#happy holidays and a happy christmas and a hanukkah too

[ginabaker1666]

This Is Always

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The holidays are usually a time to be spent together, cold noses warmed by the fire, and joyful cheers as the New Year approaches. This year, Rosie is struggling with being away from Jo, and acknowledging the future that he dreams of sharing with her. A heart to heart with Crosby helps put things into perspective for both of them.

Read Part 3 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

January 1944

My Dearest Jo,

Happy New Year, honey pie! It’s just after midnight here, and though I wanted to be the first person to wish you a Happy New Year, I know that by the time you get this, it will be after the fact. I guess by writing this now, while it’s still ‘43 back home, I’m letting myself be greedy in being the first to send you those wishes. I hope you’re doing something fun tonight, and getting all dolled up to paint the town red. Your last letter came just after Christmas, but I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you just how happy it made me to hear that you were still doing all of your usual Christmas favorites, even if I’m not home to carry all your shopping bags back to Brooklyn after a full day in the city. Believe me, I even miss doing that, no matter how heavy some of them are. 

I got Ma’s last letter just a few days before yours arrived, and she mentioned that you went by the house to celebrate Hanukkah with her and Jeanie. I know that made her really happy, and I can’t thank you enough for keeping an extra eye on both of them for me while I’m stuck over here. My sister would argue that she doesn’t need anyone keeping an eye on her, but I’m sure she appreciates your company, and will rub it in my face after the fact that she got to spend so much time with you. That’s what little sisters do, isn’t it? 

We had a small thing in the Officers Club for the holidays; nothing too fancy, but there was music, and some good liquor that someone managed to scrounge up for the occasion. The Red Cross Clubmobile girls pulled some resources and, even with rationing, managed to bake a few cookies for us. They were good, but they couldn't hold a candle to yours. 

I have never wanted one of your Christmas cookies more than after reading your letter, and to know that Jean Crosby took over as the official taste tester this year; oh it broke my heart darling. But, I’m glad to know that you two girls are keeping each other company, and I know that Croz is happy knowing that she’s not alone. I do hope you two aren’t causing too much trouble while we’re away. Knowing you the way that I do, I know that’s a bit of a pipe dream, but one of the reasons I adore you the way that I do. 

At the risk of sounding melancholy, I’ve spent most of today wishing I could take you dancing; spin you around until we’re both dizzy, until finally we can ring in the new year with champagne. Crowded on the dance floor at Minton’s, wrapped up in each other. Maybe it’s bold of me to ask, or maybe it’s the whiskey, but would you have allowed me a midnight kiss, Jo? I can’t picture kissing anyone else as the clock strikes twelve, nor do I want to, on this holiday or any other day. I hope that by next year, we'll be able to spend the evening together, and not have to send holiday wishes in letters that take too long to get there. 

I dream of you every night, sweetheart, and every night these sweet dreams end with a kiss before I’m pulled back to reality. I’ve been dreaming of the future, and if the real thing is anything like my dreams, I can’t wait for those days to begin. I wonder,do you dream of those days too? Of building a home together, a life that’s just ours. Living in the city, maybe somewhere near Harry and Jean. We could go to the pictures on Friday nights, and sleep in on Saturday’s, warm under the blankets until we peel ourselves from the sheets only because we need to make coffee. I’d spin you around the kitchen while we made breakfast, a record on the Victrola, the two of us tangled together while the eggs burned. The more I think about it, the more it all sounds like a dream come true. 

Maybe it is the whiskey talking, but it’s getting late here. Or early depending on how you look at it, and even though we aren’t flying tomorrow, I’m sure the rest of the fellas will be returning from the Officers Club soon enough. I’ll be dreaming of you tonight, sweetheart, and counting the days until we’re together again. 

Sending you millions of hugs and kisses, and all of my love. 

Yours for always

Robbie

Rosie took a deep breath, and without giving himself a chance to second guess anything in his letter, folded it up and slid it inside the envelope. He’d address it in the morning and drop it off at APO so that it went out with the next mail call; tonight it would remain on the nightstand next to his bed, with Jo’s photo. He was still in his uniform, not having bothered changing after he returned to the Officer’s hut, and was about to take advantage of the empty shower stall, when the door swung open and Harry walked in.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Harry spoke, hand coming up to loosen his tie. 

“Yea, I uh, wanted to get a letter out to Jo,” Rosie signed, dragging his hand down his face. ‘Or at the very least, written.”

“It’s rough around the holidays isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Harry knew as well as he did, and he knew his friend was giving him an opening to get his feelings off his chest. 

“Probably the most difficult part of all this. We’ve spent every Christmas and Hanukkah together since we met.”

“She celebrates Hanukkah with you and your mom?”

“Jo is the best gift giver in our family, according to my sister.” Rosie grinned. 

“Sounds like your sister will be the disappointed one if you don’t put a ring on Jo’s finger when we get home.” Harry chuckled, dropping down onto his own bed, across from Rosie’s.

“She’d have to fight my Ma for the top spot, if I don’t marry Jo.” 

The two shared a quiet moment  as their thoughts drifted to a place far from England. Far from flak and casualties and torn fuselages. No thoughts of missing friends, mission counts or that damned red light never blinking off. 

Rosie knew that Harry understood better than anyone; how it felt to be so devoted to someone, and yet, he felt compelled to ask the one question that, if he had to wager, everyone asks at some point. 

“How’d you know Jean was the one?” He asked after a moment, gaze turned upward to meet that of his friend. 

“She wanted nothing to do with me when we met,” Harry balked so loudly that it seemed to echo off the walls of the Nissen Hut. “But I knew. I didn’t want to spend another day without her.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Oh yeah, you just know,” Harry nodded. “When did you know Jo was the one? And don’t tell me you didn’t…”

“Let’s just say I should have opened my mouth a long time ago.”

“Well, better late than never.”

“What if I was too late, Croz?”

Harry stood from his bed, moving around the front to lean himself against the footboard. With a determined gaze, he made sure he had Rosie’s full attention before saying what was on his mind. 

“You can’t think like that. You need to believe you’re going home to her, that you two will have a life after all this.”

“God, I hope so.”

“I don’t know Jo as well as you do,” He started. “I only know what Jean tells me in her letters, but it sounds to me like she’s really something. And I’m not just saying that because she went out of her way to befriend my wife.”

“I told her I want a life with her, a future, our own place, Saturday mornings in bed, lazy days…”

“You want the dream.” Harry nodded in understanding. 

“Told her maybe we’d move to the city, leave Brooklyn, get a place near you and Jean.”

“Sounds like we’ll be in trouble if that happens, Jo and Jean a stone's throw away from each other?”

“I think the two of us are going to have our hands full when we get home, Croz.”

“I bet they’re saying the same thing about us,” Harry laughed. “And I wouldn’t blame Jean. I’ve been a real handful as of late.”

“Oh yea, you’re causing lots of trouble all the way over here.” Rosie chuckled, propping his legs up on the bed, feet hanging off the edge so as to not dirty the sheets. He didn’t miss the slight look of distress that flashed across his friend's face. 

He regarded him carefully; he looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue. His face looked worried, like he had something weighing him down exponentially, and Rosie would allow his friend the moment if he needed it. After all, it was the holiday’s and they were the best source of camaraderie that they had; friends should be there for each other. No one understood that better than he did. 

“No, I’ve been a handful…” Harry finally continued. 

“Croz?”

“Remember after Munster? When Harding sent me to Oxford?”

“Yea…”

“They double you up when you’re at those conferences, and my roommate, she-”

“Ah jeez, Croz…”

Harry sighed, dropping his head, too ashamed to look his friend in the eye. The moment had turned in the blink of an eye, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it, or get his friend through it. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try. 

“I don’t know how to tell Jean.”

“Is this why you kept disappearing up to London? To see her?”

“How do I tell my wife that I slept with another woman?”

“You just do, Croz.”

“That’s the worst possible thing to write in a letter. ‘Honey, I miss you terribly, by the way…’”

“Alright, I see your point. But you need to tell her.”

“This fucking war,” Harry sighed. “I swear, it peels the humanity right from your bones.”

“Then you fight it.”

“More than we already have? More than what we’ve given and lost?”

Rosie knew he was referring to Bubbles, and for a moment he let his mind wander to Nash, and that first mission to Bremen. It would be easy to fold; to pack it up and let the fight take from you more and more. But he would be damned if he’d let it take more from him, and if he had to fight a little extra to make sure it didn’t take any more from his friend, he’d do that too. 

“You’re not fighting it alone, Croz.”

“Feels like it most of the time.”

“And you’re fighting for something back home, even if you feel like you don’t deserve it at the moment.”

“I don't deserve her.” 

“Yea, you do. And you’ll tell her everything, whether you write it, or tell her when we get home. And Jo and I will be there for you both.”

Harry looked like he was about to respond when the door to the Officers Hut swung open. He turned, half expecting a replacement officer, but was surprised to see Blakely and Douglass, the former with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and Douglass swinging a bottle of something in his left hand. 

“Nightcap, fellas?” Douglass lifted the bottle, and Rosie could just make out the label. Vat 69. 

“Where the hell did you get that, Dougie?” Harry’s eyes went wide at the familiar label from back home. A very expensive label. 

“Been saving it, so come on, let’s have a drink.”

“No, seriously, who’d you steal that from?” Rosie asked, watching as Blakely gathered four of the glasses the boys kept on their side tables for brushing their teeth. 

“I won it in a bet, if you must know.” Douglass grinned, pulling the wax seal from the neck of the bottle before pulling the cork out.

“The details are not of importance,” Blakely chimed in, swatting Rosie’s legs off the bed to take up the space next to him. “What is important is that we’re here, and alive, so stop asking questions and have a drink would ya?”

Douglass poured for the four of them, dropping himself down on the bed next to Rosie’s, while waiting for Harry to join them. 

“Any day now, Croz…” he groaned, glass between two fingers as he held it out for the navigator. “It’ll be ‘45 by the time you move.”

“Dougie… fuck off.” Harry stood with a laugh, brushing off his slacks before snatching the glass and taking the seat next to him. “And anyway, we’d all better be home by ‘45.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Blakely nodded, holding his glass up to cheers his friends, the only ones left that weren’t replacement crews, or trapped somewhere in the Stalag. 

The foursome sat silently as they sipped their prize whiskey, thoughts turned presumably to home and memories of Christmas and New Years’ spent with people they loved and missed. 

“Alright, what would you be doing if you were home right now?” Ev broke the silence, leaning his elbows on his knees, gaze landing on Harry. 

“His wife, dumbass.” Douglass chuckled. 

“Woah hey, none of that.” Rosie looked between the two, the rules immediately being put into place without having to say them. 

They didn’t talk like that, but he assumed it had been a bit too much whiskey already for Douglass, and with there no mission on the horizon for tomorrow, their guards were all down a bit. 

“Right, right, sorry Croz,” Douglass held his hands up in apology. “For real, what would you and Jean be doing if you were home?”

“We’d go out for dinner, but I think we’d probably be home for the bells,” he closed his eyes wistfully, and Rosie knew his friend was simply hoping that he’d be able to do that next year. “Dance in the living room, and yea, off to bed.”

Blakely nodded, reaching across to drop his hand to Crosby’s knee in a gesture of good faith, that he felt for him in a way, and was hoping he’d get that moment sooner rather than later. 

“What about you?” Ev turned to his right, finding Rosie sitting quietly. 

“What about me?” Rosie brought the glass to his lips, taking a small sip and letting the taste linger on his tongue a moment. 

“Would you and Josephine be out on the town?” Douglass asked, gesturing to the photo on Rosie’s side table. 

“Oh yea, we’d be at Minton’s, dancing until they kicked us out I’m sure.” Rosie laughed. 

“Together at the club then?”

“Every year we go dancing on New Years,” Rosie started. “Christmas and Hanukkah are for family, New Years is for friends.”

“She’s more than a friend.” Harry looked at him pointedly. 

“She is, and a fella can dream that she’ll say yes when I get home.”

Blakely, who had been pulling the cigarette from behind his ear to light it, fumbled, dropping it to the ground at Rosie’s confession. 

“You got a ring?!”

“No, but, that’s my second order of business once I’m back stateside.”

“And the first?”

“To kiss the hell out of her.” Rosie confessed. 

“Good man.” Blakely slapped him on the shoulder, a smile on his face. 

It was absolutely the whiskey talking this time, but he was among friends. The trust was insurmountable. Between the confessions that had taken place before Ev and Dougie had joined them, and the warmth flowing through his veins, Rosie lifted the glass to his lips to drain it, before standing from his place on the bed. Swiping the envelope from earlier, and a clean sheet of paper from the table, he glanced at his friends with a grin, and offered a two fingered salute. 

“Gentlemen, I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going! We still have more whiskey!” Douglass hollered after him. 

“Save it for another occasion!” Rosie called back as he pushed through the doors and out into the chilly January air. 

He walked until he found a spot under one of the lamp posts, the bench undoubtedly cold as he sat down, but he wouldn’t be out here for long. Just enough time, and privacy, to get the thoughts swarming around in his head out on the page before he lost his nerve. 

Pulling his pen from his breast pocket, he carefully let the paper rest on his thigh before he began scrawling his extra note. 

Hi Sweetheart, 

I know this is coming with no context but, I want you to know how much I adore you. I know I’ve said it in different ways, and a few times by now, but, I mean it. Truly, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. And to say it from thousands of miles away, with a war on no less. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to hit me once I’m back home. 

Just know that I’ll always, always, carry your heart with the most careful of hands. I’ll keep you safe, and treasure every moment we have together. Anything you want, it’s yours, Jo. A quiet life together, or a herd of children that jump on the bed on Sunday mornings. I’ll make sure you have it honey. 

Just know, I’m yours for however long you’ll have me, Josephine. I’m hoping for forever, but that’s a question for another day. 

I love you,

Robbie 

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @basilone @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie

#masters of the air #love letters: rosie & jo #mota fanfic #rosie rosenthal x ofc #rosie rosenthal fic #robert rosenthal x ofc #rosie rosenthal x oc #nate mann #hbo war #gina baker writes

[lazyfandombean]

Fun little sketch of the skelebros and Frisk that I made a few weeks ago and forgot about 😅 Happy holidays!! <3

#undertale #my art #art #papyrus #sans undertale #frisk dreemurr #happy holidays #merry christmas #happy hanukkah #whatever you celebrate #or even if you don’t that’s fine too <3 #ps: if you can guess which details I added last minute I’ll give you (Internet) hot chocolate for your (Internet) travels :3 #btw if anyone has tips on drawing papyrus pls share because mans is HARD to draw

[kirbyskisses]

i hope everyone has a merry christmas filled with warmth, health, and love! i hope santa gets you all you deserve.

remember, it’s statistically the loneliest, most burnt out time of year and as someone who’s 100% alone and struggling with fomo and mental health this christmas;

i ask that you check in on your loved ones - be it irl friends or online mutuals - and spread the care and softness that everyone deserves during this time of year.🎄❤️✨

#christmas #winter #mental health #Santa #santa claus #happy holidays #merry christmas #muppets christmas carol #I hope any Jews seeing this enjoy the 6th day of Hanukkah too ofc

[becaexists]

Guess who just got a scrub daddy and a gravy boat in their stocking

#this bitch did #also a tiny build-a-bear frog for my regular sized one to hold #and just enough other things that naming them all here would take far too much effort #So far christmas is going well #other than poor grandad being ill #but he's just in bed enjoying his presents of books #happy Christmas/yule/Hanukkah/other holidays around now #or just happy day if you don't celebrate anything

[louisetaylor]

pattern recognition

my boss: you're good at straightening things on shelves!

me: haha yeah it's the OCD

me: wait that's probably unfair to people who really struggle with OCD

me six months later: oh wait I actually HAVE OCD?

me all my life: i wish my nose was smaller

my grandma: did you know I'm a little bit Jewish?

me: CRAP DANG IT I SLURRED MYSELF

me: . . .

me: PEOPLE who end up HAPPY and MENTALLY STABLE are the WORST. I just CANNOT STAND people in ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS. Boy do I HATE those LONG-LOST HEIRS to the THRONE of SCOTLAND.

(Edit: my grandma took a DNA test and apparently she is ZERO PERCENT JEWISH so she was wrong)

#i am good at recognizing patterns #and making insensitive references to groups i don't know i'm in #happy holidays everybody #as a person with OCD #i absolve myself from any possible cancellation #and as a slightly-Jewish person i forgive my unknowing wrongs to the slightly-Jewish community #because that's the christmas spirit #except my family does hanukkah because jesus did too #ocd #nld #nvld #nonverbal learning disorder

[heathenistic-moron]

I don't care what holiday you celebrate. I just hope you kick so much ass this year they have to name it after you next time.

#happy holidays #kwanzaa #merry christmas #happy hanukkah #i'm forgetting some #but i hope those are good too

[koshercosplay]

it's time for my yearly chanukah merchandise ratings! how are there always so many to choose from. as always, this year is a doozy and I am as bitter as ever lmao

this was quite literally labeled "hanukkah cone tree." gee I wonder which winter holiday is The One With The Trees. surely it's the jewish one with all the fire. let's make it blue and white just in case. 4/10 there is no excuse for this

why are the chairs so far apart. why is there nobody there. why are there so many grapes. what even are those green things. why is there soup. will the mysteries never cease. 7/10 purely because it's pretty

I for one welcome our jewish alien cousins. not sure what this has to do with chanukah but I want to hear about jewish life on mars so 8/10 friends come in out of the cold and have a latke with me

the more I looked at this, the worse it got. there's a literal christmas tree and tinsel but oh it's got blue lights so it's fine. and as we all know, children regularly hold fully lit candle menorahs with mittens while going door to door during a snowstorm. I guess who are we to stifle a child's latent desire for arson. 5/10 somebody save that poor dying kitten

this poor magen dovid is being forcefully converted to christianity and we need to help it. quick somebody put this on a sufganiyot stack. 4/10 we all know the intended target audience isn't interfaith families okay

do I even have to say it. please just. just stop. get One (1) Jew to weigh on your hanukkah products, I beg you. -392928373/10 walmart owes me a personal apology for making me see this with my own two eyeballs

I spent a full five minutes staring at this shirt desperately trying to make it make sense. I shouldn't have bothered. it's worse than the hebrew could ever be. 2/10 amposzu zusach mezchamal to you too

congratulations, once again you wrote gibberish. this says nothing. it's not chanukah, it's not happy holidays, it's nothing. the letters on the dreidel are an ACRONYM people! there's an order! 3/10 it's antisemitic that this has over 4,000 sales (thank you @quartzfox for sending this to me. now you all have to see it too.)

now these are CUTE. and the dreidel letters are in the correct order too, which is unfortunately impressive. 10/10 no notes, it has cats, would wear

(previous years 1, 2, 3)

#you know the downside of making this post every year is that. #i then have to crawl through the worst of Holiday Internet #to bring you all the Prime Selection #so you're welcome lmao #i do it so you don't have to 🫡 #enjoy this year's ratings! #chanukah #hanukkah #ratings

[floralcyanide]

— 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 (nsfw)

important note: if you don't like rpf (or fanfic about real people), please just scroll past. don't be rude in the reblogs or tags or I will just block you. it costs zero dollars to mind your business and keep scrolling. tom will literally never see this. I will never send it to him. therefore, no one is getting harmed by this. rpf is written by many about many real people and has been for a long time. if you'd like to file a complaint, I'd love to see you say that writing rpf is weird to the Hamilton fandom, the Billy the Kid fandom, the Elvis/ Queen/ Greta Van Fleet/ other bands and singers fandoms, (especially the k pop fandom. I pray you survive if you do.) etc etc. basically, just ignore this if you don't wanna see it. have a good day (:

⌯ pairing: tom blyth / fem!reader

⌯ warnings: mentions of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, mentions of smoking, reader smokes but it isn't explicitly described (can be an ignored detail), eventual smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (please protect yourself with strangers), oral sex (f receiving), nipple play, cum eating, fluff if you squint

⌯ word count: 3454

⌯ summary: at your friend's christmas party, you meet tom blyth and there's a strong connection off the bat. after a little too much to drink and a night spent talking, the two of you have an intimate christmas eve together. (based on those nights by bastille.)

⌯ author’s note: I've been so busy that I haven't been able to finish this until today lol and it took ages because I kept getting distracted ((: anyway!! merry christmas and happy hanukkah, I hope everyone enjoys this (: if you don't pls keep it to yourself

divider credit: @arminsumi | @eloquentreverie | @cafekitsune ⌯ masterlist ⌯ taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ.

You’re nursing a glass of half-sipped champagne, trying your best to pay attention to what your friend is saying to you through the pounding music. Being social with them is the least you can do, considering this is their holiday party you’re attending. And they’ve supplied the alcohol that you’ve helped yourself to all night. This is one reason why you can’t focus very well, but there’s another reason, too. You swear you feel eyes from somewhere in the apartment searing into the back of your head. At first, it wasn’t a big deal. But now it’s almost as if you’re scared to move in case someone is watching. Still listening to your friend, you realize you’re unable to look around to find the source. So you push away the sensation the best you can for now. A mutual friend waves at you from across the room where the makeshift bar is. Downing the rest of your champagne, you bid the friend you’re conversing with a quick goodbye for the time being. Hurrying to your friend who beckoned you over, you look at them with a raised brow when their face scrunches up into a giddy smile.

“Why do you look like that?” you ask, carefully eyeballing them.

Your friend chuckles at you, leaning into your ear, “There’s a hot guy back there who has been eyeing you for quite some time.”

Your face contorts into realization. So that’s why you’ve been feeling eyes burning into you. You hesitantly turn around, hoping you aren’t too blatantly obvious in finding who is staring. However, at this point in the night, you aren’t entirely graceful by any means. Your eyes catch onto a brunette man almost immediately, like you’re drawn to one another somehow. The man glances down at his drink before letting his eyes shoot back up to yours, his determined gaze sending goosebumps across your skin. Your friend has been too busy making you a drink to notice the tension but still manages to switch out your empty glass with a full one despite your daze.

“I’ll be right back,” you say just loud enough for your friend to hear over the song blaring through the speakers.

With the alcohol burning in your system, the atmosphere of the apartment seems otherworldly. It’s a fairly glitzy party, so you’re dressed for the occasion. Your outfit highlights your best features, allowing you to have an air of confidence. A kind of confidence you don’t usually carry. The alcohol certainly helps with that. The shimmery lighting bouncing off the walls gives off an ethereal vibe to the apartment. The dim glimmer of the room casts the shadow of the brunette man’s eyelashes onto his cheekbones. The closer you get, the more you notice about him. His aquiline nose, the contour of facial hair on his face, the tasteful and subtle golden hoop in his left ear. You see a small smile stretch across his lips as you approach him.

“I am so sorry if I’m coming off as creepy,” he shouts over the music, laughing to himself, “I promise I don’t mean to. You’re just really attractive.”

You take a moment to let your eyes take in his form as discreetly as possible, noticing his towering height and lean physique. Now that you’re close enough to properly see his face, you note that his eyes shine a hauntingly beautiful shade of icy blue. He takes a moment to study your face as well, waiting with bated breath for your response.

“That means a lot coming from someone who is also attractive. And I thought I felt someone staring,” you jokingly smile at him around a sip of your drink.

“Sorry about that,” the man rubs the back of his neck nervously, “I just never know how to approach without being awkward.”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the heavy weight of the brunette’s eyes on yours, your drink burning away any nervousness that had previously lingered.

“I get it,” you match his smile that has yet to wipe off his face, “I’m not the type to come up to someone I find cute. But…” you trail off, taking in the man’s attractiveness, “There’s something about you I can’t put my finger on.”

“Well,” he chuckles at you, bringing his glass to his lips before hesitating, “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Oh really?’ you raise your eyebrows, a playful tinge to your voice, “How’s that?”

“Do you smoke?” the man asks.

“Only when I’m drinking,” you chide. 

The two of you weave around the other party-goers toward the fire escape, and you snatch the bottle of something from your friend’s hand while passing the bar on the way out. After clambering from the window behind the tall man, who effortlessly climbed out, you take his outstretched hand. Planting your feet on the landing, you watch as the man fishes out a pack of cigarettes and a pack of matches from his back pocket. He looks up at you expectantly, patting the spot on the metal grating next to him.

“I don’t bite,” he jokes, “Not hard, anyway.”

You bite back a snort but sit down anyway. You take a swig of the clear liquid in the bottle you took before offering it to the man with a sour face. He’s in the process of lighting up, the cigarette hanging between his lips casually as he holds a lit match to the end. You watch him do this, and something stirs inside you. He takes a drag before handing the cigarette to you and taking the bottle from your hand. 

“You smoke a lot?” you ask him before taking a drag of your own, your eyes not leaving him.

He shrugs, “I picked it up while in college. It’s a bad habit I go back to sometimes.”

“I see,” you say, “I forgot to ask, but what’s your name?”

“Tom,” the brunette says, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he offers a free hand for you to shake. You gently take it.

Despite the chill of the night, Tom’s hand is warm against yours. You both hesitate to pull away, but a shy chuckle shared between the two of you causes a natural break of grip. You continue to smoke and pass the bottle to and from each other, talking about this year’s notable events in your lives. You speak for a while before more personal details begin spilling. Like how much you hate your job and how Tom missed his co-stars from his last project. Or how you both hate being single during the holidays. The more alcohol that’s consumed, the more you discuss your lives. It’s only been an hour or two, but it feels like you’ve known each other forever. 

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you. Tom looks over at you, admiring how your cigarette looked so natural in your hand. And how your hair fell perfectly around your face and how you swung your legs back and forth innocently. The corners of Tom’s lips twitch upward as he subtly moves closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours. He thinks you’re quite interesting and pretty- he doesn’t know why you’re still single when you’re such an amazing person.

You feel the roughness of his trousers against your bare thigh as you finish your final cigarette. You swish the remaining contents of the bottle around, deciding that your blurry peripheral vision means it is time to stop drinking. When you turn to offer Tom the rest of the alcohol, he’s facing you already, mere inches away. Your breath hitches as his eyes look into yours. They drop to your lips, and despite your intoxication, you feel giddy in your stomach. 

“Can I,” Tom whispers, lifting a hand to your cheek, “Can I kiss you?”

You sit the bottle down on the other side of where you’re sitting, a drunken smile growing on your face, “Of course you can.”

Tom leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently. You inhale sharply through your nose at the intense feeling of electricity between the two of you. You can taste the alcohol on him when you run your tongue across his bottom lip, testing just how far he wants to go. Your hand reaches up and cards through his dark hair, bringing him as close as possible as the kiss becomes more passionate. Tom’s free hand grasps your hip, his thumb digging deeper into your skin the harder you kiss him. Your head swims as he peppers his lips along your jawline and under your ear.

“We should probably go inside,” you pull away reluctantly, but even in your stupor, you don’t want to get carried away and fall off the fire escape.

You struggle to push up the cracked open window, and Tom giggles at you as he effortlessly pushes it open for you. Both of you climb through, and your friend shakes their head at you when your feet land firmly on the floor.

“I had wondered where you ran off to,” they chuckle, “I see you’ve met my friend Tom.”

“Uh, yeah,” you smile, looking up at him as he stands beside you.

Your friend looks closely at the two of you, noticing your bitten lips and Tom’s flushed face, “Now that the party has dwindled down, you guys can chill upstairs where it’s quiet. I have a book collection you two would enjoy.”

“Gotcha,” you nod as they walk away to mingle with other partygoers.

Looking around, you notice the remainder of the gathering is in other parts of the apartment, leaving the living room and upstairs unoccupied. Tom grabs your hand, pulling you away from the kitchen to the hallway leading to the stairs. You pull him into another kiss, Tom giggling at your eagerness as he sways slightly. He walks you backward until you feel your back against the nearby wall. Neither of you would do this on a typical day, but the energy between both of you is so intense. Your hands move underneath his shirt, your cold palms making contact with his warm skin. Tom gasps into the kiss at the contact, and you scoff, pulling away from him and grabbing his hand to drag him up the stairs.

“Careful,” Tom says to you as your legs wobble. Meanwhile, he’s struggling to climb them as well.

After a few minutes of tussling and laughing, the two of you finally reach the second floor.

“So about that book collection,” Tom raises an eyebrow, catching his breath as he grabs you by the hips, bringing you close to him.

“Only if you really want to,” you look up at him, both your and his eyes glazed over.

“I do,” Tom runs his hands along your sides, his gaze heavy on you, “Lead the way.”

You walk ahead of him, pulling him into the guest bedroom, where the books do happen to be stored in a giant bookcase along the wall. String lights around the ceiling give a soft golden glow to the room as you approach the mass of books. Tom closes the door softly as he enters the room, walking up behind you as you trace the spine of one of your favorite books. Tom wraps his arms around you, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck gingerly. You melt into his chest, closing your eyes as he travels down your shoulder. Your dress has an exposed back, and Tom is taking advantage of it as Tom falls to one knee and continues kissing down your body. He delicately unties the silk ribbon holding the two sides of your dress together, pausing before allowing it to fall to the floor.

“Let me know if you want me to stop,” Tom says.

You turn around and walk to the bed, allowing your dress to fall behind you. Sitting down, you motion for Tom to come over to you. His eyes scan your face, avoiding your intricate and deep-colored underwear as he stands up. Tom stands between your slightly parted legs, and you move your hands to the lapels of his black blazer, pushing them open. He discards it from his arms and to the floor before pulling his t-shirt over his head. You try not to ogle at his perfect body, but your hands wander anyway. Up his abdomen and across his chest until you reach his neck, where you pull him down for a heated kiss. Tom lightly pushes you onto the bed, and you move to the pile of pillows to rest your head. He climbs over you, caging you underneath him. Before you can react, Tom pulls your legs up around his waist as he rests his body on yours. His lips hover over yours, his darkened eyes boring into yours much like they did the back of your head earlier in the evening. 

“Don’t stop,” you say, crossing your ankles behind Tom’s back.

Tom attacks your neck with hot kisses and soft bites, your hand grasping the back of his head. As his body relaxes into you, his weight presses you against the bed, and you feel how hard he is. You lift your hips to lightly grind into Tom, and his soft bite into your collarbone turns harsh in reaction. He continues downward, slipping his fingers underneath the straps of your bra and sliding them down your shoulders. You arch your back so Tom has the room to unclasp the band and remove the garment from you. He wastes no time resuming his kisses on your sensitive skin, avoiding the areas you desire his kisses most. You gasp when Tom lets his hand brush against your breast, his thumb circling your nipple softly. A small moan leaves your lips, and Tom glances up at you through his lashes to gauge your reaction. He admires how your eyebrows crease momentarily in pleasure, so he circles his thumb again. You moan louder this time, craving his touch without hesitance.

“Please,” you sigh, “Don’t hold back either.”

Tom hums in response before dipping his head down and enveloping your nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue teasingly. He rubs your other nipple with his thumb, simultaneously stimulating you. You whimper, heat from your still buzzed body rushing to your clit. Your hips roll in response, and you’re sure Tom can feel your dampened panties against his chest. He gives your nipple a sharp tug with his teeth before focusing on your needy core. He leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your clothed heat before removing your underwear. Still buzzed from all the alcohol earlier, Tom tries his best to be soft with you despite the pit of desire growing between you. You want him- all of him, and you want it now. And Tom wants you. Before you can speak, Tom’s warm mouth meets your folds, his tongue lapping at your arousal. You squirm from the sudden stimulation, but he stills your hips with his grip. A hand flies to Tom’s mussed-up hair as he plunges his tongue into you, his nose pressing to your clit. He inhales your scent, and it intoxicates him more than alcohol ever could. Shaking his head, Tom’s nose rubs against your clit perfectly as his tongue fucks you. Your whole body is up in flames, your fingers tightening in his hair. 

You’re muttering incoherent praises as you ride Tom’s face. He replaces his tongue with two of his fingers, your relaxed wetness allowing him to slip them in easily. They scissor against your fluttering walls as Tom sucks on your bundle of nerves. Your fuzzy mind keeps you from hiding how good his mouth feels on you, and your moans grow louder. His mouth leaves your cunt abruptly before reattaching to yours, silencing you immediately.

“Gotta be quiet,” Tom huffs against your lips, “People are still downstairs, love.”

You wrap your legs around him again, grinding yourself into his still-clothed cock. He’s the one to moan this time, slipping his tongue into your mouth and letting you taste yourself. You unwrap your legs and work to unfasten Tom’s trousers, pushing them down his thighs. He kicks them off the rest of the way, along with his underwear, as he continues to kiss you. You reach down between your bodies and palm Tom’s length, to which he groans into your mouth. You guide his tip to your entrance, allowing him to comfortably push into you. Your hands grasp Tom’s shoulder blades, your nails lightly digging into his skin with every inch that enters you. You whimper in pleasure at him finally being inside you after longing for it all night. Tom bottoms out with a content sigh, also elated at the feeling of you clenching around his length after craving it for so long. 

Your chests heave against one another, your forehead pressed to Tom’s. His enticing blue eyes meet yours as he slowly pulls out before slamming his hips against yours. You gasp, arching your back and letting butterflies swarm in your belly when Tom kisses the corner of your mouth. He fucks into you again, slowly building a steady pace. Your lips barely brush against Tom’s as he snaps his body into yours. Your buzz has now faded away, allowing you to feel him entirely sober. He sneaks his hand between you and presses his thumb to your clit, making you hiss at the sudden stimulation. Your head pushes against the pillows, exposing your throat. Tom lets his hand lazily wrap around it, not squeezing but instead holding it as he grazes his teeth on your skin there as he kisses your neck. 

“Feel so good around me,” Tom says dazedly, and you feel his eyelashes flutter under your jaw, “So gorgeous.”

Your hand rests in his hair again, gently combing through his locks as he rocks into you faster. His weight on you, his thumb still rubbing your clit, and his hand around your neck seals the deal for you as he plows into that sweet spot inside you. 

“Tom,” you moan, “I’m close.”

“Me too, baby. Me too,” he whispers into your skin, leaving soft kisses in contrast to his rough thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you mutter, your chin resting on Tom’s head.

Tom lifts your leg and places it on his shoulder, allowing him to hit a new angle inside you. You bury your face in his hair to deafen the cry that escapes you in response. 

“Right there,” you pant, your hands desperately holding onto Tom’s hair as your mouth hangs open in silent pleasure.

Tom breathes heavily into your neck, using all the energy he has left to mercilessly fuck your weeping cunt. You feel your stomach tensing, alerting you of your impending orgasm. Tom chants your name as he firmly presses his thumb into your clit, causing the tightly wound knot inside you to snap undone. Your thigh clamps into the side of Tom’s neck while the other shakes against the bare skin of his sweat sheened back. The feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him makes Tom explode inside you with a gasp. You grip Tom’s hair desperately as you milk him of everything he has, his thumb still not letting up on your clit. Another orgasm washes over you suddenly. This time it makes you convulse, your cunt gushing around Tom and dripping down your thighs as you cry out in pleasure. 

“Fuck,” you gasp for air, Tom pulling out of you.

He moves down to your pussy, cleaning up the cum spilling from you with a hungry tongue. You’re so sensitive that your thighs slam into the sides of Tom’s head. He suckles your clit for a moment for good measure, making you writhe underneath him. You pathetically whimper when he pulls away, finally catching your breath. Tom returns to his previous position on top of you, his face buried in your neck. He wraps his arms around you, softly stroking your skin. 

“Wow,” you giggle, letting your nose dig into Tom’s brunette hair.

“Yeah,” he smirks, “You’re amazing.”

“That’s all you, I’m afraid,” you say.

Tom hums, “I disagree, sweetheart.”

He rolls over momentarily, lifting the duvet for you to climb under. He embraces you again, holding you close as if you’ll disappear like some sort of dream. You wrap your arms around Tom’s, smiling as he presses his nose to your hair. 

“I still haven’t put my finger on it,” you say after a moment of silence.

“Hmm? On what?”

“That something about you.”

“I guess you’ll have to stick around and find out, then.”

“Deal,” you chuckle, “Merry Christmas, Tom.”

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.”

taglist:

@barbaraelaine @devotedly-sassy @nowitsmissing @arzua10 @screamqueenpink

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x reader smut #tom blyth smut #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x you smut #floralcyanide writes #tbosas #billy the kid #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth fic #tom blyth fanfic

[astolat]

The Pack Survives (4193 words) by astolat Chapters: 1/23 Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Additional Tags: Tags Coming When Complete Series: Part 20 of Game of Thrones works Summary:

There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival. —Thornton Wilder

This mad story (which is complete at 173k words long) has taken me a year to wrangle to the end. As I got close, I was going to advent calendar it, and then it was going to be for Hanukkah, but I was still fighting my way out of it with much help from @cesperanza and lim, and now it's DONE and I'm too impatient to wait for the 12 days of Christmas so it's going to be *waves hands vaguely* the solstice to the new year!

As I've done before, I'm posting untagged and will add tags when the whole monster is up. Speculation and conversation welcome in comments!

I'll update here a few times along the way, but I confess that I do not have the spoons to update tumblr 23 times, so if you want notifications as each of the chapters go up, please subscribe on AO3!

Happy holidays and I hope this is a season of light for you all! <3

#game of thrones #fanfic #house stark #robb stark

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ '𝐓𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 | quinn hughes ♔

summary: with you, always after a depressive state a wave of organization and the need to clean came over you. pair this with the holiday season and it was even more chaotic, pair this with not answering your phone and a worried boyfriend and it was a mess.

warnings: depressive state, motivation/organization, christmas (idk bro just in case)

notes: yes, i know that the hughes’ are jewish and celebrate hanukkah (at least i’m pretty sure don’t sue me if i’m wrong please), but this was inspired by me because this literally happened and is happening right now so the reader does celebrate christmas. and also the way she cleans in this and does stuff is literally how i did things because you all need to see how i function i guess. someone count how many times i said ‘decorate, decorative, decorated, or anything else along those lines. also add yourself to the tag list! ➺ taglist form

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

Quinn was worried. She had been in a depressive state for a couple of weeks now and this one felt like it was never ending. With the holidays coming up, he was even more worried because he knew before the small break that he had a road trip and didn’t want to leave her alone. 

He knew about her routine when it came to her depressive episodes. He could always tell when it started, yet he couldn’t tell when it was going to end, no one knew. However, he did know about what she did as soon as she got out of it.

She on the other hand was not worried. She had been sitting in bed when the sudden urge to go shopping hit her. She hadn’t done anything for the holidays and with it being two weeks until Christmas, she had to get going.  It was early in the morning, around 6 in the morning when it hit, Quinn had already left for practice, or morning skate, or a game, she couldn’t remember. 

It didn’t take her much time to get ready and head out the door, and to her car. She sighed when she saw it and how messy it was, taking the time to clean it out and wash it off. It was cold in Vancouver, as it is a lot of the time. She was wearing one of her favorite sweaters and a pair of jeans, her winter coat thrown over. She took the time to do her hair and her makeup, it was the first time in weeks that she had felt this put together. 

With her motivation, it only took her 30 minutes to clean her car. She got in, putting her Christmas/Holiday playlist on to listen to as she drove to Starbucks to get her coffee which was much needed for a day like today. She then proceeded to drive to the store, without a list because when this state happened, her ADHD spiked. 

Pulling into the parking lot, it was five minutes after they had opened which meant that most of the things had been restocked. She grabbed the cart and put her coffee in the portable cupholder that she always brought to the store in case a cart didn’t have one. 

She started at one side of the store, the holiday section, picking up some decorations that she hadn’t bothered to do beforehand. She moved towards the craft section so she could get working on the gifts she had to make. Even though a lot of her close friends didn’t celebrate Christmas, she still wanted to make them gifts for the other holidays that they did celebrate or even if they didn’t celebrate anything. 

Quinn never really minded the Christmas decorations at their home, it always made her happy so it made him happy too. Somehow, she had always made it feel like home, including lots of blue and silver for Hanukkah and other things that made it feel like the holidays.

She practically skipped down the aisles, holiday music blasting through her earbuds and in between the songs, she could hear it through the speakers of the store. She had since moved to the food section, getting everything she needed for cookies and other sweets that she loved to give to the team, which they greatly appreciated. 

An hour later, she checked out and unloaded everything into her car. She ran to put the cart away, the cold slowly starting to get to her, and ran back to her car. On the way home, Quinn had texted her but she was too motivated to let anything stop her. 

Gathering everything from the car, she trekked up into their home and placed everything down right at the entrance. The first thing she needed to do was to get the cookies and other things prepped. She made all the dough that needed to sit for a while first, placing them either on the separate counter or in the fridge. 

She then moved on to making the easier cookies and placing them in the oven, setting timers on her phone for each batch. She had gotten her computer for not only a checklist, even though she knew she wouldn’t stick to it, but also for music because it always sounded better coming from there when she was doing things. 

As the cookies were baking, she started getting all the fall decorations put away and organized. Setting them into their storage room and getting their holiday decorations out, placing them in the living room. She first needed to finish cleaning before getting started on the decorating. 

She started by dusting and gathering everything that was out of place and putting them somewhat together so she could go through it later. Yet, she was distracted by her books all over the place so she decided to reorganize it, leaving spaces for the decor. Then the first alarm on her phone rang and she took the cookies out of the oven, swiftly putting a new batch in. 

Then, she organized her desk because she had been moving stuff around that it got messy, followed by her two carts that sat by it, holding pens and a mass amount of other things that she had to take care of. She switched the calendars on her bulletin board to December so she could view the events that were happening but also Quinn’s Jack and Luke’s schedules so she could watch their games when they were on. 

After that, she had to write all of her weekly events and games onto her whiteboard which was time-consuming. Running back to the kitchen, she took the next batch of cookies and took the dough out of the fridge to get them ready for the oven, changing everything she needed to. When she looked at their bedroom she noticed the laundry all around so she cleaned that up and started a load as well. Organizing their closet and bathroom while she was at it. 

She was a little worn out but she couldn’t stop now, knowing that if she were she wouldn’t be able to get back into this rhythm later. So she moved on to changing their sheets so they were blue with snowflakes and added a few Christmas pillows to make it feel like her. Then she added the other decorations she got for the bedroom as well. 

Now it was time for the living room. She put up their fake tree that she had gotten in case they were ever too busy to get a real one. She put the first one up in one corner, beside the TV, and the other one on the opposite side next to the couch. She decorated the first one with multi-colored lights and all other Christmas-y things. 

Then she took the bin labeled ‘Hanukkah Tree’ and placed it by the other one. She put more pillows onto their couch before making more cookies. Taking a break from cleaning, she made some chocolate, pretzel reindeer and put them on a decorative platter. She placed the other cookies she would take the team in different tins and placed them in a bag by the door.

She noticed the other bags by the front door and brought them into the living room, grabbing the two extra rolling carts from her office along the way. One cart was for her hot chocolate and snack bar that she and Quinn started as a tradition in college. She put that by the TV mantel, also placing the festive bins they had underneath and switching out everything from the fall to the winter bins. 

By now, it had been two to three hours, it was now around 2 (taking a break to eat of course), her motivation kicking in, and Quinn had been texting her. They had a game and a morning skate that day so in between the two some of the team had decided to go out for food and hang out at Brock’s house for the time being. He was worried, but it wasn’t unusual for her not to. He thought she was curled up in bed either still sleeping or staring off into space, but he couldn’t be farther from the truth. When she was motivated, she tended not to look at her phone, knowing it would stop her from completing anything she wanted to. 

He tried not to worry, with the game and all it kind of took his mind off of it. But he could never really be settled about the fact that his girlfriend hadn’t answered him all day even if it was normal. She might’ve gotten hurt or needed him so much that she couldn't text him. It bothered him throughout the whole day. 

She was really happy and pleased with herself as she stopped to eat lunch and looked around their home. She watched ‘Home Alone’ as she ate, looking at her computer to see what she had completed. She was surprised when a lot of it could be checked off and there were only a few more things to do, the guest rooms and bathroom, along with a number of small other tasks. She finished baking for the moment, a lot of the other dough still needed to sit for a couple more hours. 

She allowed herself to breathe a little bit, doing some work on her computer. She then laid out the gifts she needed to make in her spreadsheet, along with the cards and other copious amounts of things that went into gifts. It was one of her main love languages. 

When she started up again, she tackled the bigger tasks first, the guest rooms and bathroom, getting it restocked and festive just in case there was an emergency need for a room. Then she finished decorating the house, putting some paper snowflakes that she had found time to make, putting the festive towels out (one more for Christmas and one for Hanukkah), and other finishing touches. 

Then she put the bins away, keeping the tree stuff out for her and Quinn to do tomorrow when he had an off day. She collapsed onto the couch and looked around in amazement. It was really nice to see their home so clean after her previous state.

She continued to watch ‘Home Alone’ as she made gifts, sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. When the time came around, she put the game on and cheered on Quinn. She would’ve gone if this motivation kick had come two days earlier and she felt bad. She hadn’t been able to come to a game in forever. Though, Quinn would be just as happy that she was feeling better and just watching the game from the comfort of their home. 

Throughout the game she made more cookies and continued to make gifts, finishing a lot actually. In between intermissions, she gave herself breaks so she could get around and move a little more especially because after standing all day she was cramping from sitting down. 

When the game was over, she switched it back to ‘Home Alone 2’ which was almost over, so she then put Elf on which is what she was watching when Quinn came through the door. He smelt the baking when he stepped in and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Babe?”

Y/n got up from the ground and made her way to where her boyfriend was standing, “Hey Quinny! Nice job tonight!” She hugged him tightly kissing him on the cheek.

“Do you want some cookies? I made a lot today, there’s the bag of cookies for you to bring to the team. I also left the bin of Hanuakkah tree stuff out so we could decorate it tomorrow. I got the hot chocolate and snack cart put together and I decorated.”

“I can see. I can also see you’re feeling better.”

Quinn walked further into the room and placed his bag down in its respective place, watching as his girlfriend sat on one of the stools at the bar counter.

“You have a good day?” She nodded her head and spread her legs a little so Quinn could stand closer to her. 

He kissed her head and smiled, “That's good.” He took his suit jacket off and placed it on the neighboring stool before kissing her on the lips. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, sweetheart.”

“Me too, Quinny. How about you go shower and we can restart the movie and cuddle on the couch?” He nodded his head and headed to their bathroom to shower.

Thirty minutes later, y/n was laying on the couch when Quinn came back in gray sweatpants and one of his Canucks sweatshirts. She scooted over and patted the spot behind her, the boy fit perfectly, wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Quinner.”

The two fell asleep not that far into the movie, sleeping in their newly decorated living room.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

@lilyevanswhore | @shoesjr13 | @dancerbailey3 | @if-my-heart-bleeds

#sunny lune writes #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #vancouver canucks #canucks

[batwritings]

Hi Bat! Merry Christmas, if you celebrate! I feel like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you do group headcanons; can I get Keegan, Ghost, Gaz, Konig, Horangi, and Soap (if that’s too many, I completely understand! you can just pick a few.) on a mission alone with their lover, maybe infiltrating a facility of some sort, when their darling simply just pulls them aside declares they want to give them a quick handjob/blowjob, out of neediness. Maybe the reader’s just a little too into the thrill of them possibly getting caught, or maybe they just can’t wait until they get back. Thanks!!

-Hybrid

Okay but like...I'm fairly certain I would be said reader. >.> Not that I like thrills, I just have ZERO shame. /hj Also, Merry Christmas for those who celebrate, as well as a blessed Yule and a Happy Hanukkah and holidays! Enjoy!~

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

Keegan P. Russ Keegan normally took missions as a ghost VERY seriously. He knew communication was essential during these missions, especially when dealing with Rorke back on the loose. So when you pulled him into a nearby closet for a quick little thrill, he was quick to ask what the actual fuck you were doing. Unfortunately, Keegan is weak as hell for you, so the moment you get your hands on his member, his eyes roll back a bit. "Make it quick kid," he growls, switching the channel on his comms so the both of you aren't heard, even on accident. You're true to your word, making sure there's no evidence of your little stint. "Pull something like that again, and you'll regret it once we're home."

Simon "Ghost" Riley Simon Riley is a no nonsense man, even more so on missions. But even you could see how his anger was affecting him and the decisions he was making. As an intervention, you pulled him aside while the team was switching positions. "You need a quick destress," you tell him, getting on your knees and pulling his member out before he can protest. Any argument Simon tries to make is muted the moment you get his cock in your mouth. He's finished as quick as it started as you help him straighten his appearance. "Not a word of this later." He threatens, despite his soft brown eyes telling you that he was thankful.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Gaz, albeit serious about his work, is much more impulsive than the rest of the task force. Which means he's a bit more amenable to following you when you pull him aside for a moment. He's genuinely confused until you get on your knees, which he gives you a smirk in response to. "Cheeky thing aren't you?" He groans when you get your hands and mouth on his cock. He's so tempted to ask you to leave the cum splattered on your lips and cheek but Gaz knows better. "Next time we should take care of that before we go yeah?"

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin Horangi has become a lot more at ease with himself over the years, and in that knowledge comes learning when to give into urges. He's never been one to let his relations with you interfere with missions for KorTac, but even a man as strong as him had a weak spot. He'll contemplate if the quickie is worth it before inevitably following you off. "씨발," Horangi would curse, trying his best to cover his noises. He felt lowkey bad for slightly abandoning the mission in exchange for pleasure, but the smile on your face made it worth it. "There'll be more where that came from if you can be good and patient."

König The normally reserved König you knew in closed quarters was gone on missions. As a colonel, he had a bit of a reputation to uphold. And yet...here he was, getting pulled to the side by you for a quick blowjob. "Scheiße, quickly now schatz," he'd groan, head knocking against the metal wall behind him. You hit all the right spots, all the points that normally made him sob in pleasure, whining quietly as he comes across your face. "Good pet...now, let's rejoin the others. We'll talk about this later in my quarters."

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish Probably the riskieset of this group of people. Soap is the type of person who would do it while doing recon and still respond to comms calls. He wants to see how far the two of you could go without getting caught. "He's moving LT," The Scotsman would report to Ghost, immediately groaning when you lick over the head of his cock. Moments after he comes, he'd be on the move, helping you up as he messily puts himself away. "More later yeah?"

#bat writes #anon reqs #hybrid anon #cod x reader #cod smut #keegan p russ x reader #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan p russ smut #keegan russ smut #keegan smut #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #cod headcanons #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #gaz smut #konig x reader #konig smut #kim horangi hong jin smut #kim horangi hong jin x reader #horangi smut #horangi x reader

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Cloudy Christmastime

damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent

(A/N): Before anyone protests, I headcanon the Wayne family as celebrating both Jewish holidays like Yom Kippur and Hanukkah as well as Christmas and Easter because yes, Bruce is ethnically Jewish (though may have done Christmas as well) but Dick/Jason/Tim/Steph would have likely celebrated Christmas. So they do both.

Anyway, this is a christmas gift for @glorified-red and literally the 5th take on this fic bc they first said Hallmark movie, then damijon hallmark movie, then whump. And then it took me three tries to get something I was close to happy with so I hope you enjoy. This ended up being a mix of domestic fluff and h/c.

warnings: sensory overload

wc: ~2600

~~

“Tell me again why Santa doesn’t bring us gifts if he’s real. Like our dads have met him. And he still doesn’t bring us presents,” Jon lamented from the couch, bundled up in four blankets. 

From your spot on the floor by the tree, you looked up, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Because we’re not kids anymore? And how do you know Santa ever brought us gifts?” 

“Perhaps,” Damian added, passing Jon a cup of hot chocolate. He placed a second cup on the coffee table and lifted one to his lips. “He only brought gifts to people to make a point. I never received any from him as a child but father has gotten many over the years.” 

Jon listed to the side, head landing on Damian’s shoulder. “I think that’s worse.”

For the first time in a while, Jon felt Damian’s huff of laughter more than he heard it. Your small chuckle was similarly inaudible. Jon hated solar flaring. Not only was it a pain to deal with for the day and change—one could argue he got either lucky or really unlucky by solar flaring the morning of Christmas Eve—but it always threw his senses out of whack as they trickled back in. And, with the gray skies of Gotham’s winter, Jon was expecting it to be even weirder than usual. It was worth it though, to him, in order to spend the day itself with his partners. It was enough that the Kent family Christmas Eve was ruined by Lex Luthor. He wasn’t going to let his Christmas day be ruined too. 

“I’m sorry, mi sol,” you offered with a shrug and a smile. Jon met your grin with his own. A full-body shiver wracked his frame. Your gaze turned concerned. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “Just chilly.” Damian’s arm wrapped further around Jon, pulling their sides flush against each other. Jon maneuvered the blankets away to soak in his warmth. 

“Ameli, we can turn the heat up,” Damian offered. 

“Nope,” Jon argued, nuzzling into Damian’s neck. “This is good.” Damian’s resulting huff of air teased at the hair on the top of Jon’s head. 

“Mi luna?” You asked from the floor. Damian turned to look at you. Jon followed, eyes traveling over the mound of presents arranged under the tree. There was a pile around the back of the tree against the wall for Damian’s family (Jon still needed to give Dick his gift from the Hanukkah celebration a couple weeks ago. The blue dreidel paper was obvious against the sea of brown, red, and green wrapping paper.), and a smaller one for yours. The empty gap left behind after the Kent Christmas was already filled in with a large box Jon was like ninety percent sure was a new easel for Damian. You ordered it, not him, but Jon couldn’t think of anything else on any of your lists that was even close to that size. “Can you hand me that please?” You gestured to a precarious stack on the coffee table. 

Damian acquiesced, passing over a teetering pile of vaguely book-shaped items. Who those were for was anyone’s guess. Jon was grateful Alfred had helped you and him pay for some of the gifts for Damian. Looking at the gift tags, it otherwise would have been horribly uneven. And Damian himself wouldn’t have minded, Jon knew, but you and him would have been upset about it anyway. He deserves the world, your rohi. Damian pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you, still arranging presents under the tree. He showed it quickly to Jon before texting it to him immediately. 

“This look okay?” You asked, peeking out from behind the tree. Jon looked it over. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly, but he also wasn’t exactly the reigning opinion on artistic presentation. 

“It looks fine, hayati” Damian said, eyes still trained on his phone. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“You didn't even look.” 

Damian turned to look at you. “Because I knew it looked fine, beloved.” His eyes scanned the presents. “And it does.” 

You shook your head at him, exasperated, before conceding and sitting heavily on the couch. Scooching in, you nearly pressed up against Jon’s other side. 

“Come closer,” He whined, untangling a hand from the blankets to grab yours. “You’re warm.” 

Jon could feel the look exchanged over his head. 

“I’m not that warm,” you argued even as you grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and arranged the blankets so that you could fit underneath. “You’re just cold.” 

Jon shrugged. The hand that wasn’t holding yours reached underneath Damian’s shirt and he swore, grabbing Jon’s wrist to keep its chill away. Another look passed over Jon’s head. He wondered sometimes if the two of you were aware he knew what you were doing and just didn’t care. Probably. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, amorcito?” You asked. Jon shrugged. 

“It’s cold outside and I’m human but otherwise yeah. I have you two,” he added smugly. Damian’s playful shoulder hit came at the same time as your muttered “sap.” Jon grinned. “So because I’m sick—sort of—I get to pick the movie. And we’re watching Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Despite the protests on both sides, the movie was playing before Damian could even get up to turn the lights off. To the side of the couch, the lights on the Christmas tree bathed the room in a soft white glow. 

~

Jon awoke to a cold bed. On a good day, he’d wake with the sun—or whenever it wormed its way through the bedroom’s black out curtains—or to an international emergency. Okay, not that the emergency was good, just that he was feeling good enough to know it was happening. On a bad day, all bets were off. Jon stuck his hand out of the covers, searching blindly for his phone. After a moment of finding nothing but the wood of the end table, the scratchiness of the sheets was unignorable and he gave up, flinging back the covers to get out of bed. Hanging over the side of the dresser was a dark red sweatshirt. Jon grabbed it and tugged it on, rubbing his arms to get the lingering echo of the sheets off his skin. His off kilter super hearing zeroed in on the crooning of Michael Bublé before zooming back out into the general background noise coming from the kitchen. Jon winced, squaring his shoulders. That was a bad sign. But it was Christmas; he’d be fine. 

A quick squint at his phone told Jon that it was just after noon. No wonder the bed was cold. Jon shivered, then grabbed a pair of your fuzzy socks before opening the bedroom door. 

The smell of cinnamon and chocolate coming from the kitchen was pleasant rather than unbearable. Jon let himself breathe it in as he approached quietly. He didn’t even notice you behind him—though that was often true of an average day—before there were arms around his waist and a head on his shoulder. He let himself lean back into the warmth of you. 

“Merry Christmas, mi amor. How are you feeling?” you inquired. Hot breath ghosted across his neck. Jon shrugged. 

“Fine. Excited for today.” He spun around to face you, eyes taking in your christmas pj pants and sweater with a Robin logo. Over your shoulder, Jon could see flashes of blue, likely Damian’s nightwing sweatshirt. “Merry Christmas,” he added, tucking his nose into the spot just underneath your ear for just a moment. No matter what his super senses were like, he took comfort in the smell of the two of you. A hand weaved through his hair, a kiss pressed to the top of his head. Jon pulled back just enough to give you a peck on the lips before being spun around into a kiss from Damian. 

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Jon muttered, pressing a second lingering kiss to Damian’s jawline. A steady heartbeat pulsed under his fingers, wrapped around Damian’s wrist. 

“Good morning,” Damian said, wrapping an arm around Jon to keep him close. Jon blindly reached out and a second calloused hand found his. A second warm body curled around him. He missed your heartbeats’ song in his ears, but Damian’s pounding steadily under his ear and yours fluttering underneath his fingertips was good enough for right then. “Are you alright?” Damian continued. “It’s late.” His voice was echoey underneath Jon’s ear and Jon flinched instinctively. The two of you reacted immediately, pulling back. 

“Jon?” you asked, voice laced with concern. 

“Yeah,” he managed. “I’m mostly good. About as expected, you know?” Jon offered up a smile. By the looks on your faces, it didn’t do as much reassurance as he’d hoped. “I’m sorry I slept so late.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Damian argued. “There is no reason to.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon sighed. 

“How are you feeling about breakfast, mi sol?” You asked, tangling your fingers with his. 

“Sounds good,” Jon agreed. 

~

“Oh yeah I should definitely send Dick a text to thank him. And also say Merry Christmas,” Jon said, flopping down on the couch after breakfast. With his partners looking happy, Christmas music in the background, and a breakfast of vegan pancakes in his stomach, Jon could almost forget about the buzzing under his skin. 

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “He would have swapped with me anyway. Gordon and Father are both working tonight so it was pointless for him to have the evening off.”

Jon shrugged. “Still, doesn’t hurt to say thanks.” 

“Say hi from me too,” you yelled over the running kitchen sink. After a moment more, the water shut off and Jon released a silent sigh at the absence of an irritating bit of noise. He was lucky the x-ray vision hadn’t started acting up. Not only was that like the antithesis of Christmas presents (his mom kept presents out of the house or in a lead box until morning for that very reason), but it was also a huge pain and the hardest to hide. Screwy touch and hearing was more than enough. Dishware clanked around in the kitchen as Damian sat beside Jon on the couch. 

“No change?” He asked, reaching for a Nightwing mug of cider on the coffee table. 

Jon shrugged. “Nope, nothing yet.” Damian narrowed his eyes and Jon attempted to start coming up with excuses. At the very least, he could probably get Damian to leave it alone until after gifts. Less so if you noticed too and started teaming up on him. 

“Ready for presents?” You asked, sitting down on the other side of Damian. You raised the untouched Superman mug to your lips, eyes scanning over Jon. 

“Yes!” Jon butt in before you could say anything. “Let’s do it.” 

You and Damian exchanged a look. On the floor below, the elevator dinged, releasing a family with a horde of kids. “Okay,” you conceded, standing to grab the first load of presents.

In the apartment directly underneath, the front door squealed open. A load of presents was slammed down on the floor beside him. Three kids squealed “gramma!” in unison. Jon’s hoodie was all of the sudden suffocating him. 

Jon jumped up and yanked the sweatshirt over his head, pawing the sleeves off before yanking his socks off too. He didn’t care where they ended up. His hands went up to press against his ears. Stumbling over his own feet, Jon meandered backwards until his back slammed into a wall and then slid down, knees up and head with ears still covered in between them. Sounds zoomed in and out. All of the sudden, he could hear Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer playing eight floors down, then A Christmas Carol on someone’s TV across the street. Focus! Jon yelled at himself through all the noise. One steady beat came into focus, then another. 

Until there was a soft item brushing his feet, Jon didn’t realize he had company. A steady beat pulsed in his ears, too loud even for its familiarity. He pulled the blanket close. Something plastic nudged his shoulder and Jon grabbed it instinctively, slamming special-made headphones over his ears. The sounds faded down into something manageable. Jon took a deep breath. And then another. He didn’t need to hear to know that the two of you were there. When he reached out tentatively with his sense of smell, the usual wave of cinnamon-vanilla-brown sugar-clove and somethings just the two of you tempered by pine and peppermint was comforting rather than overwhelming. Jon let it wash over him, clutching the soft weighted blanket to his chest. 

When he cracked his eyes open, two blurs blinked into focus as his partners, leaning against the back of the couch and hands linked. Damian’s head rested on your shoulder, one of your hands tangled in his hair. Jon noticed as soon as Damian saw he was up. He almost slammed his head into your chin as he shot up and Jon huffed a laugh.  

“Ameli?” Damian asked. Your eyes locked onto Jon’s. 

“You guys shouldn’t sit on the floor,” Jon responded. “It’s bad for your backs.”

You offered Jon a hand, ignoring his remark completely. Jon’s chest ached. If you weren’t willing to banter, he’d scared you. “How are you feeling?”   

Jon took the hand and stood, adjusting the headphones so they stayed on his head. He tossed the blanket over his shoulder and reached his other hand out towards Damian before tugging the both of you up and towards the couch. 

“I’m okay,” Jon reassured you, sitting down on the couch. “I promise.” When neither of you moved, he tugged you both down on top of him, interrupting the bat-assessment written all over Damian’s face.  

“Promise like this morning?” Damian argued. Jon winced. 

“Okay, yeah maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“Been a self-sacrificial dumbass as if we don’t a) know you and b) want you to talk to us?” You cut in. Jon could read the hurt underneath the anger clear as day. His fingers brushed over two sets of knuckles, one scarred from years of fighting without protective gear, the other dry from the winter air. 

“I know. I just wanted today to be a good day, you know? We never get uninterrupted holidays.” Jon resisted the urge to pull his hands away from yours and curl into himself. The two burning gazes on him were ones of love and concern, though, not judgment. 

“And for some reason you think accommodating you makes the day worse, why?” Damian asked. Jon didn’t have an answer. 

“We love you, Jon. Eres nuestro pareja. We picked ‘partners’ for a reason, yeah?”  You squeezed his hand in yours. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, head dropping to your shoulder. Silence was heavy in the room for a moment. 

“You choose what we do next,” Damian stated, tugging the blacket from its bundled blob to instead cover you and Jon. 

Jon moved from your shoulder to halfway on top of Damian, tugging you on top of him. “You guys are going to squish me in between you while we watch a movie and then we can do presents?” 

You shot him a wicked smile. Jon shrieked as Damian pulled him bodily half on top of him along the couch, cut off when you landed nearly on top of Jon. 

“Good?” You asked. Jon let himself sink into Damian, arms coming up to wrap around your waist. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Good.”

Damian grabbed the remote. “We’re not watching Elf.”

Jon stuck his tongue out at him.  

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #jon kent x reader #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent x gender neutral reader #emerson writes sometimes

[dovahbeeotch]

NORMANDY SR2 INFO BOARD HOLIDAY EDITION

[NEW MESSAGES AS OF 12:09]

12:09- XO. LAWSON: Good afternoon. As all of you know, it’s the winter holiday season on earth. I would like to invite @all to the starboard deck for a cultural exchange at 14:00 for anyone interested in learning about human winter traditions.

-

REMINDERS:

- Candy canes are NOT weapons. ALSO they are a privilege, not a right.

- Mistletoe (the greenery hanging from the roof) is NOT edible.

- Mess Sergeant Gardner is dressing up as Santa Clause; if you see a man with a white beard and red clothing DO NOT OPEN FIRE.

- Menorahs are NOT edible.

- Hot chocolate is HOT. Human skin is sensitive. For the love of god, just be responsible.

-

Happy Holidays. See you there.

12:10- FLT. MOREAU: seriously

12:10- LT. TAYLOR: how stupid do you think we are?

12:10- CHF. ZORAH: yayyy happy holidays! merry christmas, happy hanukkah, joyous kwanzaa, feliz navidad, gung hay fat choy!!! am i saying those right??

12:10- GO. VAKARIAN: someone did research last night

12:10- LC. SHEPARD: goddamn it, did grunt eat another menorah?

12:11- SPEC. JACK: im pretty sure mistletoe is edible. i mean it’s a plant, right?

12:11– SPEC. MASSANI: good goddamn point

12:11- SPEC. GRUNT: will there be food other than the roof salad

12:11- LC. SHEPARD: i would like to point out— candy canes absolutely are weapons. i dropped a guy with one once.

12:11- XO. LAWSON: Not helping, Shepard.

12:11- SPEC. GRUNT: noodles please

12:11- SPEC. KRIOS: Impressive, Commander.

12:11– SPEC. GRUNT: please teach me battlemaster

12:12– LC. SHEPARD: gladly. just suck on the tip until it’s pointy then ram it in the jugular. should work for humans, turians, drell, quarians, batarians, hanar (probably?) and vorcha. it’s messy as hell but satisfying.

12:12- XO. LAWSON: That’s it. You’ve all lost your candy cane privileges.

12:12– DR. SOLUS: Wise decision. Shepard and Grunt safety hazards.

12:12- CHF. ZORAH: seriously??? You can’t punish all of us for shepard’s bloodlust

12:12- SPEC. GOTO: so let me get this straight, miri. you trust us with your life in a firefight, but not with candy canes during a Christmas party?

12:13- XO. LAWSON: a HOLIDAY party. and yes, that is correct.

12:13- LC. SHEPARD: i mean… it sorta seems fair. i trust vakarian on my six with an SR… but with a taser? absolutely not.

12:13- GO. VAKARIAN: i think LCs been shot in the head one too many times

12:13- LC. SHEPARD: not the point, numb nuts

12:13- SPEC. SAMARA: If Commander Shepard can safely operate a live firearm, she should be able to responsibly handle a sharp sucrose stick.

12:13- SPEC. GOTO: you’d think

12:13- LC. SHEPARD: i don’t know if i can. i just get this overwhelming urge to stab.

12:13- DR. CHAKWAS: Pushing your psych eval forward, LC.

12:13- GO. VAKARIAN: called it!

12:14- SPEC. MASSANI: so this party… do we get turkey dinner if we show?

12:14- SPEC. JACK: what the fuck is a turkey

12:14- XO. LAWSON: Dinner will be at 18:00, given Gardner has finished up. No turkey, just rations.

12:14- GO. VAKARIAN: Why the hell does Gardner look like that? [image.attachment_sergeant_santa_clause]

12:14- LC. SHEPARD: huh. looks like he was born for the role.

12:14- CHF. ZORAH: this seems… offensive. why did he stuff his pants and belly?

12:15- FLT. MOREAU: compensation, zorah

12:15- CHF. ZORAH: ohhhh

12:15– FLT. MOREAU: it’s not a real holiday party without booze @XO

12:15- XO. LAWSON: the LAST thing this crew needs is alcohol

12:15- LC. SHEPARD: [image.attachment_secret_candy_canes] jokes on you @XO i bought myself some on the citadel. knew you’d pull this crap.

12:15- XO. LAWSON: fine

12:15- LC. SHEPARD: this too [image.attachment_4.5L_bottle_vodka]

12:15- XO. LAWSON: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

#sr2 info board #mass effect #HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!!! #me2 #shepard

[theygotlost]

pretty laughable to me that 99% of corporations have shifted their messaging from mentioning the word "christmas" to saying "happy holidays" so they can pat themselves on the back for being "more inclusive" but the imagery is still very much christmas centric. graphics will say "happy holidays" emblazoned over a picture of a christmas tree or christmas present etc. I've never seen a "happy holidays" message with only say, hanukkah imagery on it, and if I do see imagery for other holdiays its only in conjuction with christmas imagery like a coexist bumper sticker. which is already stupid on its own because you didnt actually solve a problem or change anything about the status quo by doing this, but the CRAZIEST part is that it's STILL enough to make conservatives mad. for the last week of november and all of december christmas imagery is completely unavoidable and yet they will throw a tantrum about how their holiday is being erased because nobody explicitly said the word "christmas" out loud and i guess they are too stupid to interpret images and shapes and colors

[maximoffhimbo]

Happy Hanukkah, Tiny

Summary: Wanda’s first time celebrating Hanukkah without Pietro. gn!masc!reader

Warnings: very sad emo Wanda

Slightly late to post - whoops !

-

It was a time of year for families, big or small, close or distant. This was the time of year to celebrate the people around you. Unless of course you were Wanda Maximoff.

Her life up until this point had been purely about survival and now, well, it was consumed by loneliness. Thankfully there was one other avenger that happened to be alone this holiday season, you. You were taken by hydra hours after you were born. You didn’t know where, who or what you came from. All you knew was that hydra picked you. The holidays approached quickly and whilst Wanda was dreading it, you were falling into your yearly traditions. Thanks to the avengers you were liberated from hydra when you were 17, now, being the same age as Wanda meant that you’d had enough time to create your own little rules, traditions and customs.

With Hanukkah and Christmas quickly approaching you set out to make this year even better than the last. Forgetting about a single little witch. With all the excitement you’d forgotten the newest member on the team, Wanda. Carrying a small Christmas tree and lights down the corridor you heard gentle, muffled sobs. The closer you got to your room the closer the sobs became. You racked your brain quickly, until you realised the noises were coming from the room opposite yours: Wanda’s. Placing the tree and decorations down you slowly moved towards her door, raising your fist to knock before you paused. You didn’t know what to say, what could you say? You’d never had a real family. You’d never know the loss, how on earth could you sympathise with a grieving woman? Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the door creaking open and the small fragile girl holding an empty glass. Her eyes were puffy, as were her lips. She’d adopted an oversized hoodie and pyjama bottoms that were way too big for her. She looked up, seeing you there with your fist raised; she paused, looking towards her glass and nodding. Water, right. She needed some water.

“I just need some water.” She whispered, tears threatening to fall again. Her head bowed like a wounded animal, like the weight of every galaxy was on her back. “I can get it for you if you like.” Your voice was hushed yet still cheery, hoping that your voice would provide any comfort, you continued. “I could make you some hot chocolate if you like.” Wanda sniffled, using the ridiculously long hoodie sleeve to wipe her nose. “Come on.” You began to walk gently to the kitchen, allowing Wanda to follow behind you like a small shadow.

Luckily for both of you, most of the avengers had already gone home for the holidays meaning you had the entire tower to yourself. It was early, definitely, but it always soothed you knowing you could spend Christmas the way you wanted. Sadly, you couldn’t say the same for Wanda. The emptiness began to remove her very essence; her entire being consumed by the silence. “Jarvis, play my Christmas playlist, please? Oh, and make it quiet.” Wanda watched you. She watched the way you were seemingly trying to comfort her whilst giving her the necessary space. You weren’t babying her, you weren’t forcing her to think of her brother or parents, or even sokovia. You were just allowing her to feel your presence. A comfort Wanda was grateful for. “You know, I need to get some new lights for my tree. The ones I have are so bad.” You chuckled to yourself. “It’d be nice to have some company, maybe I can get some Hanukkah stuff, to make this place equally your home as it is mine.” Smiling you turned to Wanda, she looked at you for a moment before nodding gently, as you turned away from her to continue making the hot chocolate you heard a faint whisper: “I’d like that y/n.”

-

“Hey, Wanda? Which colour?” You held up two small panda ornaments, one black and one pink one. Throughout the day Wanda had slowly come out of her shell, she was speaking a little more yet you were still desperately trying to make her laugh, to see her smile. She chuckled lightly, “I’ve never seen a pink panda.” You stared intently at the ornaments before holding one up over the over, “pink one it is then.”

-

“That’ll be $17.99,” you handed the crumpled $20 note over, looking frantically over your shoulder; Wanda had gone to the bathroom and you were desperately trying to purchase a gift for her without her catching you. The young (clearly new) cashier began to slowly count quarters, seemingly restarting his counting every few seconds. “Actually, just keep the change,” you grabbed Wanda’s gift and frantically shoved it into your backpack. “Y/N? Ready to go?” Just in the nick of time you thought.

-

“I had a nice time today y/n, thank you.” You looked up from your matzoh ball soup, smiling dopily. “Well, I actually have something else for you, just a small Hanukkah present.” Wanda’s ears perked up, a present? For her? Her lips lifted into a small embarrassed smile, “r-really?” She asked, barely above a whisper. Smiling, you opened your bag and pulled out a small pink panda plush and placed it on the table. “It’s not much, I just thought, since you said you’d never seen a pink panda before-“ your rambling was interrupted by a small sniffle, looking up from where you were playing with your hands you saw Wanda hugging her new plush. “Are you okay?” You asked gently, not wanting to upset her further. “I’m fine, I just- I haven’t felt this cared for in a long time.” Her large green orbs looked at you innocently, almost childlike. “You deserve this feeling, Wands.” Wanda said nothing, instead she stood up and moved to sit beside you, praise whatever higher power allowed you to be sat in a booth, she climbed in next to you and leant her head on your shoulder, clutching her new panda close. “You make me feel safe y/n.” Her hushed voice sent a wave of butterflies to your stomach. The desire to protect and love Wanda almost unbearable. You smiled wrapping your arms around her small frame before kissing the top of her head: “Happy Hanukkah, tiny.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda mcu #wanda imagine #wanda my beloved #wanda x reader

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

“Y/N,” Daryl’s voice, gently. He lightly touched your shoulder and your eyes opened to peer up at him sleepily. 

“Hmm?” you sat up abruptly, on high alert in an instant. “What’s wrong?” Your heart was pounding. But then Daryl just gave you a small smile and you relaxed immediately. 

“Nothin’. I just didn’t want ya to miss it.”

“Miss what?” you asked, but Daryl only stood from his seat on the edge of your bed and held up your coat. You gave him another curious look but slipped from beneath the covers and pulled your jacket on. “Downstairs,” he said softly. The rest of the house was still asleep. When you finally made it to the front door, Daryl looked back at you again and gave you another smile before he pulled it open.

A blast of cold air hit you as your eyes widened; snow. Huge fluffy flakes of snow were floating down on the still air. Alexandria was already blanketed in a layer of white. You let out a surprised gasp and stepped forward as Daryl happily took in the expression on your face. You hastily pulled on your boots that were sitting nearby on the rug and followed him outside. He watched you fondly as you went to the steps and held your hand out to feel the snow kiss your skin and melt in an instant. When you looked at him again, your whole face was lit with joy and it warmed him like a cozy fire. 

He was watching you with a serene smile on his handsome face and a softness in his eyes that was staggering. 

“I don’t believe this,” you laughed.

“Ya said ya wanted a white Christmas,” Daryl drawled, going to stand beside you on the steps. The lace-like crystals were accumulating in your hair and your breath rose in a cloud of steam. “I did,” you said, nodding. You looked over at him, a wide smile still on your face. “It’s perfect. Thanks for waking me up.” Daryl nodded and ducked his head. Sometimes you were too bright to look at, like the sun. But the next moment he felt your fingers slip between his and your arm pressed into him. Your head came to rest on his shoulder as you watched the snow drifting down. He looked over at you in surprise, his heart jumping and racing. It felt like another world suddenly—silent, magical, safe. And you against him, holding his hand, was the only thing he would have wished for for Christmas.  A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Festivus, Happy Holidays, ya’ll. Much love from me to you. Thanks for following this little obsessive blog. :) Stay safe and warm and hug your loved ones, furry and otherwise.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles