This Was Beautiful, Absolutely And Truly Beautiful, I Can't Wait To See Where It Goes

I just think this pic has their vibes you know

If only I had someone to do this for me.. guess I'll stick to my girl dinners

✨Girl Dinner ✨

Simon Riley X Reader

A/N: Not proofread. Will probs go back and edit it. Please don’t throw things at me. xoxo

CW: None

—————————————————————————

If you knew Simon was coming over around dinner time, you would always have a healthy, balanced meal waiting for him. He works so hard and you don’t mind doing this for him. You always made sure to have a protein, starch, vegetable, and a dessert. Need to keep him the big boy he already is. He deserves it, okay!

But what happens when Simon decides to comes by unannounced and he arrives to you having ✨girl dinner✨

Honestly getting hit by a bus might have been better than the day you had at work. Everyone else’s problems somehow became your problem. You swear you work with some of the most incompetent people in your area. You just have to!

No one forecasted rain today either, but here you are soaked almost down to your underwear from the storm. You didn’t think to bring an umbrella and now you are paying the price. Now you are 4 blocks from home, drenched, agitated, hungry, and fucking tired.

Elevator for the win tonight! The thought of going up 4 flights of stairs makes you misty eyed. The hallways to your apartment feels miles longer when you are this tired, but you trudge to the door. Once inside, it’s time for your after work routine. Door locked. Shoes wherever they land. Comfiest pajamas. Latest season of Hell’s Kitchen. Beer in hand. Dinner time!!!!

After staring in your fridge for 10 minutes dissociating to cope with your mundane existence, you grab whatever looks edible and the least amount of work. You finally land on an air fried chicken patty, 3 pieces of swiss cheese, 2 yogurt tubes, a piece of salami, a snack bag of fritos, baby carrots, and half a cucumber. Ah perfect!

You sit down on the couch with a little shoulder shimmy, excited to dig in. As you pick up your chicken patty (uncut and with your fingers because you are not dirtying MORE dishes), three loud knocks reign on your front door. Your left eye twitches for just a moment before you heave a heavy sigh. “I paid my fucking rent.” You say to yourself as you get off the couch. Stomping doesn’t even begin to describe the way your feet the hit floor as you make your way to the door. Sorry Miss. Lutton downstairs!! I’ll have to send her some cookies.

You don’t even look before you swing the door open, ready to cuss out whoever dared to disturb your already horrible day. “What could you possib-“ The word dies in your mouth as your face comes square to your boyfriend’s chest. A chuckle leaves him as he stares down at his little firecracker. You raise your head to look back at him before giving him the most cheesiest, sarcastic smile. “Well hello there handsome. You lost? Why don’t you come on inside and I can help you find your way” You say up to him while putting your hands on your hips and smirking at him. He doesn’t say anything before he shakes his head and sighing. However, the blush on his cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

You move out of the way as he makes his way in your apartment. He places his boots next to yours and walks his way to your couch. A heavy sigh leaves his mouth as he takes his balaclava off. You smile as you walk toward him and sit down on the couch, giving him your full attention. “So what’s shaking” You bop his nose “Bacon.” He stares at you incredulously. You send a full teeth smile back at him.

“How was work?” He moves on from your weird antics. “Oh the WORST. Samantha would NOT shut up today. I swear to god Brian kept emailing me just to piss me off. We are in the middle of this project and he does 1 thing and then asks what else needs done and-“ You stop talking when you notice his focus is on your plate on the table. “Oh!!! Do you want dinner? I can make something.” You go to get up before two hands pulls you back down onto the couch. A squeak did NOT leave your mouth you do not care what Simon says. (HA)

“What’s all that then?” He points to your untouched beautiful dinner. “My dinner?” You say back in a sarcastic tone “A chicken patty, kids yogurt, 4 baby carrots, half a cucumber, a singular piece of salami, fritos, and 3 slices of cheese. That’s your dinner?” He looks at me with a mix of worry, confusion, and plain humor. “Yes. It’s girl dinner.” You explain back to him. “Girl dinner.” He states back, no real question in his voice. “Yeah. it’s all of the food pyramid. Dairy, meats, veggies, fruit, grains.” You point to each one as you say them. “What’s so wrong?” You look back in confusion. “I’m proud of myself.” You huff before grabbing your plate.

“Lovie. Do you make special meals when I come over?” The slice of swiss cheese in your hand freezes as he says this. “I mean, Yeah. You need a home cooked meal. You deserve a home cooked meal. This is what I normally have.” He stares blankly at you. He stands, says nothing, grabs your plate and takes it to the kitchen. “HEY. I was eating that.” You stand and begin to make your way to the kitchen. “Stop.” You hear and shit yessir. I am stopped.

“Go sit back down.” He says as he grabs pots and pans from the cupboard. “Simon. What are you doing? I am perfectly fine eating my plate I made.” You sit down on the couch and cross your arms. Borderline pouting one would say. “Yeah well i’m not. Sit there and i’ll bring you this when I am done.” You huff and watch television. You hear him mutter to himself periodically. Something along the lines of “the fuck ‘s a girl dinner” and “not eating properly”. 40 minutes, a beer, and an episode of hell’s kitchen later, Simon appears from the kitchen with homemade chicken parmesan, a side salad, and garlic bread. He places the plate on the coffee table and returns to the kitchen to get us drinks. You can’t lie, your stomach starts to grumble at the smell. He returns with 4 beers and places a kiss on the crown of your head before sitting down next to you and mauling his plate.

Okay so maybe girl dinner has NOTHING on something Simon made from. You can come to terms with that. “No more special meals just for me. We will cook together on nights i’m here and i’ll make sure you have enough groceries the other nights i’m not.” You look at him quizzically. “You don’t have to do that.” He stops eating, smiles at you, and kisses your forehead. “Want to.” You smile back at him and settle in to eat your meal, courtesy of the love of your life.

I'm a Barbie Girl, in the Barbie world!!!

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

I love this, definitely going to try this at some point

Y/n at home alone.

*phone rings*

Y/n: Mr. Sexy's pizza, the special is sexeroni

Billy, as Ghostface: *watching her answer from the window* .....

Stu: *cackling up with laughter*

Billy: *dial tone*

Damn Damian move it! Tim probably deserved it. Poor Tim

when father says you can get another cat

(FLASH WARNING)

Sobbing, be right back 💔🥹

hello! Since you said you’re taking marauders fanart requests:

can you draw a fluffy dorlene one of them cuddling on a couch, or a really sad one of bartys reaction to regulus/evan’s death, or to both? If not it’s perfectly fine. have a great day/night and remember to take care of yourself!

<3

I don't know what I read, but I love it and I want 20 more, please and thank you.

Living with a gangster

Mafia man x Gn!Reader

Summary: moments in your life when your weirdo of a boyfriend gets you both in the most randomness possible scenarios. You love him though

a/n: ummm ummm writing for now bc my Apple Pencil broke so yeah!!

You’re on the couch, unwinding after a long day. The soft hum of the TV fills the room as you kick your feet up, enjoying a rare moment of peace. That peace shatters the moment your boyfriend walks through the door, looking like he’s been through hell and back.

There’s even stains on his white pants. Gross.

Bruised, bloodied, and entirely too proud of himself, he barges in with a grin plastered on his face. “I brought you something,” he says, and there’s a certain cockiness in his voice that you’ve come to expect from him.

You turn to look, already knowing whatever he’s holding will be ridiculous. “What is it?”

You ask, trying to suppress the exhaustion from your voice.

With a flourish, he reveals a ragged, battered stuffed bear. Its fur is matted, and there’s a stain that could be blood—or maybe it’s just the bear’s battle scars. One of its eyes is hanging by a single thread.

“A battle bear,” he announces proudly.

You stare at it for a beat. “A what?”

“A battle bear. I had to fight a bunch of idiots to get it. It was a whole ordeal, but I thought you’d want it.”

You blink, deadpan. “So you got into a fight for a stuffed animal?”

“Yup,” he says, a little too smug for someone who just looked like they were hit by a bus. “It’s yours now. For protection, obviously. You’ll be safe with this thing. Like a bodyguard, but fluffier.”

You glance from him to the bear. “This thing looks like it’s seen better days. What kind of fight were you in?”

“It’s fine. Just a little blood. Nothing serious,” he assures, his grin widening. “So? Do you love it?”

You pause, still eyeing the mangled bear. “Sure, I guess. I don’t know if it’ll protect me, though. It looks like it’s seen as much action as you.”

He flops onto the couch next to you, snatching up the bear. “It’s a symbol of my dedication. Don’t downplay it.”

“You could do anything with it cry with it, cuddle, feed it, maybe even tell it about how much you love!”

“Nice try.” It’s just a thought but you are thinking he’s going to be the one to do those things.

It’s been a long day, and you were hoping for some peace. You’ve barely sat down on the couch when your boyfriend bursts in, completely out of nowhere, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I missed you!” he exclaims, then immediately starts some unholy combination of spinning, hopping, and awkward flailing. His hips are nowhere near Shakira’s level of shaking.

He’s rattling like a broken supermarket cart.

You stare at him, eyebrows raised. “What in the world are you doing?”

“This is my I missed you dance,” he says, spinning once again like he’s in some bizarre action movie. “It’s a tradition now. Every time I come home, I perform it to show my appreciation for you.”

You blink. “A dance?”

He nods, still twisting around, his limbs making chaotic, out-of-rhythm movements. “Yup! It’s a way of showing how much I care about you.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say dryly, eyes narrowing as you watch him crash into the coffee table, almost toppling over the lamp. You can’t help but let out a sigh. “Are you done yet?”

He doesn’t answer, too busy still trying to perfect whatever this is. His leg kicks too high and knocks into the side of the bookshelf. He spins again, only to hit his elbow on the doorframe.

“You’re really not helping your case here,” you mutter, leaning back. “How exactly am I supposed to take you seriously when you’re like this?”

With a grunt, he halts his movements, standing tall like he just finished a perfect performance. “I’m a dangerous man, babe. Nobody could top this move.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “You’re a mess.”

He grins like he won the lottery. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You walk through the door after running a simple errand. But as soon as you step inside, you’re met with your boyfriend standing in the living room, hands on his hips, wearing a look of complete panic.

“Where have you been?” he demands, voice high and tight with concern. “I’ve been worried as shit.. Do you know how long it’s been? What if something happened to you? Like if a Mario cosplayer asked for your number? Or if my boss figures out we make passionate love in ghost face costumes?”

You stop dead in your tracks, surprised by the sudden wave of intensity. “I was gone for two hours. I was grocery shopping,” you say, already regretting not texting him sooner.

His expression doesn’t change. “Two hours? That’s two hours I had no idea where you were! You could’ve gotten hurt! Kidnapped! I could have sent the team after you!”

You blink, trying to process his frantic words. “It was just the store. I’m fine. I didn’t even leave the neighborhood.”

“But what if something happened?” He’s pacing now, completely ignoring the fact that you’ve been walking around the block for the last hour. “You could have been in danger, and I wouldn’t have even known! What if the old man that looks like Santa Claus down the steep seduced you?”

“What—“

“And was successful. Who am I to Santa? Nothing but a little elf whore…”

“Um.”

“Actually fuck Santa. He ain’t shit.”

“Okay.”

“Anyways, Do you want me to hire bodyguards?”

“I’m not a delicate flower,” you say, trying to stay calm. “You don’t have to act like I’m going to break if I leave for an hour.”

He stops pacing, suddenly pulling you into a tight hug, his arms firm but careful. “I know, I know. You once broke my back when we were roleplaying WWE. And in be—“

“Oi.”

“Besides! You’re my responsibility. I need you safe.”

You sigh, your annoyance melting away as his possessiveness becomes more endearing than aggravating. “You’re a freak, you know that?”

He smiles into your shoulder, his tone softened. “And you match it~”

You couldn’t deny that.

You’re lounging on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you hear the front door open. Your boyfriend walks in, holding two absurdly oversized leather jackets with a grin that suggests he’s up to no good.

“Guess what I got!” he announces.

You glance at him, already sensing where this is going. “What now?”

“Matching jackets,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just spent way too much money on something totally unnecessary.

You look at the jackets, confused. “Those things are huge. They’ll swallow me whole.”

“Nonsense!” He’s practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s part of the look. Look how badass we’ll look together. We’ll be like this power couple!”

You pull the jacket on, and it nearly engulfs you. You feel like you’re drowning in leather, and you can barely move your arms.

You glance at him. “This is a terrible idea. I can’t even lift my arms.”

He looks at you with a deadpan stare. “Exactly. That’s the point. We’re untouchable.”

You sigh, crossing your arms, trying not to let the ridiculousness of the situation break your composure. “You realize we’re going to look like two absolute try-hards?”

“Nope.”

He shrugs, unfazed. “I look hot. You look hot. Who cares about looking normal when you look cool?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “We look like walking couches.”

It happens when you’re having an absolutely normal movie night. Popcorn, blankets, a chilled drink. Everything’s perfect. And then, in the middle of a dramatic scene, your boyfriend suddenly turns to you with a completely straight face.

“I killed someone today,” he says, his voice holding the same tone if he just did a wet fart. “45 years old. Kids. Pretty tragic, actually. But he had it coming. I mean he did—”

You freeze, popcorn halfway to your mouth. “Wait. What?”

He shrugs, clearly uninterested in your reaction. “Yeah, I mean, he was a threat. Had to be dealt with. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Are you… are you serious?” You blink rapidly, your mind struggling to catch up with what you just heard.

“Yeah, well, that’s gang life for you.” He leans back, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth like he’s just told you about his day at the office. “It’s not all fun and games, y’know.”

You can’t form a coherent response, too shocked by the casual way he talks about murder. “You just… killed someone. And then sat down to watch a movie?”

He glances at you, unphased. “Yeah, and? We were supposed to watch this, right? Can we watch breaking bad next? Bald Walter is spank bank material.”

“Um ew.”

“Just don’t sweat the small stuff, babe.”

You stare at him in silence for a moment, the absurdity of the situation slowly sinking in. “You are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks. I try.” He says it so casually, then immediately falls asleep like it’s just another day.

What the hell.

Hermione: why are threesomes only for sex

Hermione: why can’t I join in on a couples argument if I want to

I want to be James' level of dramatic

James: my darling husband has gone off to war

Regulus: I have to go to work

James: I fear he may not return

Regulus: I'll only be gone like five hours-

James: I feel like I can still hear his voice

Regulus: I'm divorcing you

James: nooooooo