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sometimesanalice · 11 months ago

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Fab! You lovely gem!

Oh my goodness! I am so touched you'd take the time to write this for me! Thank you so much! I am so, so happy you liked it!!

Miss Ma'am is definitely living the dream here! (and it's absolutely like one of her christmas movies! which bradley is vv much a fan of as well, even if he is reluctant to admit it, haha!)

more for you!

“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.” Aww him buying her the pink tree of her dreams is something that fills me with joy every time I think about it🥹- you and me both! literally the image of it was too strong and its what inspired to write my first ever fanfic! he's just so happy making her happy that it makes me all 🥰

“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.” The little glass Hawaiian shirt ornament completely captured my heart!-- here it is! in all it's shiny, floral patterned glory! would it be weird if i ordered one for my own tree?? lolol

“You would gladly never have a real tree again as long as it meant that Bradley got to be yours forever” I absolutely agree with this thought, I would give up anything for Bradley!- I'd be chucking every single pine tree candle into the trash and moving into a cement jungle if it meant I'd have a bradley! haha

“But this year, your pretty pink tree has some new decorations that you’d collected along the way since then.” It's so beautiful how every decoration they put on the tree has a meaning or reminds them of something, this makes it even more unique and special.-- i had so much fun thinking up their Spotify Wrapped of a year, if you will! I tend to revisit them for holidays (one halloween, two christmas fics) but I really wanted to give people a peek into what their year together looked like. And I thought it would be fun to tie it into how it shows up on their big fluffy pink tree!

“And after a year of planning, the two of you had finally been able to enact your Stealthy Soufflé Scheme.” I was just waiting to know if their plan had been successful!- ahh! he woo-ed that recipe gatekeeper so hard she had no idea what hit her! you know he treated it as serious as he does a mission, that man was not leaving empty handed! he definitely got that seal of approval from her family, which was almost better!

“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.” Apparently they were successful, and Bradley was properly thanked for his work!-- yeah he was hhahahahhaah! 😏

“He was the first boyfriend you’d ever had in there, and if he has his way, he’d also be the last.” Aww who would let go of a wonderful man like Bradley?-- he wants to be the last boyfriend, so he can be the first and only fiancé! the first and only husband! he's playing the long game! get the girl! get the recipe! give her his last name!

“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. I loved so much the little playful teasing from her and the inflatable rooster detail!-- it's so fun because it's a real tree too! there aren't any roosters, but there's a few parrots (not in the picture below unfortunately, but I can’t find the one that has all the inflatable birds on it, but they decorate it every year! The Ocean Beach Christmas tree)

“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.” And this is the difference I love between Bradley and other men. While other men are often "forced" to go to places they don't care about by their girlfriends, Bradley doesn't give much thought to where he is, the important thing for him is to be together with his girlfriend and I love how he is the one who takes her to places where perhaps he wouldn't go alone but he knows she might like them and so to make her happy he takes her🥹-- it really is so sweet just HOW MUCH he thinks about her. If he hears about anything or sees something that he thinks she might like, he's all over it! sending her links, asking if she's interested! and he is like so enthusiastic with it! like are flowers his thing? not so much, but they're hers so he's not going to half-ass it!

“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!” Bradley is a man of many talents!- He's the 1%! he has the range! even if he's still blushing over all the praise!

“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.” I loved how you described this part so much!-- directors cut: so I knew that there was always going to be an ice skating rink element to this story, but when I learned that one of the hotels ACTUALLY SETS ONE UP RIGHT ON THE SAND I LOST MY MIND! the picture on the header for the fic is of that very one! so it was so excited to learn that tidbit and work it in! The visual is such a pretty one!

“easily gliding around you swapping spots so that you’re closer to the edge of the rink rather than the middle.” Bradley is a true gentleman, this gesture made me smile so much, his sweetness never ceases to make me happy.- i love how casual, yet purposeful it is! like he's looking out for his girl and being chivalrous! he's always putting her first!

“The next five hours pass in a twinkling blur of heavy guilt and aching pain.” Oh no, from my experiences with several broken bones and several months spent in casts, I know that this is not a pleasant experience at all😭-- oh you poor thingggg! MULTIPLE?! that is no fun at all! I've only ever broken one when I was a nugget, and don't remember much. So I had to do some research for what it's like when it happens as an adult. no broken bones for you in 2024, i won't allow it!

“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?” I loved this part.-- I just loved a slightly drugged up version of her waxing poetically about how pretty he is. Like she tells him how handsome he is and all of that normally, but like this effusive loose-lipped praise like she's always crushing on him even though they're together just tickles me.

“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.” The image of Bradley washing her hair is something I didn't think I needed so much but I was wrong, it's such a sweet and beautiful image!-- oof! it's such a good one isn't it?!

“The painkillers, the coffee. The man is a saint and looks like a god. And he’s all yours.” He is literally a man to marry!-- HUSBAND MATERIAL

“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?” This speech was so extremely romantic, I loved it with all my heart-- i might have gotten a little teary writing it, haha. i have no shame admiting it! I'm so soft for this man!

“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.”//“You couldn’t wait to see what new ornaments would fill those trees by next year.” Aww they will have so much time to fill the trees with all the new decorations they will buy each year and they will all be so special! I think they will probably need more pink trees to hold all their decorations though!-- a pink tree for every room in the house!! I love that while they're building a life together and making memories, it's also something they get to reflect on together with all the bobbles on their tree! it makes my heart so happy!

thank you so much for this lovely reblog!! I am so beyond happy that you enjoyed this one! Their fluffy pink christmases are so special to me, so I'm thrilled you enjoy them just as much! 💖

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.

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 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

#this reblog made me so happy thank you so much #here have a bradley 🎁#thank you for reading and reblogging!#the babe with the candy colored christmas

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ppersonna · 4 years ago

Text

good for me | ksj - m

“ stay on the ground until your knees hurt. no more praying baby, imma be your preacher ” - church, chase atlantic

✹ summary- You’ve forgotten something very important and your husband, Seokjin, makes sure you never forget it again.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim seokjin x reader

✹ word count- 2.3k

✹ genre- smut, pwp, no plot, you’d have to DIG for a plot, like............. thats all there is to it. there is nothing else.

✹ warnings- hard dom!seokjin, oral sex (m receiving), spanking, degredation, dirty talk, shower sex, established relationship,

✹ a/n- this has been in the drafts for some time. i debated posting it because it literally has no substance LMAOOOOO but hey fuck it. here’s some hard dom jin because 🥵 i needed it. thank u to @chimoona for her help and for my ladies @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen always giving me the hype.

The best part of exercising is the shower afterwards.

Sure, you enjoy the benefits of cardio and weight training, but nothing ever feels as good as a hot steamy shower after you’re drenched in sweat.

It’s what you’re looking forward to as you climb out of your car and trudge your weary body to the front door.

It’s late in the evening now—Seokjin’s car is in the driveway next to yours, and you figure he must have returned home sometime while you were gone. You open the door and call out to your husband, alerting him to your return as you drop your keys onto the entryway table and kick off your gym shoes.

It’s quiet in the house, not a single reply from Seokjin, but you quickly dismiss it. He’s likely busy, or stepped outside to the backyard for a phone call.

It’s no matter. All you can think about is turning on the shower and stepping into the spray and allowing the shower to soothe away tension and wash away the slick.

Your body is sticky with sweat and the bra and legging combo you wore is an unattractive darker color from the moisture. You’re peeling off the clothes as you make your way upstairs towards your shared bedroom. The clothes land somewhere near the laundry basket—you don’t care where—and you’re completely naked by the time your feet touch the marble of the bathroom floor.

The muscles in your body relax the instant you turn the knobs of the shower to hot, as hot as you can make it. It takes a moment to warm up, and you generously use the time to roll out your sore muscles and gaze at your figure in the mirror.

There are still marks on your body from your last playtime with Jin.

Some nights, you have sex with him like a normal, married couple. Missionary, soft and gentle, plenty of emotion and sweet whispered words.

Other nights, however, you willingly allow the sadist in him to gratify the masochist in you. He takes control, demands submission, and you freely give.

Your time with your husband last night was the latter. He bent you over the bed and paddled your ass until you cried, and your pussy drooled onto the floor below you. He was relentless, powerful, and it made you putty in his hands. There was no one else on the earth you trusted more than Seokjin. You knew he would never intentionally hurt you in a way that didn’t bring you pleasure. And it made your desire for him burn even brighter.

The bathroom is steamy by the time you’ve finished checking out the delicious marks your husband left on you, and you slip into the shower with a grateful sigh. The pressure feels incredible on your muscles and you allow your eyes to close as you bask in the steam and heat.

The cascading water and intoxicating heat clouds your mind and you never notice the bathroom door open or the sound of clothing being removed. You’re so distracted that you never hear the glass door of the shower open.

And it’s too late now.

You’re instantly being pressed up against the cold tile of the bathroom, a hot and hard body behind you making you squeak in surprise.

Jin has joined you in the shower, and he’s pressed your chest to the cool wall and tangles his hands in your hair.

“Look what we have here,” he tuts. “Nice to see you showed up.”

You furrow your brow, confused on what he’s talking about. He plays with your hair as he continues to hold you against the wall, cheek turned and flat against the tile.

“Jin, wha—,” he cuts you off before you can finish.

“That’s not my name, baby doll.”

His voice is distinct from his usual.

This one radiates power. It oozes danger. And your cunt is already squeezing around nothing at the sound.

“S-sir,” you gasp. Your breathing is heavy, body overcome with desire.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises. He lets a free hand travel down your wet back towards your ass, where he cups a cheek in his hand delicately.

“Now, can my good girl tell me what she did wrong today?”

His hands rub the globe gently, and you shiver. His hands feel so strong, so ready to deliver the firm swats or gentle caresses you crave the most.

You’re racking your rattled brain as hard as you can, desperate to figure out what you’ve done wrong.

“I—I can’t remember,” you murmur.

He tsks, upset at your answer.

“You better start remembering, little one.”

His hand rubs at the skin of your ass once more, before he’s lifting his hand and bringing it back down onto your cheeks with a crack. Your body jolts in reply and the stinging of your buttocks travels straight to your core. A low whimper leaves your lips—a sound of brewing desire more than despair.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl?” He asks as he rubs the reddening mark. “Tell me what you’ve done wrong and you won’t be punished.”

You puff out a breath in frustration, unable to remember what you’ve done.

Jin notices and delivers another slap to your ass, this time on the opposite cheek, and you yelp.

“I-I,” you stutter, brain spinning desperately to remember what it is you’ve missed.

“If you’ve forgotten how to use your voice, then please, let’s put that mouth to use.”

He turns your body, your back now pressed against the tile where your tits once were. Your eyes widen. He looks like a fucking god. He’s wet and dripping from the spray of the shower, and his eyes burn like coals, stoked by his desire for you. He steps back from you, allows you to drink in his image pridefully.

His cock is rock hard, straining and thick against his abdomen. He doesn’t bother to touch it, doesn’t stroke or grasp it. His eyes are drilling holes into your own with intensity and you can feel your submissive nature begging you to kneel. It’s what he wants.

He knows you—knows you better than you likely know yourself. You’re lowering on to your knees with no thought, eyes fixated on his like he likes.

“No hands,” he speaks gently. “Dirty fucking whores don’t get to use their hands.”

His powerful hands grip your damp hair, gathering a bunch and bringing your face to the tip of his cock.

“You wanna suck daddy’s cock?” He asks, tone almost teasing. He rubs the head against your plump lips, allowing them to collect the generous pre-cum at the tip.

You nod, big simpering eyes peering up at him.

“Please, daddy,” you beg. “Let me suck your cock.”

He rubs your lips a few moments more, before grasping your jaw in his hands and prying your mouth open.

“Suck.”

His hips thrust forward and suddenly your mouth fills with his length. You almost gag, almost, but you squeeze your fists tight and will it away. Jin smirks as he sees the tears build in your eyes from the pressure and continues forward until his cock fills your entire throat.

“Oh fuck,” he sighs. “Look at you take it all like a practiced whore.”

He pulls out slowly, torturously calculated and measured, before he’s slamming his length back into your throat and starting a pace.

Your mouth becomes a simple vessel for him and his pleasure. You tuck your teeth in as best as you can as he fucks your throat, cheeks hollowing as you attempt to tighten the space in your mouth, and lave your tongue over any inch of his cock you can find.

He keeps his hand on your head, grip tightening steadily on your hair.

“Shit,” he puffs a breath. “Best fucking cocksleeve.”

His head tips back as he enjoys the slurping, sloppy sounds your mouth is making. Saliva is sliding down the corners of your mouth where it gathers and drips to the wet marble floor below.

Jin delights in the way you submit to him. He feels powerful, feels like a god. He loves you, every single aspect of you in the bedroom and outside of it. And he absolutely loves it when you’re on your knees, begging like a good girl. So good for him, even when you fuck up.

He peers back down at you, pushing more hair out of your face tenderly while he fucks your willing mouth.

“Mm, this is where you belong, isn’t it? This is what this hot little mouth is meant for.”

He punctuates his sentences with quicker, rougher snaps of his hips that force his cock to the very back of your throat. Your eyes spill over with tears and your throat tightens in reaction, squeezing the head of Jin’s cock.

“Ah, fuck yes, choke on it.”

He’s absolutely enamored by the way you work harder, mouth bobbing along with his thrusts. You get off on this just as much as he does—you love to be degraded and treated like a whore in the bedroom while he treats you like the queen you are outside of it.

His queen, bowing in front of him to give him pleasure through her submission.

It’s one of the many reasons he loves you so fucking much.

He can feel his stomach tightening, core clenching as his orgasm builds. Simply watching your tears, mixed with the shower water slip down your face has his balls and heart yearning.

“You ready to swallow my cum, doll?” He asks, fully knowing the answer.

Your impossibly beautiful and big eyes widen even further and Jin stifles a groan at the sight of you, the definition of submission personified.

“Mm, I know you are.” He pumps harder into your gaping mouth, groaning at how wet and hot it is despite your aching jaw. “You love swallowing cum. It’s your favorite meal of the day.”

He’s gritting his teeth as his orgasm becomes more and more apparent and you bob your head earnestly to bring him off. You easily accommodate him without your hands, and he swells with pride at how good you are for him.

“That’s my perfect little slut,” he grits. He’s staving off the orgasm as long as he can, wants to soak in every moment of you gagging on his length.

Your hand seeks purchase on Jin’s thick thighs, holding on for balance as your head bobs quickly and your throat works overtime to accommodate his length. Another quick glance up to him is all it takes for him to fall to pieces. He can never resist the way you look at him with a mouth full of cock.

His cock pulses with each groan and you whine cutely as he fills your mouth with his seed. You slow your movements and stay put, staring at him as his cock twitches.

He gently pulls his spent cock from your lips, panting as he attempts to right himself.

“Open up,” he demands in a gentle voice.

You’re compliant—mouth opening to display Seokjin’s thick cum pooled on your tongue. It makes him grin.

“Nasty,” he winks. “Swallow, my love.”

He rests a hand on your throat, wants to feel as you swallow his seed down. It makes his cock twitch back to life, ready to go again and again. It doesn’t matter how long he’s been married to you—he’ll always find the stamina for a round two.

“Are you ready to discuss what happened today?”

Jin holds out his hand for you, which you take gratefully to stand up inside the shower.

“Yes, please.”

Jin wraps his arms around you and pulls you under the spray of the shower. He places gentle and soft kisses up and down your neck as his hands slither up and down your wet body.

“What’s the date today?” He whispers as he kisses the shell of your ear.

“It’s the eighth--,” you start, before your eyes wide. “Oh, my god.”

He smiles and pulls back to look into your eyes.

“It is the eighth, yes, and?”

“It’s our wedding anniversary.”

Your heart sinks. In the hustle and bustle of the day, it slipped from your mind of your anniversary. He had planned an entire evening to spend together, and you had forgotten all about it, abandoned the plans for a night at the gym.

“Oh, my god, Jin, I am so sorry. I totally forgot.”

Jin kisses at your face, cupping your cheeks with his hands.

“Baby, it's okay,” he assures as he kisses your shower-slick lips. “I’m not mad. The steaks are a little cold, but…”

You cling harder to your husband.

“God, I’m an idiot. I owe you!”

He chuckles in your ear as he wraps his arms tight around you. Anniversary or not, Seokjin is in love with you. And he can forgive a simple mistake. Especially when you make up for it so sweetly.

“You’re not an idiot, baby. You can show me how sorry you are tonight when you’re tied up to the bed and taking my cock, hm?”

You lick your lips, already excited for the delicious punishments Jin must have planned for you.

“I love you,” you murmur, standing on tip-toes to press another kiss to his full lips.

“Mmm, and I love you,” he replies. “And you’re going to be good for me tonight, aren’t you baby?”

Jin is turning off the shower as you nod.

He gathers a towel and steps out, drying every inch of your body before guiding you to the bedroom.

“Show me.”

#bts smut #seokjin smut #jin smut #kim seokjin smut #kim seokjin #ficswithluv #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts fics

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pingutats · 3 years ago

Note

could you write a really fluffy bit on harry kissing every single self harm scar on your body? like, stroking them and cuddling with you and reassuring you that your body is beautiful and okay even with scars? 🥺

thank you for requesting this! this was genuinely quite therapeutic to write so i’m glad i did it — it’s longer than i meant it to be at about 2.4k words, but anyway. here’s a difficult conversation with new boyfriend!harry.

major trigger warning for discussions of self-harm and scars. this is not a story for everyone, and could definitely be triggering if you are not in the right headspace. please be responsible and look after yourselves <3

this is also pretty unedited so forgive any mistakes. okay!! onwards!

It’s getting late when Harry asks you, ‘Do you want to spend the night?’

The meandering film you found on Netflix is drawing to a close, finally. The characters are on a boat, drifting away into an Italian sunset. You barely have a grasp of how they got there — mostly, you just listened to Harry talk over the dialogue about a pretty little café he knows just around the corner from where this scene was filmed, or how cool the water gets at night there and so the actors must have been shivering. All of it wrapped up, of course, in a quiet suggestion to take you there someday so you can see for yourself. You get a little thrill every time he says something like that. It means he’s thinking of a future with you, which means he wants one, even though it’s only been just over a month since you’ve been seeing each other.

He trails his fingers up and down your arm, bringing up goosebumps beneath your sleeve, and looks at you. ‘Or I can drive you home, if you’d rather sleep in your own bed.’

You hum. ‘No,’ you say. ‘I’ll stay. I’d probably end up falling asleep in the car anyway. I’m so tired.’

His dimple appears. ‘Good, because I’d probably fall asleep at the wheel.’ He grabs the remote and turns the TV off, then pushes himself off the couch with a groan. He holds his hand out for you. ’C’mon, then.’

You grab his hand and he hauls you up, his other arm coming up to your back to pull you into his chest. You fall against him, grabbing his biceps to steady yourself. The two glasses of wine you’ve had tonight have thrown your balance off. He presses a kiss to your hair as you giggle. Then he brings his hand up to your jaw to tilt your head up to look at him properly. You nearly melt at his green eyes.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I can sleep on the couch.’ His gaze is completely sincere.

You haven’t slept together before, both in the literal and figurative senses. You haven’t had sex with anybody at all, actually, and Harry seems to have picked up on your hesitancy. He’s never asked for anything. He lets everything stay on your terms.

That’s what makes you trust him.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ you tell him.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, just to make sure. ’Right,’ he says, breaking into a smile.

He finds a new toothbrush in his cupboard for you, and you brush your teeth together. It feels like a big step to do these nighttime rituals with him. It’s so domestic. He shares his cleanser with you and offers his moisturiser that smells like vanilla. You imagine spending every night like this.

As he leads the way back into his bedroom, he pulls his shirt off. ‘I get hot at night. D’you mind?’

You giggle — you can’t help yourself, at the sight of his muscled torso with all of its tattoos. He’s so handsome. ‘Not at all,’ you tell him.

He throws the shirt into a hamper in the corner, and the birds on his chest seem to fly with the movement of his shoulder, then looks back to catch you ogling him. He chuckles, and the sight of his dimples gives you butterflies.

‘You like?’ he asks.

You narrow your eyes. ’Are you flexing?’

He relaxes. ‘Yeah, a bit. Just wanna impress you.’

You snort at that. ‘Like you need to do anything to impress me.’

He grins. ‘D’you want something more comfortable to sleep in?’ He rummages around in his drawer for a moment, then pulls out a t-shirt and holds it up for you. It has an incredibly faded image of Flinstones characters on the front. ‘How’s this?’ he asks.

You smile at his courtesy. ’Perfect. I love your t-shirt collection, by the way. Where the hell do you find things like this?’

‘Oh, you know… Here and there.’ He tosses it to you.

You catch it with some semblance of grace — you’re proud of yourself for that. ‘Thanks.’ You glance at the bathroom door. ‘Alright. I’ll just… get changed in here,’ you say, slipping through the ajar door.

‘Alright, love.’

You shut the door, and realise you’ve forgotten to turn the light on, leaving you in pitch-black. You grope against the wall for the switch and turn it on, and take a deep breath. Why are you so nervous, so frazzled? It’s just Harry. You shimmy out of your leggings, then pull your sweater over your head.

You look at your reflection. Well. There’s a problem. It’s easy for you to forget when you’re alone, or wrapped up in layers of clothing — it’s just a part of your body now. Artefacts from a different time, years ago. Even the memory of how you got them — how you gave them to yourself — is slipping away, thank God. It’s all a haze. These scars were carved by a girl that you don’t see much anymore. They aren’t really a painful reminder anymore, just a fact of life. You know they're there. The problem is, no one else expects it.

You stare down at your wrists, seeing the lines that never faded. Maybe if they were all like the thin white lines, barely visible until you look closely, you wouldn’t mind. You’re going to sleep, anyway, and it’s not like he’s inspecting your forearms. No, it’s the three darker ones, hard twisting scar tissue that you can feel even through sleeves. Times where you went just a little too deep, were a little too reckless. The ones you regret the most. They’re big, and ugly, and too obvious. He’d notice them right away.

But he gave you his t-shirt.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, furrowing your brows. You adjust your pose, twisting your arms around so the inside of your wrists are hidden, facing behind you. You look ridiculous. You know, as soon as you see Harry, you’ll reach for him, and he’ll see.

Would that be so bad?

You look down at your arms again. It’s been years, and they’re still there. They’ll probably be there forever. They’re as permanent as the tattoos on his skin — except those are beautiful, and what you have is not. You can’t show this to him. The world where these scars exist, and the world where he exists, should never cross over. It wouldn’t be right.

You pull your long-sleeve back on, covering them again. Then you put the t-shirt, which is long enough to be modest on you. This is fine, right? It’s better than any alternative, at least.

You leave the bathroom holding your folded sweats up to your chest, nervous now realising that you are standing in front of Harry in just your underwear, more naked than you ever have been in front of him.

He’s checking something on his phone as he sits on the bed, back against the headboard and long legs stretching down the covers, but he brightens up at the sight of you. His gaze drops to your legs — which makes your cheeks burn, but his boyishly excited expression dissolves your nerves — then rises up again to your shirt. He frowns at the long-sleeve.

‘Are you cold?’ he asks. ‘I thought it was pretty warm but I can turn the heat up if you need.’

You shake your head, dropping your sweats on the floor beside the dresser. ’No, it’s fine.’

He sits up straighter, swinging his legs over the side so his feet rest on the ground. ’Can’t be comfortable to sleep like that.’ He hesitates. ‘You didn’t have to wear the t-shirt if you don’t want to.’

‘No, I want to. I do.’ You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to figure out how to navigate this situation in a way that won’t end in him being annoyed or disgusted. ‘It’s just…’ You trail off, but one glance at his frown, at the way he leans forward and hangs on every word, makes your resolve crumble. You’ll have to have this conversation at one point or another. ‘Okay. Shit, Harry, can I talk to you about something?’

The way he answers immediately makes you want to cry. ‘Yeah, of course. Anything.’ He sits up straighter, pats the covers next to him, inviting you to sit down.

You sigh and cross the room to sit next to him, not daring to meet his eyes. How the hell do you explain this?

He moves his arm behind you once you’re sitting. Not touching you, but enough so he’s close. ‘What’s wrong?’ he prompts. ‘Do you need me to drive you home instead? Because I didn’t—’

‘No,’ you interrupt. ‘It’s fine. It’s just, I kinda…’ You take a deep breath. ‘Okay, please don’t freak out?’

He frowns. His next words are measured. ‘I’ll try not to. Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ you whisper. It feels like the greatest effort in the world, but you curl your fingers around the end of your sleeve and pull it up, revealing your wrists. ‘So, I have these…’ Your voice shakes.

‘Oh, baby,’ Harry says quietly, and that’s all you need to hear. His arm behind you reaches around and pulls you into his chest, hugging you close to him. His thumb rubs circles into your shoulder as you sniffle, his other hand resting on top of yours.

‘It’s in the past, you know,’ you say, muffled into his shoulder. He smells good, you notice. Not that it’s really important right now, but you appreciate it all the same. ‘Not a big deal. Just didn’t want to scare you or anything. ’S embarrassing.’

‘Listen to me,’ he says, pulling back and holding your face in his hands. He waits until you manage to look him in his eyes. They’re watery, you realise, and that might be the most painful thing about this night. ’It’s not embarrassing, alright? I don’t want you to feel like that. They’re part of you, and I really like you, every part.’ He smiles. ‘I really do, you know.’

You sniff, wiping at your cheek with your fingertips, trying to calm your tears. Suddenly all your fears seem ridiculous. Did you really expect him to turn you away, disgusted? Ask to never see you again? You knuckle at your eyes. ‘Okay. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey.’ He springs from the bed to grab the tissue box from the dresser and brings it to you, pulling out a tissue and dabbing under your eyes himself. He’s so gentle. ‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry, that you were worried to show me.’

You chuckle, grabbing a tissue from the box and blowing your nose. What more can you say to him? He’s so wonderful to you. It’s early days still, and you’re wary of moving too fast and coming on too strong. You aren’t experienced with relationships in the same way that you know he is. But you love him. You’re sure of it. You’ll tell him, one day. Soon.

‘You don’t need to wear my shirt if you don’t want to,’ he repeats once you’re calmer.

‘I’ll wear it.’ And to show him, in your sudden burst of confidence, you undress right next to him, taking off both layers and then putting the only t-shirt back on. You turn to him, and giggle. He’s turned his head away. ‘You can look,’ you tell him, nudging his knee with yours.

He looks back with a sheepish smile. ‘Didn’t want to be a creep.’ He scoots backwards onto the bed, settling his back against the headboard. ‘C’mere.’

You crawl over to him, settling with your back against his chest, sitting between his legs. His arms wrap around your middle, anchoring you to him. He presses kisses to your neck, the scruff on his cheeks tickling you. You curl up, twisting your neck away, giggling.

‘Harry!’

‘Sorry, love.’ His hands relax, and find your own. He rests his chin over your shoulder, and gently turns your palms upwards, so your wrists are visible to him.

You shiver, but allow it. You feel this is important. You don’t want to hide with him.

‘Y/N…’ he says quietly. You feel his chest push against your back as it expands with a breath. ‘Am I… am I allowed to touch them?’ he asks.

You’re surprised. You thought he would want to avoid them. You nod, then, realising he can’t really see you, you add, ‘Yeah.’

Your fingers are tense. You can’t help it. His thumb presses into your palm, massaging the tension away. He pulls the back of your hand to his lips and brings it back to your lap.

You close your eyes.

When he finds the first hard lump of scarring with his thumb, he pauses. He takes a shaky breath, then he runs his thumb up and down the length of it.

‘Y/N,’ he says softly.

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. ‘Mm?’

‘You’re beautiful, you know.’ He pulls your hand back up to his lips, but instead he kisses the biggest scar on your wrist. ‘No matter what. You are.’

‘Harry,’ you whisper, because you don’t know what to say.

He kisses the scar again, then trails his lips up your wrist, covering them all. ‘I don’t want you to be ashamed of anything. You survived. That’s a wonderful thing.’ He drops your hand and cups your jaw, turning your head towards his. He leans around your shoulder to face you properly. ’I’m so fucking proud of you, you know?’

You never were good at taking compliments, so you just cross the distance between the two of you and kiss him.

When you’re lying together in the dark a little while later, with his arm thrown over you protectively and his soft breaths hitting your neck where his t-shirt doesn’t cover, you feel safe. Your arms are bare, you’re with another person, and you feel safe in this situation for the first time in years. It’s a wonderful feeling. All because of Harry.

You can’t wait to wake up in the morning and see his face again.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #fic #self harm tw

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murdereraisuha · 4 years ago

Text

Navigating Twisted Wonderland Pixiv

Disclaimer: I am not Japanese, I am far from being fluent in Japanese, and I am not very involved in the Japanese TWST fanbase. If you’re good at Japanese PLEASE add on to this or correct me if there are mistakes.

I haven’t seen anything like this around here, so I thought I would try to make a little thing to help people who also aren’t good at Japanese.

Resources

deepL : a translator created by a deep learning ai company. Extremely good (though not perfect of course), dump google translate right now and switch to this to make your life so much better.

jisho : An online dictionary. You can input english, japanese, and romaji japanese. There’s options to input kanji by drawing it or selecting radicals (the parts that make up a kanji) and there’s voice input. Great for translating single words/phrases. You can also use it to figure out the parts of a sentence since it tries to separate out and translate each part, though it’s not 100% reliable.

kanji . sljfaw . org : Another resource for finding kanji. I usually use its multiradical by type option, which separates the radical options into enclosure, left, upper, middle, and less common elements.

hougen . hirosakicity . com : An example of dictionary for Tsugaru dialect, the dialect Epel uses. This doesn’t cover every single Tsugaru dialect word though. When I was trying to understand Epel in the December update I had to use like 3 different dictionaries.

Any search engine : “Meaning” in Japanese is 意味. Put that after whatever word/phrase you need help with and search it, hopefully you’ll find something.

kamigame . jp/ツイステ : Japanese TWST wiki

If you’re learning Japanese like me, I recommend using quizlet or something so you can make a collection of words you’ve had to look up and then test yourself on them occasionally to increase the chances of remembering it.

Finally, if you can’t read hiragana/katakana, please learn it it will probably help you a lot. It’s not scary alright, just read the learning hiragana and katakana guides on tofugu then find a quizlet set and keep testing yourself on them until you’ve got those mnemonics down well. You’ll be slower than a snail at reading it at first but just keep getting practice and it’ll gradually get faster and feel more natural to you.

Ship names

The Japanese spellings for stuff like the character names can all be found on the english wiki, so I’m not putting them all here.

I’ll teach you how to form TWST ship names though, based on my observations. Ship names are generally formed using the first 2 katakana of each person’s name. First 3 if there’s small katakana. If there’s a dash in the way, it’ll stop before it like Deuce (デュース) becoming Deu (デュ), it will delete the dash to keep going like Ace (エース) becoming エス, or leave the dash like Ace becoming エー. Also Jack (ジャック) becomes ジャク. Idk, use common sense to try and reason out what is short yet still identifiable as the character. If you can’t figure it out just search for the character, scroll until you see an obviously shippy image, then check its tags.

Edit: included Ace becoming エー. The shortening that is used depends on the ship.

Anyway, those shortened names are then smashed together with the “seme” going first to form the ship name. If you search a ship and you don’t find much, try switching around the names.

Examples:

Floyd (フロイド) + Riddle (リドル) = FuroRido (フロリド)

Jade (ジェイド) + Silver (シルバー) = JeiShiru (ジェイシル)

You notice something about Floyd and Jade’s names? Yes, they both end in ido (イド). This is why ships involving the two of them with someone else are named things like IdoAzu (イドアズ) and IdoKali (イドカリ). Be careful not to mix up イドアズ with イデアズ, which is Idia and Azul.

A thing to note about names in general in the Japanese fan base is that they often use emojis for characters (ex. Jade is 🐬). Search ツイステの絵文字 in google images and you’ll find multiple guides on what characters are what emoji.

Random Pixiv tags and vocabulary in no particular order:

注意 = warning

ログ = log

まとめ = compilation

稚魚 = fry. As a Pixiv tag, baby Octavinelle

化 = -ification (ex. うさぎ化 = bunnyification, TWST charas as bunnies)

_章 = chapter _ (ex. 5章 = chapter 5)

寮長／副寮長 = dorm leader / vice dorm leader

オクタ = Octa, shortened version of Octavinelle

ツイポケ = TuiPoke, TWST x Pokemon crossover. A Pixiv tag.

オバブロ / 闇落ち = Overblot, 2nd one is literally something like “fallen into darkness”

落書き = doodle

監督生 = Prefect/Yuu/MC. Shortened to 監 for ship names.

ツイ腐テ = Twisted Wonderland Yaoi

ネタバレ = spoilers

Alright, that’s all I have for now. If I think of more useful info I’ll add it in a reblog.

#twst #twisted wonderland #resource #idk how tumblr handles links to other sites so i'm spacing them out just incase

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brakingpoint · 2 years ago

Note

let’s not beat around the bush id love a smash pass of the whole current grid

OKAY i've already answered a few but here's the entire grid in current championship order and YES i am going to include reserve drivers. putting this under a cut because good lord

max: have been through this - smash. he is not my normal type physically and yet i am deeply profoundly attracted to him. AND he has cats. win/win

checo: lol i forgot he was p2 now. anyway pass i'm sorry but he just does absolutely nothing for me

charles: well come on. obviously smash.

george: unfortunately we have also been through this and he is a regretful but simultaneously decisive smash

carlos: you see the thing about carlos is that he is objectively a very good looking man but in such a conventional way that it just registers as a net zero pussy response from me on all but a VERY select set of occasions. so pass :-/

lewis: SMASH. but also sort of a pass just out of like, the pressure of who has preceded me. i mean the man has slept with a pussycat doll and also probably rihanna i CANNOT win in this situation

lando: normally pass because if he was my type i'd just be posting about minecraft youtubers but i have to admit that one gifset going around of him looking flushed and sweaty after singapore did something absolutely outrageous to me. a 50/50

esteban: smash feels like the wrong word. there would be nothing violent about this interaction other than me changing position too fast and accidentally snapping every single one of his stick insect limbs perfectly in half

fernando: something about his face shape is just so deeply offputting to me and i cannot put it into words. i'm sorry. pass

valtteri: i have never seen a man's arse so many times and had literally zero erotic thoughts about it on any of those occasions. pass

seb: come on now i'm not a heathen. SMASH.

daniel: smash but i know it would be like deeply annoying sex. he'd be absolutely destroying me with his perfectly formed pussy eating nose and then he'd shout PIERRE GASLYYYYY as i orgasmed.

kmag: i feel nothing. pass.

lance: i am not attracted to him but everything about footage of him and his girlfriend together has me convinced that he must fuck like an absolute mountain rat. smash purely out of curiosity

mick: i genuinely cannot say smash because even though he's like. a perfectly respectable non-weird fuckable age for me as a 25 year old every time i see him i just think. That's A Little Baby Boy. pass

yuki: the thing is i don't really find him attractive 90% of the time (i have seen Some very compelling images on this front) BUT 1) short king recognises short king and 2) i feel like it would just be a hilarious experience this is a guy who knows how to make sex funny. maybe.

zhou: i'm contemplating. i've contemplated. smash.

alex: smash bc from his i feel like he would just be really fun and sweet in bed, like he's not gonna destroy you but you're still gonna remember it for how fun and charming the experience was. HOWEVER it could not be at the albon family home bc can you imagine the non stop racket of the collective albon pets trying to break in so horsey specifically can judge you

nicky: i feel like me saying smash is not SURPRISING but, my eternal nicky latifi fondness notwithstanding, this is another lance situation. what is it about the canadian pay drivers huh

nyck: short king recognises short king. smash.

hulk: again he just has too much aged-out frat boy energy for me so it's gotta be a pass

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punkclowngod · 3 years ago

Text

okay i blocked the anon so now i’ll post a screenshot cuz it’s too funny not to share

(it’s quite sanist/ableist tho so don’t read it if you think it might affect you. i personally don’t find it that bad but i still prefer to give a warning)

[image ID: a screenshot of an anon in the ask box. the anonymous message says: Why do you make being mentally ill and being sad literally your whole personality? Do you have nothing else about you, that your proud of? Like- seriously babe. Get a fucking hobby besides “ohhhh look at me! I’m mentally illllll, and I have voices in my head” you seem to like clowns. Make a hobby out of that.smh

End of image ID]

tell me you haven’t looked at my blog without telling me you haven’t looked at my blog jdksjskdjs

first off, that’s hilarious. if it wasn’t for the clown mention i would’ve assumed this was supposed to be directed as someone else.

anyways i want to dissect this message because i’m legit having too much fun with this:

1- my mental illnesses literally affect every single aspect of my life lmao

2- im very rarely sad. angry would’ve been more accurate

3- i’m proud of a lot of things! and i talk about them often!

4- don’t call be babe. that’s gross lol

5- i have a ton of hobbies. a bit too much lol. i have almost no space left in my room because i have a bunch of stuff for my interests. which i talk about from time to time on here

6- the “ohhhh look at me” is accurate. i do have hpd after all lmao

7- i will always be proud and loud about being mentally ill. not enough people are. you can’t make me ashamed for this no matter what you say

8- i don’t hear voices in my head, idk where you got that lmao. i feel stuff and think stuff that aren’t my own thoughts and feelings, but i don’t experience auditory hallucinations (at least as far as i’m aware lol)

9- i love clowns! i have a collection of them and sometimes i do full clown makeup with the white paint and all. they’re already a hobby of mine

if i didn’t have followers i would’ve had responded to this without blocking anon but i didn’t want to start drama and potentially harm the people who follow me because this is a safe space and i don’t want morons to undo that. but i think this was too funny not to share.

little reminder: you are not obligated to respond to hate/stupidity/ignorance! you can just block and delete the ask! this is your life, your time, your health, so if those things affect you, delete them. you don’t owe anyone that won’t even listen to you your energy

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local-ground-apple · 4 years ago

Note

Can i get a oneshot where Azul finds out about reader's secret "pics of Azul Ashengrotto when he's not looking" magicame account lol

oh yes, the only magicam account that got more followers than Vil and Cater

wait for “Oh Azul, your radiant beauty is an art” discourse under the cut.

alternative title: Koebi-chan turns into sneaky snake to immortalise the beauty of local octopus who for once doesn’t know how to turn this situation into a contract feat. neighbourhood-friendly eels dying from laughter

“Azul, I think you should see this”

Jade passed his phone to Azul who was engrossed in his paperwork. With a heavy sigh, he shifted his attention from recent golden contract and looked at the screen. His eyes widen at the sight of pictures.

Pictures of him.

Lot of photos on one blog titled: “Pictures of Azul Ashengrotto taken when he’s not looking”

,,It’s surprisingly quite popular account”

Jade remarked not sparing a single glance at Azul who was going through an existential crisis. He was anxiously scrolling through countless picture taken, as the description of magicam account stated, when he was not looking.

Him doing some homework, him preparing a special golden contract, him burning his fingers on boiling hot tea or even him looking at the star-studded sky.

When someone could have taken those pictures? Why? Does he have a stalker? Wasn’t he the one who occasionally stalked people?

Multiple questions run through Azul’s head as his hand run through his hair. He let out a heavy sigh, not even bothering to listen to Floyd who was having a time of his life. Eel sat comfortably in his chair and was dying from laughter.

Azul’s secret admirer and stalker? That octopus having a secret fan-blog? How amusing~~ What unfortunate soul could be so engrossed in that fishy businessman?

“Who runs it? Names, Jade, I need names.”

Oh, so octopus entered the “feral disposure mode”, remarked Floyd who licked his lips in anticipation. Oh how he couldn’t wait to squeeze some poor, unfortunate souls.

“Ohhh, yess, we could squeeze that little admirer of yours”

,,I doubt Azul will let you after I reveal who it is”

Jade cut in, making everyone confused. Floyd’s wide grin slightly faltered and Azul raised an eyebrow.

“Ne, ne Jade, don’t keep us in suspension~~”

“It’s Y/N.”

The sound of your name entailed various reactions. Jade only chuckled seeing Azul going through another crisis, as his eyes widen and he was left utterly speechless, while Floyd was (once again) dying from laughter.

“Koebi-chan? THAT Koebi-chan??! It couldn’t get funnier!”

Exclaimed Floyd while Azul was still engrossed in his thoughts.

It suddenly made sense.

The way you would observe him, constantly on your phone when he was taking care of contracts or paperwork. Stealing secret glances and giggling and always dismissing his questions when he asked what made you laugh.

Given that you were dating Azul and he was a busy businessman, you were a rather special guest at Mostro Lounge and recently you’ve been spending there more time than in your own dorm.

“I mean it’s kind of fair. I send you to spy on her and she spies on me in return”

Remarked Azul with a heavy sigh, quickly pushing up his glasses and standing up. He was determined to leave his cabinet before Leech twins tease him or make fun of that blog any further. He caught a glimpse of Floyd opening his lips to throw some nasty and vicious remarks at him and Jade’s eyes were glowing with mischief.

It was high time to evacuate and excuse himself of the room.

Azul had a bigger fish to take care of than Leech twins.

It seemed that his angelfish gone a little bit too far.

…

,,Y/N dear, could you perhaps explain this?”

,,Right, Shrimpyy~~!! Why would you take so many pictures of Azul when you could just admire me!”

Azul’s deadly calm and cold voice as well as two pairs of arms wrapping up around you, successfully pulled you out from redoing mock papers for alchemy. You let out a loud shriek and jumped at the sudden contact.

Ignoring Floyd and his tightening with each passing second grip, you focused on the screen which Azul was practically showing in your face.

“Oh, you found that?”

You were stunned. You knew the day of your doom will come sooner or later, so you were prepared for every possible scenario. Yet, that didn’t stop you from screaming internally as multiple thoughts run through your brain.

Oh shit. I knew that was a bad idea. What were I thinking? That guppy brain of mine! Please sir, don’t let those eels squeeze me. If that’s how I shall go down, at least I’ve left a worthy legacy.

Azul quickly remarked your flushed face as you fiddled with your thumbs nervously. You tried to wriggle out of the twins’ grip, but your attempts were quickly proved to be futile. Much to Floyd’s dismay you soon stopped struggling and instead you decided to fake your confidence.

Baffle them with your bullshit, usually seemed to be a good strategy.

The other choice would be to seduce Azul, but you weren’t sure if you were able to put on the show right in front of twins.

“I took excellent pictures, didn’t I? I even made sure the light was perfect on each of them. Oh, look at this one! You looked suuuuuper handsome that day, didn’t you? You’re rarely that cheerful and your smile causes flowers to bloom in a 50 meter radius. So it’s only natural that I felt the need to make that look last forever~”

You ignored Floyd’s laughter, subtle chuckles from Jade and Azul who was not only confused and wasn’t sure whether he should scold you or ask you to continue rabbiting on. His face flushed and he tried his best to still appear “collected and calm”, but you could see through his façade.

Azul was actually flattered that you found him worthy of not even a single picture but a whole blog dedicated to his beauty, as you phrased it.

“Y’know, you’re a walking art and I couldn’t help myself but to immortalise it!”

You exclaimed with a bright smile and you lower your head slightly, so hair could do you a favour and hide your embarrassment which was written all over your hair.

“Awwww, Jade, aren’t they such cuties~~~”

,,I think we should leave them alone Floyd”

And with that Jade excused them, leaving you with frustrated Azul who kind of wanted to scold you for taking pictures without his permission and kind of wanted you to shower him with even more praises.

He was greedy, insatiable and desired more.

You giggled seeing his flushed face. You hesitantly came closer, standing right before him. You quickly cut the remaining distance and your forehead touched his, resting in that place. Azul sighed deeply and his gloved hand reached to run through your hair.

“What should I do with you, angelfish, hmm?”

,,Well, you could perhaps kiss me?”

You suggested with a sly smile, making Azul let out a barely audible chuckle. He slightly shook his head and you felt the tension leaving his body.

“You know there’s price for that.”

“Dang, you want me to delete that blog, don’t you?”

,,Y/N you should delete that blog, so my image could appear more professional”

You pouted dramatically, pulling away from him. Before Azul could clarify himself, you cut him.

“Well, that’s a shame depriving all those people from your radiating beauty!”

Well, maybe you were going a bit overboard with the amount of praises and dramatic power it entailed.

Either way, Azul lost it.

Instead of collected and meticulous octopus you saw a determined and frustrated man who was more than eager to protest.

,,No, no, Y/N. I should be THE ONE who should be complementing you and worshipping you, but about that price”

He exclaimed and you only giggled in response as Azul took you in his arms. He began leaving delicate, butterfly kisses on your neck in breaks incoherently mumbling praises.

Your lips soon got captured by chapped lips which tasted like water and salt into a delicate, gentle kiss. It almost made you forget about the slight sadness you had felt when Azul asked you to delete your blog. Instead his next words between nibbling on your skin, made you stunned and worried.

“Instead I should make a blog full of pictures of you, my angelfish, to return the favour”

“W-wait!”

“But could you perhaps continue with your whole “Oh Azul, your radiant beauty is an art” discourse. I would love to hear more”

BONUS:

“How did I not find out about this earlier? I’m literally tagged in every picture”

“I blocked you”

“YoU wHaT”

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charlie-pippin-faraday · 3 years ago

Note

fabina h/cs?

Oh yes I was hoping someone would ask me this. Warning this got very long I have a lot of thoughts and feelings

They are so sweet it makes everyone wanna barf sometimes

In S1 some of them (Mick, Mara, Alfie, Patricia) place bets on when they're gonna get together. Mick wins

During S2 Amber tries to get them together in a multitude of different ways. She tries mistletoe, the old "trapping them in a small dark room together" trick, conspiring with Patricia and Alfie to ensure they just so ~happen~ to find themselves alone together, etc.

Throughout S3, they literally never stopped thinking about each other

After graduation, it's a really turbulent and transitionary period in Fabian's life, and he has to assess what he really wants. And he realizes he never stopped loving Nina, and he wants to be with her again

Amber actively encourages him to go after her, saying he'll regret it for the rest of his life if he doesn't

Nina realizes the past year without him has been miserable. It's been awful not having her best friend by her side to talk to and confide in and do things with, and she's missed him so much. So when he reaches out, all of her feelings come rushing back with an intensity, and she decides she doesn't want to lose him again, and they get back together. For good this time.

They go to college in America together, and Fabian ultimately moves to her hometown of Cleveland to be with her

After college they work at a museum together looking at historical stuff all day long. They get to nerd out and they work together well; it's a dream job

Nina tries her best to introduce Fabian to American culture. Some of it is a bigger culture shock than others. Nina is always incredibly amused when he doesn't get words right or he gets flustered and confused at certain customs

He's not sure how he feels about American fast food

American pie, however, is his new favorite thing. Especially Nina's gran's pies

The Fourth of July scares him. But barbecues are nice

Nina is a fan of Cleveland's baseball team. She takes him to a game, and by god is he confused. He has trouble following. The first game is a lost cause. But once Nina points out how dependent the game is on math, then he starts to get the hang of it. A little bit

American driving, however, is horrifying to Fabian. Nina's a pretty good driver, and Fabian's fairly good (if not a bit stiff and nervous) at driving in the UK, but in America it's a whole different animal. Not only are they on the other side of the road, but the drivers here are fast and aggressive. It's very scary. The ONLY reason he eventually learns to do it the American way is because he wants to be able to take Nina out and be a competent enough man to drive a car around

Speaking of cars: one summer they definitely go on a cross-country road trip, just the two of them. It's meant to bring them closer and be romantic, and it is. They love looking at all the sights together, and Fabian is amazed by the sheer diversity of landscape and how gorgeous parts of the country can be. He TRIES to split the driving 50/50, but America is just so goddam BIG, like intimidatingly huge, and he's not used to driving for that long. The driving ends up being more like 70/30 in Nina's favor, but she doesn't mind. She gives Fabian the responsibility of making a road trip playlist, and he knocks it out of the park

At home, they enjoy cozy nights by the fireside, reading and snuggling under blankets

Sweaters! They are sweater people and I enjoy the image of them snuggling together in sweaters

Handwritten letters! They write each other handwritten letters all the time, especially in the summer between season 1-2 and the period of time between graduation and Fabian making the move to America. They both keep every single letter they receive and each keep them stored in a sentimental little box

They like to frequent old/used bookstores and antique shops. Their place is filled to the brim with odd knickknacks and collectibles that they find, and they have an entire wall with shelves piled high with books

They don't need a lot of fancy stuff, and they don't care about being high-class; they don't care much about appearances, and they don't need a lot. All they care about really is being together.

They learn to get better at communication and not let anyone else's opinion about their relationship impact their relationship. They're the only ones that know what's best for them, and they take things at their own pace

Nina can get overly emotional and stressed sometimes, and Fabian's her rock. That's how it's always been, and that's how it always will be

They love to watch the discovery channel and the national geographic channel, along with netflix documentaries

They fuckin LOVE escape rooms, they use every excuse they can to go to escape rooms

Nina takes Fabian to the rock and roll hall of fame, and he's like a kid in a candy store

They are frequent patrons of their local coffee shop, to the point where all the baristas know who they are

They are very cheesy and sentimental all the time. Most everything they do is very thoughtful and has some kind of meaning

They like to write cute notes to each other and leave them around the house

It takes Fabian forever to actually propose to Nina, to the point where he gets calls from Amber just about every day asking when she's getting an engagement announcement. He just wanted to be careful and deliberate about it and make sure everything was perfect

He makes sure the proposal is simple and romantic. He sets up a candlelit dinner, the lights are low, he talks to her softly and sweetly and tells her he loves her and pops the question

Nina, surprisingly, does not cry. Fabian, however, definitely does when she says yes

He proposes with a family ring; his grandmother's ring. It's very sentimental and has a lot of history behind it, and we all know Nina loves that stuff, and the history and story makes her very emotional

He does what he should have done in S2 instead of writing a poem: he writes her a song and plays it for her on the guitar. It's her favorite thing he's ever done for her.

After the engagement they tell Amber before they tell anyone else, because she'd kill them if they didn't

They surprise her with a video call, and they don't tell her at first, but then Nina surprises her and shows off the ring, and Amber screams so loud they're convinced she's going to break glass.

Amber is even more excited than they are, she talks with them absolutely non-stop about their wedding. She even tries to take control of it at some point

Their wedding is a fairly small wedding; it takes place at an outdoor venue in the spring, at a beautiful location just outside her hometown in America. Mick is the best man and Amber is the maid of honor. Amber gives an incredibly emotional MOH speech and sobs buckets. Gran walks Nina down the aisle

Her wedding dress looks a little something like this; definitely something with long lacy sleeves

They have 3 kids, all girls

The oldest is Evelyn, named after Nina's gran. She's got dark hair, Nina's curls, Nina’s light blue eyes, and she looks like Fabian. She got Nina's courageous leadership side, she's very adventurous

The middle child is Sarah. She looks like someone legit photocopied Nina. Same hair color, same curls, same eyes, same general facial features. She got the intellectual and bookish side of both of them

The youngest is Eloise, kind of a little bit after Sarah's mother but mostly they just liked the name. Often they call her "Lou" and she definitely goes by that when she's older. She somehow got to be strawberry blonde, has less curls than her sisters, she has Fabian's blue-green eyes, and is a mix of them both when it comes to facial features. She got the part of them that liked to sneak around and break the rules; as she gets older she becomes very rebellious, and Nina jokes "are we sure this child came from me and not Patricia?"

All 3 girls are little troublemakers and they're partners in crime

At some points when the girls are a bit much Fabian gets stressed and shouts "we're outnumbered!!!!!"

Amber is their aunt and showers the girls with expensive presents all the time, especially clothes, which all of the girls LOVE. Nina and Fabian accuse her of spoiling them and she says "If I can't spoil them then what's the point of being the rich beloved aunt?"

The girls do indeed love Amber, all three of them adore her

When the girls get older they find the boxes of letters their parents wrote to each other, they think it's very sweet

Even as they get older, the two of them always set aside time to be romantic with each other

And they remain each other's best friend and confidante forever and ever

yo please feel free to keep sending me these! or asking me my opinions on stuff! this is a lot of fun!

#hoa ama #ama #anon #asks #house of anubis #fabina #fabian rutter #nina martin

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rinstars · 4 years ago

Text

the call

pairing: suna x reader

genre: a little smut, angst, cheating, unrequited love

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: nsfw, weed/blunt, unhealthy relationships, no proofreading whatsoever im so tired lol sorry

note: i literally just reached 100 followers yesterday but thank u sooo much for another hundred! u guys have no idea how happy it makes me. here's a little gift in return :D in my head he's 99% this type of guy and i wanted to know how far i can take my imaginations with the image i have of him and this is where it took me heh.

The smell of leather and weed floating in the space surrounding you constricts your breathing, making you gasp for air – even more as he suctions the air out of you through your heated shared kiss, your lungs burning with the need for oxygen. But you ignore it. Running your fingers through his hair and meeting his hunger with kisses equally as rough, you ignore the building pain on your chest.

You rock your hips towards him, feeling his hard crotch rub you through the lace of the panties you bought just a few days ago. Pulling away for a moment only to gasp on his reddening plump lips while he lazily guides your movements on his lap, triggering a flood of pleasure to wash over you.

Slender, pale, and long fingers reached over to snatch another blunt, taking a long drag before the very same fingers of the opposite hand take the back of your neck so he can pull you closer to his lips. He breathes the smoke out of his mouth into yours, connecting your lips once again.

Despite the distinct scent of the drug, you taste a tinge of sweetness on your tongue as his own massages yours. Rocking your hips harder to his forces a moan out of you, making your fingers curl around his jet black hair. You pull away, muttering a small give me a minute to him. Leaning back on the steering wheel, you watch him while you try to control your ragged breathing.

His hair is long. Long enough that it falls softly all the way to his eyes and cheeks, the ends brushing his really pale skin. With your earlier statement, he just shrugged with the same unchanging look of nonchalance in his eyes while proceeding to take drags out of his blunt. His beautifully shaped eyes now bloodshot and shiny with moisture.

He's almost like a vampire, now that you think about it. So beautiful. Such pale skin but such dark hair. Sharp gaze but soft lips. Intoxicating scent but still so sweet.

The most similar thing between him and vampires, you thought, is the way he sucks all the life out of you. Drying you out and taking all your light.

This man has corrupted you more than you're willing to admit.

You opened your mouth to say something when the blaring ring of his phone makes you jump. His eyes glanced over the source before grabbing it with a sigh and scanning the monitor. You didn't even need to ask who it is. You're very well aware who it is, and why he never hesitates to answer.

When it comes to you, it always takes a lot of rings and missed calls before he picks up, though. You understand. You tell him you do, you always will.

His childhood bestfriend, Astumu whispered as if he heard you ask the identity of the mysterious caller in your head one night when you were drinking with him in a bar. Loves her a lot. Probably too much.

The alarms rang in your head that night, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. So annoying but at the same time so painful. You didn't know how to turn it off and you wish every single time you could.

"Darling. " He whispered with such a loving voice, one you never heard from him when he answers your calls. Your heart ached but you knew better than to confront him about it. Instead you cry in the arms of the twins, more on Atsumu's, since Osamu takes you through an hour long lecture of why you should have known better.

You know that much.

You shouldn't have let yourself get dragged in this stupid situation, craving a taken man and his touches. Letting him in on your secrets even when he barely lets you get a peak in his.

"I miss you too, my darling.. Oh?.. I'll be home soon." He speaks in pauses as he lets her finish speaking first. You close your eyes to prevent the liquid threatening to spill out, taking a deep breath before slowly lifting yourself from his lap to the passenger seat. His eyes widened a millimeter when he noticed you getting off him without having to tell you. You noticed he ended his call with her and you refuse to look back at him cause if you do, you are sure of another sleepless night.

Cold fingers hook under your chin, slowly turning your head to the left. He leans over the center console, connecting his lips with the soft skin of your neck, making you exhale out at the feeling of him sucking all the reason in you again. He runs his tongue wet on your collarbones, creating a glistening trail.

"I'll see you soon?" He whispered on the crook of your neck, nibbling it a little with his teeth. The bruises he leaves on your skin another reminder that everything is real.

You just hum with a nod, cupping his jaw and slowly pulling him away from you with a small smile. One of his bangs fell on the middle of his face, you reached up to brush it away.

So many unspoken words from you. Too many. You wonder if he has anything he's holding back to say too as his eyes linger on you a second longer than usual. Or maybe you're just desperately reading into the lines again, like what Osamu said way too many times.

"Rin, what.. what are we?" Every parting is like this, like a new way of saying goodbye that you both developed. You just needed to be reminded, to wake up from whatever delusions you're starting to have.

"Nothing." He replies as flatly as all the other times before. Not a hint of emotion – no amusement or remorse.

You swallow, letting your hands fall to your sides. On the verge of turning around and reaching the door, his voice echoes once again. "How many times are you gonna ask me this?"

Until you start feeling something. You thought to yourself.

Anger, disgust, love, hatred, adoration, anything. You just want him to feel something. Prove to yourself and everyone else that you're not just a tool to him.

"Sorry. Slipped out of habit." You settle for that response now. No point having a conversation with him about this.

"You don't have to leave right away, I can still drive you home."

Losing all the strength to refuse, you found yourself just agreeing with him. Why the fuck are you even so upset to begin with? You knew what you signed up for. You knew about the girl. You saw him with her in the very same bar a few nights ago before your first night together. Watched how much attention he gives her, how tightly he holds her.

"I'll break your heart by the end of this, baby." He warns you as you feel his length slip inside you, making you moan out in ecstasy.

"I don't care." You pant, grabbing him by the hips as a way of telling him to go faster.

Looking back, you shouldn't have been so foolish and say that. Now, you're paying the price. Now, your exit has been sealed.

The moment you met him, you forgot everything – your reason, pride, dignity, loyalty, sense, self-love. You hate how intoxicates you like the drugs on his backseat and yet you can't stop. You wonder if he knows how you feel about him. If he notices the way your eyes would light up when you see him or the way you would wrap your arms so tightly like you're afraid of letting him go.

The car stopped soon after and you looked out the window to find yourself in front of your house. You collected your things and fastened the clasp on your sandals then opened the door, stepping a foot outside when he once again stops you by the wrist.

"I'll call you soon. I promise."

"I'll be waiting." You wriggle out of his grip without looking back, stepping your remaining foot out to join with the other as you stand up to leave. "Take care, Rintarou."

"You too, baby." The sound of his tires grow fainter by the second as he speeds off to his and his girlfriend's shared apartment. You didn't notice the sobs wrecking your body. Not until you feel warm droplets fall to your open palms in front of you. You clutched your phone tightly, holding it to your chest.

You can only hope the next call comes soon.

note: a little smut + angst for everyone. whether or not this will be turned into a mini series completely depends on the feedback! let me know what u guys think <3

#suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou angst #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you #suna smut #suna angst #suna x reader #suna x you #haikyuu angst #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fic #suna rintarou fic #suna fic

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notmrskennedy · 4 years ago

Text

Noticed

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

A/N - Howdy! Here’s another little something from my drafts. It’s a draft and a half again so be gentle with it. Also, I’m touch averse and I would be so happy to find someone I wasn’t upset with touching. But c’est la vie! I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary - The touch averse agent starts getting touchy....

W/C - 2.5k

Warnings - none I think, but lmk if there is something

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

If Morgan was being honest with himself, he thought you were dying. Or maybe ill. Or so feverish you’d abandoned every single principle you had. Because he’d been there that first day of yours, waltzing up from the coffee machine to see you nervously trailing behind Hotch. It was painful to watch, he remembers, so terribly nervous you’d envy the kid on one of his bad days.

He had smiled at you and stirred his coffee and remained optimistic that someone so obviously terrified would be a decent field agent. (You’d been decent and then some, especially in an interrogation room). There’d been one non-committal wave—distinctly reminiscent of a certain genius—and the first full sentence of, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t do the touching thing. Handshakes included.”

Every little touch plagues you. You’re six inches away at all times, lest someone accidentally bump into you or get the wrong idea that you might be willing to brush shoulders. There’s no friendly pats. No high fives. Certainly no hugs. Garcia is furious in her attempt to loosen you up—to no avail—but Morgan knows better than to push. Something makes you hate skin to skin contact and he’s not looking to share trauma stories with you. Not yet.

So this, Morgan thinks as he wanders into the bullpen while stirring his coffee, is a sign that you’ve lost your mind.

He watches as you carefully extend one palm to one Dr. Spencer Reid. Perched on the edge of his desk, you’re a regular fixture, just another cute figurine to add to the collection. It’s the end to some wild discussion he could hear in the kitchenette, full of flailing limbs and butchered sentences. Everyone always thought it was cute, if you stripped away how irritating it could be.

This is the point where you two are caught up in whatever moment you’re having, so much so that you extend an upturned palm between the two of you. Reid threads his hands through his hair, stunned at your peace offering. Or maybe an offering of something more than friendship. Morgan assumes its something more; not only because you have the softest grin he’s ever seen, but because your fingers are practically begging the kid to hold your hand.

Reid’s careful in how he asks his question—Morgan doesn’t know what it is, but he can just tell. The wide eyes. The scared contemplation. The are you sure parting the kid’s lips.

Grinning and blushing, you just wiggle your fingers. Murmur something that Morgan isn’t allowed to hear. Something only for Spencer. There’s surprise before he grips onto your hand, wriggling all ten combined fingers together. You giggle as you spin him around in his desk chair and get tangled up.

Dropped jaw and grinning, Morgan can’t believe you, so touch averse you, are willing engaging in such risky behaviour. There’s a weird few moments when he wants to remind both of you to wear protection in such endeavours.

And as he’s wondering if hands need condoms, the two of you let go and move on like nothing’s happened. You go back to punctuating your points with your flailing hands. Spencer goes back to distracting from his blush with paperwork.

Morgan goes to get more coffee, trying to stop imaging that you two were his kids, growing up without his consent. And maybe also the hand condoms.

It’s shortly after JJ’s wedding—about midnight as the cleaning crew are picking up the straggling drunks—both Hotch and Rossi notice. They’re leaned up against the bar, each smoking a cigar, watching a slightly tipsy you teach an awkwardly sober Spencer Reid how to swing dance.

It’s no secret that you and Reid get on like a house on fire, two nerds that couldn’t shut up about whatever weird ass shit was on your brains. Rossi never made much move to care. Hotch was too stressed to think about what the pair of you did off company time. Everyone, them included, imagined that what time you did spend together was three feet apart. In museums. Wherever. No one questioned what kind of weird nerd shit you did, especially stuff that they couldn’t really be bothered to care about.

Now, they’re forced to carefully consider the implications of how touchy you’re getting. With Reid.

He’s even more gangly and uncoordinated than normal, as Hotch and Rossi watch on, getting thrown around like a rag doll. It’s kind of adorable, Rossi thinks and shares a well meaning look with Hotch. The two of you would be cute and he’s hoping that you do get together. Rossi always knows about these things, even if Hotch is positive that you two are just friends. And as two professional gentlemen do, they made a bet.

Twenty bucks.

Your laugh—one that no one gets tired of hearing—echoes around Rossi’s whole yard, even into his house. Reid’s voice is about two octaves too high as you spin him around on his wobbly feet. You go from three feet apart to chest to chest and back again. Rossi remembers high school dances vaguely and Hotch absently thinks about Hayley’s old infatuation with Grease.

Rossi takes another long drag from his cigar, grateful for the indisputable proof that you two are shacking up. There is no way that two people so touch averse could be touching this much without prior exposure. The yard is a ruckus of both of your laughters, year after year of awkwardness falling off you both in sheets. They’re no denying you two shut in nerds are finally having some fun.

It’s warming both Hotch and Rossi’s hearts.

And their bet.

Penelope notices next. Who knew that such a simple interaction could leave her speechless? Stammering and stuttering over not even a full minute of insanity.

She didn’t know how she’d gotten sick, or what she’d come down with, but the only thing that was keeping her in her work chair was you. And the endless buckets of soup that you kept pouring down her throat. Without a case—thank god—for the last couple days, all that you’ve done is sit in the bat cave, keeping her and her soup warm.

It’s as you are finishing some corny ass joke that she thinks how sweet you are. How loving. Penelope’s love language has always been touch—she’s given too many hugs to count—but it’s taken her a minute to figure out yours. And as she stares into the chicken soup in her hands, she realises that it’s everything you do for her. Your love is literally palpable.

It’s in the bright keychains you bring back. Or the crazy pens. Or the way you always drive her home after drinking.

As she’s opening her mouth to tell you, tell you just how much she appreciates everything, when Reid pops his head in, whole body following. He’s got too much of a grin this early. But when he’s far enough into the room, he spreads his fingers out over your shoulder and squeezes. Says something about a case and you follow behind him with a wave of your hand at Penelope. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like Penelope hasn’t been the one furiously trying to break you out of your shell. The predetermined first to get a hug in the office.

You’re still up and still waving and by the time she’s got her wits about her, she’s asking, “You let Reid touch you?”

The empty room and the closing door don’t answer.

JJ is nearly the last to find out. Well, your little touching relationship with Spencer has been the only topic of gossip between anyone for the last six weeks. They can’t believe they hadn’t picked up on the little bits of affection passed between the two of you.

Hand touches. Shoulder squeezes. Quick brushes. The mystical hug Morgan claims he once saw.

For the rest of the world, you and Spencer were nothing but friendly. Maybe even best friendly. To the team of highly trained profilers who had been friends with the pair of you for a combined 15 years, this was marriage material. This was you and Spencer screaming the pair of you had eloped.

You two crazy kids had to be together, but the team was left to sussing it out for themselves. Neither of you two would ever say anything, never give anything up. But surely, the three of them—using Penelope would be cheating of course—could figure out when you two had started up. Because you had to have. There was no way all of this was just friendly.

And it isn’t. That much is clear when JJ gets a phone call from you while she’s looking a crime scene over for what feels like the gazillionth time. Some un-sub with the usual cocktail of daddy issues, anger issues, and a healthy dose of narcissism.

It’s rare you call anyone without good reason. You aren’t the type to just chat—everyone has speculated you got enough of that from Spencer. And once JJ says hello, you start bawling.

You’re sobbing and JJ has no idea what to do.

“Y/n, y/n,” she tries, hoping you’ll calm down enough to breathe properly. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s—it’s Spencer,” you hiccup. JJ can hear you sniffling into your sleeves. Can hear the blinkers go as you change lanes. “He’s not answering—not answering his phone. And he said he’d—that he’d call, but he hasn’t. And JJ something’s wrong.”

By the way your breath hitches and your sobs crackle into the phone, JJ knows exactly how bad it has to be. Spencer, however, is supposed to be following up a lead with Emily. Some paint huffer in his mom’s garage—nothing more than a routine witness report. She almost can’t believe something would go wrong.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“JJ,” you sniffle before the flood gates open again, “I can just feel it. Something’s wrong.”

JJ’s mind scrambles. As much as you played it off, you had a sixth sense. Every time, every countable time, someone got hurt, you knew before it happened. You had a gut for these things and JJ didn’t want to think about how bad this was going to be. How bloody. So she scrambles for her car and doesn’t wait for the other detectives to figure it out.

JJ’s halfway to the witness’s house when you make it there yourself. You’re still on the phone, doing a horrible attempt at trying to keep each other calm. You’ve traded the sobs for hiccups, thankfully. JJ can hear you climbing the porch stairs. She’s taking corners at 65 miles an hour.

Nothing seems fast enough when JJ hears the phone clatter to the floor and the shout of “oh my god, Spencer!”

Nothing is fast enough when you’re sobbing out, “You can’t die on me like this.”

Nothing is fast enough when JJ quietly but distinctly hears, “I love you too much for you to fucking die, Spencer Reid.”

Spencer Reid always thinks he’s the last to find out. He’s blunt and oblivious and thinks too much to just see what’s in front of his face. He was so sure they had all seen how in love he was, just how desperately he was clinging to the hope they wouldn’t notice. If they didn’t notice, you wouldn’t. Not while wearing the same sort of blinders he wore.

But once everything had come out? He was positive everyone else had known. That he’d come into work one morning and there would be a cake engraved with the words, “Congrats on Shacking Up!”

It never happened. No cake. No lights. No surprises. No one seemed to know or notice or anything. Spencer and you went on like nothing had changed—it really hadn’t anyway. He liked to laugh when you told him the two of you had been practically dating since the first time he’d offered to take you to a Korean film festival.

Two years later and he’s become very aware of you. And also the ache. All of the very dull and consistent ache in his body. Another scar to add to the collection, he bitterly thinks, out of anaesthesia enough to know that he’s in a hospital. That he’s been hurt. That someone’s holding his hand.

It’s calloused and soft and just perfectly latched onto his. A hand he’d waited to hold for too long. One that he’d be holding for the rest of his life.

Attached to the hand is you, sleeping haphazardly between his bed and a plastic chair. Your fingers are tangled in his, head rested on the crook of your arm and the bed. There’s too much of you curled up in a chair. It’s one of his favourite bits about you, just how dedicated you could be. How you were always there when he woke up and always would be.

He smiles and chuckles despite the pain in his ribs. You wake with a start, one startled gasp followed by a shuddery exhale as you realise again where you are. That nothing’s changed. That everything’s changed.

Through lidded eyes, he watches your eyes light up, matching you grin for grin. He watches the anger flash across your face for not even a second, and he knows exactly how bad you want to murder him for scaring you so bad.

Instead, you press frantic kisses to the back of his knuckles, message fully received. You missed him. You’d been terrified. You’d cried so hard, he can still feel the salt on your lips.

“Spencer,” you breathe, giving his hand one more kiss for good measure and pressing his knuckles to your cheek. “God, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m alive, y/n, I promise,” he whispers back. Hoarse and adorably okay. It’s one thing to expect to get shot going after un-subs. It’s another to get attacked by a PCP addled grandmother.

He wiggles a finger against your cheek. Even though he can’t see your red rimmed eyes or the dark tear tracts on your cheeks, he can feel the tear that pools on his finger. But before he can reassure you one more time, you shush him and tell him to get some sleep and that you’ll both worry about this later. Maybe over jell-o.

He grins.

The team, visiting the next morning, doesn’t have the heart to wake up either of you. Reid looks happy for the first time in—years—with you carefully curled into his side. Sure, there’s a scratchy hospital gown and some pesky lines overriding everything, but it’s cute. No denying that. Thank god you two knuckleheads are finally being open about it. Even if you’re sleeping.

Emily smiles to herself as she readjusts her sling. Morgan and JJ are trading exclamations of shock, while Hotch passes Rossi twenty dollars. You readjust and Reid’s arm moves to rest across your cheek. JJ isn’t subtle when she takes a photo, sniggering.

Emily is even less subtle when she snorts. “I guess I can finally let the cat out of the bag.”

Everyone perks up; she swears she sees Reid open an eye.

“Nearly six months ago, y/n drunkenly confessed to dating Reid. She’s a real wild card on tequila, let me tell you.”

“You knew?” Morgan screeches, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Emily shrugs, winces with her busted up shoulder. “Does it matter? Didn’t we all know?”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #mgg #mgg fluff #fluff

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