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zepskies · 10 months

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Love Actually - Part 1

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

AN: Here’s my last entry for the TGWRC: Christmas in July event! It’s set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Theme: Christmas movies Prompt: “That’s a poor excuse for a tree.”

Word Count: 3,100 Tags/Warnings: SB being himself, wee bit of angst, potential fluff overload!

Part 1: "Humbug"

He was late.

It was Christmas Eve, and your boyfriend was late.

With a large bowl of popcorn in your lap, you sunk further into your favorite corner of the couch, drumming your nails on its arm.

Your favorite Christmas movie played on the ridiculously large flatscreen Ben had insisted on when you two moved into this apartment. But you couldn’t get into the story like you normally would.

It was the first Christmas you and Ben were spending together since he’d started working with, instead of against Supe Affairs and the CIA. In fact, he was on an extended mission—hunting down a rogue supe in Idaho, of all places.

Freakin’ Idaho. Goddamn potatoes, you thought irrationally, shoving another handful of popcorn into your mouth.

While he’d been gone, you went all out in decorating the apartment: red and white candles, stockings, various ornaments, multicolored string lights, and poinsettias. You’d even found a nice little tree that fit in the only free corner of the living room.

Well, you’d had to rearrange some furniture to make that happen, but in the end you’d succeeded. It felt like you were living at the bottom of a snow globe.

You hadn’t heard from Ben at all in over two weeks. The day he left you outside your office in the Surveillance department replayed often in your mind.

Two weeks ago…

“Don’t give me that face, baby doll.”

Ben quirked a smile at your concerned frown, and he propped a gentle fist under your chin. You crossed your arms.

You knew he had to go. Butcher and the rest of the guys were waiting outside the S.A. office. And you were proud of him for what he was doing, genuinely trying to put in the work on this “hero” thing. But you didn��t have to like the timing. It was only two weeks until Christmas.

“Fine,” you agreed. “Just get this guy quick. I don’t want to hear my aunt’s shady-ass sniping. Every time I show up to a family gathering by myself, she starts plotting my arranged marriage to her fucking pediatrist, her divorce attorney—mind the irony there—or even the guy who packages meat at the grocery store—”

“All right, Christ. I’ll be back in fucking time,” said Ben. He grabbed your arms to stop your verbal flapping. Then with a grin, his hands moved to the curve of your waist, down to get a healthy grip of your ass.

“’Sides, I’m the only one flingin’ meat around here,” he said with a deepening smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile threatened to take over your frown as he pulled you flush against him, trapping your hands against his broad chest. You found purchase on the hard fabric of his uniform.

“You’re so gross,” you said. But you pulled him down for a searing kiss. If you weren’t going to see his handsome face for a while, then you were going to make the most of this moment.

And it seemed your boyfriend felt the same way; his arms wrapped around your frame like steel bands. Your fingers swept through his hair as your tongue slipped into his mouth, making his grip on you tighten with a pleased hum.

“Oi! Sid and fuckin’ Nancy,” Butcher called from down the hall. “Got a fucking job to do. Today, if you don’t mind.”

Ben broke away from you, just enough to frown in irritation over your head.

“Calm your fucking tits, Churchill. I’ll leave when I’m good and damn ready.”

You couldn’t help but giggle into his chest.

Now, it was quite literally hours away from Christmas Day.

You would be seeing your family tomorrow, regardless. You and Ben were supposed to go to your mother’s house for dinner. But you were starting to think that he might not make it tonight, let alone tomorrow.

And if you had to deal with your aunt nosing into your personal business again, your hand might just “slip” while pouring yourself a rum-filled eggnog, so you wouldn’t be held liable for your actions when you inevitably snapped on the bitch.

Sighing, you continued munching on some popcorn while you focused on one of your favorite parts of Love Actually. Hugh Grant was shaking his ass to “Jump In” by the Pointer Sisters.

The music was infectious, and you found yourself doing a little shimmy yourself on the couch in time with one of your favorite rom-com Brits.

With the TV volume as loud as it was, not even the door of your apartment unlocking could stop your mini-jam session.

And the door soon opened, revealing a dusty, soot-covered Benjamin, still in his supe suit and tactical gear. He took a small step back when the gaudy Christmas décor assaulted his eyes, but he blinked through it as he turned his head.

His lips curved at the familiar sight of you—bundled up in your pajamas and a fuzzy blanket on the couch, bopping to the beat of some shitty ‘80s song he actually recognized. You were alternatively mouthing the words and eating fistfuls of popcorn.

Shaking his head, Ben stepped into the apartment and shut the door with some force. You finally perked up at the sound, your smile alight with happiness when you realized he was home. That alone made him soften a bit.

“Ben!” You paused your movie and bounded over to greet him with a warm hug and a deep kiss.

He brushed your hair back and allowed himself to revel in the familiarity of you in his arms.

“Aren’t you a fucking sight,” he murmured.

Ben was still getting used to having someone to come home to, but it was grounding. This place was his home now, mostly because you were in it.

“You okay? How did it go?” you asked, wiping off some soot from his cheek.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ben offered you a cocky smile. “We smoked that pyro bitch.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You what?”

“Relax, the supe’s alive,” he said, rolling his eyes, as if it grated him to admit it. He wouldn’t tell you that the supe had two broken arms and probably a crack in his skull. “Being shipped off to prison as we speak.”

You nodded with a smile. “Good. I’m proud of you.”

His lips pulled at a grin. But then you took his face between your hands with a hard slap (though it didn’t even sting, the point was made in your annoyed frown).

“You’re late,” you said. Ben raised a brow.

“Excuse me?” he said.

“You heard me. You’re fucking late,” you repeated. “Go take a shower. I already started the first movie without you.”

You tugged him by the hand and all but pushed him into the hall that led to your shared bedroom.

Ben wasn’t one to be manhandled though. He dug his heels in obstinately.

“Christ, I just got home. All I want to do is sleep…unless you want to give me a proper fucking welcome.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder with a more than suggestive smirk. He turned around and pulled you into his firm chest. His hands smoothed down your back and squeezed your hips, with his thumbs dragging under the hem of your pajama top.

While your lips threatened a smile, you had to wonder how he had enough energy for reunion sex, but not enough to watch a simple movie.

Still, his offer was all-too tempting, making heat prickle along your skin wherever he touched. Nonetheless, you managed to remain stubborn and pushed gently against his chest.

“Down, boy,” you said. “If I let you get your hands on me now, I’ll never get through my list.”

First it was Love Actually, then Christmas Vacation, followed swiftly by Home Alone and its sequel, Lost In New York.

Ben frowned at you. “So? Watch ‘em tomorrow.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it’s Christmas Eve.”

You gestured to all your hard work in the form of the decorated apartment.

“Tomorrow, we have dinner at my mom’s house. So tonight, you’re gonna go shower," you said, pointing at him. "I’m going to make some more hot chocolate, and we’re watching all manner of cheesy, romantic, and downright silly Christmas movies until your Grinch-ass gets some holiday spirit.”

Ben released a tired sigh and dropped his hands away from you.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days," he said. "I’m not staying up all night again for some corny bullshit.”

You frowned in disappointment.

“Ben, come on. Please?” you tried, but he just waved a dismissive hand and continued his way to the bedroom.

For a moment, you watched him go in disbelief. Was he really going to be like that?

With a flash of hot annoyance, you huffed and decided that you weren’t going to let him ruin the night for you.

So you went into the kitchen and whipped up some hot cocoa, breaking out the actual Godiva chocolate bars you bought just for this moment. You poured out one mug initially. But you listened to the old water pipes working, knowing that Ben must’ve been taking a shower.

You knew he wasn’t just tired. He didn’t seem to be looking forward to tomorrow either, and was going along with it for your sake. Which, to be fair, could just mean he still wasn’t totally comfortable around your family. (Your sister Luisa still hadn’t totally warmed up to him.)

You also had a feeling that he just wasn’t into Christmas.

The question was why…

But you poured a mug for him anyway, adding some mini marshmallows into each one. You brought both mugs with you back to the living room and set them down on the coffee table.

Getting comfortable on the couch again, complete with your blanket, mug, and the popcorn bowl, you pressed “play” and continued watching the movie…even though you felt just a bit lonelier.

But then, a weight dropped on the other end of the couch. You flinched and looked over at your now clean and pajama-clad boyfriend, who eyed you begrudgingly with his arms crossed over a soft plain shirt.

You smiled at him warmly. “Hey, baby.”

His grouchy face was the very picture of “humbug.” Biting your lip, you set down the popcorn on the coffee table and handed him the spare cup of hot chocolate.

“I made some for you,” you said. He gave you a brief nod and took a dutiful sip. But not even rich, chocolatey goodness could curb his sour mood as he stared blandly at the screen.

You knew that face. That was his, I’ll do this for you, but I’m not gonna fucking like it—face.

When he stifled a yawn, you knew that he hadn’t been lying. He really was tired. Sometimes you forgot that while Ben was all but indestructible, even he had his limits. Chasing that rogue supe across the country must’ve taken it out of him, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

So you reached over and plucked the mug out of his hand. His brows knit together as he watched you set it down on the coffee table with yours. Then you grabbed his hand.

“Come ‘ere,” you said, tugging him toward you.

“What now?” he groused.

“Just come on. Don’t bitch,” you teased. You guided him to lay across the couch, with his head pillowed in your lap. You grabbed an extra throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him, making sure that it covered him up to his chest.

“What am I, a damn kid?” he said. But you knew his griping had no real weight. Already he was humming deep with pleasure as your fingers carded through his soft brown hair. You let your nails drag lightly over his scalp, massaging his head. Your free hand stroked his cheek.

Ben closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh through his nose. The movie continued to play, but you were no longer paying much attention. This was more important.

When he opened his eyes again, they were drawn to the small, four-foot Christmas tree in the corner of the room, next to the TV.

“That’s a poor fucking excuse for a tree,” he said.

You frowned and followed his gaze.

“I think it’s adorable,” you replied. And it was the only one you thought would fit in this cozy, but very narrow apartment.

Ben’s arms crossed over his blanket.

“I’ll go tomorrow, find us a real fucking tree,” he said.

Your frown deepened a little. “But I already decorated this one. All by myself, I might add.”

He eyed you then, a bit softer.

“All right, we’ll get a second one for the dining room,” he grumbled. “Getting the tree up is a man’s job anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at that. But you tried to see if there was anything deeper to read in his words. Not for the first time, you wondered how he’d spent his holidays in the past. No doubt with a lot of fanfare and celebrity parties during his hay day as Soldier Boy. You were more interested in his life before that.

“I remember, my mom would run the show at Christmas,” Ben said.

You blinked down at him in surprise. Without knowing, he’d opened up on your exact curiosity.

Or maybe he just knew you better than you thought.

“She’d have all the help in a damn tear around the house. Cooking, decorating, the whole nine yards. It was a perfect scene, like something out of a catalogue,” said Ben. “But getting the tree was always my dad’s job. His only job, really.”

You smiled and continued to listen with rapt attention. Your thumb continued to stroke along his neck.

“One year, he got this massive one. Must’ve been…I don’t know, twenty feet. I don’t even know how he got it through the door, but he was mighty fucking proud of himself,” Ben said.

His gaze trailed beyond you, lost in faded memories. They played in his mind like a reel, wordless, but bright and warm.

“Who decorated it?” you asked. Your voice drew his attention back.

“Me and him,” Ben admitted, surprising you yet again. “Meanwhile, Mom baked up a storm for the Christmas party they threw every year…”

It was a rare moment where Ben recalled what seemed to be a nice memory of his father. But soon enough, the nostalgia dimmed from his eyes.

He cleared his throat and swiped a hand over his mouth, as if that could erase his moment of vulnerability.

Then he turned to face the TV screen.

“So what’s even happening here? Seems like there’s four goddamn movies playing at once.”

You cracked a smile and continued brushing your fingers through his hair. You also rewinded the movie so he could actually follow the story.

“Yeah, that’s what makes this movie so classic. See, there’s Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman. They’re married, kids, the perfect life, right? But he’s actually cheating on her with a younger, sluttier woman.”

“…And this is a fucking Christmas movie?”

“Yeah, you’ll see. Then there’s Liam Neeson.”

Ben perked up at that. “The Taken guy?”

You nodded. “Yep! He’s a widower, but he has a stepson who’s got a sweet little crush. So he’s gonna try and help the kid impress the girl by helping him learn the drums.”

Your boyfriend nodded.

“Musicians get plenty of pussy, that’s for damn sure,” he said. And with a knowing grin, “Actors get more though.”

You snorted and pointed to Hugh Grant next. “He’s my favorite. He’s playing the Prime Minister, who falls in love with his assistant, Natalie. That’s her right there.”

Ben raised a brow at your choice of “favorite.” If nothing else, he noted your type for older men.

But he smirked when Natalie kept verbally fumbling in Hugh’s presence, then stared along with the Prime Minister at the woman’s ass when she walked away at the end of the scene.

“Hmm, I’ll admit. She’s got a juicy peach,” Ben remarked. You laughed and hit his shoulder playfully. It worked an amused smile onto his face.

He took your hand from his shoulder and pressed the back of it to his lips. You blinked down at him, and you warmed with a smile at seeing his more relaxed face.

He kept your hand on his chest, his thumb drawing back and forth over your wrist.

So you proceeded to explain the various angles of the movie until he was all caught up.

You two watched the rest of it together. Like always, you cried when Colin Firth poured his heart out to his housekeeper, Aurélia, half in his mangled Portuguese and half in English. You cried again when Emma’s character finally confronted her cheating bastard husband.

And you held your breath when Hugh and Natalie kissed as the stage curtain fell down, revealing their relationship to the world.

By the time the credits rolled, you were an emotional mess. You were happy though. Typically you’d watch this movie with your sister, but it was nice to share the holidays with someone…

Someone who loved you enough to curb his Grinch attitude about cheesy romantic things, like tree decorating and watching rom-coms with hot cocoa.

You glanced down, and sure enough, Ben was asleep. He had turned onto his stomach. His head still rested in your lap, his cheek pillowed by your thigh, and he had a hand curled around your leg. Your big, growling bear of a man had a gooey center that sometimes surprised even you.

For one mischievous moment, you considered sticking a piece of popcorn up his nose.

He looked so damn peaceful that you didn’t want to ruin it…yet now you couldn’t get up either.

Shit, you thought, but your grin was soft. Oh, whatever. Sleep is overrated.

You queued up Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation next in your movie marathon and settled in. You laid a gentle hand on Ben’s back, between his broad shoulders.

And his story about his parents returned to the forefront of your mind.

Maybe he didn’t hate Christmas. Maybe it was just difficult for him to remember the genuinely good ones. Maybe he missed his parents; both of them, despite how contentious it had been between him and his father.

You could certainly understand that. But now, you would make sure he would remember this one for the “good” column.

You only startled a little when your cell phone chimed on the coffee table. The screen read 12:00 a.m. It was officially December 25th.

You then felt Ben’s warm hand squeeze your leg. His eyes were still shut though, his breathing deep and even in sleep.

With a smile, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

And you whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

AN: Yay! I hope you liked this fluffy one for SB. 🎄❤️

Did you like Ben's little day trip down memory lane? Let me know in the comments! 😘

**Note: There will be two more parts to this due to popular request!

Keep Reading: PART 2

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann83 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

#Love Actually #Part 1 #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben x reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #soldier boy x you #tgwrcjulyevent #dw's witch events #Christmas in July!#TGWRC #break me down verse #Christmas fic #fluff #zepskies writes

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julic-art · 1 month

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More sketches for my mlp/wha au!

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allistersatelier · 10 months

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magic that makes others happy !

#art #witch hat atelier #tetia #kind of a redraw of something from last july :-)? but more so just wanting to draw tetia again #nobody laugh at me for posting this on july 1st instead of sometime during june. im slow

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klonnieshippersclub · 6 months

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Bonnie, The Bennett’s, Black Witches and The Magical Negro Trope & Mammy Trope - TVD META

Bonnie and the Bennett’s have very rich lore. It’s not glorified by the fandom unless it’s by Bonnie fans themselves. That’s the way it’s always been, no one paying any mind or deeper thought to Bonnie/and the Bennett’s outside of her fans. This isn't a new thing but I want to highlight this once again because I don’t think fans understand there is more than one negative trope rooted in Bonnie, the Bennett’s and black witches only.

Before we get into anything heavy let’s have some key-terms here: Let’s define a magical negro trope: where a black character appears in a plot solely to help a white character and then vanishes. Now what a mammy is: a black woman engaged to take care of white children or as a servant to a white family.

Everything in the series can be tied back to a Bennett witch. Let’s list a few things the immortality spell, immortals, the other side, the cure, supernatural hunters, creating rings to preserve life, the Gilbert device but only a Bennett witch can enchant it, prison worlds, the traveler's curse, vampires, hybrids etc…You name it without the Bennett’s creation there would be nothing. You would think because of this the Bennett’s would be respected in the narrative and by fans. Wrong. Some of these women aren’t even given actual names. Everyone can have a Bennett witch at their disposal but they won’t be respected either. Bennett blood is essential to certain spells. A loophole.

Let’s talk about Ayana. The Mikaelson’s were only able to become vampires because Esther stole Ayana’s spell. It is forgotten that Esther/Mikael begged Ayana to perform the spell first. The Mikaelson’s as humans trusted Ayana. Rebekah was in shock that a necklace from Ayana burned her. While Ayana remained unnamed this time while the story was told. Rebekah was talking about Ayana. Ayana was known as a healer and given Esther’s praises they were close. The series doesn’t show us why Ayana should value the Mikaelson’s but we do understand why Esther, her husband and children valued her. That infamous necklace that Rebekah loved belonged to Ayana. We don’t know about Ayana’s life outside of being a healer. We don’t know her marital status, how many children she could’ve possibly had and anything tied to her after the plot has used her up. One would think with how close Ayana was to the Mikaelson’s, they’d have some respect or acknowledge Bonnie but that never happens.

We see this in how Emily was enslaved to Katherine. Julie may have labeled Emily a handmaiden but we knew what that meant. Emily only had one request from Damon that he watch and protect the Bennett line which he never did. The black witches never ask much of anyone in the plot or ever given the chance too. Yet when a request is made no one ever meets said request for them. This form of slavery repeats again through Lucy. She claimed Katherine saved her life therefore she is indebted to her for however long she needs. Sheila has her hand in aiding the Gemini Coven, Beatrice helped with the Sirens.

There are other witches that are black who serve a purpose to aid in many and leave such as: Gloria, The Martin’s, Bree, Aja and her coven just to name a few. Friends of the main characters or enemies but quickly there and dropped. Originally due to all witches appearing Black fans believed they were all Bennett’s. Julie has no answer for why all witches that is until they weren’t. Remember witches were servants of nature. The Mikaelson’s popularity, Gemini Coven and other witches. Fills the space that Black witches were once in. Notice a pattern here?

Qetsiyah’s plot line should’ve centered on how she created immortality, the cure, and the other side. But Qetsiyah’s existence revolves around demanding and enforcing continuous revenge on Silas and Amara. Tying her into another repeated love triangle in the franchise. May I add that she and Bonnie are the only women to have been betrayed by a partner and criticized for their reactions. There’s nothing wrong when a man wants and craves power but Qetsiyah is considered the worst of them all. Here’s an amazing video that details Qetsiyah’s writing too. Please review.

Lastly, The Bonnie of it all:

Bonnie’s a loyal, powerful and brave woman. She doesn’t let anything happen to her friends if she can stop it. She cares for them. That kind of loyalty can be beautiful but equally harmful when Bonnie has no regard to her own feelings. She continues to give for everyone and her friends rarely return the favor. Bonnie’s never thanked or rewarded for being there. The friendships stop being equal very early. Her traumas aren’t valuable in the plot. We don’t know what Bonnie’s home looked like. If Bonnie does grieve it isn’t shown on screen. Her family life is limited, while Liz and Alaric aren’t main characters. They have their own plotlines. It is revealed that Abby’s reasonings for abandoning her is for Elena’s benefit. Abby is killed in a coin toss and transitioned. Caroline gets to have a good friend moment while Bonnie isn’t have any feelings towards her mother for abandoning her after. Rudy isn’t seen in the plot longterm and when he appears in season 5 he’s killed in front of Bonnie. She grieves this in silence while grieving her own death that she didn’t make aware to her friends to avoid inconveniencing them. The plot makes it clear if the white counterparts aren’t happy then Bonnie will never either. Elena, Caroline got happier endings while Bonnie’s job was completed. Bonnie never once got to call out how her friends can disregard her, she feeds into them and they grow while sucking the life out of her. In the end, Bonnie went back to Africa. Never any reference to her life from there.

Another thing Bonnie isn’t shown to be feminine. Her best friends go on dates, go to dances, dress up and receive compliments. Caroline or Elena has ever given Bonnie a compliment that aided in her beauty. We don’t know Bonnie’s ambitions or fears. But you are aware when Bonnie wants to save her best friend. Thoughts on Bonnie’s relationships and ships is for the next meta though.

White witches did follow the servitude of others. They were still given the privilege of agency that black witches were never going to have. Witches like Dahlia existed, and although she had one goal she had more personality than others.

When you have people like the TVD writers that continue to push harmful stereotypes there’s always going to fans who listen and continue to perpetuate those stereotypes. The writers had no value for Black women nor do the fans. They don’t care about how black women or people of color are treated in fiction or the media simply because their favorites get to reap all the benefits. That tweet is just one tip of the iceberg, there’s plenty more from Bonnie’s relationships, and storylines.

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basicallyanotherwitchesthing · 3 months

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Psychology Today, magazine, Ziff-Davis Pub., July 1977

#witches #psychologists #occult #vintage #psychology today #eastern religions #ziff davis #july 1977 #1977 #magazine #ziff-davis #hypnosis

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khaosssss · 3 months

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New Artstyle??

Whaddya y'all think? :0

#howdy pillar #welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home fanart #witch!howdyau #eddie dear #julie joyful #sally starlet

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lunarharp · 4 months

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figured i'd do this again..bit early i guess..

#to cheer me up.. i feel bad atm.. these things don't even make me feel very good tho bc i'm such a narrative/sketch-based artist..#but Proper Beautiful Finished Pieces are what grab attention and look good at the end of the year all neatly lined up lol.....#so looking at a “yearly review” where i can only choose 'the best image of the month' (??) is like...What have i even been doing...#i did a month by month look back on twt for myself instead..but even that doesn't express the quantity of comic-based stuff..#that i do put a lot of time/heart into..but alas i feel bad bringing even them back..RTing/reblogging my own art simply feels bad lol..#AND WHY IS IT ALL B&W...trying to accept that i LIKE doing that and sketching and scribbling..not like i'm trying to like..Get Artist Job..#this year was so profoundly lonely at times bc i spent all my time drawing instead of socialising and trying to find friends....#please please please have achieved more of your dreams in the future so you can look back at 2023 and think..#It was good that happened so that it got me further to the future. Or whatever i guess.....................#regardless i did have a great amount of fun drawing and improving this year and dwelling deeply & heavily on witch hat atelier.#art-wise and emotionally....march july & september were the best months i think..AUGUST WAS SO WEIRD SUMMER IS SO EVIL ALWAYS.#thank you very much if you are reading this for enjoying & leaving nice tags & such like <3 i've realised how fulfilling that is to receive #really keeps me posting stuff here instead of keeping it all to myself in my head #i wish everyone in this world could have a safe and happy end of year. i wish living in this world were easier

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incorrect0hicsqueak · 10 months

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Hecate: It states in your file that you’re creative?

Mildred: Yes

Hecate: And what is it that you create?

Mildred: Trouble

#the worst witch #tww #tww17 #hicsqueak #hecate hardbroom #mildred hubble #hecate x pippa #the worst witch incorrect #bella ramsey #raquel cassidy #ada cackle #pippa pentangle #dimity drill x julie hubble #dimity drill #julie hubble

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beamingdesign · 7 months

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just be here for a while

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simongonewrong · 7 months

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motober day 3: (cursed) crossover!

im so late! anyway, heres a crossover with the W.I.T.C.H girls, if you think about it Motorcity is kind of a magical girl show. i also totally forgot to draw Texas' other hand so here are some options:

wholesome: on julie's upperback.

unwholesome: just slapped chuck on the ass.

other: ??????

#motober #motober2023 #crossover #fanart #fan art #motorcity #disney motorcity #disney xd #mike chilton #burners #cartoon #motorcity chuck #dutch gordy #julie kane #motorcity texas #WITCH #w.i.t.c.h.

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saintsir4n · 7 months

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I think my issue with vampire diaries after many rewatches, fics and online opinion is there are so many useless characters or characters that end up with repetitive arcs or just end up with nothing to do.

I’ll give examples…

1) Bonnie isn’t a character, not a proper one. It was clear she was the magical negro, only there to save and sacrifice her life for her white counterparts. However the reason why I believe most of us love her, other than Kat Graham’s amazing portrayal is because she is essential to every plot.

2) the originals being in season 4. They had nothing to do and were clearly there until their spin off. Kol gave us some exposition on Silas. Klaus was there to involve himself with high school drama, and they wasted Rebekah’s character. They had no clue what to do with them and as stand alone characters they had so much more to give in my opinion.

3) Caroline was a self under and you can’t tell me otherwise. I feel for the girl especially in season 1&2 but after that I clocked out of her character. She’s in scenes where she doesn’t need to be, placed with characters that she doesn’t need to be with… she in my opinion if she wasn’t played by Candace would’ve had a smaller role and pushed to the back like Tyler, Matt and Jeremy.

4) most of the plots were centred around shops instead of any substance. It worked for the first three seasons but after that it just got boring. Most people say season 4 was where the show peaked by it’s clearly season 3 and even then there were many plot holes and inconsistencies, especially with my girl Bonnie.

5) the confederacy

6) the show should’ve been finished in season 4 and had a big final showdown between the mystic falls gang vs Katherine (the original big bad) and maybe an non humanity Elena.

7) Bonnie should’ve had a coven or a witch friend or her grams.

8) “bigger is not always better” this is in reference to villains like Silas. He was pointless and everyone needs to bffr. He was ultimately just so boring. Sure everyone loved Paul acting like himself but omg, he was just playing an exaggerated non humanity Stefan/ ripper Stefan and that’s it. Also his existence diminishes stelena.

9) they should’ve killed off Caroline, Tyler or Damon in season two instead of Jenna. I know Damon is a main character but I like when a show shows off how high the stakes are.

10) the show runners, producers and writers needed more BIPOCS around because majority of the storylines especially regarding race (lemme not start on marcel’s origins because wtf) were poorly written

P.s

They should’ve expanded more on Katherine’s origins, she was one of most compelling characters and although I do not like her actions, she was a perpetrator of sexual assault (Stefan/ Damon were her victims), I would say she was a victim of Klaus and his terror. She both makes me feel some sort of sympathy for Katerina but for Katherine, I don’t like her, I just found her presence entertaining. She not an anti hero more of an Antagonist. I like that she didn’t get redemption, we just saw why she is the way she is yk?

#tvd #the vampire diaries #anti Julie plec #I love Kat graham #KLONNIE #rewrite tvd #tvd was bad #plot holes #bad writing #the vampire dairies #witch #vampire #werewolf

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zepskies · 10 months

Text

If You Want It To Be - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: And here’s Part 3! This fic is an entry for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event. 🩵❄️

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 3,600 Tags/Warnings: 18+! Smuttish, fluff and feels.

Part 3: Christmas Day

The next day, Christmas morning comes. You’re up early after a night of somewhat restful sleep (anticipation of today kept you up for a while).

And so are the guys, though their enthusiasm isn’t as bright as yours.

Everyone is still in their pajamas, the humans with their mugs of coffee as you corral your friends into the living room by the sparkling, multicolored tree.

During your trip to Walmart on your first night in, you managed to squeeze in some shopping for actual presents. Your wallet now hates you, and likely will until February.

But it’s worth it to see the guys’ faces when they find their names on gift-wrapped boxes under the tree. Jack in particular wears an expression of wonder, almost like a little kid. It makes you smile.

Everyone has a small gift from you, though they clearly weren’t expecting it. Sam accepts his parcel from you with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I don’t think any of us remembered about this part,” he says.

“No worries,” you wave him off. “It’s just a ‘thank you’ for letting me crash here for the holidays.”

You have a new book for Sam, an old-school Gameboy for Jack, a new set of ties for Castiel. You hold your breath when Dean sits down on the couch to open his.

He considers the small box with slightly furrowed brows. He glances up at you.

“What’d you do?” he asks. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Just open it, Dean,” you reply with a laugh. A smile twitches at his face, and he finally obliges you.

Inside the black velvet box is a nice silver watch with a leather strap.

Dean blinks in surprise. He glances over at his empty wrist where his father’s watch used to rest, but he hasn’t replaced it since it broke after the witch hunt in Indiana.

You come over to sit beside him and point out the new watch’s features.

“This part is adjustable,” you explain. “I figured you could take it off and use the strap for your dad’s watch.”

A slow smile spreads across Dean’s face, warm and somewhat disbelieving. You bought him a whole new watch, just so he could use the leather strap for his old one.

Something in his heart tightens, and also eases when he looks up at you. You’re smiling, a little nervous.

And Dean can’t help himself. He cups a hand behind your head and kisses your cheek, wishing he could do more, but not wanting to invite curiosity. Already he can feel Sam’s gaze on both of you.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dean says. “This is…it’s real nice. Thank you.”

But Sam notices the warmth in his brother’s voice, and the way he looks at you. And the way you’re looking at him, like he hung the damn moon.

It brings a suspicious smile to Sam’s face.

When you offer to pick up breakfast, Dean intervenes and says you’ve done enough. Sam will get breakfast going, he insists. (And Sam, rolling his eyes, agrees with him.)

“I’m gonna step out for a sec, but I’ll be back,” Dean then says.

“See ya later,” you reply with a little wave before you go to help Jack set up his Gameboy. Castiel is already sorting through his new ties, arranging them by color, then by pattern on the sofa.

You glance over your shoulder though, and manage to catch the way Sam pulls his brother aside. You don’t hear what they’re saying, but it sparks your curiosity.

“What?” Dean asks. Sam raises a brow at him, with a knowing smile.

“Get her something good,” Sam tells him.

“Dude, shut up,” Dean holds a finger over his lips and glances over at you. Thankfully, you seem invested in helping Jack.

“I’m just saying. Put some effort in,” Sam persists. His eyes hold a teasing glint. “Nothing from the gas station.”

“All right, I got it,” Dean snipes back. It’s none of Sam’s business, really, but he already has an idea growing in his mind as he heads down to the garage.

Dean has all but disappeared since this morning. You thought the two of you were going to talk at some point, but you haven’t seen him all day.

Maybe it’s stupid, but you start to wonder if he’s avoiding you. If the gift was too much…

Sam happens to catch you lost in thought while you’re glazing a large ham in the kitchen.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asks.

“Sure,” you reply. “Want to peel the potatoes?”

You glance at the bag on the counter. Sam agrees and joins you to wash and start peeling for you.

“Have you seen Dean?” you ask him, hopefully subtle.

Sam’s lips start to form a knowing smile, but he dims it down. “He’s probably in the garage.”

“…Oh, right. God forbid I bother him while he’s working on his car,” you joke. Sam glances at you.

“Or yours, most likely,” he says. “He did promise to get it done by today. Didn’t you guys have a little bet going?”

He knew about that? you think with a blush.

“That was silly,” you admit. “It’s Christmas. He should just relax.”

“When my brother says he’s gonna do something, he commits,” Sam says. “He deals with people the same way.”

You raise a brow at him. “What do you mean?”

Sam just smiles, like he knows something you don’t. He finishes peeling the last potato and sets it down on the counter with the rest.

“All right, what’s next?” he asks.

Once the ham is in the oven and the other side dishes you and Sam prepared are set off to cook, you return to your room to shower and get ready for dinner later.

You decide to wear the dress you found while you were shopping, before you even knew your relationship with Dean would change.

You almost went with a red lacy one, but there was something about this dress—green velvet, off the shoulder sleeves and flaring at the waist. It’s simple, but pretty. You pair it with some comfortable black flats.

You spend longer getting ready, only having to redo your eyeliner once this time. Then you steel yourself, gaining some confidence, and you go downstairs.

Jack is in the kitchen, sneaking a finger in the cranberry sauce.

“I saw that,” you tease. He stiffens like you’ve caught him red-handed. He quickly tucks his hands behind his back. He notices how you’ve cleaned yourself up with a polite nod.

“You look very nice,” he says.

“Thanks!” you chirp, blushing lightly. “Want to help me set the table?”

Jack obliges you like the nice kid he is. You two set up the long dining table that the guys usually use for research, first with the new red tablecloth, then the plates and silverware and glasses.

And finally, while Jack checks on the ham in the oven, you place the (fake) gold candleholders on each side of the table.

Dean comes out of wherever he’s been hiding, right as you’re leaning far over the table to light a candle. You don’t realize how your dress rides up your thighs in the back, but Dean is captivated by the sight for a moment…until he clears his throat.

“Need some help there, sweetheart?”

His unexpected voice startles a yelp out of you. You flail as you lose your balance, but he hooks an arm around your waist and prevents you from catching your hand on fire. He brings you flush against him, smirking down at you.

“Nice reflexes,” he teases. “When’s your audition for the Karate Kid?”

“Oh, shut up,” you gripe back.

You shoot him a playful glare as you rest your palms against his chest. But it loses its effect when you melt into his subsequent kiss. You reach up to twine your arms around his neck, letting your nails graze up the back of his neck and through his hair.

He shudders a little, with a pleasant hum, making you smile against his lips.

He breaks from you with a customary Dean grin, which is equal parts flirtatious, amused, and a hint cocky.

“Miss me?” he asks. You smile through your blush, but you have to taper down your inclination to say yes. His gaze drags down your body with interest.

“I like this dress too,” he says, and his voice fairly rumbles. Along with his scrutiny, it makes your face flare with heat. Your fingers play with a button on his shirt, red flannel this time. He rubs the soft velvet along your hip.

You tilt your face up to him, despite your lingering blush.

“Where’ve you been all day?” you ask. He quirks a smile.

“I’ll show you,” Dean says.

Dean takes your hand and leads you downstairs to the garage.

There you find the remains of your car, which has rusted out parts strewn haphazardly all over the ground. You raise a brow. This is how he fixes your car?

“You are so not winning the bet.”

Dean snorts. “It’s an old rust bucket. Needs a complete fucking overhaul, or the scrap heap. If you really want, I’ll get the new parts, fix it up top to bottom…or, you could just take a stroll through my garage.”

He gestures around, where classic cars are lined up on either side of you. A wide grin spreads across your face.

“Oh my God, you’ll let me drive one of these?” you say in excitement.

“You can pick one out and take it home,” Dean replies. Though he doesn’t want to think about you leaving…maybe you two can talk that over later.

Your smile falters. “What? Dean, no. This is your collection.”

He pulls you in by your waist and gently bucks his hand beneath your chin.

“Call it my gift to you,” he says. You notice his father’s watch once again rests on his wrist, with the help of the new leather strap you bought for him.

“You’d really give me a whole freakin’ car?” you ask, tearing up and beaming bright at the same time.

Dean brushes your cheek tenderly with curled fingers; his answer is in his eyes. You try your best to blink away your would-be tears. He catches the one that falls from the corner of your eye with his thumb.

“Why don’t you go pick one out?” he suggests, nodding behind you.

Biting your lip, you reach up and kiss him sweetly before you get started. You miss the way Dean blushes a bit. Because you’re already meandering down the line of beautiful old classics.

Soon enough you stop at an interesting red one.

“Ooh, this one’s nice,” you say. Dean is unimpressed.

“No,” he shakes his head, crossing his arms.

“What, why?”

“I ain’t puttin’ you in a Volvo. Come on, you can do better than that.”

“But it’s cute.”

“Remember, you’re gonna be driving across state lines,” he reminds you. “You want something reliable, strong.”

You huff and decide to keep looking, but you lay a gentle hand on the side mirror.

“I might be back for you. Don’t go anywhere.”

A smile threatens Dean’s lips as he watches you. He knows for sure he’s losing the bet. But it’s worth it for this moment right here.

You flit between the rows of cars. Finally, you stop at a funky mint green one. It reminds you of a car your grandfather had when you were a kid, when he’d take you out for ice cream on a Sunday.

“You like that one?” Dean asks. He walks over and joins you at the car, soothing a hand over its hood.

“I think I do. What is it?” you ask.

“A Ford Thunderbird, 1960.” Dean’s gaze meets yours, and he smiles. “Good choice. 5.8-liter V8 engine. 300 horsepower. This gal was powerful in her time.”

“Let’s see if she still is,” you say with a grin.

So you and Dean break out the Thunderbird into the open roads of Lawrence, Kansas.

Dean gives you pointers on driving stick, as it’s been a while for you. But after a few minutes, you regain the hang of it and test the car’s powerful sounding engine. It almost rumbles as loud as Baby.

“Oh, crap. What about dinner?” you realize. “The guys must be waiting on us.”

“Eh, they’ll live,” Dean says with a grin. “Keep going. There’s a park right around the corner here.”

Sure enough, you’re about to turn into a park that borders on a small, but beautiful lake. You probably should’ve brought a coat; the car’s old heater isn’t doing you much good in your little dress.

But right now, you don’t care. Because this is a perfect moment, and you don’t think you could be much happier.

You park the car in view of the sparkling lake. Before Dean can turn to you and ask what you think of the car, you’ve started climbing over the upholstery over to his side.

“Whoa. Easy tiger,” he chuckles as you grunt and struggle.

“Here’s my Karate Kid audition,” you joke, earning an even deeper laugh from Dean.

But he helps guide you into his lap, where you straddle his hips and reach down to anchor his seat back. The two of you laugh when it momentarily gets stuck, but Dean is able to fix it. With a turn of his wrist, his seat jerks back and gives you more room to maneuver.

His warm hands smooth up the back of your thighs while you find purchase on his shoulders.

“Hmm. You’re cold, babe,” he remarks with a frown, and he rubs your legs more to generate some warmth on your skin. “Should’ve brought your jacket.”

Your legs might be cold, but your face heats up at the way he calls you babe. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like you’re really his.

Your answering smile is both warm and playful.

“Who needs clothes when I’ve got a big, strong, flannel-wearing man to warm me up,” you tease, soothing your hands along his toned arms.

It lifts his frown into an amused grin, even as he shakes his head and grips your thighs more firmly.

“Oh, so I’m a portable heater now?” he remarks.

“Yup,” you nod with a grin as you lean down. “Do your job, heater.”

Swiping your hair over your shoulder, you lean down for a sweet kiss. But it quickly gains in passion as his tongue slips past the seam of your lips. His hands move to take a healthy grip of your ass, grinding you down into his lap.

A pleased sound gets trapped in your throat when you feel his length pressing against your core through his jeans. You slip a hand into his hair, deepening the kiss and nipping at his lower lip.

You feel like a teenager making out with your boyfriend in some backwoods clearing. But it’s an exhilarating feeling.

You never thought you’d be able to do this. Not with Dean.

You cup his face in your hands and pull back a bit.

“I love this car,” you say. “You really gonna give it to me?”

Dean smirks. Once again, your lipstick (though lighter this time) is smudged all over his mouth and chin. You wipe some of it off with your thumb.

“Maybe I won’t,” he says. “Maybe I’ll take my sweet time fixing that rusted out piece of shit sitting in my garage.”

You giggle against him, and his hands smooth up your thighs, rucking up the skirt of your dress.

“Is that your plan?” you reply. “Strand me at the bunker, make sure I can never go home?”

“Something like that,” he says. “Gotta keep my girl close.”

You huff. “Your girl? That’s presumptuous.”

“Oh, really?” Dean gives a deep chuckle. “Weren’t you the one who said this wasn’t a one-time deal?”

“No, you said that. I’m just along for the ride,” you quip.

But you think you’ve teased him too much when his amusement starts to fade. His green eyes dim to embers as he tilts his head.

“Is that right?” he asks.

You soften, gazing down at him with a more genuine smile. You press your hand to the side of his face, letting your thumb sooth over the apple of his cheek.

“Dean, of course not,” you say patiently. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

That admission is thick in your throat. It comes out at nearly a whisper.

But then, the shadows begin to clear from Dean’s eyes. His lips curve into a more familiar smile.

He kisses you, and the two of you continue exploring one another. Not to mention, testing the limitations of a reclined car seat.

By the time you two get back to the bunker, the dinner table is a mess. The guys have clearly eaten without you, and now Sam is trying to explain the finer points of football to Cas and Jack in the living room. He pauses when he notices you and his brother walk in.

“Where’ve you guys been?” he asks. But he spies Dean’s hand resting on the small of your back with a smile. “The food is in the kitchen. All you need to do is heat it up.”

“Thanks!” you call to him on your way to the kitchen.

Dean means to follow you, but he stops short when he sees a framed picture of Mary Winchester hanging on the wall in the living room. He draws closer to it, not realizing that the others are watching him. Most of them with curiosity, and one with hopeful wariness.

His mouth curves with a slight smile. Someone caught her by surprise. He can tell by the way she’s looking over her shoulder in the 8” by 10” frame. She wears her favorite green jacket—one that Sam bought for her last year. Her hair brushes past her shoulders in a haphazard mix of blonde curls and waves. But her smile. That smile’s even more golden.

“Who put this here?” Dean asks. When he doesn’t get an answer, he glances back and finds his brother’s gaze first. He just smiles, but doesn’t look like the culprit. Dean moves on to Cas, who subtly shakes his head.

Jack, on the other hand, looks both guilty and hopeful, before his eyes fall to the folded hands in his lap.

Instinctively, Dean wants to tighten up. But when he looks back at his mom’s smile, a little more of the edge in his heart crumbles.

“She looks good there,” he says. He turns back to Jack and gives him a nod…and a reserved smile. The nephilim hesitates to return it, but when he does, it’s a genuine one.

Dean moves on to the kitchen, where he pretends not to catch the way you’d been surreptitiously watching the scene from the kitchen. You duck your head and continue cutting some ham for the two plates you’ve set out on the counter.

Dean’s face lights up when he finds the pies: pecan and apple.

“Okay, you want mashed potatoes or macaroni with the ham?” you ask him. Dean raises a brow at you. You smile in amusement.

“What am I thinking? Both, obviously,” you say.

“Obviously,” Dean quips with a nod.

“Ah, well that’s interesting,” says Castiel. It stops both hunters in the kitchen with curious looks.

“It seems you’re caught again,” the angel tells you, nodding up to the mistletoe poised above you and Dean.

You roll your eyes, while Dean just smirks. You glance up at him with a question in your eyes.

Should we tell them? you ask.

Dean’s smile grows. Hell, yeah.

He leans in to cup your cheek, and he kisses you soundly—something that shocks both angels…but not Sam. You close your eyes with a sound of contentment. You grab onto Dean’s shirt, holding him close.

“She didn’t kiss Sam that way,” Jack comments.

Castiel recovers first, realizing what’s happened by Sam’s knowing look.

“No,” Cas says in amusement. “I don’t believe she did.”

While Sam turns up the volume on the TV, giving you and Dean some privacy, Dean finally parts from you and tugs a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You know, I promised you a car by Christmas,” he says with a grin. “Technically speaking, I did come through on that deal.”

You raise a brow, though a smile tugs at your lips. “Hmm. I suppose you did.”

“And if I remember right, I get a…what was it?” He pretends to recall with a raised finger. “Oh, that’s right. A consequence-free request.”

“Here we go.” You roll your eyes, but amusement and warmth still gleam them. “All right, Dean Winchester. What can I do for you?”

He hums and seems to consider it. He makes a show of it, really, tilting his head, looking down at you with a deepening smirk. You fight not to blush under his scrutiny, even as your smile grows. Your hands rest against his chest, while his slide around your waist and pull you in closer.

“How about you don’t go running off so soon,” he says, thumbing at your cheek. “Stay through New Year’s, at least.”

You’d be lying if you said you aren’t shocked. You raise a brow.

“That’s your request?”

Dean shrugs, but his quirking smile can’t hide the fondness in his eyes. It warms you in a way you also don’t expect.

Taking your chin with gentle fingers, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips. Your eyes close as you once again take in this heady feeling. Being with him still doesn’t quite feel real, but you’re holding on for as long as you can.

When he eventually pulls away, he smiles at your slightly hazy face.

“I already got what I wanted,” Dean says. “Now we just…keep this good thing going.”

You really do blush this time.

“Got what you wanted, huh?” you tease. He gives you a wry look.

“Not what I meant.” Then he smirks, squeezing your hips. “But actually yeah, that too.”

You laugh and swat at his shoulder.

“Well, since I’m honor bound. I suppose I can stay a few more days,” you reply. “And I mean, your birthday’s not long after that.”

Dean hums in agreement. “We talkin’ early birthday present?”

You flash him a cheeky smile and slowly slide your hands down his arms.

“Then Valentine’s Day’s is just around the corner,” you add. Dean nods sagely, trying to temper his smile.

“Might as well stay through February,” he says.

You grin. “Ooh! St. Patrick’s Day!”

Dean laughs genuinely then, throwing his head back. You hold onto the edges of his button-down shirt and tug him back to you.

“What I mean to say is, I could consider staying longer,” you say. However long you want me, your tone suggests. “…I’ll just need to tie up a few things.”

You know your father will be just fine if you decide to move to Lawrence someday soon. He now has his new wife to keep him company, and there isn’t much else tying you to your hometown besides nostalgia, and bittersweet memories of your mom.

“Is that a serious offer?” Dean asks.

You grin up at him playfully. “If you want it to be.”

He smiles and kisses you again. The way he holds you, looks at you, it’s tender enough to make your throat tighten with emotion.

“I do,” Dean says. He stares down into your eyes. “It’s you, sweetheart. For me too. Just you.”

Your smile is tremulous, but oh, so bright.

“Good.”

AN: And that's it, folks! 🥹 Let me know what you thought of Part 3. I truly hope you enjoyed it!

Coming Up Next:

I have one other Christmas in July fic in store, over in The Boys fandom. Look out for "Love Actually" (Soldier Boy x Reader) next week!

It's set in the "Break Me Down" story-verse, but can be read as standalone. I will tag everyone who follows that ongoing story (which is almost finished!!).

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