine's day darling. and to many, many more."

[chevelleneech]

semi-live blog

They are immediately the cutest fucking people when together. So soft, so giggly.

I know it’s part of their social culture, but they drink a lot. Maybe it’s because I don’t drink, but dang.

“Jungkook is currently doing his skincare.” They add to the screen after panning away for scenery, yet leaving the sounds of *slap slap slap*😭

Jungkook cycling through multiple pairs of sunglasses, and Jimin swanning in and picking the first pair is peak! They’re so similar I yet so different, lol.

Another thing I’m sure is part of their culture, is the way they pay for stuff, but I find it interesting still that we’ve seen Jimin buy almost everything during their trips, since as far as we know they have pretty lax hierarchy rules between the two of them normally.

Jungkook is in the most romantic moment of his life, lmao! “I love it here!!!” said a million times. That man was experiencing a real life Hallmark movie in his head.

I also thought they spoke/understood way more Japanese than they apparently do.

“Come on everybody!” I understood that reference.

The way they chose to animate over everything to avoid having to blur a billion people in the station is HILARIOUS!

Jimin is too funny bro.

This train ride is so peaceful, it’s selling me on visiting Sapporo despite being broke and not speaking a lick of Japanese.

Can we also discuss how “My man, my man, my man.” Jungkook is? Yet Jimin is too, and somehow both is more than the other, lol. They are perpetually on some, “Jimin will like this.” “Where’s Jungkook?” *films food, pans to Jimin* *films the outside world, pans to Jungkook* *cuddle even while walking* type stuff. Just lovesick.

Girl!dad Jimin confirmed🥰 He’ll be such a sweet dad too, I think. He’s so patient and kind, which is heavily required to raise another human.

I loooooooooe Jimin’s jacket dude.

The way Jimin immediately pivoted to making JK laugh when he tried to downplay himself. Like I said, “My man, my man, my man.” Don’t talk bad about his man, even if you are his man.

My most delusional Jikook theory you’ll ever hear from me: “Are You Sure?” actually became the title because they were asking it if each other, because they in looooooooooove.

Also, to answer my own question from my previous list… yes, the bubble is back.

Role play Jikook strikes again!

Jungkook is it slick! He played with that sip of whiskey the entire time, but the minute Jimin left he downed it.

Them forgetting to pay would’ve been me. And JK initially sending Jimin back to do it would have also been me. You got it, extrovert! Take the embarrassment for the both of us!

They’re so cute! This snow fight makes me want to be somewhere cold for the holiday☹️

The food always looks so damn good! Lord I’m jealous.

I need someone to compile all the times JM and JK go out to eat together, and let me know if Jimin is the one with his back always to the door? It’s a thing in America at least, that the “protector” tends to sit where they can see the door, and I don’t know if that’s a thing in SK as well, but it’s cute, because it matches their dynamic either way.

“Your fingers were all over it.” SIR!? You’ve had his sweaty ear in your mouth… he’s had his mouth on your neck… you’ve also had his fingers in your mouth before and vice verse… AND y’all constantly eat and drink off each other… in fact… yesterday he bit the very sausage you were in the middle of eating and then you continued eating it… before that you gladly allowed him to put his TOES next to your face while you were BRUSHING YOUR TEETH. Stop playing with me, Jeon Jungkook!

Jimin legit being ready to beat Tae’s ass over a dumpling is too crazy, lol. And folks be acting like he some docile helpless baby. Meanwhile, JK is a mediator. They definitely made for each other.

End of the episode. It was fun. Felt like the start of a holiday special. And I didn’t mention it up top, because I decided to “live blog” thoughts like ten minutes in or whatever, but Jungkook softly and sweetly saying he wanted to come back to Japan because it reminded him of their first trip together… SOBBING! He’s such a sentimental guy, with an equally as sentimental guy on his arm.

They truly do vibe so well, and I understand with each passing episode why them enlisting together was a non-choice choice. They click. Like they said themselves, they’re one person split into two bodies, and it’s clear as day they thrive off of being around one another.

Not to get too sappy either, but it’s insane they feel that way about their bond and dynamic, on top of all the things that already just so happened to bring them together. Not just born in the same country, but same city. Auditioned for the same music group. Actually made it into the same group… they were destined to meet, and even they feel that way. All that’s missing is them being the same age, and they’d be the same person. That’s an insane thing to say, but really tells you how deeply they value their connection.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Something Worth Remembering

Summary: You were hopeful that you’d be moved into your new house before Christmas, but after another renovation delay, that’s not in the cards. To your credit, you make the most of the situation, and Bradley falls in love with you even more because of it. But he’s determined to make your first Christmas together special, and sets out to plan a surprise that ensures the holiday will be one both of you will always remember. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)  

(can be read as Forgetful Boy and Pumpkin from RYEWID, but not necessary to read that first)

Word Count: 3.7K 

Warnings: Warm fuzzy Hallmark feelings. Language. Allusions to smut. 

Notes: Some holiday action for my faves. Written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Challenge with the prompt "home for the holidays”. Also as part of The Forgotten Moments Collection, but can very much be read by itself. 

—---

____

Bradley stopped short when he walked through the front door, eyes widening as he took in the scene in front of him. 

“Um…Pumpkin?” 

“You’re home!” 

You popped up so suddenly from the other side of the counter in the kitchen that he jumped slightly in surprise. “Am I?” he asked slowly, closing the door behind him and bending down to unlace and take off his boots. You laughed brightly as you stepped around some of the shopping bags on the floor to get to him. He accepted the kiss from you eagerly, feeling the stress from another work day dissipate as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Contractors called,” you told him once you pulled back, resting a hand on his chest. Your ring sparkled in the light streaming in through the open curtains, and Bradley couldn’t help but smile before he registered the words. “There’s a delay with the electrician and the flooring.” 

Bradley groaned, the familiar annoyance of hearing the word “delay” coursing through him. The home the two of you had purchased was a fixer upper, tucked into the end of a cul de sac in a neighborhood not too far from base. There was work that needed to be done to make it everything you wanted, but neither of you had anticipated all the headaches that would come along with that. It would be a long project, you knew, but the contractor you had hired had promised it would at least be livable within the first few weeks. 

That had been nearly two months ago now, and the delays kept piling up. Barely anything had been done at this point, and he knew he’d have to call the administrative office tomorrow to extend the lease on the on-base apartment, again. 

“Of course there is.” 

You smiled gently, and Bradley couldn’t help but let some of the annoyance slip away at the soft look on your face. He took a deep breath and let himself relax, pressing a kiss to your forehead before releasing you. He gestured to the tiny apartment the Navy had provided you with, smaller than the shoebox you had called home back in DC, that definitely did not look like what it did when he left for work this morning. 

“Is that why it suddenly looks like Christmas threw up in here?” 

You threw your head back as you giggled. The sound caused a full blown smile to cross Bradley’s face, warming him from the inside out.

“I was holding out hope that we would be able to spend Christmas in our new house, even if it’s not finished. But since the electrician’s are delayed, the floor people can’t come until the 28th. So I decided to finally cave and decorate here instead. But I didn’t want to spend a bunch of money on nice decorations, because I want to save that for when we’re completely moved in next year.” 

“So…” 

“So I may or may not have bought out a good portion of the Dollar Tree Christmas aisle, and spent way too long deciding on white lights or multicolored lights for the $20 table top tree that I bought.” 

Bradley laughed loudly, looking around your temporary home once again. Red and green and gold covered the minimal available surfaces, and a small lopsided tree sat on the corner table in the living room, a bag of what he assumed to be decorations sitting beside it. Your cat, Florry, was curled up on top of a pile of bright green garland on the floor. 

"Who needs a fancy new house when we can have our own little tacky winter wonderland right here?"

Your eyes sparkled with delight as you spoke, clearly thrilled by the idea, or at least incredibly amused by it. Bradley knew that Christmas was your favorite holiday, and how much you loved the festive season. This would be the first one you ever spent together. When you had toured the house months ago, you had pointed out the perfect place for a tree and where certain decorations could go. You had been so excited to spend the holiday in your new home. As the delays started coming in you had adjusted just how grandiose your plans would be, but you had taken it in stride. Now you were only six days out from Christmas itself and you were once again just making the best of the situation that neither of you could control. 

Not for the first time, he wondered how he had gotten so lucky. 

"Alright, Pumpkin," he said, "Let me go change, and then I’ll help you make this the tackiest, most magical Christmas ever."

You grinned at him, a mischievous spark in your eyes. "Challenge accepted."

_____

The Dagger Squad had an impromptu and unofficial holiday party the next night at the Hard Deck, and it still blew Bradley away seeing you intermixed so perfectly with his friends, both old and new. You floated from conversation to conversation and when he wasn’t by your side, he watched you with a smile on his face. He knew you were perfect for him, but seeing you fitting in like this just reaffirmed it. 

“How’s the house coming along?” 

He looked over at Mav as he leant against the bar beside him, handing him a fresh beer. He was still getting used to being around his godfather after all this time, but they had settled into a peaceful kind of hesitancy as they relearned what it meant to be in the other’s life, and it was nice, even if Bradley had to remind himself to breathe sometimes. 

“Slowly.” 

His tone must have relayed how he was feeling because Mav shot him a sympathetic wince. “Another delay?” 

“Yup.” Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. “They can’t get the electricians in until tomorrow, which is when the flooring was supposed to go in. So now that got pushed to after Christmas” 

Mav clasped a hand on Bradley's shoulder, offering a supportive squeeze. "It'll all come together eventually. How’s she taking it?” 

He snorted as he brought the drink to his lips, taking another sip. “She handles stress and shit like this better than anyone I know.” 

Mav smiled, nodding in what looked like approval. “You got yourself a good one.” 

Bradley hummed his agreement and let his eyes stray to you, chuckling softly when he saw you dancing with Nat. Sometime in the last few minutes, you had stolen the Santa hat that Coyote had arrived with, the red and white material perched on your head. You twirled around with his best friend to the Christmas song playing over the jukebox, laughing merrily. You really did love this time of year. 

You had told him that you didn’t care where you spent the holiday, so long as you were together. It was your first Christmas together, after all. But Bradley still felt guilty over not being able to get you into the house sooner. You had only been married for a few months, and you had given up your whole entire life to move out to California when he got permanently assigned here. It’s a decision you would make again and again, he knew, but he still wished there was something he could do, too. You had made far more sacrifices than he had. He wanted this holiday to be special. Memorable. 

You were just a little bit tipsy when you got back to the apartment that night. You had clung to Bradley’s arm with both of yours the whole way up to the third floor from the parking lot, but the moment you walk through the door, you’re releasing him to go plug in the tiny table top tree. You plug in the string lights lining the kitchen counters next, humming a christmas song he can’t quite place under your breath as you do. You turned to him once the space was illuminated, the soft golden glow highlighting your smile. 

“Pretty nice, huh? These cheap decorations aren’t so bad - I may just keep them for the new house, too.” 

Your ability to make the most of everything made his heart stutter. He was in front of you in only three quick strides, one hand landing on your hip while the other cupped your face. He bent to connect your lips in a kiss. He could still taste the peppermint from the candy cane you sucked on on the ride home, and the taste of the champagne Penny had broken out at the end of the night for a toast. You didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him and return the kiss, both of you getting so lost in it that by the time he pulled away, he was panting.

“You must really like the cheap decor,” you breathed, and Bradley huffed out a laugh at your joke. 

“I just really like you,” he quipped, and he enjoyed how a shiver went through your body at his response. 

As you changed into pajamas and settled on the couch together, an idea started forming in his head. He thought he might know just what to do to make this holiday memorable for you after all. 

_____

“Are you sure you don’t mind me running out for a bit?” you asked for what was probably the tenth time as you slid your sweater on over your head. Bradley groaned to himself as your body was covered from his view as he lounged in bed. He had been watching you get ready, enjoying not for the first time how getting dressed was almost always the last step in your process. 

“I’m positive,” he said, also for the tenth time. You gave him a dubious look and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Pumpkin, I promise it’s okay.” 

“I know, but it’s our first Christmas Eve together!” 

Bradley moved so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his arms open. You stepped between his spread legs and let your hands rest on his shoulders as he looked up at you, squeezing your sides through your red sweater. “Technically, it’s Christmas Eve morning. And I think you getting brunch with Nat and Coyote’s wife will be nice for you. You’ve been so busy with work and the move that you haven’t really had time to make friends.” 

“I was already friends with Nat.” 

He rolled his eyes at you fondly. “You know what I mean.” 

You sighed again, fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head in the way that always calmed him down, even when he wasn’t feeling stressed out. He thought maybe the motion soothed you, too. “I think it’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah,” you admitted slowly, nodding hesitantly. “I do too.” 

“Then go. Have fun. I’ll be here when you get back, and we’ll spend Christmas Eve together. The morning doesn’t count.” 

You snorted, but nodded nonetheless. He accepted the kiss you gave him right as your phone started ringing from the bedside table. Nat was there to pick you up, just like he had requested her to when he asked for her help with pulling off this surprise by getting you out of the apartment for a few hours today. 

He gave it ten minutes after you had left before he jumped up and started taking down all of the decorations you had strewn throughout the apartment. It was easy work considering how small the place was, only taking him a few trips to and from the Bronco. He grabbed the small tree last, carrying it delicately so that none of the ornaments fell off and wouldn’t have to be reconstructed. 

It didn’t take too long to get to the house at the end of the cul de sac that was now in both of your names, traffic light despite the holiday. He let himself in with the key that was still shiny with how new it was. He let out a sigh of relief when he flipped the switch and the overhead light in the living room actually turned on - with everything that had gone on, he wouldn’t have been all that surprised if it hadn’t. He made quick work of bringing in everything from the car, including the items that he had purchased and kept in the trunk without you seeing them this week. 

He knew he had limited time, as Nat could only commit to a few hours of keeping you distracted, but it would be more than enough with what he needed to do. His phone buzzed right as he was finishing up a little more than an hour later, your name flashing up at him.

Pumpkin🧡: Getting the check! Back soon❤️

He sent back a response telling you he’d see you soon, quickly finishing up. He locked the door behind him and jogged to the Bronco parked in the driveway, and he was only back at the apartment for less than 10 minutes when you walked in the door with a large smile on your face that quickly morphed into horrified confusion.  

“What happened to our decorations?”

“Hey, Pumpkin. How was brunch?” 

“Were we robbed?”

Bradley barked out a laugh, shaking his head at your wide eyes. “Of our dollar tree Christmas decorations?”

You just gestured wildly around the space, devoid of any hint of the holiday cheer that had existed in its space earlier in the day. He laughed again, closing the distance to where you stood at the still open front door. He reached around you to push it closed before pulling you into him. He kissed your forehead, your nose, and then finally your lips, pursued in an adorable pout. “We weren’t robbed,” he assured you. “But I do have a present for you. Go get changed.” 

“What?” 

He squeezed your hips, smiling warmly. “Trust me?” 

You eyed him closely for a moment before your pout eventually settled into a soft grin, and you let out a long sigh before you nodded. “Always.” 

He kissed you again, a little deeper this time, but pulled away before he could get totally lost in it. “Pajamas are on the bed.”

“Pajamas? It’s 2pm!” 

He only chuckled in response, playfully smacking your butt when you started walking back toward the bedroom. “Trust me.” 

You got even more suspicious when you emerged from the bedroom and saw that he had Florry in her carrier at the door and had changed into his own pajamas. He twirled his keys around his fingers and then held open the door for you. Once you were in the Bronco, cat meowing at your feet, he held out a red silk piece of cloth that made your eyebrows shoot up. 

“Seriously? A blindfold?”

“Think of it like a Christmas adventure. Now let me put it on.”

You huffed a breath but he knew you weren't actually mad - you loved surprises, and there was a smile tugging at your lips as you turned to allow him to tie the silk at the back of your head. He kissed your hair when he was done and turned to start the vehicle. 

“You know,” you said casually, just as Bradley was pulling out of the parking lot, “this blindfold might come in handy later. We should make sure the headboard we pick out has appropriate accommodations.” 

He groaned at the implication, a flush creeping up his neck on instinct. You giggled happily, knowing the effect you had on him. He rested a hand on your thigh as he drove, yours covering his in a familiar move. The feeling of your ring on his skin was one he had grown to love in the last few months since you’ve gotten married. 

You threw out guesses the entire drive over, each one more extravagant and ludicrous than the one before. By the time he pulled into the driveway that one day will be an everyday occurrence, he was grinning so hard that his cheeks were starting to hurt. 

“Don’t move,” he said when he saw you reach for the door handle. He jogged around the Bronco to the passenger side, opening your door. He helped you down before reaching back in for Florry’s carrier, pressing it into your hands so you could carry her, while he focused on you. 

"Alright, Pumpkin," he whispered, his voice laced with eagerness. "Keep your blindfold on, and I'll guide you." His hand tightened around yours as he led you out of the car and towards the front door of your new home. Excitement coursed through him as he thought about your reaction, and he loved that he knew instinctively that it would be positive. 

He loved that he knew you so well. 

“Stay here just a second,” he instructed once he got you through the door. He moved away from you to quickly plug everything in, coming back to you once the room was cast both in the sunlight streaming through the windows and the artificial LED lights. 

He stood in front of you, a grin playing on his lips as he watched you fidget with anticipation. Your blindfold was still securely in place, blocking your vision from the surprise he had prepared. You were so damn beautiful, and he would never understand how he got lucky enough to call himself yours. 

"Okay, baby," he said softly.  He gently took the carrier out of your hands, setting it on the floor and letting the cat out to wander the new space that he had cleared of anything that might hurt her, before moving to stand behind you. Your back flush against his front, he moved his hands up your arms in a smooth caress, settling on your shoulders and squeezing in affection. "You can take off the blindfold now."

With trembling hands, you reached up and slipped the silk cloth from your eyes, revealing the scene before you. Gasping in awe, your eyes widened as you took in the sight that unfolded in the living room. 

“Oh my God. Bradley.” 

The room was still very much a construction zone, but he had moved all of the decorations from the apartment, plus a few more that he had gotten, to decorate the barren space. The tree you had bought sat on the floor in the corner. Blankets lined the unfinished floors, as well as humongous cotton puffs to replicate snow. An air mattress covered with bright red sheets and a green blanket was in the middle of the room. Everything looked straight out of a tacky high school Christmas play, but it was so bad that it was almost good - whimsical and unique.

He watched as you took it all in, feeling his heart beating double time in his chest. When you turned to face him, there was a wide smile on your face, and tears shining in your pretty eyes. You didn’t have to ask for him to know what you were thinking. 

“I wanted our first Christmas together to be in our home, even if it’s not finished yet. I figured we could camp out for the day. You-” The words were knocked out of him as you launched yourself into his arms. He held you for a long moment, pressing a kiss into your hair as your laughter settled. “You deserve something special, Pumpkin,” he finally finished, voice softer than it had been. 

You pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes, your hands cupping his face. “All I need is you, baby. You know that?” 

He turned his head just slightly to press a kiss into your palm, nodding once. “I do.” A smirk twitched at his lips, his mustache twitching with the expression. “Does that mean you want me to pack all this up and return your gifts, too?” 

The gasp you let out was damn near scandalized. "Oh, no you don't!" you playfully swatted at his chest. You motioned toward the tacky decorations with a mischievous grin. "We can't let these go to waste. It's our first Christmas, after all."

Bradley chuckled, arms secure around you.  "It sure is," he whispered, his voice filled with affection. He leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, the taste of anticipation lingering. 

“Besides,” you murmured quietly, your eyes sparkling with a familiar look that had him warming from the inside out. “This gives us a jump start on christening the place. That air mattress looks mighty comfortable.” 

Desire flared through him, and he wasted no time in scooping you up in his arms, carrying you bridal-style towards the makeshift bed. Your laughter echoed in the space as he laid you down. 

“You know I’m gonna make you pack all of this back up and put it back up in the apartment until at least New Years, right?” you asked him, slightly breathless as he moved his kisses from your lips down to your neck, nipping at the skin. 

Bradley chuckled, his hands pushing your shirt up, revealing soft skin that he loved to touch. “Oh, of that I have no doubt.” 

Later, you lay nestled together underneath the green blanket, the crackling sound of a virtual fireplace playing from his laptop on the floor beside you while Christmas music played lightly from your phone. You were basking in the glow of the makeshift display as your breathing calmed. You pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his beating heart. He was sure that it skipped a beat at the gesture, but if you noticed, you didn’t comment on it. 

“I can’t wait until we’re in here for good,” you whispered instead. 

He hummed in response, tracing lazy patterns on your bare back. “Me too.” 

You snorted after another moment, propping your head up to meet his eyes. “Hell of a first memory to make here, don’t you think?” 

Bradley laughed lightly, a contented smile spreading across his face. It certainly was, in all of the best ways. “I’ll remember this forever,” he said, voice filled with warmth and conviction, because he couldn’t fathom ever forgetting any moment with you, especially something as perfect as this. 

--------------

Main Masterlist :: The Forgotten Moments Masterlist

Notes: It's been far too long since I wrote anything for these two. I hope you enjoyed it! Likes/comments/reblogs are always appreciated if you did🧡

Thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 for all their help!

Tag List: @roosterforme @mak-32 @wildxwidow @gretagerwigsmuse @lilyevanswhore @too-fangirl-to-fuction @fav-fanficssss @notroosterbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @sometimesanalice @sunflowersteves @littlezee80 @je-suis-prest-rachel @khaylin27 @infamous-reindeer @yanna-banana @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @sylviebell @lt-spork @indynerdgirl

@mssleepy876b @kassieesworld @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be @sexualparkour @sadpetalsstuff @almostgenerallyalways @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ccbb2222 @taytaylala12 @shelbycillian @mavrellover91 @vici111 @lunamooncole @blackwidownat2814 @pisupsala @bellaireland1981 @jynxmirage

@greatszu @na-ta-sh-aa @callsign-magnolia @chaoticassidy @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

[amomentsescape]

Hey, earlier I was suprised to find theres no Christmas themed slashers x reader so could I request just that with the reader and the slashers separately decorating, baking, movies, opening gifts etc? Thx

Slashers Doing Christmas Activities with Reader

A/N: You're so right about not having any Christmas themed Slasher fics! I was thinking about coming up with a Christmas prompt list for the Gotham and Slasher fanatics. If any of you reading this would like a prompt list, let me know!

Freddy Krueger

He's been ready for Christmas all year

I mean, have you seen his sweater?

He knows you've been excited too

So what better way to celebrate than to decorate?

And decorating with Freddy is unlike any other

He can create literal worlds for you

You want 50 Christmas trees in the living room? Sure thing

You want actual elves helping you out around the house? Coming right up!

Plus, Freddy isn't much for decor, so he gives you free reign on doing whatever you want

He most definitely will joke around with you though

He'll change the gold lights to red or have "Santa Clause" tied up in the corner of the room next time you visit

It's all in good fun, of course

You punish him by forcing a Santa hat on his head

Michael Myers

The only "good" holiday to Michael is Halloween

What's the point of Christmas anyways?

Show joy to others and share kindness?

Gross

But he's with you now, so he has to make you happy in some way or another

When you suggest decorating the house, he just sort of gives you that dead stare

But he doesn't disagree

He watches you hang lights up and set up little trinkets everywhere

He will help you with the heavy lifting or anything that involves being really tall

Silently complains about carrying an actual tree into the house though

He doesn't really get the Christmas joy at all, but if it makes you happy, then so be it

Jason Voorhees

Jason's love for Christmas has never truly gone away

In fact, he really appreciates this time of year since there are less run in's with rowdy teens during the winter

So when you suggest a Christmas movie night cuddling together, he's all in

Of course, you watch the films you both remember from childhood

But you also decide to introduce him to the world of Hallmark movies

Unsurprisingly, Jason has a thing for cheesy romance films

But something about the snow falling outside in the woods while a warm fire burns in the fireplace makes Jason feel all giddy

Even a slasher can't escape the joy of Christmas

Thomas Hewitt

One of Thomas's favorite things to do during the holiday season is to decorate the tree!

It's one of the small childhood memories he holds onto, and he's very excited to make new memories with you

He happily carries in the tree, refusing to let you do any of the lifting

And once it's set up, you both are digging through old bins to find ornaments and lights to hang up

You both even make your own special ornament to put on the tree!

And once it's all set up, he lifts you up so you can put the star on top

You both end up turning off all the lights in order to just admire the tree better, just casually chit chatting and sharing festive chocolates

Bubba Sawyer

It's surprisingly his idea to bake a bunch of Christmas treats!

He got so many ingredients

Cookies, cupcakes, pies, if you can think of it, Bubba wants to make it

Of course, there's traditional Christmas music playing in the background

Bubba goes a little crazy with the sprinkles

By the end of everything, the kitchen looks like a war zone

But with everything baking, the house smells amazing

Instead of dinner, you both eat your treats

Bubba has a sugar rush and ends up excitedly bouncing off the walls

You both end up crashing on the couch on top of one another

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms loves Christmas

He has several classical records of Christmas music that he likes to play throughout the month

He has you help him dig out the old decorations he hasn't touched in years

You almost feel weird touching them since each ornament is worth $100 or more

But you and Brahms do have fun setting up the tree and putting the pretty lights everywhere

He also finds some old books he used to read as a child

You both read the Christmas stories together, sharing nostalgic memories of what the holidays were like when you were both younger

It's just a very sweet and wholesome night

Norman Bates

One day, the living is as cozy and cute as normal

The next day, it's suddenly decked out in lights, candles, and a huge Christmas tree with several pristine gifts under it

You mouth was agape

Norman just stood back with an innocent smile on his face

You had no idea he would do all of this while you were out

But thankfully, you had a few gifts wrapped up for him too

With a lighthearted Christmas show playing in the background, you and Norman swap gifts and open them together

The home is filled with surprised laughter and "thank you's" as you both look at what was given

You two know each other so well

He must have been Santa since he literally got you everything on your list

Billy Loomis

Yep, you guessed it

Christmas slasher films

But of course, Billy knows that watching horror films 24/7 every holiday isn't exactly the ideal celebration

So he tries to balance it out

Buys (steals) several expensive gifts for you and wraps them up

He even buys a few candles in your favorite scent to help make the mood more festive

Orders take out for you both as well

This makes the movie marathon feel more special

He MIGHT even let you talk him into matching pajamas

He complains but secretly loves it

Stu Macher

Buys you two matching onesies

He also finds a homemade hot cocoa recipe he wants to try out

He does accidentally burn himself, but it doesn't change his mood any

He might not love this holiday as much as Halloween, but it is a VERY close second

He also manages to find the largest Christmas tree you have ever seen

It barely fits in the house

But when it comes to Stu, everything needs to be extra

You both spend the night flipping back and forth between lighthearted Christmas films and cheesy horror ones

Eric Draven

Christmas has always been a favorite for Eric

It's the one day a year where things are a bit calmer, and he gets to spend it lounging around with you

He definitely made Christmas into a week long event by giving you a different gift each day

Cooks you breakfast in bed

Is somehow even more affectionate during this time

Refusing to decorate the tree unless you are doing it with him

Finds a little Santa hat for Gabriel

He literally just spends the majority of the holiday being lazy and cuddly with you

Not that you're complaining

[f1version]

SANTA DOESN’T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ MSC47

pairing: Mick Schumacher x reader ( she/her )

summary: Mick and you have been best friends for years, been through the good and bad, but feelings change and thoughts spiral. Will this holiday time make both of you realize that you could be the one?

warnings/info: fluff, best friends to lovers, miscommunication (they’re avoiding each other), kissing, a bit of anxiety, a try-to hallmark movie my way through fics. 

word count: 2.1k words

note: inspired on sabrina carpenter’s song! hope you like it, have a good day and happy holidays! 

snowglobe, a holiday special

DECEMBER 20, 2023

It’s cold outside; snow is falling everywhere but not with enough force to block the streets or close the stores. Usually, when the weather looks like this, you would call Mick and bake those cookies he loves. He would put on his ‘Emotional Support’ apron and pretend to help. You would tease him about how he never does anything, just there to eat, and he would laugh, eyes lighten up, and say something along the lines of—I just passed you the flour! or whatever ingredient he helped you grab from the shelf ten minutes back.

Sometimes you wonder how you ended up in this place, so desperately in love with your best friend, with butterflies in your stomach when he hugs you, a silly smile on your face when he tells some awful joke, and an enormous fear of telling him, sort of. It doesn’t matter; that won't stop you from baking cookies on such a pretty snowy day.

You: Wanna come over? I’m making cookies

Mick: Very busy right now

Mick: Just do them without me

You: that's alright

Here’s the thing: Mick’s been acting as cold as snow since the last time you saw each other a week ago. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, not that you are aware of; you were watching Hallmark movies together, and he decided to leave abruptly before the movie ended. Maybe it’s just an emergency, he said, but he’s been running away from you for days, your friends confused over the whole thing. 

You wonder if he’s noticed. Lately, your friends have spent a lot of time telling you how obvious it looks—shiny eyes paired with a never-ending smile. They have also suggested it’s mutual, which you hope because all you've wanted to do before your family's Christmas party is to confess, but who knows, maybe you’ve all been watching too many movies.

DECEMBER 22, 2023

“Are you sure you didn’t do anything to make him mad?” Alicia, your best friend, asks. She came in to leave some decorations for the party on Sunday, but one life update lent to another and of course, the Mick situation came up.

“It doesn't even seem like he’s mad at me,” You say because it’s true, you’ve known Mick long enough to know how he acts when mad,  “he’s just ignoring me.”

She sighs. “Then why don’t you ask him what’s wrong?” 

You’ve asked yourself that a couple of times, but the answer is still not clear, usually is as easy as walking down the street to his house but this time the thought overwhelms you. “Because I'm scared?” You answer, out of breath. “I don't know. I’m focusing on the party, especially because Mom doesn’t come back until tomorrow evening.”

“Honestly, my suggestion is for you to ask him before the party.” 

You sigh, knowing she’s right. The Christmas party is a tradition your families started eleven years ago, after Alicia, Gina, Esteban, Mick, and you decided to become inseparable at one of Mick’s birthday parties. This year it will be hosted at your family home, and with your mom away in Germany for a work conference, you’ve had your friends come around and help. They’ve all shown up but Mick. What the hell is his problem?

“I know Ali but,” Your phone starts ringing, Mickey is displayed on your screen with a picture of Mick carrying Angie. Alicia rolls her eyes and encourages you to take it with her head. “Hello?” 

“Hi. I'm panicking a bit,” he says, the background noise lets you know he's in his car. 

“Why?” You ask, forgetting you were having a crisis on this. “Is everything okay?”

He sighs. “It’s embarrassing, but I have no idea what to get your mom,” he says, and you laugh. Last year, you were having this exact crisis about Corinna.

You hum, thinking, “She wanted new pedals for her bike. Loved some she saw in Bike World; you’ll have to drive a bit, but I’ll send you the pic.” You put your phone away, change the call to speaker, and open messages, sending the picture your mom sent you a month ago. “There you go.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

You smile, letting out a laugh. “I know, idiot.”

“Bye, love you,” he says. Your calls always end like this; it’s a habit, so you mutter Love you back and hang up.

Alicia is staring at you, a grin on her red lips. “I hate both of you,” and she laughs, grabbing her keys and purse, about to leave. You’re somehow dumbfounded. 

“What?”

“Bye, love you. Love you,” she mimics, and you feel heat rise up your cheeks. “You guys really need to talk; I’m done dealing with him too.”

“What? Ali, it’s a ha-”

“I’m coming back at six”

“Alicia!”

“Just ask him!” She closes de door before you can even ask her to come back.

DECEMBER 24, 2023

Needless to say, you didn’t talk with Mick on the 23rd. Too busy dealing with the party and, as Esteban said, too busy avoiding the topic. 

Now it’s 7 p.m., warm lights tint the house while friends and family sway along the music in the background. Mick has been around since ten in the morning, bringing presents, a couple of ingredients that your mom was missing, and decorations, which he then helped put together. Now he’s just in full black attire, wine in hand, singing along to the song playing. Once again, you're too busy in your world to notice him approaching you.

“You always know which songs to play,” he says. Because he knows it’s your playlist reproducing. You know that’s one of his favorite songs.

“I try my best. But I also know it’s one of your favorites,” you answer, and he hums. There’s a void between you, one that hasn't been there before. It's not the tension when you fight or the longing when you're upset; it's not the excitement of seeing each other after months of traveling or the mischief when you prank your friends. It’s different—something that has been building itself for months—and you are too oblivious to understand what it is.

“You look beautiful,” Mick says, not looking at you but at his drink. He’s looked at you enough tonight, he thinks. You look up, suddenly feeling an outrageous urge to kiss him. Try and see if that’s the answer to all your questions.

He’s faster though, clears his throat, and says, “I’m going for more cookies.”

And he leaves. Your eyes stay on his back as he takes one cookie from the snack table. See him hum to the taste. You smile, bittersweet, What is going on, Mick? You want to shout at him, tell him in a million different ways how confusing all of this is, but that’s a talk for tomorrow; you’ve decided, you can't escape it any longer then.

"Shatz,” Someone calls and then says your name.

“Hm, yes, mom?” You ask, and it’s time to eat.

[ 10 minutes later ]

You are in the middle of dinner, or gossiping time, as Gina calls it, when Aunt Adelaide starts asking each one of you—the single, young members of the family and friends—about relationships. It’s not your favorite part, but a lot of fun commentary comes out of it.

Hearing your name, you know it's your turn. “Do you have anyone special yet? Maybe a secret boyfriend you don't want to tell us about?"

You laugh, “No, no. But I hope someone comes along this year.” First, you have to get over Mick, you think, and laugh a bit more.

“I have a neighbor I could introduce you to, dear. He’s a lovely young man.” She always has someone to present you to; it’s surprising. You try to go on dates with them, but they never end up working.

“I’ll think about it.” You say this as the loud sound of silver hitting the floor calls everyone’s attention.

Mick abruptly stands up. “I’m sorry,” he says as he picks up his fallen fork. He looks uncomfortable, like he’s had enough of the food, the music, or the topic. “Excuse me, I’m going for another one.”

The table has fallen silent. Aunt Adelaide is looking at you in amusement, a playful grin on her face. Someone nudges your shoulder, and you know it’s Alicia. Her eyes stand on a strange middle ground between confused and knowing, tilting her head in encouragement, like she always does. You also stand up, not so abruptly, but now everyone looks at you expectantly. “I’m going. Excuse me.”

You follow Mick to the kitchen; thankfully, it's far enough from the dining room that no one will bother.

“Mick?” You call once you’re there. His head is on his hands, and he is murmuring inaudible words to himself. "Mick, what is going on?"

He looks up, his hair messy. He’s overthinking, and you don't know what to do. You feel lost looking at him, far away from his thoughts and feelings. “What do you mean? Everything is alright.”

“You don’t look alright,” you say, shaking your head. “You’ve been acting strange.”

“No, I haven't. We’re alright,” he lies once again, picking on his thumbs.

You sigh, knowing this is when you talk about it—no script, no thinking, just questions and hope for answers. Whatever is budging him has his anxiety running in full force. “No, you’re not, and we're not; I have no idea what just happened, and you're acting as if you barely know me."

He takes a deep breath, runs his fingers through his hair, and looks at you with his deep blue eyes. You see questions being asked but don’t understand how to answer them. “It’s nothing; I'm just. It’s hard to explain; you won't understand.”

“I will try to understand then, like I always do.” You promise, taking two steps forward, close enough to reach out and hold him, "Just please talk to me."

“I don’t want to mess things up between us,” he says, sounding afraid. It reminds you of the time sixteen-year-old Mick broke your favorite perfume by accident. He didn’t want to tell you, too afraid you would stop talking to him. You really hope he didn’t break anything, material or not.

“You won't. I will be here for you.”

“I just want,” he stops himself once again. His eyes never leave yours, so you open yours a bit, waiting, listening to whatever he has to say, and it seems to work because he just says, “You."

“What?” You blank, not knowing what to say or do, not knowing if you understood correctly or if it’s the movie's effect once again. You see the exact moment in which he panics.

“No, fuck. I’m sorry, I.” He looks everywhere but your eyes, searching for an exit. Your first instinct is to grab his hand, keeping him where he is.

“I could,” you say slowly, looking at your now-intertwined hands. “I could be misunderstanding all of this, but, Mick,” you say, looking at him. He’s looking back, hope in his gorgeous sky blue eyes. “I like you, but no, not even. Mick, I’m so in love with you it hurts. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but then you disappeared. You didn’t want to see me; you were acting different, and I got so worried, but I think...”

“That we are both idiots,” he says, a small smirk growing on his lips.

“Yes, yes, we are.”

He smiles and brings his free hand to your cheek, says your name like it’s meant for him to say forever. “I’m in love with you too, so much. I got so scared when I realized that I didn't just like you, that I couldn’t hide it anymore. And then our friends started saying how obvious I was being.”

“Same here,” you say, laughing. He moves his hand, pulling you in for a warm hug. It feels different than any other you’ve shared; the last two pieces of a puzzle you’ve been building together, finally finding their place. It’s a breath of fresh air. Mick’s hands are all around you, softly caressing your back, his head buried in your neck, leaving a small peck before distancing himself enough so he can see your face. You want to ask if it's appropriate to kiss him now.

But he's the first to talk. “Quick question."

“Shoot."

“Do I need a mistletoe to kiss you?” He asks, and you laugh loudly. Shake your head in embarrassment. Oh, how you love this man.

“As much as I enjoy the tradition, all you, Mick Schumacher, have to do is ask,” and now it's his turn to laugh, brings you closer while doing so.

“Can I please kiss you?"

You pretend to think about it and decide to tease him a little bit: “Is that what you asked for Christmas?"

“It’s the exact thing I asked Santa Claus for."

“Then merry Christmas, Mick.”

taglist — @smartstupyd @ziarah . . . add yourself here

[alwaysshallow]

gorgerous, part 8

Simon Riley x f!reader

previous part || next part

READ ON AO3

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.

[midnightmusings06]

Valentine’s Headcanons- SDV Bachelor Edition Pt. 2

summary: What the sdv bachelors would do for you on Valentine’s Day!

pairing: sdv bachelors x gender neutral farmer 

category: fluff

word count: 865

a/n: these are inspired by some of the heart events + personal headcanons <3 and a continuation of my previous post!

Alex:

Alex knocks on your door early Valentine‘s morning, a small hand picked bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand and a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Happy Valentine’s Day! I know it’s early but I thought maybe I could take you for a walk this morning?” He puts an arm behind his head, looking a little nervous.

The two of you enjoy a peaceful morning beach walk, his hand clutched in yours, as the cool ocean water washes over your feet.

As you walk, you find several beautiful shells, handing them to Alex to put in his pockets as you walk.

“Darling just what do you intend to do with all these shells?”

“They’re for keepsakes of course!” You grin, placing more shells in his pocket.

He rolls his eyes, but you know he’s only teasing you.

When you return back to your house, you decide to make ice cream together, despite it being quite cold outside.

The two of you make a huge mess of cream and sugar, but it’s all worth it when you spoon feed each other your homemade creation.

The weather clears for a bit, so Alex proposes playing football together, which results in the football hitting you in the head due to your lack of hand eye coordination. 

“Y/n! Are you alright? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you!” He rushes to your side, and while it only hurts momentarily, he treats you as though you’ve suffered a grave injury.

He wraps you up in his hoodie, now devoid of your shells which now lay on your counter, as you holds you from behind on your couch, threading his fingers through your hair as the two of you eventually fall asleep.

Shane:

You hadn’t expected Shane to do anything special for Valentine’s Day, as he’d expressed discontent with the idea of the holiday before, claiming it was “just another Hallmark holiday”.

You also hadn’t expected Shane to invite you to his place for, in his words, “a special movie night”. 

When you arrive, you find his room clad with comfy blankets and pillows, where you sit next to him on his bed, making yourself cozy.

“Before I show you my surprise, I have a gift for you.” 

He pulls out two matching sets of pajamas, covered in blue chickens.

After you put your pajamas on, he leads you to sit on the bed as he connects his laptop to his mini tv.

A small film montage begins to play, as he nestles up next to you, laying his head in your lap.

Clips from dates and candid photos and shots he took when you weren’t looking, stitched together with your favorite song playing in the background.

You comb your fingers through his hair, tears beginning to brim in your eyes watching this film made of love.

The film ends, and Shane looks up at you, a small smile on his face, “Do you like it? I know it’s kinda cheesy but I thought-Mmph!” 

You cut him off, connecting your lips with his in a tender embrace, moving in tandem.

“I love it darling, it’s perfect.” You smile down at him.

“Thank you, for always staying by my side. I know I don’t deserve you, but thank you. I love you with all my being.” He whispers, a sweet utterance kept between the two of you.

Sam:

Sam made sure to give you an idea of his plans several days before Valentine’s Day, telling you brimming with excitement, 

“It’s gonna be the perfect day! We’re gonna go to Stardrop for an epic gaming sesh, you should wear your comfiest pajamas because why not! Oh and bring blankets, snacks and all the good vibes to my place! I can’t wait!”

You show up at Sam’s house that morning wearing your favorite pajamas, with your favorite candy and blanket in hand, where he greets you in his own pajamas.

You walk to Stardrop Saloon together, and compete in several rounds of Junimo Kart, Journey of the Prairie King, and pool.

“Ugh not again! You win y/n,” Sam sighs, having lost another round of pool against you.

Throwing your hands up in victory, you exclaim, “Victory is mine once again! Have you finally given up yet?” 

He pouts, until you wrap him in a big hug.

After heading back to his house after a few more rounds of arcade games, you walk into his room which is completely decked out in pillows, and a small pillow fort sits in the middle of the room, battery operated lights haphazardly strung about them.

“Tada! What do you think? I worked all night last night to make it, but then I fell asleep and it fell apart, so I had to rebuild it this morning!” He rambles, a small blush growing on his cheeks.

He grabs your hand, leading you into the small fort, where your snacks and blankets await for maximum comfort.

He moved his family’s tv to his room for the occasion, where he had a stack of the best 90s and 80s movies you two loved ready to watch. 

Eventually, the two of you fell asleep watching The Breakfast Club, wrapped in each other’s warm embrace. 

[tjwritesfanfics]

BTS MASTERLIST💜

Main Masterlist

MINORS DON'T INTERACT ON NSFW THINGS

🔥NSFW 🌻Fluff 💔Angst

OT7 💜

💜BTS spoiling you 🌻

💜BTS playfighting with you 🌻

💜BTS exposing your relationship on VLive *written by my friend 🌻

💜First kiss (Hyung line) *written by my friend 🌻

💜First kiss (Makane line) *written by my friend 🌻

💜 BTS seeing you at work 🌻

💜Rejecting fuckboy BTS over text 🔥

💜BTS meeting you for the first time 🌻

💜BTS sending snaps because they miss you on tour 🌻

💜BTS losing you to an abusive boyfriend 💔💔

💜BTS rap line's friend who stutters can rap 🌻

💜Kissing in the rain (Hyung line) 🌻

💜Kissing in the rain (Maknae line) 🌻

💜BTS not noticing that you were on the camera crew 🌻

💜BTS jealous of everyone (Bi reader) 🌻

💜BTS playing the Pocky Game with you 🌻

💜BTS seeing you with glasses for the first time *written by my friend 🌻

Kim Namjoon 🐨

One Shots

💜Order for 🌻

Not such a normal day at work for Namjoon

💜Trees 🌻

Your grandson starts asking about trees. So, you tell him where he can find a man who went by the name Koya, though you knew him as Kim Namjoon, a friend, but then he became the man who destroyed the trees.

💜Perfect warm up (ft Jin) 🔥

Namjoon and Jin need your help to warm up before a show

Kim Seokjin 🦙

One Shots

💜Perfect warm up (ft Namjoon) 🔥

Namjoon and Jin need your help to warm up before a show

Min Yoongi 🐈‍⬛

One shots

💜Miss Jackson 🔥

Yoongi and Jungkook knew what you did for fun. They just wish they weren’t the ones stuck cleaning up after you.

💜Not all bad 🌻

You were working at a hybrid shelter and in a desperate need for money, you take the position to take care of the rare panther hybrid. Turns out it would be a lot harder than you thought.

Series

💜Back in Time (Completed) 💔

While helping your boyfriend research his ancestry you find a very old looking book. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you open it, a flash of light sucks you into a world you’d never seen before. Now with a man who looks exactly like your boyfriend you have to find a way home. 1 2 3 4 5 6

Jung Hoseok 🐿️

One shots

💜You're mine (ft Lee Felix) 🌻

BTS has been super busy with their comeback, so Hoseok hasn’t seen his girlfriend in a few weeks. After he hears that you want to learn to dance, he takes it upon himself to teach you. Imagine his surprise when he finds you and Stray Kid’s, Lee Felix, in the middle of a dance lesson.

💜Remembering the days 💔💔

Hoseok remembers all the fun times you had together.

💜Hallmark Holidays 🌻

After a terrible break up, your best friend convinces you to go back to your hometown. Only problem was you hadn’t been back in seven years and your ex-boyfriend was still there and you kinda sort of still have feelings for him.

Park Jimin 💖

One shots

💜Miss Jackson 🔥

Park Jimin loves you. He loves you more than he can handle, and he isn’t about to let your latest plaything get in his way.

💜Apple bottom jeans 🔥

CEO Park Jimin decides he wants a night to relax and there was no better time than on his birthday and at his favorite strip joint. Luckily for him you were preforming and offering him a special birthday treat.

💜You look so pretty 🔥

After a long day at work, your boyfriend has a surprise for you.

Kim Taehyung 🐯

One Shots

💜Lesson Learned 🔥

You belonged to him. No matter what.

💜The Contract 💔

You love Taehyung and will do anything to be with him.

💜Growl 🔥

After watching Taehyung perform there was nothing you wanted more than to suck his dick.

💜Blood lust 🔥

With a killer clown on the loose, you worry about your boyfriend’s late-night job. A job you knew he had but didn’t know the details of what he did or where it was. Or you didn’t until the night you heard screaming from the basement.

💜Only her 🔥

Kim Taehyung and his twin brother V always shared everything with each other. Food, clothes, and the love of killing. No one ever understood them until they move to Seoul and meet y/n, the pretty barista at the coffee shop down the road. Now they had to have you in their lives, and no one could stand in their way.

Series

💜Helping hands 🔥

Your father hired Taehyung to lend a helping hand around the farm every summer, but what he didn’t know was that Taehyung also lent his ‘helping hands’ to his daughter too.

💜Mile high (part 2 of helping hands) 🔥

Halfway through the summer, your town was holding a county fair! You really wanted to go and take Taehyung with you. What you didn’t expect was to end up stuck on the top of the fairs wheel with your secret boyfriend and your best friend that just confessed his feeling for you.

Jeon Jungkook 🐰

One shots

💜Miss Jackson 🔥

Yoongi and Jungkook knew what you did for fun. They just wish they weren’t the ones stuck cleaning up after you.

💜International playboy 🔥

You meet BTS International Playboy, and he just rocks your world. 

💜Dirty translator 🔥

Jungkook needs Namjoon's help to translate for his girlfriend

💜Finally 🔥

Giving Jungkook a hand job at dinner leads to much more.

Series

💜Behind closed doors (on hold)

Everyone wants new kid, Jeon Jungkook’s, attention. You had it without even asking for it and if they knew the consequences that come with having his attention, they wouldn’t want it. 1

(Banners by cafekitsune)