#(i've been holding onto these doodles for way too long)

[irisintheafterglow]

friends can i hs journalist!reader x bachira brain rot on main real quick because i really need to get this idea out of my head

it's no secret that bachira meguru did not have friends. elementary school into middle school was essentially spent in solitude, and only when he reached high school did he attempt to connect with others.

luck, he figured, placed you two at the same lab table for a science class whose concepts he's long forgotten. you were uncharacteristically warm to him and possessed the patience of a seasoned kindergarten teacher, letting him doodle in the top right corner of your notebook and worksheets. you were always ready to build on whatever joke he muttered, but equally as quick to steer him onto the right task. you countered him so easily that it unnerved him. he found you perplexing, listening to him rattle on about soccer with an interest that only his mother had shown him. there was a monster inside of him, he'd revealed after a few months of knowing you, and you nodded in understanding like you could see it too.

"i feel the same way when i'm photographing a game. it's hyper-focus, right? like someone is whispering in your ear what the best shot is, though i guess 'shot' means different things to each of us," you added, barely glancing up from your notebook. you picked out a yellow highlighter from your pencil case and carefully ran it over a vocabulary word, only stopping when you saw bachira staring at you. "what is it?"

"you're in yearbook?"

"yearbook and journalism class, yeah. i write for the school paper, but it's mostly the sports columns," you say with a nonchalant shrug.

"oh, so do you do, like the-" he holds his hands in the shape of two L's, wiggling the top joint of his pointer finger like he was pressing the shoot button on a camera. "the this thing?"

"mhmm. i take photos at the games and i also write about the result afterward. it's pretty cool, especially during nationals season." another highlighter is chosen meticulously from your bag, the same shade of blue that he liked to draw raindrops with. bachira could probably match a doodle to every writing material you owned, if he tried.

"huh, i bet. why've i never seen you at a game, hmm?"

"they usually assign the same people for each sport, and i've been covering the basketball and volleyball teams for a few years." orange, you pick, for something about homeostasis. "why?" he catches a mischievous sparkle in your eye, like you were teasing him. "you want me to go to your games?"

"absolutely," bachira replies without hesitation. "you don't even have to ask."

so, you do go to the next game. not as a school journalist, but just as a spectator in the stands. you find a seat next to a very passionate mother cheering for the other team, somewhere in the middle of the bleachers. it's close enough that you can spot bachira as soon as he's on the field, and he spots you too. he raises his hand in an excited wave, mimicking the same 'shooting a camera' gesture that got you into this situation. during the game itself, you realize bachira's talent is impossible to ignore, especially when he's finding you after every goal and assist and doing the camera movement like it was your own private joke. you find yourself in the stands again and again, catching his eyes and finding that he's already looking at you.

"i can't believe they actually let you switch," he said, breathless after he sprinted across the field to find you during half-time of your first game as acting journalist. "what'd you say to convince them?" you shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips.

"i just told them the truth," you murmur so that only you two could hear, "that i like watching you play."

"right," he stutters, unsure of what to say. "yeah. well, i'm glad i look cool to you!" he considers it one of the biggest mistakes of his life, leaving whatever was there between you two unsaid. he didn't respond how he wanted to, truthfully, because you'd caught him off guard. bachira meguru wasn't used to having friends, nor was he used to the airy feeling in his forehead and the lightness in his stomach. bachira meguru was not good at being in love.

when he left for blue lock, he felt like he'd left a part of himself with you.

"you're-you're leaving?" he knew you were trying to keep your composure, but it was slipping. he explained the implications of being a certified athlete again and you nodded, your mind anywhere but present. "i see. do you know when you'll be back?" bachira shakes his head. "i see."

"but it'll be good! it'll probably make me a better player and get me one step closer to my dream!"

"right. i'm excited for you, meguru." there was something off in your tone that he couldn't place. the monster was telling him he was...hurting you.

"i'll send you letters or something like we're in shakespeare!" you crack a pained grin, forcing out a laugh that was no more than a nicety. most of the characters die or hate each other in shakespeare. "and i promise i'll come right back to you when i'm done." it seems to be the wrong thing to say since he spots the tremble of your bottom lip as you swallow thickly. what was he doing to you?

"i hope it's everything and more," is the last thing you say to him before he leaves for blue lock. when you're completely removed from his life, he finds his mind drifting to you as a safety net when he had trouble sleeping or hits a low during training. it is everything and more, being at blue lock, but his fingers want to become the shape of a camera every time he makes a goal.

"'mock press day' my ass," raichi declared during a training day before the u-20 match. according to ego, the five-on-five scrimmages would be observed by various reporters to increase interest in the blue lock vs u-20 game. "they just want an excuse to gawk at us."

"the existence of this program is riding on that game," isagi points out. "they're probably trying to prep us for the other scrutiny that comes with being in the public eye." raichi's eye twitches, his grip tightening on the laces of his cleats.

"they can shove all their eyes up my-"

"what kind of press do you think they'll be?" chigiri's question unconsciously catches bachira's attention. "news channels? maybe interviews?"

"don't be thinking they care about what we're doing here," rin deadpans from across the locker room. "it'll be yelling and flashes and that's it, so ignore them and move on." from a dark corner of his brain solely focused on preparing for a match, a childish hope consisting of two words popped into the back of bachira's mind. what if?

when the kickoff whistle is blown, the other players don't understand why he keeps looking toward the spectators as if he's trying to find someone. the even more perplexing bit?

why bachira apologizes in advance for 'needing to show off' before pulling the nastiest dribbling the program has seen since its conception.

--

there's a buzz in the visiting group of reporters when the match you observe ends, compliments and awe revolving around the striker with the outlandishly good dribbling skills. he was really fired up, they comment. and he's only your age, they say to you with wonderstruck faces. can you believe the talent of that striker? i'm not sure what he was doing with his hands after each goal, though. was he taking a picture of us instead? while they continue to recount their favorite plays, you smile and wait for him to come and find you, your star player and his favorite photographer.

--

later heard in the locker room: "why the fuck was bachira kissing one of the press people after the match?"

"call it unfinished business," bachira replies with a satisfied smirk, "you better be scared of me, next time that reporter is in the stands. i have a lot of time to make up for."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[leo-interactive-fiction]

Leo! Hope things are going well for you! I was wondering if you've considered what the RO's handwriting looks like / have an idea of it in your mind. If so, could you describe it? I've been wondering about it off and on for a while. (Although, I'm pretty sure that if I skimmed through the code, I might find some references to specific characters' penmanship in flavor text that I end up missing in a normal playthrough ...)

Hmm, it's very interesting to think about. Let's see...

E: Their handwriting would a quickly jotted print, but still fairly neat. Their handwriting is naturally nice looking, and be the type to dot their I's with small hearts, or have small doodles beside it, attesting to their restless nature.

R: Their handwriting is a neatly done cursive, and they write almost everything in cursive. It was less of a choice for them to learn it in the first place, as such writing is often needed when they handled aristocratic business, but it has since become second nature.

L: They write in very small, well-defined print, as if a computer had typed it onto the paper. They've grown a habit of writing small, in order to fit all of the thoughts -- and any coherent tangents they may have -- onto the paper.

V: You could imagine what a small infant would doodle onto the page, and come relatively close to the outcome that V would manage if asked to write, not assisted by the fact they hold a pencil like they're gripping a knife. Though, they do manage a very primitive writing of their name. It seems someone had attempted to begin teaching them at one point, before their situation led them to the academy.

P: Their handwriting is somewhat careless and utilitarian, not caring how neat or tidy it looks as long as it's legible and has whatever information is needed. In some ways, you can imagine this is what V's handwriting would look like if they had learned to write.

M: It is a mix of print and cursive, as if too lazy to pick up the pen when transitioning between letters. This leads to a slightly illegible jumble, although M can read it just fine.

K: It is a scrawling chicken scratch, as if written frantically. Much like a doctor's note, it is almost entirely illegible, although sometimes you can make out certain words in places where they seem to have slowed down. They are almost always related to you, and often traced over multiple times with emphasis.

S: Their writing is rough, messy, and unorganized, often dipping through or extending off the printed lines, requiring substantial erasing or scrunching of the lettering to fit the last word. Although it's fairly legible, it's often a rare sight to even see it, as most notes generally taper off after the first couple of lines as they give up, filling the rest of the page with idle drawings and scribbles.

F: Their writing is an ostentatious, almost unnecessarily elegant cursive. It could even be considered an artful calligraphy, clearly designed to attract the eye and outdo any other writing it may be compared to. If questioned, F will say it is simply how they were taught, belying the countless hours they've spent in their own study attempting to perfect it.

Thank ya for the ask! It was very fun to think about how their writing can subtly represent each of them haha

[ohnonononononono567]

Artist - John "Soap" McTavish x gn!reader (fluff)

Quick drabble because i can't tell if the guy I like is sending me messages so if you want to comment please comment me advice im going fucking crazy im too socially inept to understand his messages

Johnny found that the world was his muse, his friends, his experiences, everything.

Catching himself drawing you over and over in his notebook, he knew he was too far gone. 

Your eyelashes, the slight jiggle of your arms as you walk, the way your cheeks could give away a blush no matter how much or little melanin you possessed. 

It was harmless. Just practice he told himself.

Entering your room, stiffening at the sight of you wearing nothing but casual attire...god he's done. Say this shit to the guys at the pub, and he's sure he'd die fom embarrassment. Gunfire, explosives, his lieutenant's testing attitude, his captains questionable ethics, he could handle it.

But choosing between gluing his eyes at the sight of you or avoiding his gaze from you completely was probably asking him to choose between a million dollars or causing the destruction of the world.

He allowed himself in.

He was goofy, charming, he was a social butterfly. You entertained him of course, how could you not? Johnny Soap Mactavish was bright. He brightened up a room.

And if you only knew how bright you smiled with him around.

He sat you down on your bed, and pulled a chair across from you, silently sketching your features. Gently holding your chin in one hand to tilt you to the side to get a better view of your jaw, his thumb seeming to idly rub across your lips momentarily, before he stopped himself. 

Don't ruin a good friendship.

Sketching you; he thanked you with a hug, no matter how badly he wanted to tackle you to the bed and tell you over and over he was infatuated with everything about you, to the most irrelevant iota of your being. 

Slowly...he started slipping little doodles of you at meetings. Walking past and allowing the touch of his gloved hands on your shoulder linger, a singular sticky note showing a little doodle of you unapologetically smiling.

He found himself in a room, giggling, but always glancing at you, to make sure his joke even landed. He could make a room of millions laugh, but your opinion would be the only to matter.

A drive back from the pub one night, he was sat beside you, and god bonnie you're exhausted. Laying your head on his bulky shoulder, he idly started to scratch at your scalp, stroking your hair aswell. 

Internally he was nervous. He could pick up a girl with ease, hell, he's been able to get some handsome blokes into his bed before. But you? You were probably his greatest fear. And here you were.

You were comfortable with him. Him of all people. A man who's known strife early on, a man who doubts you'd care to hear him bitch about his past, as you fell in and out of sleep on his shoulder.

He became bolder after that. Sitting next to you, holding your hand around, arm around your shoulder as he entered a room, standing by you even if you didn't do anything.

He entered your room one day, exhausted; stressed. He doesn't know why he chose this room today of all days.

But he did.

Laying his head on your tummy as you both laid down, scrolling idly on his phone, before he feels your fingers gently thread through his mohawk. 

"It's gettin' long, huh?" He mumbles against your stomach, looking at his phone still as you nod.

He sighs, leaning up, looking at the being in front of him.

"I'm gonna kiss you. I've wanted to for a while." He blurts out, looking at you deadpanned.

"John," You giggle. That goddamn smile, makes him weak every time, 

"What?" You say

"You heard me."

"Oh."

"You wan' tha'?"

"Yeah."

He chuckles, pressing his lips softly onto yours for a peck, leaning his hands down to hold your sides, before deepening the kiss. 

If only you weren't too dazed to realize you'r little artist was tracing little hearts as he held your sides.

Projecting with fanfiction instead of communicating with them is my favorite thing

[yippieitsarvensart]

Tweels hc doodles + notes!

Goodness me, I've not been working on these for very long but here's all of what I've thought of within 2 days of thinking about them!! I basically started writing about them the moment I finished drawing "the fuck you brothers" post (9/24) (and today, 9/26) I totally have been thinking about them more after I wrote all this, so I will be continuing on with my hcs right here, under the cut :3 (keep in mind I have not yet played twst! If I get anything gravely wrong correct me!) (9/28, edit: I downloaded twst y'all...)

Both of the twins are autistic, just being on very different ends of er... intensity? Idk how to word that. I just mean that Floyd is someone who has trouble regulating his emotions and stims a lot. Jade doesn't stim as often, he probably would if he were infodumping about mushrooms/his terrariums or whatever else. I think I mean. That Jade suppressed his autistic tendencies by a lot to seem more like a gentleman, while Floyd doesn't really give much of a shit and probably doesn't even know he's autistic.

on that note they both have ADHD. AuDHD brothers.

Anyways as I way saying abt Floyd stimmies; He stims a LOT. Just, all the damn time. It gets so annoying for a lot of people and everyone knows he can't control it. His clingyness is also stimming, he's very touchy. A lot of stim toys don't actually help him but he does calm down significantly more when he's wearing headphones and listening to loud music. That's what stimulates him the most.

Jade only stims when excited, yeah I mentioned that. But did I mention he also stims a lot when stressed. In front of costumers, if he was stressed he might only fiddle with his fingers behind his back. But as soon as he gets away it's full body stimming time baby. Mans is not okay but he cannot let that mask slip!! (I forgot the word before, but I meant to say in my first dotpoint that jade is better at masking than Floyd!!)

Floyd mcr liker >_< (songs about depression and drugs to think about violence to!) Floyd also likes shit like "41 mins of roblox music" or any spongebob music. skull emoji.

Jade Laufey liker :33 (calm songs to think about violence to!)

Floyd likes dancing around in his room to music. Like really getting into it. Putting one song on loop and doing the same dance moves over and over again. (stimming) (oh my god I'm PROJECTING AGAIN stop....)

Jade likes drawing mushrooms. He's really good at drawing nature and when I say "good" I mean if you looked at it, you'd think it was a picture. Like abnormally good for someone who used to not even have paper available...

I saw this from a moot once on twitter I think, but they both (+ Azul) probably had a hard time adjusting to walking around everywhere instead of swimming when they first came onto land. And I think there was something about holding on to bars on stairs WAYY too tight because they feel so wobbly going up them. Same with like, escalators? and elevators? didn't fucking trust them. And they still don't sometimes... Adding onto this I think that they'd both get really frustrated at first with it. Like genuinely really upset; Floyd dramatically falling to the floor and flailing around on the verge of tears while Jade punches the ground over and over... They obviously got better at land things after a long while but for a bit they were just so. not okay LOL

I think for casual/home clothes they'd both be really into big fluffy jumpers. massive fucking huge fluffy shits. They'd be all over the texture and it would be so so texture /pos drooling emoji

I had a little thing that I thought of where I would give Floyd Heart shaped eye shines PLUS an extra smaller not heart eye shine. And giving Jade a square shaped shine with no extra shines. It just makes so much sense to me. Like I can't explain it very well but if you get it, you get me. Do you get me...

WHICH leads me to say then that when Floyd gets MAD he would have NO eye shines. Do you get me. I totally make sense right/. And Jade getting happy about anything even if it doesn't show on his face it would totally show in his eyes... Which also brings me back to something I wrote in my doodle notes with the pupils being like cats... OUGH I'M GOING INSANE DO I MAKE SENSE

another thing my twt moot said !! Floyd would hate necklaces/rings/other accessories and jewelry! It relates back to my point about Floyd hating the feeling of tight clothes, and things touching his skin too much. I feel like if he had say, a necklace on for like 0.1s he would rip it the fuck off, destroying the necklace in the process

Floyd: :3 (aggressive)

Floyd loving to squeeze people but hurting them is 90% of the time on purpose hurting and 10% accidental hurting and when it IS accidental he gets so upset about it. I like to think Floyd is the more emotional out of the two... just so many emotions in that boy. like he just !! wants to give you love !!! but he's so strong he breaks ur ribs !!!! many of ur ribs!! ur honestly surprised you haven't punctured a lung yet!!!

On that note they BOTH are extremely touch starved. Floyd would fucking LOVE it if someone were to lay down on top of him for hours he would feel so squished!! and warm and nice!! and comfy!

Jade on the other hand, LOVES holding hands. holding ONTO something holding onto someONE.

Jade is a gift giver (love language) I bet you can't guess what Floyd is

His love language is Physical touch. Yeah

Jade getting people way too many gifts when it's a special occasion for them because he thinks they might think it's weird if he gets them a gift on any other day.

Floyd hyperpop liker (just overall really likes loud thrashy music or whatever)

Floyd also really got into those games where you have to beat the shit out of a dummy. He doesn't like ones where you have to TIME a hit to make it work (makes him annoyed bc he can't do it) Games like Pou I think....

While Jade enjoys colour by number or those hue games? just doing it in his free time.

[juvederm]

actually yapping

feel like a lot of my thoughts about not getting enough notes or whatever on a drawings can be dissolved by just accepting that art of the Game (its plot, events, etc) will pop off more than some self indulgent sketch. people will like things they can recognize, which i was aware of but i just thought that my art would reach the fandom people, yk the ones who are not just attached to the story but the characters too. so making recognizable art of the game wouldn't matter bc it would instead be of the characters

but the thing is, making Serious art of the game is tough. it's hard coming up with ideas, and who knows if the process is gonna be fun or extremely grueling. and on top of that, what hasn't been done so far? every idea has been drawn, been brought to life. the game is like 8 years old now. i kinda don't wanna draw more "Mountain. Blood. Snow. Ugly winter outfits" anymore lol. i mean sometimes i do bc i love the game obviously but when i wanna have fun, i'll tend to do other things that kinda combine with my own personal interests. so like fashion for example, i'll take the characters and dress them up. that's me having fun.

i want to think and Know that people understand this concept, but it feels like they don't? maybe they do. i know for a fact my mutuals do, because you are all very supportive of every silly josh doodle i make lol i appreciate it a lot 🤗 you guys are the kind of people i make this art for, the Character Likers. because i myself am someone who will attach to the characters more than like, the story. which isn't to say i just disregard the source material, that's not it at all, but for me regarding UD, imma be honest yall... i do not give a fuck abt the creature lore in the game at all. i don't care abt billy bates and whatnot. it's fine if you do, but me personally ehhh i don't care much abt that part of the story

i really like the characters out of all of this, i like certain dynamics, dialogue, etc. and i love the story too, and especially love when the story involves the characters (which i think the sanitarium segments doesn't really do? it kinda just gives insight on the 1950s mine incident and shjt) but i like the parts of the story relating to the twins. bc those are characters and they kinda haunt the narrative.

speaking of the narrative, it's part of the reason i like josh. he doesn't haunt the narrative but he controls it a lot id say. he's a very captivating character, very compelling. you want a lot out of him, like what's wrong, why is he doing this, why did he say that, blah blah. i honestly love characters that are attractive in this way, even to other characters in the story. so sam and chris for example. i enjoy the dynamic they have with josh because they're worried about him, they're thinking about him, or they want to know if he's okay, what's up with him and all that. he holds their attention like that, and ofc that led to ships and stuff. i feel like ashley's actress said it best when describing josh: "you think he's one way but then he's another"

which is honestly just so fucking true. you think he's dead, then he's not, you think he's okay but then he's not, you think he might live but he doesn't. he's even like that personality wise i'd say, but that's teetering onto like headcanon territory just somewhat. because sam does say "it's hard to tell with him" but that's mostly bc of the incident with the twins, she can't Tell if he's okay or barely hanging on. josh is hard to pin down, he's Complex, as stated in the game

sorry for getting into a little josh analysis there but since he is an important character (in general) to me, i kinda felt the need. because this also goes into my gripes about people not really getting why i draw him the way i do. j know i won't shut up about this, but i just Want everyone to know, bc i feel as though it was part of the reason why i wasn't really interacted with for as long as i've been a part of this fandom. like nobody really understood what i was doing, but it was really just simple fun. i mean, now i've completely given up hope with ever really Connectinf with the fandom, but i just want this off my chest honesrly lol

like i really don't want to keep drawing josh one way. like i said i wanna have fun so that's what i do. i can't really "make an him an oc" because i don't change anything about his story or writing. putting him in a silly outfit doesn't make him eligible for "original characterification" lol. so that's what i mean by i make a lot my art for the fandom people, the ones who like the game for more than its story, people who like making headcanons, people who like writing for the game, etc

and the reason i do it a lot is bc of what i said before. making art of the game is tough, it's a lot of thinking. what Hasn't been done already? not much lol. so i'll just keep sketching the silly stuff and sharing it with cool ppl who kinda get what i'm doing 👍

but i definitely will make art of the game and not just the characters, i'll make art more recognizable to the average player because guess what. that's also what i like. it just takes a long time for me because Serious art has a lot of thinking and planning behind it and is just very time consuming in general. but oh, josh in a skirt? took two minutes and i can just close my ipad and not worry about anything else lol

i hope this made sense??!?&?@ i kinda wanted to talk to people about it so if anyone else feels the same way i'd love to know. i'll prob make a followup sometime soon but i just wanted to get all my thoughts out in one place because i've kinda collected them all finally leleleleel

[skygodtraumabond]

[A thudding on the roof of the scam van can be heard, and upon opening the back of the van a Dustox with a scarred wing flutters in, settling down on the mattress and allowing two (2) packages to be retrieved, one addressed to Marny and the other to Ray.

The package addressed to Ray is wrapped in a brown paper and string, but has had yellow markings that are vaguely reminiscent of their tattoos doodled on it in what looks like yellow marker. Inside there are a variety of fruits and berries, a chocolate bar, a tin of what look like homemade gummies that have a sweet-peppery scent, a bundle of lavender colored incense and a completely unsuspicious jar of pecha flavored poffins. There is a note attached.]

Ray,

I was out at the market district this morning and I thought I might put together a bit of a care package for the two of you, since I've been wanting to mail something anyways. Just my way of saying I've been thinking of you I suppose.

I have finally finished a bit of a project I've been working on ever since that first time I saw you in the scam van. I see how much stress that motion sickness puts you through and I though maybe I could find some way to help with that. the gummies are made with that meganium tea, and I've been doing a lot of testing to try to find the right dose to calm the nerves and effects without adding too much in the way of drowsiness. Well, unless that's what you need. It's one for the nausea, two for sleep. I was hoping perhaps this might help with the nightmares too, as it does for me, but you'll have to get back to me on that.

It's also much easier to get a wide variety of fruits and such here, it's been a very interesting experience, so I picked up a few more unusual ones for you. And of course everyone deserves a treat now and then, yeah? I heard the poffins were good as well, so I thought I would send some too, do let me know how you like them.

Yours,

Amy.

P.s. The incense is for Nerve. I thought you might be running low, so i picked some up. I hope it's the right kind.

[A letter is sent back in return. It is sent on harbor mail—likely left over from when they were spending time in Slateport. Inside the envelope with the letter itself are a few pressed Kalosian flowers and small clippings from old local newspapers. They're mostly cutouts of the pokemon photos and drawings within.

The letter itself has a few tear stains on it. Seems someone got a little emotional.

The letter reads as follows:

"Amy,

Thank you. Thank you so much. I was running out of incense to burn, and this will definitely soothe things until I can find the herbs needed to make my own again. I'm sure she would love it. If her spirit still carries on these winds, I hope she can feel it. It seems to help quite a bit with the shadow effects too. Funny how, even in passing, she still helps me breathe.

I'm a bit nervous about these gummies. Not just because of your cooking skills, but because I don't know how I'll do with them. I remember I had a much stronger reaction than either of us expected the first time you gave me Meganium tea, and though I don't remember much after that, I at least had your arms to wake up in. Still, I suppose medicated gummies are more of a science thing than a cooking thing, so I guess I'm going to have to trust that it'll be okay. Because you're the scientist. Maybe I can get Marny to supervise whatever happens. She could be your long-distance lab assistant. :)

I think all of us deserve a treat here. Things just keep happening all the time. Poffins are an odd find in Hoenn, but I'll be sure to get back to you on those. I'm holding onto Marny's package right now for when she gets back. She said she was going to visit her parents, insisted I should stay here so her and her new Honedge could bond more. It makes sense, I guess. It's incredibly protective of her, and having me tag along to her family's house could cause it more stress than I care to inflict. I'm still worried about her, though. I trust the Honedge to fight for her, but I'm worried that it might not be experienced enough to defend her in case something goes wrong.

I'm going to go out for a walk. I need to distract myself, and besides, I'd feel bad about spending all this time in Kalos without sending something good back. Maybe I could battle out the funds for some treats. You deserve those too :)

Clear skies be with you,

Ray

P.S: Please give Jester the biggest hug for me. She deserves it.]

[sometimesanalice]

Jordannn! Now I know you don't like fuss, but I am absolutely going to fuss for a moment. [enter fuss]

I've told you before and I'll tell you again that getting your reblog of Oh Christmas Tree (look I even linked The One!) like properly sent me in a full thrilled tizzy! I was too shy to really try and engage with anyone outside of reblogging fics and leaving comments, but I always admired the way you took the time to leave people such thoughtful and supportive comments and I remember thinking "oh I hope she sees this and likes it". And I nearly chucked my phone when I got the notification and read it! I thought I was one and done, but having someone whose work I loved reading telling me they enjoyed my own first attempt at writing for fun really encouraged me to try it again and see if I still had something worth writing! (the piano fic came next and then was shelved for Like I Can, but I was excited to learn I had more words and stories in me! so thank you for that!)

Your support on my very first fic and on every fic ever since has meant the world to me! And I'm so happy I get to call you a friend (on tumblr and off!) [end fuss]

now back to your previously scheduled program and pink trees for you:

Plus, you know that you can get Bradley to put it up for you- even though he hates the feeling of glitter on his hands- if you offer to make him an Old Fashioned in exchange. - this is such a cute detail! every time i’ve read this part i’ve always smiled- I just love a cheeky girl who knows how to get her way and a hunky aviator boyfriend who would do anything for her (with or without the bribe) including getting the herpes of the crafting world all over his big hands.

But because it was one of the many ways he showed you just how important you were to him, just how much he paid attention to you. // It was something you had only ever mentioned once in passing, but that’s who Bradley Bradshaw is. The type of man who goes above and beyond for the people he loves. - i reread the first part the other day and got butterflies again 🤭🤭 he was so sweet and thoughtful! like she said, she mentioned it once and he remembered!-- like there's a difference between listening and remembering! And that man is a REMEMBERER. He's soaking up all those details and making a mental rolodex. I think because he's lost so many important people in his life, that when he recognizes that someone matters to him, he wants to memorize and hold onto everything.

You would gladly never have a real tree again as long as it meant that Bradley got to be yours forever. - get the fuck OUTTE of here!!!-- miss ma'am would give up her pine tree scented candles too if that's what it takes!

And of course, there was also a copy of the house key dangling on a pretty pink velvet ribbon. - this part was for me wasn’t it 😉- HAPPY ACCIDENT BUT CLEARLY MEANT TO BE! (the way I SQUEALEDDDDD when I saw that pink tree you doodled on the package!) But also, like just a reminder of how similar we are! (that was some luxe ribbon! and I'm obsessed with it! omg should I use it to tie the bronco to my tree??? could you imagineeeeeee)

On the mantle of that fireplace were ivory knit stockings embroidered with your name and his - POTTERY BARN OR?!!?-- only the best for these festive babes! bradley even got to pick the embroidery font!

The two of you have been together for almost a year and a half, but the way Bradley kisses you still sets off butterflies in your stomach and makes your heart flutter. - well it’s also giving me them and i wanna scream?? and when she describes the kisses??? ‘there you are’ kisses was my fave-- them? as in Them Them?! ahhhh! But I'm still swooning over her different categories. She memorizes them the way that bradley memorizes the little things about her 💖

You’d even signed up early to try and get a spot in the queue and it still had kicked you out with empty hands. - LOVE this little detail! and that even 1000s of miles away, bradley still took care of things and had nat get them!-- he's such a man written by a woman (literally) BUT WE LOVE HIM FOR IT, lololol! I bet that their last Christmas was still on his mind and he was looking at all the local announcements and Travel San Diego accounts for inspiration on what to do this year. The man also had a PLAN.

You make a little squeal in delight as you throw your arms around his neck to hug him and he laughs. It’s the best sound in the world to you. - STOP!!!! i know she could feel the rumbles of laughter in his chest when she was hugging him- SO BIG SO BROAD SO WARM SO RUMBLY

In the Spring, he had built you a bunch of raised garden beds in the backyard for you to grow whatever you wanted. - LEAVE! NOW! this is so tender! but also i love how you take us through the year with the seasons!-- I was really excited to share a peek at what their year looked like together! like they're my holiday couple but I wanted to show them outside of Christmas (or their first halloween, lol). But also, this is vvvvvv much my most indulgent fic series (where's my garden beds built by a handsome man???) 👩🏻‍🌾

“You seemed to enjoy that Leprechaun Run you did with Jake and I saw that there was an Ugly Sweater Fun Run today and I signed us up, we have to be there in an hour.” “Bradley, you didn’t,” you say with a gasp, sitting up like you’ve been struck by lightning. - PLSSSSSSS this would also send my heart racing (derogatory)-- THIS IS NOT THE WAKE UP SHE LIKES TO HAVE. there's no running in december, only eggnog and peppermint flavoring and treats. He was almost a single man for Christmas, lol (but really if he had been serious she would have been like "well you better call Jake to make sure he's there on time to run with you, lol)

…to check out some of the decorated boats docked for the Parade of Lights. - i’m so impressed by all the research that went into this!-- you and I are research girlies!

They’d greeting him with that head nod that only men seem to exchange, like you got roped into this too, huh?, but what they didn’t know was that being there had been his idea. - absolute NERDDDDDDD i love him “mr raised beds i think my girlfriend smell like sunshine!”-- he is so smittennnnnnn! my girl likes flowers, we're going to play with flowers. and you KNOW he was so smug when he saw some of those other arrangements from the other men. the 1%!

By the end of class, he knows his ears are pink because of how much you’re showering him with praise and gushing over his arrangement. - PRAISE KINK???-- he's got the praise kink, she's got the competency kink, it's a match made in heaven!!

You slip your hand in his with a grin, “Virtue and Moir better watch out.” - don’t…don’t drag me back down that rabbit hole again-- just file it under: things I will never get over. THE CHOKEHOLD THEY HAD/HAVE ON ME (but also lets talk about the moulin rouge routine!)

And if you faked a couple wobbles so that he’d put his arm around you, it was worth the sacrifice of trying to look graceful. - it’s only weaponized incompetence if they other person doesn’t want to do it-- and we know how much this man is the physical touch as a love language type. he can't help himself if he's handsy. so he definitely doesn't mind in the least! plays into his hero complex too, haha

Your wrist had been killing you and you hated being the reason that Rooster’s leg hand been bouncing anxiously next to you in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. - 🥺🥺-- directors cut: so this part is still a bit heavier than I wanted it to be, but I had written a whole bit where the parents of the jerk of a kid (who was definitely causing mayhem on PURPOSE) comes over to apologize (while their kid is still terrorizing others on the ice mind you) and she's like tryign to mollify the situation and bradley just is all tense and tight jawed. but it wasn't the vibe, but just know he was biting his tongue. so even though as it is it's not quite the fluffy whoopsie daisy i'd imagined, i do like how it reflects the first fic? like he's upset he "ruined christmas" and here she's just as upset she "ruined" their perfect day.

You’d gone with a white and pink stripped candy cane inspired look to match the tree, Bradley. - i can hear her saying this (also smart aleck 1000% would too)- it's the theme! it's the vibe! also when they watch the 2000 Grinch movie she points out the candy cane girls like she's one of them now.

(another director's cut: in the hubbub I think he totally forgot that Nat and Jake had set up the other two trees. like he was more concerned about her than his proposal plans. the other daggers stopped blowing up his phone around the time they arrived to the ice rink, not wanting to bother him knowing what he was planning to do when they got home afterwards. So as he's getting her up the stairs (she even notes that the glow seems brighter) he realizes that the trees are there and all lit up. His shoes are definitely still on when he "stubs" his toe after he drops some choice language, lol. And then he's like trying to hustle her up as quick as he can because he's not proposing while she's coming down off the twilight juice and there's no goo explanation for why theres now 3(!) pink trees in their living room. But I need to go back in and edit it to clear that up a bit, lol)

He’s already looking on his phone for other options, sitting on the bathroom floor next to you as you soak in the tub, when he feels your fingers thread through his hair and he leans into your touch. - oh my god this is DARLING!!!! 🤭🤭 i love this image so much and then she plays with his hair!!! and he plays with hers!!! it’s such a sweet mirror from part 1-- so when I was drafting I knew I wanted it to be a dual POV again like the first one, but I couldn't figure out what was needed to fill in his part for this last bit, but I loved the idea of it mirroring the first part. Of him sitting next to her, while she soaks (he's still the one getting his pretty hair pet, but they both like it, haha). Like they can't ease the pain or fix the past, but they can just BE with each other, and it's lovely and soft and domestic and 🥰

“But the instructor was so sweet, Roos. I told her that the dahlias were your mom’s favorites and then she went to the back and got me a bunch.” - i love how thoughtful and intentional both of them are with each other? they’re both definitely an acts of service couple and it’s sweet to see the parallels-- I think what I loved most about this was that in the moment while they were there, she didn't take the credit for making it happen? like she wanted them because she knew they'd matter to him, and that was enough? She didn't need the praise or thanks, she just wanted something nice for him. but then her loose lips let it slip and he puts it together himself?? and we love a girls supporting girls moment!

And there standing in front of them is Bradley, barefoot in his favorite sweatpants in your cozy living room of the home he’s made with you looking like a daydream. - OF THE HOME HE’S MADE WITH YOU!!!! get OUTTE this is so lovely! he is so lovely!!! and the fact that he’s barefoot actually is so sweet and soft!!!-- i want to live in this moment! (idk what it is about men barefoot padding around the house, but like IT GETS TO ME. like it's so oddly domestic to me?? idk how to explain it but it does something to my brainnnn)

You can almost see his heart that he is wearing on his sleeve. His pretty honey brown eyes are tracing over every inch of your face, almost like he is trying to commit every microcosm of your expression to memory. - STOP THIS!!!!! HE IS SO PRETTY AND SWEET AND EARNEST!!! HE WANTS TO SHARE AND LIFE WITH HER!! SHE MAKES HIM HAPPY WITH HER BIG HEART!!!-- did i tear up writing that proposal, yes. i admit it without shame. (now i have to go reread it, brb. anddddd i'm back) and you KNOW just the face he is wearing (it's a mix of good student bradley and final scene bradley)

You know the matching pair of diamond earrings that Bradley had gotten for you as your Christmas gift are shining just as bright. - oh HELLL yes-- HE IS SO CHEEKY FOR IT!! when he teases her about it he hadn't gotten them yet, he did it for the bit! but also because he already had the big diamond, he didn't need a payment plan or anything!

The marquise diamond had belonged to his mom, but he had had it reset in gold with a halo of diamonds around it for you. He’d even bought a pink velvet box to put it in for the occasion. - oh he’s PERFECT!!! that’s so coquette too i’m obsessed-- he likes a theme too! he knows the pantone color of the year!

also here it is:

Anywayyyssssssss, 💖💖💖💖💖💖 you!

Make You Mine This Season

Summary: It’s your second Christmas with Bradley and the holidays are always better with him by your side. After the perfect day out, you come home with a new accessory- just not the one you were hoping for.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: so much fluff and some allusions to smut and a cast that looks like a candy cane.

(Author’s Note: set in the Oh, Christmas Tree universe, can be read on its own)

You can’t fight the smile on your face as you watch Bradley studiously stare at the Christmas tree with a delicate glass icicle ornament dangling from his long finger.

“I think it need to go a little to the left, Roos,” you say, watching the way the little golden thread attached to it gleams from the many strands of white lights he had spun around it earlier in the afternoon.

The contrast between your handsome Naval aviator boyfriend and the very large, very fluffy pink Christmas tree he had bought for you would never not thoroughly charm you. 

“Here?” he asks, moving the dainty icicle to the left per your suggestion.

“Maybe just a bit up?”

Bradley moves it and holds it up to a spot near the little glass Hawaiian shirt ornament you’d gotten for him. He was so amused by it that he’d given it what he called a place of honor on the tree.

“Hmm, no. I think back to the right and down a smidge.”

He turns and shoots you a smirk over his broad shoulder, “Ok, now you’re just messing with me.” 

And then he hangs it on the tree with a flourish.

You laugh when he steps back and gives a dramatic sweep of the hand that would put Vanna White to shame.

Ever the showman.

He had been so excited when he’d found the ornaments in the storage locker he’d kept in Virginia earlier in the summer when the two of you had taken a quick trip to there to pack up the remaining things he’d left behind and bring them home.

The sleeves on the flannel plaid shirt he is wearing are rolled up highlighting his forearms and that snug fitting tank and the ridges of his abs on full display. You’d taken the liberties to sneak in a few glances as he’d bent over to grab ornaments out of the large plastic storage container you keep them in.

It’s an easy choice to abandon the silvery glittery Fa-la-la-la garland that you had been working on hanging on that tricky bit of wall space beneath the stairs to come stand next to him by the tree.

Plus, you know that you can get Bradley to put it up for you- even though he hates the feeling of glitter on his hands- if you offer to make him an Old Fashioned in exchange.

He drapes his arm over your shoulders and drops a kiss to the top of your head as you wrap your arms around his waist, the two of you taking a moment to admire the pretty twinkling tree in front of you with Bob Hope crooning softly on the background.

You love this tree.

And not because it is the most wonderfully ostentatious thing you’ve ever seen. Or because he’d surprised you with it when he asked you to move in with him the year before. But because it was one of the many ways he showed you just how important you were to him, just how much he paid attention to you.

Bradley kept asking what you wanted for Christmas this year, but you’d been avoiding giving him an answer.

Because he was the only thing on your list this year.

You would gladly never have a real tree again as long as it meant that Bradley got to be yours forever.

His allergy to pine trees had taken both of you by surprise last year. Before that chaotic afternoon last December, he had never had a real tree before, but it didn’t take long until his normally sunkissed skin has been covered in angry red hives.

And that gorgeous seven-foot Noble Fir that you had selected from the Christmas tree lot had quickly become Jake’s gorgeous seven-foot Noble Fir.

But you’ll never forget that magical moment when you had walked into his cozy living room to see that candy colored confection of a tree for the first time and how proud Bradley had been to be the one to make your dreams of a pink tree Christmas come true.

It was something you had only ever mentioned once in passing, but that’s who Bradley Bradshaw is. The type of man who goes above and beyond for the people he loves.

Last year, the two of you had just picked up a couple boxes of basic multicolored bobbles to hang on the tree. But this year, your pretty pink tree has some new decorations that you’d collected along the way since then.

The sparkling frosty mug was something he’d found at the airport on the way back from when you’d taken him home to meet your parents for the first time. To no one’s surprise, they’d loved him. He’d had a lot of fun at the breweries you’d taken him to and you liked getting to see a tipsy and pink cheeked Bradley Bradshaw.

There was a blue miniature model toy Bronco with a bottle-brush Christmas tree hanging out the back was one you’d recently found at a Christmas market you went to with Nat and Bob the previous weekend. You’ve never handed over your credit card for something so quickly before in your life.

There was even a shiny shamrock that Jake had picked up to commemorate your first- and last- Leprechaun Run.

It was a promise you were coerced into making in exchange for Jake’s help and the use of his truck to move your things into Bradley’s place the weekend after you happily agreed to live in with him. You were planning on waiting until after the beginning of the New Year, but Rooster wouldn’t hear of it. You were able to hold off for a few days, but he’d made some rather compelling points with his mouth that had swayed your mind pretty quickly.

That New Year’s Eve, he’d kissed you properly and thoroughly surrounded by a dozen half-unpacked brown cardboard boxes.

You thought Hangman would have forgotten about it, but it turns out the only person that had forgot was a you, because you’d nearly spit out your beer mid-sip when he’d slapped down the race bib in front of you at the Hard Deck one evening in March.

It was just as terrible as you’d imagined it would be and worse. Not even the four-leaf clover bobble headband you’d worn had cheered you up even the slightest.

The term fun run was an oxymoron and you were willing to die on that a hill.

And of course, there was also a copy of the house key dangling on a pretty pink velvet ribbon. The one he’d originally given you was a permanent fixture on your key ring.

“So what’s the verdict, sweetheart? How did I do? Is it fluffed enough?” he asks, pulling back to look down at you.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” you say grinning up at him.

You’ve loved his homey Craftsman since the first time you’d stepped inside it with all of its warm wooden paneling around the entryways and ceiling beams. The hand tiled fireplace was mostly for aesthetics rather than functionality. You’d filled it with a display of tall pillar candles, but there’d been a couple of occasions where the two of you had stacked it with wood picked up from the grocery store and had the sounds of its crackles and pops serving as the soundtrack to your cozy night in.

You loved it even more now that your books were mixed in with his on the bookshelf. On top of his upright piano there were framed pictures of you and him and of all your friends and family. On the mantle of that fireplace were ivory knit stockings embroidered with your name and his.

This was your home now too, pink Christmas tree and all.

“The best thing, huh?” he says, amused.

“Maybe second best,” you muse, sliding your hand into the back pocket of his snug jeans, “Those Danny Zuko shorts you wore last Halloween still live rent free in my head.”

“I’ve still got those short-shorts, you just say the word and I’ll go put them on for you anytime.”

You snort a laugh and pull him down for a kiss.

The two of you have been together for almost a year and a half, but the way Bradley kisses you still sets off butterflies in your stomach and makes your heart flutter.

Soft kisses. Passionate kisses. Hello kisses. See you soon- never goodbye- kisses. Just because kisses. There you are kisses. Never stop kissing me kisses. All of them turn you upside down just like a snow globe.

He pulls away first, looking to the tree again contemplatively, “You know, the more I look at this the I feel like something is missing.”

You skim over the tree with its warm glow from the many strands of lights, the sparkling ornaments, the glinting icicles, and the delicate bejeweled snowflake tree topper. Short of tying on a few bows for the fun of it, there’s nothing more you think this tree needs.

“I might have tucked a little something in the piano bench,” Rooster says with a nod towards his well-loved upright, “Why don’t you take a look.”

You try and fail to ignore the swoop in your stomach as you walk up to the bench. You already know that you want to be his forever and the two of you are on the same page about it, but you don’t want to get your hopes up. You’re trying to be practical, realistic.

But the heart wants what the heart wants, and your heart wants him.

The seat creaks open as you lift the lid open with a not-so-steady hand, and sitting inside a small box filled with iridescent filler are the prettiest pair of ceramic ice skates you’ve ever seen. You lift the dainty ornament from the box to see that they dangle from a couple ribbons that have been tied together in a lovely bow at the top. They even have a little white fluff lining the rims of boot.

It was one of the things you missed most about home, your town had a little outdoor rink that was set up every year. You weren’t the greatest skater and it had been a few years since you’d laced up a pair of boots, but it had always been one of your favorite traditions growing up.

“Oh Bradley, they’re so lovely,” you say with a dreamy sigh, “I love it, thank you!”

You admire them for another moment taking in all their little details before hanging them up on the pink tree near his little Hawaiian shirt ornament in a place of honor on the tree.

“I have another surprise for you,” he says with a grin, looking very proud of himself.

“Oh? When did you become such a man of mystery?” you tease.

“Gotta keep my girl on her toes,” Rooster winks, sliding a finger through your belt loop to pull you closer before wrapping his arms around you. “You know how Hotel del Coronado has that ice-skating rink set up now?”

Of course you did.

The tickets went on sale a little over seven weeks ago and time slots had sold out in five minutes. You’d even signed up early to try and get a spot in the queue and it still had kicked you out with empty hands.

“Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, looking up at him skeptically.

Bradley has been on a training detachment at the time, so there was no way Mr. One Percent could have gotten them when you couldn’t. There’s just no way.

You must say that part out loud or think it loud enough for him to hear you because that gorgeous smile of his gets devastatingly self-satisfied.

“I sure did, sweetheart-”

You jump up and cut him off with a kiss, he is quick to get his hands underneath you for support while your legs wrap around him.

“Oh my god, Bradley, how?” you ask excitedly between peppering kiss across his nose and cheeks.

“Ok, I can’t take full credit. I had some help,” he admits, clearly happy with your reaction, “Nat has, and I quote, ‘fast fingers’.”

You make a little squeal in delight as you throw your arms around his neck to hug him and he laughs. It’s the best sound in the world to you.

“What do you say, want to make a day of it? I might have a few things in mind for our San Diego Christmas. We’re a couple weeks early, but I’m feeling festive.”

You get too distracted by his smiling mouth to give him your answer then and there, but you remember to officially accept later that night in bed after your heart finally stops racing.

Convincing you to move in with him might be the best thing Bradley’s ever done.

Those cool Winter nights last year had tasted like bourbon and were spent wrapped up together on the couch and under the covers.

Your first big fight had been over whose Super Bowl team was going to win. There had been a lot of trash talk that night, but eventually a peace had been brokered. And really, no one was a loser when it came to orgasms.

In the Spring, he had built you a bunch of raised garden beds in the backyard for you to grow whatever you wanted. He’d learned that he had a bit of a green thumb when it came to zucchinis, a fact that irked you to no end because you could never get them to produce anything. He didn’t know sunshine had a scent until he could smell it on your skin with your hands covered in dirt and a smile on your facec.

And he was not surprised to learn that he was also very much a fan of your sundress collection.

The golden Summer days were spent at the beach and taking road trips to nowhere in the Bronco then the long way home. Rooster burned more often than he cared to admit, but you started keeping a container of aloe in the fridge for him. He’d never say no to have your soft hands on his body, your touch more soothing than the cooling gel could ever be.

That Fall he’d finally been able to go home with you for Thanksgiving. He’d met your family earlier in the year, but you’d been so proud to show him off at the official family gathering as you’d sipped on your cranberry mimosa. And after a year of planning, the two of you had finally been able to enact your Stealthy Soufflé Scheme.

He had been determined to get his girl that closely guarded recipe no matter what.

Your Aunt Christine had been putty in his hands with all of his yes, ma’ams and no, ma’ams and charming smiles and All-American golden boy aviator thing. You’d primed him on what things she was interested in and he had fully leaned into it, sweet talk and all. It didn’t hurt that she had been a big fan of the expensive bottles Syrah the two of you had brought with you.

You and your mom had been thrilled when he’d presented you with the handwritten copy of the coveted recipe. He had been happy to do it, but he didn’t mind the way you showed him your thanks later that night in your childhood bedroom.

He was the first boyfriend you’d ever had in there, and if he has his way, he’d also be the last.

Victory- and that not-so-secret-anymore corn soufflé recipe- never tasted so good. 

The two of you had had a great first Christmas together last year, excluding the slight hiccup with the whole hives thing. And he knows he’s a bit of a perfectionist, but he wants to make this one even better.

He had let you sleep in as long as he could, but he was excited for all the festive things he had arranged for today.

“C’mon, sleepy girl. We’ve got plans,” he says, skimming a few soft kisses along your shoulder.

“Do those plans involve coffee?” you mumble sleepily into your pillow.

He chuckles and brushes back a few of the hairs that are stuck against your forehead, “Of course, it’ll be the first stop after.”

You peek up at him from under your silk eye mask, he’s always liked a slightly fussy girl. You’d even got him one for his deployments to help him sleep better on the carrier.

“After what, Roos,” you ask skeptically.

“You seemed to enjoy that Leprechaun Run you did with Jake and I saw that there was an Ugly Sweater Fun Run today and I signed us up, we have to be there in an hour.”

“Bradley, you didn’t,” you say with a gasp, sitting up like you’ve been struck by lightning.

You look so alarmed, clutching the top sheet to your chest, that he can’t help but throw his head back and laugh.

“No, I didn’t. I promise,” he says, trying to pull you into his chest.

You shove lightly at his shoulder, “That was so rude of you, Bradley Peter Bradshaw.”

“Not the government name,” he smirks, leaning down to trail a couple kisses along your neck. He likes the way you always shiver when his mustache grazes that ticklish spot under your ear.

“Oh my god, I swear I just had a war flashback to that second mile when Jake tried to make me keep up with him,” you huff, leaning your head to the side to let him continue apologizing with his mouth, “You’re so lucky I’m even talking to you right now.”

“I am very lucky to have such a pretty, smart, and forgiving girlfriend. One who appreciates over the top Christmas decorations and brunch with themed cocktails.”

That piques your interest and you seem much more awake now for someone who usually needs at least two cups of coffee before becoming a fully functional human being, “Themed cocktails, you say?”

“Mhmm, they even have a Ho-Ho-Hot and Spicy Bloody Merry, spelled m-e-r-r-y,” he says with a smile, running a finger down the bridge of your nose. “But to get one, we have to get out of this bed and into the shower.”

“Sounds like it would be more efficient if we took one together, huh?” you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Plus I’m all about preserving the planet’s natural resources.”

The two of you were a little late getting out of the house, having worked up an appetite, but still manage to make it in time for the reservations he had made.

The restaurant had been swathed in miles of frosted evergreen garlands with so many oversized ornaments dangling and ribbons woven throughout that he wasn’t sure how it hadn’t come crashing down off the ceiling. Not an inch of it was left undecorated, it was all stands of lights and shiny wreaths and giant cellophane covered candies.

Brunch had been complete with a couple of those Bloody Merry’s he’d heard about from Coyote, as well as an order of Santa pancakes topped with a hat of strawberries tossed with orange zest infused syrup.

The Christmas radio station was playing all of your favorites and you were singing along as he zipped along the highway to the next stop.

The Ocean Beach Christmas tree was beloved for being San Diego’s unofficial response to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Bob had told him he’d stumbled upon it on accident one day last year when he had been exploring his new city and learned about the tree’s forty-year history and had enthusiastically recommended that Rooster added it to his festive agenda.

Bradley loved the way your face lit up at the sight of it. The top of the massive tree was leaning to the right and looked straight out of Whoville the way it decorated with all kinds of blow up pool toys. There were beach balls galore, traditional ones and ones that looked like disco balls, a few parrots, and even one shaped like an electric guitar.

“Oh my god, look!” He looks up from the text message he was replying to and follows the line of your arm to where your finger is directing his gaze, “Another bird defying the laws of physics.”

And there tucked away up in the tree next to a blow-up globe is an inflatable rooster.

On the way back into town, two of you stopped by Mission Bay to grab some more coffee and walk around the marina to check out some of the decorated boats docked for the Parade of Lights. He’d heard about it from Penny, who had even participated in the event herself a few years ago.

You’d both agreed the one that had turned the tall mast of the sailing boat into a glowing Christmas tree was the clear winner.

The next stop was something Bradley knew you’d be really excited about.

He’d found out about the Christmas centerpiece floral arrangement class from Nat who had a crush on the florist who ran the little shop.

The class was filled with mostly women, but there were a couple other men scattered around. They’d greeting him with that head nod that only men seem to exchange, like you got roped into this too, huh?, but what they didn’t know was that being there had been his idea.

Rooster was slipping his phone back into his pocket when you returned back to your little round table with an arm full of various flowers and different greens, with not a pine frond in sight. He’d even called in advance to make sure that there wouldn’t be any involved, just in case.

You were divvying up the things that you’d gathered from the long farmhouse tables in the front between the two of you when his phone pings again.

“Rooster, is everything ok? I feel like your phone is going off a ton this afternoon,” you asked, putting down the white berry looking things to look at him, a little crease there between your eyebrows.

“Yeah, of course,” he’d said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Fanboy decided to invite chaos into the group chat by asking if a hot dog was a sandwich or not. It’s getting pretty contentious.”

You give him a look but go back to dividing the pile in front of you, moving on from the berry things to some small roses.

“Also, for the record, a hot dog is definitely a category of its own. You don’t call a hamburger a sandwich,” you’d replied, not missing a beat.

“You won’t hear me arguing with that logic.”

“Good. Because facts are facts, Bradley.”

He pulled out his phone again to give it one last quick skim before turning the volume down, before noticing what flowers you’d just set in front of him, “Hey, are those dahlias?”

You hold up a stem with a large deep burgundy flower for him, giving it a spin between your fingers, “They are! It’s a little late in the season for them, so I’m surprised to see them here. Aren’t they pretty?”

“Those were my mom’s favorites,” he’d said fondly, remembering a backyard from decades ago that was lined with around the edges with the flowers.

“Were they? Well, I’m glad I grabbed them then,” you said with a soft smile, before handing him a few more to work with.

By the end of class, he knows his ears are pink because of how much you’re showering him with praise and gushing over his arrangement. He’d even gotten a few supportive thumbs ups from some of the other people in class.

“Seriously, Bradley. It’s so lovely! I mean, look at those pinecones you tucked in it. I can’t wait to put it on the dining table!”

You wanted to swing by Mav and Penny’s place to drop yours off for them, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to convince you that it could wait until tomorrow.

He couldn’t wait for the next part of your day together.

Bradley jogs around the front of the Bronco to open your door for you after he parks at the Hotel del Coronado. He gives you his hand to help you down from the car, instead you reach and pull his face to yours.

The kiss is like spun sugar, airy and sweet. He could taste the lingering peppermint from your latte earlier.

“What was that for,” he murmurs against you lips.

“I just really love you,” you sigh, nudging his nose with yours, “Today has been so perfect. I feel like I’m in one of my Christmas movies, except I know you’re not going to ask me to leave my job in the big city to help you run your grandmother’s failing bakery to only get paid in gingerbread and Christmas spirit.”

“Lucky for you, my grandma could barely make toast, so you’re spared from such a fate. You wouldn’t need that little Mini Cooper of yours in a town that only has one stoplight.”

You press a quick kiss to his cheek, “Well thank goodness for small miracles.”

“We’ve still got one more thing on the list. You ready for this?” Bradley asks, holding his hand out.

You slip your hand in his with a grin, “Virtue and Moir better watch out.”

You can’t say you’ve ever expected to see an ice rink set up with a display of white sand and sparkling blue ocean behind it. But it was easily one of the most magical things you’ve ever seen.

The sunset has painted the skies a beautiful display of cool blues, soft pinks, and dusky purples. The palm trees lining the rink have been done up in strands of white lights that crisscross over it above your heads. The mixture of happy laughter, Christmas songs piped over the sound system, and waves crashing served as the soundtrack to the moment.

And you’re trying desperately not to fall and make a fool of yourself.

It was more than a little humbling stepping onto the rink after having not had a pair of ice skates on for more than a decade. It had been awhile since your family had indulged in this particular tradition, but you figured it would be like riding a bike.

It’s almost laughable now how wrong you were.

“How are you so good at this?” you jokingly accuse as you wobble on your skates, yet again. Luckily, Bradley’s sturdy grasp on your hand keeps you from falling.

He laughs, “I thought you said you did this all the time growing up?”

“I did! I just never said I was good at it.” A kid whizzes past you- a little too close, a little too fast- and Bradley shoots a disgruntled look at his swiftly retreating figure. “You come from a snow state, it’s in your blood. You automatically have the advantage.”

“Are you thinking of the other V-state? Vermont?” he teases, easily gliding around you swapping spots so that you’re closer to the edge of the rink rather than the middle.

“It snows in Virginia, I googled it.”

“I mean, yeah, but not a ton,” he says, “But it wasn’t like I was hitting up the indoor rinks either.”

“So you’re telling me you’re just a natural?” You roll your eyes affectionately at him.

He winks at you, “You said it not me, sweetheart.”

You’d nearly melted on the sight when Rooster had knelt down in front of you and looked up at you with such a boyishly charming smile as he’d tied the laces of your rented ice skates.

It took a moment to get your hummingbird heart back under control after that.

After a few more laps around, you’re starting to feel like you’re falling into the rhythm of it. You’re still keeping an eye out for people and the older kid who had earned himself more than one glare from people trying to enjoy their time on the rink as he erratically bobbed and wove his way through them. But your strides are getting longer and the shifting motion from side to side is getting smoother. You could almost claim to be gliding.

You’d forgotten how much fun it was, but then again, Bradley always made everything better and brighter.

Your cheeks ache in the best way from how much smiling you’ve been doing today.

And if you faked a couple wobbles so that he’d put his arm around you, it was worth the sacrifice of trying to look graceful. He’s already seen you at your best and at your worst, so you didn’t think your lack of skill standing on a quarter of an inch of metal was going to scare him away.

Rooster is a few feet ahead of you showing off some of his fancy footwork and maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted by his smile you would have heard the aggressive woosh of the kid’s skates as he sped up behind you.

It had only been a matter of time.

He collides with you but keeps his balance and propels himself forward, not slowing his pace in the slightest before taking off again. Your feet slip out for beneath you and before you know it you’re extending your right arm down to try and break your fall.

You meet the ice hard.

You feel pop.

A rush of warmth.

And then throbbing.

The next five hours pass in a twinkling blur of heavy guilt and aching pain.

Bradley had gone through so much effort planning such a perfect day for you and you feel terrible about how it ended.

The wait at the hospital had been miserable. The lights were too glaring and the noises too loud. The garish green and red garland draped on the desk seemed to mock you as you’d gone through the motions of getting checked in.

Your wrist had been killing you and you hated being the reason that Rooster’s leg hand been bouncing anxiously next to you in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. He’d tried to hide it, but you’d seen that deep furrow between his brows. You’d almost cried when he started stroking the back your pain-free hand with this thumb. It wasn’t until they’d brought you back for X-rays and had given you a light dose of painkillers that the world had shifted back into the dreamy soft focus it had been like earlier in the day with Bradley when he’d taken you on all those perfect dates.

You didn’t know if he had planned anything else, all you knew is that everything had unraveled so quickly.

It’s an odd feeling like you could float away at any moment. The painkillers made you feel buoyant and light, yet you can feel the weight on your shoulders just the way you feel the weight of the cast on your wrist.

Even now as the candy-colored lights that he’d put up along the front of the house bounce off of his still perfect curls, he’s wearing the softest of smiles for you as he works to open the front door. His dreamy brown eyes are reflecting nothing back at you other than warmth and affection and care.

Your wonderful, loving, perfect boyfriend. Your perfect Bradley.

You know it’s not entirely the drugs fault the way you’re struck by just how pretty he is. You’ve always thought so, but here and now you’re simply mesmerized by him under the glow of the Christmas lights.

“I don’t think I’ve been called pretty before, sweetheart. But thank you,” Bradley says with a little amused chuckle.

“Well you are. And your hair. Bradley, it’s not fair.” The words are tumbling out of your loose lips.

“My hair isn’t fair?” he asks with a tilt of his head, holding open the front door for you.

“No, it’s not! You just wash it and it dries like that?” He takes your purse from you and sets it on the entry table before helping to ease off the heavier sweater jacket you were wearing from your shoulders. “I don’t think you get it. You’re pretty, but you’re so handsome too.”

He squats down in front of you and smiles up at you before helping to slip off your shoes, “I’ll take handsome too if it’s on the table, sounds like a nice combo.”

“Please, you sound like Jake now,” you giggle.

“Oh no, we can’t have that now can we,” he grins, “But at least I’m pretty and handsome, hopefully that’ll cushion the blow.”

And you just love him.

You love him for the way he loves you and takes care of you and tries to make you laugh when he knows you’re feeling down. You reach up to pull his face to yours when you are distracted by the thick cast on your arm.

“This wasn’t the accessory I was hoping for for Christmas,” you say with a sigh.

The panic that electrifies your body is immediate as your spine goes ramrod straight. Oh no oh no oh no oh no. You can almost see the words swirl and twirl around him, and you know there’s no way you can snatch them back from the way they hang in the air.

“Ohmygod. Oh my god, I didn’t mean to say that.” You’re so flustered now, so embarrassed. “Please pretend you didn’t hear that.”

But Bradley is looking at you with his eyes crinkled around the corners and his lips pressed together like he is trying to hold back a laugh with the way his cheeks are pulling up.

“Oh, did you want a pair of earrings?” he teases, cupping your face in his hand.

“Bradley,” you whine.

“C’mere, baby,” he laughs and pulls you into his chest. You wrap your arms around him and wonder briefly if he can feel the hard plaster of your cast pressed against his back. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “You know you never did tell me what you wanted for Christmas.”

“Don’t need anything,” you murmur into the warmth of him.

He’s already all you’ve ever wanted.

As you make your way up the stairs, glow from your pretty pink tree seems brighter than usual. Normally, you’d take one last peek back at it before going to bed, but you’re still a bit wobbly on your feet. It’ll still be there waiting for you in the morning.

“Oh shit,” you hear him mutter from behind you.

“What’s wrong, Roos?”

“Ah- just stubbed my toe. C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.” The heavy tread of his footsteps is close behind you, you can almost feel the warmth of him at your back.

At you back. By your side. He’s the only person you’ll ever need.

They’d given you some of the strong stuff and he could tell that you were still floating in that sweet spot before all the gravity settles back into your bones.

The distal radius fracture in your right wrist meant that you’d be in the cast for the next six weeks. You’d gone with a white and pink stripped candy cane inspired look to match the tree, Bradley. While he wishes it wasn’t there in the first place, he thought the pattern you’d chosen was cute.

He’d quickly and quietly kicked off his shoes before he’d followed you into the bedroom. Hoping that you wouldn’t notice them, he’d take a disinfecting wipe to the floor and stairs tomorrow.

For as well as Rooster knew you, he felt a little out of his element because he knew you were hurting but he wasn’t sure what would make you feel better in that moment. When he offered to draw you a bath he’d instantly known it was the right choice by the look on your face.

So he’d made you one with all of your favorite products. The mound of bubbles he was able to achieve was truly impressive, if he did say so himself. He even dimmed the lights and lit a few candles for you.

Bradley had carefully wrapped up your cast in plastic wrap and secured the top with a rubber band. And the dejected pout on your face when you looked at it and called it an “unattractive arm condom” had nearly sent him over edge.

He’s already looking on his phone for other options, sitting on the bathroom floor next to you as you soak in the tub, when he feels your fingers thread through his hair and he leans into your touch.

“I really am jealous of your hair, you know. I’m sure there were a few of the girls at that floral class who were too.”

Your head is leaning back against the lip of the tub as you gaze at him, your hair wet from him washing it for you. He’d noticed the moment you realized how difficult it would be for you to do it yourself for the foreseeable future. But you brought out the optimistic side of him and he’d already come up with a solution, “I guess we’ll have to take more showers together then, so I can wash your hair for you. Plus, it’ll be good for the environment”. You’d laughed, and he was happy to see some of the light returning back into your eyes.

“I don’t know why when yours is so pretty,” he says, reaching out and lightly tugging on a lock of your hair.

“Did I tell you one of them asked me if you had a brother? She was honestly so put out when I said that you didn’t that I’m pretty sure she took the last of the dahlias out of spite when she saw me reaching for them. They didn’t even match her arrangement,” you say rolling your eyes, adjusting the way your plastic wrapped candy cane cast rested against the other side of the tub. “Like sorry not sorry, I’m not going to give you my boyfriend.”

“Was it the woman in the striped sweater?”

“Yes! It was her!”

Bradley had notice her checking him out a little too closely for a man who was clearly there another woman and happily taken.

“She had crazy eyes, I wouldn’t have wanted you to give me to her anyways.”

You snicker at that, “She did have crazy eyes.”

He makes a mental note to remember to grab the arrangements from out of the back of the Bronco before he goes to bed. He didn’t want anything to happen to them, but that could until after you were tucked in bed and asleep.

“But the instructor was so sweet, Roos. I told her that the dahlias were your mom’s favorites and then she went to the back and got me a bunch. She didn’t put them on the table or anything for anyone else, just handed them over to me for us to use. It was a real girls supporting girls moment, we bonded.”

He’s struck by the fact that you’d already known about his mom’s favorite flower. That you had let him think it was happenstance when really you had grabbed them because you’d known it would mean something to him. That you wanted to make it special for him when he was trying to make it a special day for you.

He didn’t think it was possible to love you any more than he already did, but you were so good at making him fall in love with you over and over again.

“That was really nice of her, sweetheart,” he says, his throat a little thick.

“It really was. And better yet she’s single and likes women,” you say with a grin, “I got her number to get coffee, but I might see if I can play matchmaker between her and Nat. She looks like Nat’s type.”

“This was our instructor? You got all of that out of her in a few minutes of conversation?” he asks, impressed.

You give him a cheeky shrug of your shoulder, “Yeah, I’m efficient. She owns the shop too. I think I’m going to order something for Penny and Mav from her closer to Christmas.”

“You know what, I think you’re right, she does seem very much like Nat’s type,” Bradley smiles to himself, Phoenix is going to be very excited when he tells her about this.

“’m always right,” you hum.

“You sure are, sweetheart,” he says fondly.

He watches as your eyelids start to get heavy and helps you to get out of the tub, wrapping you up in the biggest, fluffiest towel he can find and sits you on the bed as he goes into the closet to find something cozy for you to wear.

“What do you want me to grab you, baby?”

“Your shirt,” you call out sleepily.

He peeks his head around the opening, “Sweetheart, you’re not going to want hospital germs in bed.”

“No, not that one,” you say, scrunching your nose, “Your henley. The soft navy one with the little white flecks. ‘s my favorite.”

You look so tired, he doesn’t like the slump of your shoulders. He knows that feeling all too well and he hates that you feel so bad about something that you had no control over. It had been such a good day up until the end. But even so, you’re the only person he wants to go through the highs and lows with.

He strips down and puts both his clothes and yours into the hamper before grabbing the shirt for you. “Arms up,” he says gently, he pulls the sleeve wide to fit over your cast before threading it down your arms and over your head.

Rooster pulls back the covers for you to crawl into bed. He climbs in after you, cradling you against him as he reaches over for the remote to turn on your favorite Christmas movie channel for you to fall asleep too.

Your cast rests heavy on his chest.

The heroine just won the cookie cook-off and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you murmur quietly into the dark room, “This is the second year in a row, Bradley, I really think we should consider skipping Christmas next year. For both of our sake’s.”

“We’ve got too much Christmas spirit for a little pine tree allergy or fractured wrist to keep us down,” he tips your head up so that you’re looking at him, “Give it time, it’ll turn around. I promise, sweetheart.”

He seals that vow with a sweet kiss against your lips and a few minutes later he feels as your breaths even out and you fall asleep tucked against him.

You wake up the next morning feeling more than a little groggy and cotton-headed as everything from yesterday comes rushing back to you.

As does the aching in your right wrist.

You reach out for Rooster, but his side of the bed is already cold. He’s always been an early riser and once he’s awake he doesn’t know how to sit still. You wouldn’t have minded cuddling with him for a little bit, but knowing him he has probably already brewed a pot of coffee for you.

When you finally crack open your eyes, you see that he’s left out a bottle of the prescription strength ibuprofen the doctor had sent home with you on your nightstand and a note written in his slanted script reminding you to take one. Your sweetest boy.

You attempt to splash some cold water on your face with one hand, willing it to depuff your face a little bit and then try to fix up your hair so that you look and feel less bedraggled. It is one thing if Bradley is the one responsible for it, but that wasn’t the case this morning.

Before heading downstairs, you decide on a whim to change out of his shirt and into the cozy cream-colored fuzzy lounge set you’d bought on sale the other week. It takes three times longer to get dressed than it usually did, but getting yourself at least a little more put together made you feel a bit more in control. You knew the extra effort wasn’t necessary, but you felt cute and it was making you feel a little bit better about everything.

The pink and white cast was a bit of a choice looking at it in the morning light filtering through the airy curtains, but you thought you pulled it off well. It was cheerful and fun. And you weren’t going to let it affect you or your Christmas plans with your perfect boyfriend.

There is still some residual guilt you’re trying to shake off, you know it was a fluke of fate, but you’re already thinking about ways to make it up to him all the same.

You gingerly make your way down the stairs making a mental note to look up what other festive things were happening this weekend and call out to Rooster, “Please tell me there’s coffee.”

The raspy laugh that reaches your ears makes you smile for the first time that morning, “I’ve got one ready for you in the living room, sweetheart. It’s ready when you are.”

The painkillers, the coffee. The man is a saint and looks like a god. And he’s all yours.

You take those final few steps a bit faster, ready for the strong dark roast that only he seems to be able to make to just right and to thank him for taking such good care of you.

You lose all words when you walk into the living room.

It’s like you’ve walked into a dreamy pink forest straight out of a fairytale.

Your beloved very large, very fluffy, pink tree covered with all of your memories collected from the past year and Bradley’s mom’s sparkling vintage glass icicles is surrounded by two other very large, very fluffy, pink Christmas trees.

The newest additions to the living room glow with the hundreds of twinkling white lights. It’s ethereal and whimsical the way the light bounces and dapples on the walls and floors.

And there standing in front of them is Bradley, barefoot in his favorite sweatpants in your cozy living room of the home he’s made with you looking like a daydream.

You don’t think it’s the prescription strength pain medication kicking in that makes you feel like you’re floating as you walk towards him. You know it’s all him.

Bradley says your name with such adoration, such love that you swear you feel your heart reshape in your chest with his name on it.

“I envisioned this a bit differently in my mind, but the way I see it, we’re just starting the ‘in sickness and in health’ part a bit early,” he says, taking your right hand and dropping a kiss to your cast. Your eyes well up at the tender gesture.

And then you stop breathing when he sinks down onto one knee in front of you.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love your big heart and the way you’re so kind and generous to everyone you meet. I love the way you can light up a room with your smile. The best parts of my days are when I am with you. You’re the only person I want to wake up to, the only person I want to fall asleep with in my arms, and the only person who I want a forever with.” He reaches out and takes your shaky hand in his warm one, “Last year, you let me give you more than a drawer and it has been the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. This year, will you let me give you my last name too and marry me?”

You can almost see his heart that he is wearing on his sleeve. His pretty honey brown eyes are tracing over every inch of your face, almost like he is trying to commit every microcosm of your expression to memory.

You had imagined this moment so many times. It was the movie you’d put on in your mind on those nights when sleep felt just out for reach. And like a snowflake, no two dreams had been the same.

But nothing you’d imagined could have ever topped the reality of this moment here and now.

Because there was nothing was better than being surrounded by three pink fluffy trees and looking forward to getting to spend a lifetime with Bradley Bradshaw.

“Well it’s convenient I fractured the right one,” you say with a watery laugh as a few happy tears escape from your eyes.

“I guess that is a lucky break,” he grins.

“Literally.”

You didn’t think it was possible to smile this wide. That you could be this happy.

“You still haven’t given me an answer yet, sweetheart,” he says, slightly squeezing your good hand.

“Haven’t I though?” you tease. There’s no what he doesn’t know what your answer is, not with the way you’re beaming.

“C’mon, let me hear you say it.”

You don’t make him wait for long.

“Yes, Bradley, yes I will marry you. It’ll always be a yes with you.”

You barely get to finish your sentence before he is shooting to his feet, pulling you into his arms and kissing you.

Your Bradley. Your fiancé.

On Christmas morning, after all the presents are unwrapped, you find yourself sitting under your perfectly pink tree surrounded by scraps of ribbons and bits of shiny wrapping paper.

Even your striped pink and white cast looked particularly festive under the gleam of the trees.

Rooster is in the kitchen making another pot of coffee for the two of you to share. You can hear him singing along to one of the vintage crooner Christmas albums you had gotten him.

You’ll be hosting Mav, Penny, and Amelia for dinner tonight. You let yourself enjoy this quiet of the mid-morning before things get chaotic. The two of you had dressed the oval oak dining table yesterday afternoon. The centerpiece you’d ordered from Nat’s now New Year’s Eve date was stunning, there were even a few white dahlias tucked into the arrangement. Thankfully, with no pine needles in sight.

The tall pillar candles had been moved off to the side and a real fire was popping in the hearth of the tiled fireplace. And the sun streaming through the bay windows is bouncing off that sparkly silver garland that you’d gotten Bradley to hang up for you in a way that makes the shiny wooden floors look like they’ve been scattered with specks of confetti.

The swirling, sparkling, shimmering dots on the ceiling, however, were from your own ring as you move and tilt your hand admiring the way the sun illuminates it. You know the matching pair of diamond earrings that Bradley had gotten for you as you Christmas gift are shining just as bright.

He still blushes whenever anyone teases him about forgetting to pull out the engagement ring he had got for you before he’d proposed. But you wouldn’t have changed anything about that moment for the world.

The marquise diamond had belonged to his mom, but he had had it reset in gold with a halo of diamonds around it for you. He’d even bought a pink velvet box to put it in for the occasion. It was easily the prettiest thing you’d ever seen and your heart still fluttered every time you saw it on your finger.

The two new trees are still only dressed with the many strands of lights that they’d arrived with. You learned that Bradley had enlisted Jake and Natasha to help him out with that particular surprise that day a couple weeks ago when he’d taken you on what you affectionately refer to as the 12 Dates of a Christmas Proposal.

Your favorite pink tree, the one he had gotten for you last year- the one you’re sitting under now- was also in possession of a new accessory. A shiny new pink ring pop ornament Bradley had gotten to commemorate the occasion of you saying yes and was hanging in a place of honor on the tree right between the little Hawaiian shirt ornament and the dainty, dangling ice skates.

Saying yes was the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Yes to forever. Yes to him.

This season and every season.

You couldn’t wait to see what new ornaments would fill those trees by next year.

And the one after that.

And the one after that.

And the next one after that.

Happy Holiday's! It's been almost a year since I've posted my very first story on here. I'm so thankful that a zoom kaboom plane movie has introduced me to so many wonderful people! Thank you for reading my stories and for all the support I've received over this last year! It has meant the world to me!

This story is set in the Oh, Christmas Tree universe. If you missed the fic that started it all, you can read it here!

Many thanks to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for so, so many reasons. I hope you enjoy this, this one's for you!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[frickfracksnatchisback]

So, guys, the important thing to know about BetelSnatch is-

And let's not forget-

[sun-rise-leo]

The thoughts behind the drawing idea... Like guys... years after they finally got their heads out of the upside down shit, most of them moved out from Hawkins, Dustin and Suzy get married and of course Eddie and Steve never left Dustin's side all these years, but they still get way too emotional during the wedding after party.

Eddie mostly, trying to hold back his tears, sitting in a corner watching Dustin being the happiest man alive. And only when Steve notices and wraps an arm around the long haired man, Eddie gives in and his tears roll down his cheeks.

'Man, I've never been..' the words get stuck in his throat. 'I've never been this happy for someone else in my entire life.' He finishes with a quick chuckle.

And Steve knows because that is how he feels too seeing Dustin living the life he deserves, just like all of them.

'Yeah...' Steve whispers a minute later. He tightens his grip onto Eddie's shoulder and looks to the ceiling, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

'I've felt like this before, when you got out of the hospital on your own feet and accepted to live with me.' Steve wanted to shout, but for now, all he can do is holding Eddie close to him.

...............................................................

I mean... I would write a fic about this. Maybe I'll be better at writing it than doodling ugly shit. 😊

[fictionalwh0ree]

love notes- angelina jolie

summary: you and angelina pass each other sweet notes in the one class you have together word count: 777 warnings: none

a/n: i've had a bit of an obsession with angelina jolie this past week. girl, interrupted is SO GOOD. it feels like a crime that there's no angelina fic like anywhere

school had to be one of your least favourite places ever. you'd much rather be in your girlfriend's arms than sitting at a desk listening to a teacher. your favourite class of the day had come, science. it wasn’t because you were amazing at it, but because angelina was in it, too. you were also lab partners, so it was easy to communicate in discrete ways. it helped that your teacher was totally oblivious to everything.

you walked into the classroom, immediately spotting her. her long dark hair flowed over her arm as she faced away from you, probably doodling something. you slapped your detention slip onto the teachers desk, interrupting his lecture, but your eyes never left your girlfriend. the teacher gave you a passive-aggressive greeting and returned to teaching.

you dropped your bag onto the floor loudly, finally catching angelina's attention. she faced you with a bored look on her face, which graced her face every science class. she quickly bent down to search her backpack, finding a pad of stick notes. you looked at her with a puzzled expression as she wrote something on it.

detention again? it read.

maybe :), you answered, a small smile on your face

what’d u do this time? she wrote

hey! it wasn’t my fault, you wrote

you looked up at her, a huge smile painted on your face. she dramatically rolled her eyes, the smile you loved so much finally making an appearance. right before she could write something else, you snatched the sticky note. her jaw dropped and she narrowed her eyes, a smile still present.

you’re pretty, you wrote on the other side of the paper

you slid it over to her and watched her smile wide at the words you’d written.

not prettier than you, she wrote, causing you to blush.

stop it, the teachers gonna know somethings up, you wrote, still smiling hard

you watched her begin to write something down, her smile growing. you leaned over to pick up your water bottle and took a large sip. angelina slid the sticky note back over slowly. she watched you carefully as your eyes grazed over what she had written.

yeah, just like he noticed that time i had my hand halfway up your underwear, she wrote sarcastically.

your eyes widened at the words on the small yellow paper and you choked on your water.

"everything okay, ms. y/l/n?" the teacher asked.

"oh, yeah. i just choked on my water a bit," you answered, your voice a bit strained.

"do you need a minute?" he offered.

"i'm fine, thanks," you declined.

he resumed the lesson and you looked over to your right. there sat angie, biting to her bottom lip to hold in a laugh and diverting her eyes. you glared at her until she finally looked up. the minute your eyes met, she burst out laughing.

"ms. jolie, do you need a minute out in the hall?" the teacher asked.

"no, no. i'm fine. i'm sorry. sorry," she apologized through laughter.

he muttered something under his breath and then continued his lesson.

angelina's head was now laid over her open notebook as she laughed silently. you folded the old sticky note and stuffed it in your pocket before pulling out a new one.

so not funny, you wrote.

angelina took the note and crossed out the word "not."

that wasn't funny either, you wrote.

she smiled at you again.

it was very funny, she answered, underlining "very" three times.

i think i will be taking a minute in the hall. to cry. because my girlfriend is making fun of me, you wrote jokingly.

drama queen, she wrote.

i'm leaving now, you wrote.

no, you can't, she knew you were joking.

why? you asked

because you love me too much, she answered. you looked at each other and smiled.

as she was folding the note, it fell onto the ground, right next to the teacher's feet. he had been helping the student in front of you two.

just our luck, you thought.

"what is this, ladies?" he asked, holding the folded note up.

thankfully, no writing was visible. just as he was about to open it, angelina stuck her hand up, signalling him to stop.

"um- girl problems, sir," she said slowly.

"oh," he said, before placing the note back down onto the desk.

you both looked at each other when he turned away and smirked at each other. angie placed her hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles in.

[sparklingpax]

Hi! You know, I'm here to thank you. Thanks for the content and searching for a lot of details on Super-God Masterforce! Honestly, I consider it one of the best works on transformers, and it's very nice to see people who share a love for this anime. I hope someday it will be appreciated as a classic of transformers, as it deserves. And it seems that we are on the way to that. I want to say that there is another person on this planet Earth who loves Super-God Masterforce, and is not so alone in this! I hope this thought warms you up a little! (I apologize for the mistakes, I use a translator)

HI THERE UMMM

First, let me apologize profusely for the fact that I took.....way too long to finally answer this, but it was only because I wanted to wait until I had a moment to sit down and write a thoughtful response to this >//<’’

(Also don’t worry about the translator, your message is clear and all :3 I’m going to apologize in advance just in case I have any typos in my response, as I tend to get lost in my own writing quite often haha ^^’’)

Getting this ask genuinely made my day, you are the nicest human being waaa 😭💙💕✨ thank you so much!!! And I'm glad too that there's yet another person who likes Masterforce out there!! >w< Like, there's so few of us, but we are strong, and we are growing!!! hehe >:3 I will continue doing what I can to generate content for everyone to enjoy ^w^

OMG AND YEA!! MASTERFORCE IS INDEED A CLASSIC AND DESERVES SO MUCH MORE LOVE THAN IT GETS??? Lowkey I feel like a lot of tf fans just write it off as "the strange one with lots of humans" or deadass forget about/have no idea of its existence and I just??? Like it makes me so sad and even maybe juuuust a little irked ;w; literally people are out there acting like some tf characters came from the comics and not from this series for example.....*lies on the floor and sobs*

But I will hold onto hope that someday, more people come to appreciate this series and hold it in higher regard. It's got great writing, cool designs (and in the episodes where the animation was on-point, really good visuals), a banger OST (insert songs of course included~), great characters who mostly receive a lot of development throughout the series, really interesting concepts that I wish were used more often in TF media, and just....the vibe of the whole show is so good 😩💗👏 I have so much appreciation in general for all the installments of the Japanese branch of G1, but I feel like Masterforce was just the best mix of everything that can be seen in other series 😎

So anyways, even if I am slow with my art and writing and everything, I will probably never stop making content for Masterforce, writing random ramble-y things about details of the canon lore I think are cool!! And I am honored you found my account and enjoyed it as much!

Apologies once again for being so late with this (😳🙏) but thank you so much for this ask 🥺🥰

I've kept it in mind on days where my personal life has been going badly (which is a lot lately qwq) and I start feeling bad about a lot of things, including stuff regarding my social media/art/etc--at those times I reminded myself that there are people out there who get me when I talk about Masterforce--and I smile and feel a bit better.

So ye! Sorry this is a bit long!! Here's a little doodle I made, to hopefully make up for the wait ^^'' sorry it's a bit rough 😳 but, it's the whole Autobot gang (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)💙

Have a nice day/evening also!!! :D

-Kuni 💖

[bruhstories]

Choke Me

Summary: Reiner can’t comprehend why you won’t have sex with him. You help him understand Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: language, dom!Reader, sub!Reiner, oral sex (female receiving), whipping, unprotected sex, tied up Reiner Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: You know what, I'm thriving off of sub!Reiner.

It absolutely baffled Reiner how someone like Annie was such good friends with someone like... you. He didn't mean it in a bad way, it was just too strange that the two of you were so close, yet complete opposites of each other. Annie was a tomboy, silent and calculating, you were dressed in pink from head to toe, loud and outgoing and just so adorable. And you completely ransacked his heart. Reiner was utterly in love with you, and you knew it. So, when he mustered up the courage to ask you out, it did not come as a surprise. In fact, you too crushed on him, and every time you were at their place, your eyes drifted to him, always, all the time. The two of you clicked instantly as a couple, and Reiner could only wonder how on Earth were you single until him, going so far as to asking Annie about your love life and with widened eyes, she hastily dismissed him. See, the thing was that you, despite your bubbly and juvenile personality, were a sick, sadistic dominatrix, and boys were terrified of that. While you usually donned clothing in pastels, flowy dresses and chiffon blouses, half of your closet was filled with garters, suspender belts, corsets, some in the deepest shades of red, others black, materials varying from lace to latex. Whenever you had a guy over and pulled out whips, riding crops or ball gags, they would disappear from the face of the Earth, never evercalling you back. Annie knew this about you but never judged. To each their own, she would say, not exactly caring about your kinks. But she wouldn't know how Reiner would react to that, and while intrigued to find out, she didn't want you two to break up either. Deep down she cared about all of her friends, despite the aloof attitude.

Three months into your relationship, you still politely declined Reiner's offers to have sex. He was incredibly sweet, treating you like a princess, and in return you were supportive and caring, but fearing that he, too, might run away after learning about your kinks, you kept finding excuses to deny him. At one point he even asked you if you have some sort of STD, genuinely concerned but promising to still be with you no matter what. You promised you were clean, but that only made him more curious as to why you wouldn't have him. 'You're not attracted to me?' or 'Am I doing something wrong?' were his usual questions and your heart broke in thousands of pieces each time you refused him. He seemed like the kind of man who dominated in bed, and while you were inclined to switch it out sometimes, you always, always had to have it your way the first time you fucked a guy.

Eventually Reiner couldn't take it anymore. He called you, begged you to explain yourself to him and you ceased to try and keep him away from the carnal pleasure you both desired. You invited him over, offering to cook dinner and disclose what you had managed to hide for so long. He popped at your door with a bouquet of daffodils, matching the honey-yellow apron tied around your waist, his eyes were needy and woeful, still believing it's his fault that you two haven't had sex yet. He kissed you on the lips, starving for more, but you pulled back, opting to discuss things first.

"So," you began, legs crossed under the table and anxiously swirling spaghetti with your fork, "I... shit, I don't even know how to say it."

"Y/N, whatever it is, I promise it won't change what I feel for you." Reiner caressed your cheek so gently that you felt sorry for dragging him into this.

"I think it's best if I show you." You got up, took hold of his hand and guided him into your bedroom. The chamber perfectly reflected your personality, with garlands and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, doodles and drawings taped to the walls and stuffed toys bundled up on your baby blue bedsheets. "You better sit down for this, babe."

"Jesus, how bad can it be?"

With a sigh, you swung open the closet door, revealing the strangest of sex toys, erotic lingerie and high heeled footwear. Reiner erupted into laughter, throwing himself on your bed and holding his abdomen.

"Why exactly are you laughing?" Your voice was serious, dangerous almost, your body lacking a reaction.

"You're telling me you didn't wanna have sex because, what? You're into BDSM?"

"I don't think you get it, Reiner. I'm not just into it, I like dominating men." You frowned, taken aback by his attitude. He perked his ears up and sat up, suddenly attentive, his gaze locking with yours.

"Do you want to dominate me?" The blond asked, unsure of what it would feel like, but inquisitive to try.

"If you'll let me, yes." You bit your lip, fingers smoothing the apron.

"Fuck it, if it makes you happy, I'll let you do whatever you want to me." Reiner declared, palms on his knees. "Do I need a safe word?"

"Not tonight, I'll go easy on you." You beamed, eyes glistening with so much joy and he almost regretted his decision.

Almost.

Tied up, naked and helpless, Reiner could only watch how you strutted into the bedroom, latex corset around your waist, tits out, riding crop in hand.

"Shit, you look so-" crack.

The thin object met with his cheek and he groaned in pain, confusion written all over his face.

"You speak when I allow it, understood?" And he nodded desperately. "Good boy. Maybe if you behave, I'll reward you."

It was then when Reiner realised how easily his dick hardened when he submitted. It was then when he realised how much he loved you.

You dragged the crop across his body, goosebumps all over his skin, before you propped one foot on the bed, spreading your legs and exposing your wet cunt to him. You could've sworn you saw his pupils dilating when your fingers barely touched the slick slit.

"You want this, Reiner?"

"Yes!" The man almost cried out, licking his lips. Crack. Another hit, this time over his thigh and he whimpered — the sound was music to your ears.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, please!"

"That's better." You hummed, slightly spreading your folds, foot still on the bed. Your middle finger rubbed around your clit, a quiet moan escaping your lips. "Tell me how much you want it!"

Pulling at his restraints, Reiner sighed. Never has he felt so overpowered, but the pleasure he took from it was slowly seeping in his brain, clouding his judgment.

"I need you, Y/N. I need to feel you so bad, please!"

"You gotta earn it first." Voice aggressive yet seductive, you climbed on top of him, feet at the sides of his head. "Lick it good and I'll reward you. Do a bad job and I'll punish you." And before he could utter a word you were straddling his face. His tongue sloppily licked everything it could, in or around your cunt, and you forcefully grabbed the metallic bedframe with one hand, your other one fondling your soft tits. Your moans echoed in the room as you moved your hips for more friction, your breath hitching, his cock twitching. "Atta boy!" You groaned and slid off of him.

"Did I do well?" Reiner asked, hope glistening in his eyes.

"Very well." You snickered and pressed your lips onto his to taste yourself in a sinful kiss.

"Can I get my reward?" The man asked after you pulled away, a mixture of saliva and slickness at the corners of your mouth.

"Oh, I don't know..." You scrunched your nose.

"Please, Y/N! I've been good, I- I need you around my dick, please!" He begged, not even caring how desperate he sounded and that only made you feel like a goddess. You picked up the riding crop and dragged it up and down his shaft, terror in his eyes.

"I wonder how much it would hurt." You mused, head tilted and mischief in your voice.

"No, no, you said it was good! Please don't punish me-"

"Oh, don't be stupid." You rolled your eyes, climbing back on top of him. "I need that dick as much as you do." And with that, your hand helped push his cock in between your folds, painstakingly slowly taking it all in. "Fuck, you're big."

The sound of skin against skin tickled your brain, your hips moving up and down, your cunt clenching around his throbbing member.

"Please..." Reiner groaned.

"Please what?" You threw your head back, the pressure forming in your core making you moan louder.

"Please choke me!" He asked and you almost stopped moving, taken aback by his request.

"I'm beginning to think you like being dominated, love." You grinned, your fingers lightly squeezing his neck.

"God, you're so tight!" The man bucked his hips, the unexpected thrust earning a whimper out of you. "Harder, choke me harder!"

"Fuck, Reiner!" The grip around his neck tightened and your moves became frantic, animalistic. "You like that? You like the way I fuck you?"

"Mhm!" He eagerly nodded, unable to speak.

"Look at you, so small and pathetic." You panted, feeling your climax close and his cock pulsating. "Oh, are you gonna come? Go on, do it, come for me!" You cried out, legs violently quaking as the sticky hot liquid dripped out of your folds, down his shaft. For a moment neither of you moved. You looked at Reiner through strands of Y/H/C that draped over your face, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. Your hands extended and you untied the ropes around his wrists, falling next to your boyfriend on the mattress, cum leaking out of your cunt.

"Do you still... love me?" You whispered, your voice shy, completely different to the woman you were five seconds ago.

"Babe, of course! And to be fair, it was so hot submitting to you." Reiner pulled you to his chest, fingers brushing your cheek. "Say, think we can switch it up next time?"

"Nope!" You smiled and rested your forehead on his shoulder.

"Eh, at least I tried." The man shrugged. "In all seriousness, though, don't hide things like these from me. If this is what you like then I respect that, Y/N."

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Most boys ran, but Reiner was a man, and he was clearly going to stay.

"Maaaaybe we can switch next time. But only if you behave!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

[mothfishing]

i found a post from ages ago where i talked abt some stuff and said i would talk abt zommoth later and never did. so here that is now...(with some doodles to break it up bc this is long, all with alt text)

and a readmore vv

i've always liked the idea that the other cordyceps are not necessarily mindless? yeah that means you're killing a bunch of them but TO be fair you also "kill" a bunch of wasps who are under mind control to attack you so. i don't think the battles have to be taken literally. anyway

i've always seen leif's relative stability in comparison to the other cordyceps as mostly being a result of, well...leif found oldleif when they were unconscious and dying. oldleif may have been having delirious dreams of the things leif knows most clearly...muze, his parents, elizant i, and so on, all positive memories. so that's what leif latches onto and makes the foundation of his identity. he wishes he were oldleif so, so bad

but then what does this mean for the other cordys? they were all forcibly injected into bugs who were in a very scary situation! and of course those bugs hate that they've been kidnapped and now they're being infected and turned into horrible monsters. and for the cordyceps themselves, they are in a scary situation too having been experimented on beforehand by the roach scientists, and now being injected into hosts that are experiencing massive amounts of fear and pain, which would only exasperate the cordys' own such feelings...so i think most cordys did their best to block out host memories in a way leif didn't. the end result is that leif has a reference point for a normal life that the others don't. and the others are far more miserable for it because all they know is this horrible lab and lack the stable foundation of someone else's happiest memories. they're all really badly traumatized and dealing with it badly, basically.

zommoth in particular, i feel, is someone who hates and blames bugs for what happened to it. the roaches were bugs after all, and the experiments performed on it and its siblings were in their eyes all for the sake of bugs (even though in reality it was really only for the benefit of some roaches - not even all of them, considering the watcher). also, it was despised by its host...which is not the poor moth's fault at all. but to zommoth, who has only ever known bugs as horrible people doing horrible things, it's more rejection and more fuel for resentment

(side note but it's fun how cerice, leif's beta concept, was a purple moth...and zommoth is purple, even though i think that's from the poison magic and that wasn't its host's original coloration)

anyway, just like every other cordy host, zommoth's host dies...and zommoth remains, having locked away its host's memories and having a huge amount of hatred for bugs and ESPECIALLY for roaches.

so it kills all of them. they had it coming.

in the art book, there's a blurb about zommoth that reads, "For some reason, it did not wish to escape and chose to protect its holding room." which is interesting wording, huh..."protect". from who? bugs clearly don't come here very often. there seems to be no way for the team to close the doors once they're opened. everyone else in the lab is its fellow cordyceps.

maybe zommoth doesn't leave its chamber because it feels suspicious and resentful of the outside world...this lab is a horrible place full of nothing but bad memories, but zommoth's opinion of bugs is so poor, and all of its memories of bugs are of them as horrible creatures who hurt it and all its siblings. so it's better to stay in the one place where it already knows it killed all the bugs here. the outside world is much more dangerous and frightening

i really do think all the time about the potential in convincing the cordys that the world will not be so cruel and to come out and get the chance to live real lives...

some contrast between leif and zommoth to me is like. while leif latched onto the idea of oldleif's life to the point of suppressing who and what he really is, zommoth hates their host to the point of it being very unhealthy, especially since it's not actually the case that zommoth was so easily able to escape being influenced by their host at all. whether they like it or not.

which causes some amount of clash between them, i think, even in a situation where zommoth's been calmed down...they're just an angry person with very little by way of support, and their worldview is very different from leif's.

but at the same time, they both have a perspective that the other lacks. zommoth is someone who very ardently refuses to be anything than what they are, and leif is someone who would rather be anything else to the point he gave himself amnesia. so while leif has a better time adjusting and connecting to other people because he isn't quite so bitter and stubborn as zommoth, zommoth's worldview doesn't lack value either, because unlike leif it would have never called itself "just some thing". that was what the roaches would have said, after all. it has a bit more self respect than that

(swap AU between those two would be very fun and i've thought a lot about that...but this is a very long post already)

some miscellaneous headcanons:

they actually also really like cute things. a pet would do wonders for their emotional stability.

it also enjoys spy cards, but is into spectating in a way leif isn't. it can actually get extremely agitated when watching a match if the person it's rooting for is playing badly. it may start lashing its tail around and knocking over nearby people...

its body being so fungified is because of the resentment it has for bugs...it has no love for bugs and thus kind of ruins this bug body it was injected into in a very bitter and somewhat self sabotaging gesture. this means zommoth has a "floppy" waist that it has a difficult time holding upright, hence stuff like frequently holding their midsection. they LITERALLY are trying not to fall over

[makethiscanon]

🎶🌞👀🤲 for the ask game?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Of course! Music is my imagination's lifeblood. I tend to listen to emotive scores from movies and video games, but once in a while I'll find a song with lyrics that really speak to me. It's usually the songs that speak of finding somewhere to belong, or that things can change with enough belief.

At the moment, I've got 'There's a Place for Us' by BYU Noteworthy (originally by Carrie Underwood) on loop for inspiration.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

Last thing at night or very first thing in the morning while the world (and my head) is quiet. Once there's too much stimulation in front of me, be it sound or distraction, I can't keep my thoughts together enough to concentrate, so I do my best work in moments of peace.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Oh no. Not my mountain of WIPs 😂 I've been writing a self-indulgent piece recently to wind down after work, where nothing much really happens.

It's actually an Animal Crossing/My Hero Academia crossover, but it's an iyashikei fic (there's no English word equivalent, but it's a genre of writing in japan known as a slice of life story with healing properties for its calm and tranquil atmosphere).

Basically reader lives on an island with my 2 favourite villagers, Goldie & Sherb, plus Ojiro, and it's all about them growing the island into a beautiful place to live for Tom Nook. 0 drama. 0 tension or angst. Lots of peaceful fun.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

I've picked a different WIP from the last question so there's some variety. This is actually a snippet from my introductory fic for Mimi Mahoro, the shy horror queen:

“Attention, everyone. We have a new student joining us today.”

Aizawa’s voice rippled out over the general hum of Class 1-A at the beginning of morning homeroom.

As class transfers were rare and school transfers were almost unheard-of, the announcement shut everyone up at once. Gossiping ceased and even idle notebook-doodling halted.

Holding his students’ undivided attention, Aizawa raised an arm towards the door to welcome someone inside. The class remained still, their curiosities gluing them to their seats with their lips sealed shut.

“This is Miss Mahoro. Transferring mid-semester can be daunting, so please make her feel welcome and included.”

The door opened. Excitement built. Midoriya pulled out his notepad to take notes, and everyone sat up straighter in anticipation.

But no one came in. The collective excitement quickly slipped to confusion. Aizawa cleared his throat then gestured to the door again as if to urge the person inside.

Finally, after what seemed like a very long pause, a girl shuffled into the room. She kept her head low, clinging to the back wall like her life depended on it. But despite the clear bout of nerves, she made it all the way to Aizawa’s desk then held onto it like a lifeline, lifting her head to finally meet the class’s collective gaze.

“I’m M—M-Mimi Mahoro. L-looking forward to working with- with you.”

Her voice was so incredibly quiet and jittery that it barely reached past the first row of desks.

In comparison to many of her new classmates, Mahoro didn’t leave much of an impression. Perhaps her only discerning feature was her long, brown hair, as there was enough of it to style into thick pigtails with ample extra billowing freely down her back and shoulders. Heavy bangs hid the left side of her face, and her pale, almost sickly skin suggested that she had been a NEET until very recently.

It was customary to offer up information about oneself during an introduction, but as Mahoro seemed to have used up all her inner strength just to say her name, Aizawa stepped in on her behalf. Those in the front row could see she was shaking like a leaf.

“Thank you, Miss Mahoro. If you would like to take your seat, you’ll be just behind Mister Midoriya.”

Dutifully, Midoriya raised his hand to show her where to sit.

Mahoro nodded, looking a little less panicky after being relieved of her public speaking duty. She bowed to the class then kept her head low as she weaved between the desks, making a beeline for her chair. Once she was seated, she immediately looked out the window to prevent any accidental eye-locking.

Her classmates did indeed turn to look at her, but Aizawa cleared his throat to garner their attention.

“Furthermore, I have news regarding your midterms."

A collective groan rose up amongst the students. With the prospect of getting to know their new classmate, the last thing they wanted to do instead was think about their impending failure on the upcoming exams.

“Groan all you want. You might be ahead in terms of practical work, but your scores on the mock written tests tell me there’s still a lot to do. We’ll be shifting class-time to focus on theory over practical, and I sorely suggest you find study groups during free periods. Some of you will benefit from them more than others.”

He did not try to hide the way his gaze fell on Kirishima, Kaminari and Ashido. The latter chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of her pink head.

“Roger dodger, sir.”

As Aizawa returned his attention to the rest of the class, Ashido’s shoulders sagged. Kaminari leaned over to pat her consolingly on the back, as he was equally deflated for knowing he was part of the Bad Scores Brigade again.

“Yaomomo might tutor us, if we ask nicely?”

“Let’s buy her chocolates as a bribe.”

------

Thank you again for another fun set of asks! ♡

[idjitlili]

Don’t stop me now

Spike btvs x reader

Summary:Imagine looking like  Freddie Mercury as a woman like in a 'I want to break free' with a hoover  dancing only for an 100+ vampire to join in, unknowingly.

A/n: what can I say , I've been busy with college , and I'm British so we know spike is gonna know Queen too.

Word count: 3891 Y/c=country(or just a state in America I don't know, the whole world isn't America lol.

It was strange to say the least; working for wolfram & hart, you had came from y/c to here, working for a law firm run by a vampire with a soul.  

Mental if you ask yourself , you had known Wesley when you was younger, actually he had brought you a ticket to Los Angeles , since your parental figure had called him , and let him know about everything really. Well just that you were now y/a , and in need of a job. That was it you were here now.

You weren't sure what your job was really , you definitely was not a social butterfly, Wesley had mentioned you had to crack codes? Now that you think about it , something to do with researching different demon rituals? That's not the correct word , anyways to do that had write summaries for Angel's upcoming meetings with these different species.

You ever had your own office, you could live in there honestly.  

There was a lot going on all the time, frankly it was kinda scary , knowing no one apart from Wesley, who clearly knotted up by the scientist, Fred. Yet you was always invited to the important meetings , you had guessed Wes had put in a word , to help you feel welcome or included. There wasn't really a purpose for you being there.

You were a little nervous that maybe one of them, probably the vampire ,Angel , not knowing that the blond British man was one too, could read your mind. What would he find the that  was terrifying (except you read dirty smut) . You were sat by Wes , at the end of the table closest to the window. Which also meant you were sat next to Angel, with the jelled blond bad boy opposite you.

"Okay, so cannibal vampire cult...what's with that, and why is that a problem?" Angel had began , with the same brooding face as , he had on 24 hours a day.  

Gunn , had cleared his throat briefly, causing everyone to turn their heads towards him. "Well, it's quite simple, they are killing all our clients."  Yeah this was waste of your life, you had already began doodling on the notepad in front of you. Unknowingly forgetting you were in an 'significant'  meeting.  

Not knowing how much time had gone by, felt like hours , freshly finished school and know you were here? Sucky. You were only jolted out of your thoughts when a foot had nudged yours, looking up slowly to the man in front of you , waiting for your reaction.

He was quite handsome you could not deny that, a small blush had raised to your cheeks , as he had caught you in a trance of boredom, you had lifted your eyebrows at him in confusion. With nothing but a smirk in response you had tried to listen again to the meeting.

"So you are saying we need bait? But who would we use? This whole place is monsters, "  Fred's face with disgust at the word 'monsters' as she delivered her thoughts, Wes thought for a moment his hand at his lip, indicting so as he looked at the pine table.  

"No,not necessarily," He had gestured to you , all eyes on you, feeling like a stripper, wow this is attention? Blush upon your face once again,"w-wha" choking on your own words ,before Angel had shook his head "Absolutely not, Wes, that's not fair."

"Yeah! I'm human too."

"And me, hey! So are you Wes."

"Uhhh, Mister Angel, " What else was you supposed to call him? Dad?  He had looked at you from the disagreement, nodding for you to go on.  

"S-say if I was, uh, what's the chances of me dying?"   The pencil in your hands being gripped tightly in your now sweaty palms, but Angel is not given chance to reply. "He wouldn't allow that, love. Would you 'mister' Angel" the blond vampire smirk was evident as he looked at the brooding brunette.

"Hold on a second, why do they want a human, if they are cannibal?" Okay that did make sense, use your ears y/n.

"They can't just drink each other , they need something other than other vampires. That's only when they actually find one of ours." Yeah, you guess that the blond man did make sort of sense, you had just "hm" in response.

You had turned to Wesley, gesturing for him to come closer, so that you could whisper into his ear, the rest watched in confusion. Hold on Angel still didn't answer your question. "Uh, um, did you volunteer me because I'm a virgin? Does that make me more attractive to the vampires?" You had really hoped that no one had super hearing, Wes pondered for a second, your hand still on his shoulder.

"I'm not quite sure, I'm probably not the best person to ask , you should bring that up with Angel." Wow thank you , so much. You moved back into sitting in your chair correctly. Twiddling your thumbs, to pretend like no one was looking at you,felt like hours that you were sat there, before your foot was nudged again, you peeped up to see the same blond man looking at you. Who else is it going to be? Johnny Depp? No.

"Come on ,love." You weren't even sure of his name, and he was calling you love. Instead of speaking you had just stared back blankly. Most awkward meeting. "Would you just ask me then? Surely it's not that bad,no one else has to hear." Only his Spike saw the look Angel was giving him, awww soft boy. He did not seem like he was evil..only if you knew him a couple of years ago.

You had stood up, in hopes spike would do the same,so you wouldn't have to kneel next to him and whisper. He stood up as you made your way to him , moving away from the table, before turning back to the others. "You lot carry on, " With that he led you away out of Angel's office to an empty one. This is so dramatic but you don't really want to be talking about your virginity to these people, well except spike.

"So,love, what's the problem?" He had towered over you, he was quite handsome yes, but you felt intimidated in honesty. "Uh,well, since I'm going to be bait...well ,um,  Are virgins more at risk at being snacked on? If that makes a difference to vampires? Oh I'm sorry, uh I-" he let out a chuckle at you, you moved your gaze to your feet. Why did you have to wear these heels, you didn't see Patrick swayze anywhere.

"Yes, they can smell it as soon as you walk into a room and it tastes different to other humans. ,love."

"W-wait how do you know?"

"I've had my fair share, now come on , love-come on I'm not going to eat you."

"Pfft- I'm not a virgin."

"Sure love,"

And with that you both headed back to the meeting , before you left to be bait Fred had informed you Spike had a soul like Angel after you had questioned him to her and Wesley.

Now you were in the middle of a park at 1 am , which happened to be not even a mile from the vampire base. It was freezing , in a poncho with a tank top, apparently to show off your neck under the street light, you were pretty sure that the vampires didn't give a shit if you were wearing Michael Myers mask.  

Ah yes, first day on the job, risks of death 99.9% , lovely.

What exactly are you supposed to do?  Pretty sure that mister mysterious and mister Stevie Nicks/vanilla ice are hiding in the bushes or something. Oh how you wish that Keanu Reeves would swoop you away from this situation.  

Stood in the open park, kicking the mud with you shoe , well until you are body slammed backwards onto the floor, by obviously an indeed ugly vampire. Where's David from lost boys you wouldn't mind if it was him , but this dude stank. He was not even a second away from biting you- wait sorry his fangs were in your neck.  It hurt like period pains in your neck, well until it was over , when he was yanked off by a blurry figure , as you felt your body being lifted, that was it.

You had woken up the next morning under a blanket on the sofa in your office, a plaster on your neck, water on the table. You were never going to do that , with the huge headache and the low sugar levels. As you looked down realising your movie white tank top was now drenched in blood. Deciding it was best to go talk to someone to go home, you left the office.

Your heels now discarded , your bare feet padding against the carpet floor , all the way to Angels office, Harmony informing you that he was in a meeting with the others. One brief knock on the pine door, was all it took for the similar brooding vampire had opened the door , gesturing you in.

Okay it was a bit naughty to not changed the blood stained tank, since there are two vampires in the room. Soon you were sat exactly where you were 24 hours ago, as were everyone else. "Uh, um ," No one was speaking , just staring at you really. "Y/n, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have forced you into doing that , I didn't mean for you to get hurt." Wesley was undoubtedly guilty, probably thinking about how made your parental figure was going to be more like.

"I just like to say, I could've gotten aids."

"Uh, that's not how that works." Fred was honestly shaken by your words, well not really she just thought well actually you don't know.

"That was just dramatic effect. I'm quite annoyed , I did not want fucking Edward sucking me like I was juice carton. Did you even kill the cult?" Your voice sounded like sandpaper, as you delivered your anger with pop culture references and dramatic gestures.

"Yeah we did, well not me but still." Lorne smiled at you with concern , he had felt sympathy for you , hoping the bite wouldn't scar.

"Well good, um, I was wondering if I could go home now? Please?" You already hate this job, Angel had nodded, queuing you to stand up , doing a small bow in respect , going home to have a bath and sleep.

Wesley had called you not long after you gotten home , to inform you that you had been given an extra few days off. Wow first day then long weekend, mental.

Once you had gotten back on Monday, your neck was not healed still, but you had to come back otherwise you was going to be homeless.

Surprisingly , the work was easy , too easy, but you weren't to complain... there was tv with a DVD player, you were absolutely chuffed. It happened that you had brought cds in your bag accidentally. After storing those cds in that bag when coming to Los Angeles.

So , you did work through your work a little too fast, nothing to do, so since the demon cleaners  suck arse , and didn't clean up the blood from last week, you had went and gotten a Hoover and cleaning supplies. Queen and david bowie, playing on the tv, you know you can use DVD players to play cds, if you didn't know.

Maybe it was a little bad you playing slightly loud music while hoovering, dancing as you went, it was a shitty Hoover so it was taking a while. Your cardigan and heels discarded, your forehead laced with sweat, what could you say who does like Queen. Thus I want to break freebegan to play.

"I want to break free I want to break free I want to break free from your lies," The fact this song was a parody of coronation street. As soon as the beat began , you had also began aggressively Hooving, the long dramatic strides, even the the lip twitches as you lip-synced.

"You're so self satisfied I don't need you I've got to break free God knows, God knows I want to break free," You had stopped to flip the fringe of your hair , before resting your hands on your hips , the self confident head shake, another hair flip out of your face.

"I've fallen in love I've fallen in love for the first time And this time I know it's for real I've fallen in love, yeah God knows, God knows I've fallen in love It's strange but it's true, yeah,"

Obviously you couldn't take your shirt off , like Freddie, but yeah your skirt rising up , blouse too buttons undone was enough. Your hands hands spread out like a star for moments, you didn't know that Spike had heard the music and began to locate the source.

"I can't get over the way you love me like you do But I have to be sure When I walk out that door. Oh, how I want to be free, baby Oh, how I want to be free Oh, how I want to break free"

Looking up to the ceiling, arms lift out to the sides , legs apart. Dramatic spin, clenching of fists to your chest. Spike walking up to the do slowly opening it , seeing you shaking your head 'I want to break free' Now some elves but you can't do that your not Legolas. Or cows you are not sure.

Now not sure how you didn't see Spike .  This was embarrassing, spike wasn't copying really, not much anyways. It wasn't long after that dont stop me now started. Wow this is embarrassing. You had just abandon the Hoover at this point.

"I feel alive and the world I'll turn it inside out, yeah And floating around in ecstasy"

Bringing you hands in front  of you up near your neck , wiggling your fingers, spike did the same.

" So don't " You looked forward, "stop," Looked towards the window , as did spike . "me" Back forward. "now" "don't stop me 'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity." Jumping up , scratching like a Tiger standing side on,  moving your arms around you 200 degrees , you were doing a duet , without knowing it.

" I'm a racing car, passing by like Lady Godiva I'm gonna go, go, go" Honestly you don't know how to describe these moves in honesty go watch Paul Rudd do it.

"There's no stopping me I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah." Your arms almost touching spikes as you lift them up as you circle your arse in a small circle, before pointing up.

"Two hundred degrees That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit"  

Okay you had climb onto the desk , spot Spike oh my god , you couldn't of represented the fear , well until he had threw his jacket on the sofa ripped his shirt off, winking at you, shaking his shoulders.

"I'm traveling at the speed of light I wanna make a supersonic man out of you "

"Don't" you had wiggled yours back, before pointing at the platinum vampire,gesturing him to come to you .

"stop me now, I'm having such a good time I'm having a ball Don't stop me now"  As he reached you , you held out your hands for him , helping him up onto the table.

"If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call" Each of you looking at each other, as you danced ,sorta looking like Rick I'm never going to give you up, a lot of twisting , and hand movements.

"Don't" "stop" " me now ('cause I'm having a good time) Don't stop me now (yes, I'm havin' a good time)" Spike had grabbed your hands twirling you, ending up with you in front of him facing away. Throwing out thumbs up to the side of you as you got closer to the desk top.

"I don't want to stop at all" Before rising your arms up , Spike pulling you up, honestly if you knew him deeply you wouldn't believe that he would do this, he's a vampire.

"Yeah, I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars On a collision course I am a satellite, I'm out of control I am a sex machine, ready to reload. Like an atom bomb about to Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh explode." Throwing your head back then forwards quickly , with your leg up, clicking your finger.

"I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah Two hundred degrees That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit" Neither of you had noticed the music had gained more attention then you may of realised , Angel ,Wesley, Gunn, Fred and Lorne were hiding behind the sofa.

"Don't stop me, don't stop me Don't stop me, hey, hey, hey"

Spike jumped off of the table turning back to you , five feet away, holding his arms out to catch you.

"Don't stop me, don't stop me Ooh ooh ooh, I like it"

With that you had jumped, (Spike watched dirty dancing? Probably Harmony's fault.) Effortlessly he had caught you you lifting you up, for a few seconds.

"Don't stop me, don't stop me Have a good time, good time"

Lowering you down slowly , your arms around his neck, panting slightly, uh he wasn't sweaty , he's dead but you were covered in sweaty.

Soon enough the song came to an end , you were still in the vampires embrace , his arms around your shoulders securing you.

It hasn't even been an minutes ,clapping begins, someone turns of the Hoover and the music. You both turn around slowly pulling out of the embrace to see , the brooding Angel laughing with everyone.

"Bloody hell, perverts much." Annoyance interweaved in Spikes voice, you could share that embarrassment.

Looking at your feet realising how inappropriate you look , your blouse now see through due to the sweat , the cotton clinging to your body, wrapping your arms around yourself, to cover."uh , Angel , I was only cleaning and that because, um I completed my work, uhh there was still blo-""it's fine, as long as you are feeling better, " you had nodded at him before going back to looking at your feet.

Moments go by with silence from you and Spike as the others are talking away , no doubt about you two. You are soon pulled out of your trance when a heavy weight is placed on your shoulders , looking up to see Spike placing his long leather jacket on you , sending you a small smirk before walking out of your office , still shirtless.

"I haven't seen him like that in a long time, he is fond of you." With that Angel left too. " Aw, I'm glad you are settling in y/n/n , I just never thought you would do so ,by dancing to Queen with a vampire." Wesley had patted your back , leaving with Fred who just smiled , followed by Gunn and Lorne.

Thus you grabbed your stuff , to go home , you had danced to the end of the day. Walking out of the office , hoping Harmony didn't see you and kill you for Spike giving you his jacket.

She had already gone thank god , no death today, the next day , you had brought Spikes jacket with you. In search of him in the morning, you had hidden it in your bag , heading to Harmony's desk.  

"Uh, have you seen Spike today?" Please don't kill me. She had looked up at you with a polite smile. "He's literally just left Angel's office, something about going to taking a car or something? Why?"

"Oh, I just need to pass a message from Wesley to him, thank you." You had lied , but you hoped that Wesley would go with it, if she asked him.  Rushing down to Angel's private car park, in hopes of catching Spike, which you did but he almost hit you with the car.

Your hands placed on the hood, breathing roughly before moving to the drivers side , as he rolled down the window, smirking yet again. The car had had black out windows so you guess that's why he was going out in the day?

"Awe, all out of breathe for me , love?" You had ignored his comment , pulling out his heavy jacket from your bag, passing it to him.  "Cheers,love." You had nodded, turning away to head back up.  That was it until about 2:45 , again all your work was done, just sitting there doing nothing, but twiddling your thumbs.

So you decided , maybe you should go get some air outside, or go home you weren't sure. Swinging the office door open to see , Spike.

"Ah, oh Hi."

"Going somewhere, love?" Well that sounded like a threat , but he was not smirking like I'm going to chop your fucking head off.

"I don't know really , I think I'm going home."

"I'll drive you."

"Really?" He didn't seem to be the type to drop you off home to to your mother , not that she was there, but still, he had nodded , and that was it you walked with him. Until  Harmony stopped you both, she had frowned slightly before smiling again.

"So you got the message from Wesley then, spike?" You looked at Spike who didn't notice you looking , just stood looking at the blonde girl in confusion,until you pretend to resist your bag accidentally knocking him with bag.

"Yeah,"  

"What was it?"

"Mind your own business, wanker." With that he had walked around her with you ,guiding you with his arm around your shoulder.

Once you were both were sat in the car , you had given Spike your address , immediately he had started driving.  "So what was that about?"

"Well, uh, Wesley informed me about everyone ,  said you had something with Harmony, and she's a vampire. So I asked where you were this morning to give back your jacket but didn't want to say that, just in case she tried to eat me." Spike had let out a laugh, "I can see your concern, love , she's a bloody nightmare." You had let out a small laugh of understanding.

"Hey, do you still eat food?."

"Yeah, not a lot , but sometimes I do, why do you ask?"

" y-you've been very nice to me , since I'd been here, and you are driving me home.. uh so I was wondering if you would like to come in and have something. I don't have blood , uh other than my own and uh I lost a lot of that last week. You don't have to , um, I jus-" "I will, love,"

"Oh brilliant, uh I make some nice cookies."

"Great, love. Can't wait."

[halfway-happyyy]

Dream In Gold

AN: I got inspired by an ask I got recently, so here ya go. Chock-FULL of fluff, some slight sexual innuendos, reader is reunited with the Swedish giant after some time away. 

“What are you thinking about?”

The line had grown silent; the only sound between the pair of you was the all too familiar crackle of the telephone wire.

You cleared your throat and out of the corner of your eye, noticed that the clock next to your bed read 11:58 pm your time which made it almost 5 in the morning in Iceland where Alexander currently was. “I've been dying to ask you a question…”

“Well go on then,” He murmured sleepily.

“Have you had a chance to visit the penis museum yet?”

A beat on the other end, before Alexander laughed loud and heartily. “If you mean to say, have I had a chance to visit the Icelandic Phallological Museum, the answer would be no. We’re pretty tied up with shooting now, my love.” He took a gulp of coffee. “Shall I bring you back a keepsake if I do happen to make an appearance?”

The teasing lilt to his voice, combined with the accent caused your heart to ache in the best possible way. “Mm, yes please. I would like a phallic-shaped paper weight.”

“A paper weight, hey? A girl who knows what she wants. Well I’ll see what I can do, kid.”

You could feel yourself getting drowsy with fatigue, your eyelids had begun to grow heavier with each passing minute. “I miss you, Alex.” You stifled the yawn you could feel coming on.

“I miss you so much it hurts... Though I think it may be time to say goodnight, no?”

“It absolutely is. I’ll see you in two weeks… will you give my love to Bill?”

Another sip of coffee. “I will right now. Sleep well my love.”

It never ceased to amaze you how fast time flew when you and Alex were apart. That wasn’t to say that the distance was easy all the time- quite the contrary. But the reunions always seemed to have a knack for allowing everything else to dissipate. The anticipation at the airport was a palpable thing; waiting with your arms tight to your body, frowning inwardly each time someone who wasn’t him entered through the double doors. And then that feeling when you did finally catch sight of him in all his 6’4’’ glory, towering above the gaggles of people in front of him. It was the knowing smile etched across his features, and the way his glassy blue eyes still managed to sparkle in the dank light around him. Watching him walk towards you had just about the same effect on you as looking directly into the ball of fire in the sky, and yet you always found yourself powerless to look away. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until he wrapped his arms around you, inhaled your scent, and murmured, “God I missed you, kid.”

Would you order in or would you take a stroll a few blocks away to have dinner at Gemma? The hardest decision either of you would have to make for the next week while he was off. He ended up opting for Gemma, which didn’t bother you at all- he could have suggested ramen from that hole in the wall a block away and you still would have said yes. And so, the two of you conversed for over two hours together at a tiny booth tucked away in the corner of the restaurant. You lost count of the number of wine glasses consumed, completely sated on delicious food and overwhelming amounts of love. “Working with Bill has been just the best thing.”

“And Iceland?”

Alexander brought the edge of the wine glass to his lips, took a long sip and grinned around the rim of the glass. “Iceland is wonderful. Only thing missing was you.”

The walk home, though chilly, was a welcome reprieve to the flush of your skin caused by the wine consumed. You were dizzy and slightly breathless, and you knew the culprit to blame was the sirrah, but also the warmth of Alex’s much larger hand around yours and the anticipation of what the week with him had in store for you.

You waited with bated breath as he turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door to your apartment. He tossed the keys into the metal dish next to the closet and waited for you to kick off your heels. “Shall I pour you a nightcap my love?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow and stepping into the kitchen.

“Oh, but of course. Surprise me.”

You made for the bedroom at the end of the hall while he was mixing and opted for a brand-new set of lingerie you had purchased especially for this coming week. You suspected he’d be a little disappointed not to undress you himself, but you pushed the thought from your mind when you remembered he’d have multiple opportunities to do so. You waited patiently at the edge of your bed and listened for the sound of his socked feet against the hardwood floors.

“Ta-da!” He sauntered into your bedroom, double fisting clear, fizzy drinks in two tumblers. He let a whistle escape his lips when he took note of your evening attire. “And what do we have here?” He took a seat next to you, passing over your drink wordlessly. You could feel his gaze on you, could practically see the gears turning in his head; where would he place his lips first? Neck? Clavicle? Breast? He teased a fingertip under the lace strap of your top.

“I should ask you the same thing.” You gestured to the drink in your hand.

“Ah, that is what you would call a Brenn and Tonic. Brennivín being Icelandic schnapps. Try it,”

You did as you were told and were pleasantly surprised at how refreshing it was and how easily it went down. “Those Icelander’s are onto something, aren’t they?”

Alexander grinned at you. “I’ll cheers to that, kid.”

You sat in all-too comfortable silence for a while as you finished your drinks and when he was done, he stood up from the bed, un-looped the belt from his jeans and shimmied them down his legs. You watched in awe as he pulled his boxers off, his socks, and finally (arguably your favourite part), he pulled the dark blue button-up shirt from his body and sat back down, facing the window. A soft rain had started to fall sometime between when you got home and now, and you watched the water droplets race each other in lines down the pane of the bay window. Wordlessly, you moved across the bed to sit behind him, tracing gentle patterns up and down the expanse of his ever-expanding muscled arms. Your favourite things about the Swede currently cuddled into you? The delicate, crinkled lines next to his eyes that told everyone he spent a lot of his time laughing and smiling. You loved his wicked sense of humor and that he possessed the ability to make you laugh until you had to pee, even when you wanted to wring his neck. You loved the cadence of his accent, the obvious adoration for his family and homeland, and the way he made love to you like it was the first and last time he’d ever touch you again.

“I missed this, Alex.”

He hummed happily and tilted his head back to rest in the crook of your collarbone. “I know, kid. Me too.”

It was late into the evening when he was finished with you, tired, and inexplicably blissed-out you fell asleep effortlessly to the familiar sensation of his arms wrapped around you. When you awoke hours later, the evening rain had given way to a gloriously sunny spring morning, beams of light shone through the cracks of your drapes, bathing you in a warm glow. You glanced at the corner of your bedside table and let out a loud laugh when you noticed the object there. Alexander had placed a pink, penis-shaped paper weight over a note that read ‘Cock-a-doodle-doo! Gone to grab coffee. Love you the most – A’ in his loopy script.

And it was mornings like these, that made life incredible beyond all reason.