#i keep them all in a little folder to make me feel better when i am sad about art

[poltergeist-coffee]

*staring up at my ceiling at 2 am* i need to post my drawings more

[bitchesuntitled]

Wrong Delivery

Summary: Sleepin' with the hot construction guy doing the remodel at your work, he winds up buying flowers for someone else...

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI go on get! No outbreak/pre outbreak(you decide), fluff, smut, miscommunication, cussing, oral f!receiving, unprotected piv(don't do that, make smart choices), cream pie, Joel being a dork.

A/N: First time I've ever actually finished a Joel story I started working on! Many thanks to @strang3lov3 for the encouragement and taking a look at this, @jay-zzle as always for giving me ideas and making moodboards for me because I hate doing them myself! ❤️❤️❤️

🌹This is for @morallyinept’s flora & fauna challenge! 🌹

Divider provided by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist||AO3 Link

As you rush into the building, trying to avoid the construction team surrounding the place, a timid smile crosses your face when you spot Joel, the man responsible for why you’re running late this morning. Instead of getting ready for work like you were supposed to, Joel Miller decided he wanted to spend his morning coaxing another orgasm out of you, as if the three last night weren’t enough. It’s been a couple of months of this. 

It had never been your intention to start sleeping with the hot contractor who had been doing construction at your place of work, you both just happened to be at the same bar one night. One thing led to another and now it’s been this, whatever this is.

“Mornin’ guys,” you say passing the crew, each giving their own sort of greeting back, be it a grunt of acknowledgment or repeating the greeting.

“Mornin’ ma’am,” Joel says with a cheeky smile, “Runnin’ a little late?”

“Yeah, woke up late,” you shrugged, feeling your face heat up.

“There you are!” Becky shouts, making her way towards you, “Angie is up my ass right now about where you are with those reports you said you’d get done yesterday.”

“On it,” you sigh, “Nice talking to you Joel.”

“Oh!” Becky said with a smile, grabbing his bicep, “Hi Joel! You guys sure have been working hard on all of this.”

You try to keep your eyes from rolling at Becky’s consistent attempt at flirting with Joel. She has definitely tried her hardest to get his attention, made cookies “for the crew” but only handed some of them to Joel, tries to talk to him every chance she can, wearing lower cut tops so her cleavage is on full display, batting eyelashes and laughing at any dumb thing he says. It’s starting to get on your nerves, if you’re being honest. Making your way to your desk you open the drawer, shoving your purse inside before closing it and turning on your computer. You open the teams app, sending Angie a quick message to let her know you’ll put the file with the reports in the folder outside her door, grabbing the file and making your way to her office.

Becky is still talking Joel’s ear off and you have to stifle your laugh, watching his eyebrows scrunch together and his polite nod before excusing himself. She catches you as you're on your way back to your cubicle to start the work day.

“That Joel Miller is a man,” Becky sighs, walking beside you, “The things I would let him do to me.”

“Oh jeez,” you laugh awkwardly, sitting down at your desk.

“I wonder what his dick is like,” she continues, “I bet it’s big.”

You turn to your computer hoping she can’t see the look on your face because then the jig would be up.

“Uhm,” you say, clearing your throat, “You better be careful. Don’t wanna get turned into HR.”

—

“Hello,” a frazzled delivery guy announces himself at the entrance to your cubicle. “I have a delivery for you, miss.”

“For me?!” Becky asks excitedly, seeing the bouquet of flowers. The delivery guy nodded, handing her the flowers. “Who are they from?!”

“Uh… Joel Miller?” The guy says, looking at his sheet. Your jaw drops upon hearing his words. Why on earth would Joel send Becky flowers?

“Oh my god!” Becky squeals with delight, grabbing the card, “Aw! Look! It says darlin’ on the envelope!”

Becky opens the card, reading it aloud:

“Figured a pretty lady like you should have some flowers to look at. Been havin’ the time of my life gettin’ to know ya and would love to take you out. He signed it off with a heart and J. Miller! How sweet is that?!”

Beside yourself on handling this, the only thing you could think of was finding the man himself. If this entire thing between you two was just for fun so be it, but you needed answers.

“Real sweet,” you mutter standing up, “I’m…  uh… I’ll be back.”

“Okay.” Becky hums dreamily, staring at the flowers on her desk.

You make your way to the front of the building, spotting Gus, one of the construction guys.

“Can you tell Joel I need to talk to him?”

“Sorry ma’am, he had to leave earlier, something about Tommy.” Gus shrugs. 

“Uhm… okay.” You nod, deciding to make your way to the breakroom, sitting at one of the tables trying to collect your thoughts. Maybe it’s for the best that he left. That way the entire building wouldn’t see you blow up. Are you even still supposed to see each other tonight? That had been the plan when he left this morning. What the actual fuck, you think to yourself, give annoying ass Becky flowers to ask her out, and then fuck you? That two-timing son of a bitch!

“So fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself.

—

You make it through the workday, as best as you can, trying not to think of Joel and how mad you are all while Becky continues to talk about him all day. What should she wear, wondering where he’d take her, what they would do, should she sleep with him on the first date. Hopefully, the Excedrin will kick in soon to help with the teeth grinding headache you’ve had all day. Walking to your car Becky’s shrill voice rings out wishing you a good evening.

“Yeah, you too,” you grumble, pulling your car door open and throwing your purse inside. You’re still so mad, fuming, seeing red as you drive towards your place. Once getting home, you quickly change into comfy clothes, and see you have a text from Joel.

JMiller: Can’t wait to see you beautiful ;) Leavin’ Tommy’s

You scowl looking at the text. How do you even respond to that? Petty, that’s how.

You: K.

You see the text bubbles pop up, disappear then pop up again before his face shows on your screen with an incoming call.

“Hello,” you snap.

“Hey,” Joel says hesitatingly, “Bad day at work?”

“Well, Becky got some lovely flowers delivered at work.”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” you say with a harsh pop at the end.

“And?” Joel asks, “Is that it?”

“Delivery guy and card said they were from you.”

“Fuck me,” Joel groans “Those were not for goddamn Becky!”

“Sure about that?”

“I got them for you.” Joel argues.

“Yeah, okay.” You huff into the receiver, rolling your eyes. “Look, I get it. It’s fine if you didn’t want this going anywhere but you could’ve been honest with me about it.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel groans, “I do want this going somewhere! Like I said, the flowers were for you!”

“Sure,” you say, shaking your head, “Just be honest, Joel. This has just been fun, that’s it. You’re getting your dick wet, stringing me al—“

“God damn it! I am telling the truth!” Joel growls, cutting you off. “I even have proof!”

“What proof?!” You spit back, “The proof of the flowers you sent Becky? Yeah, I saw them, and the card too. Sweet touch signing it off with a heart and then your name.”

Suddenly there is a knock on your door. You cock your head to the side, hearing the knock sound through the phone as well. Of fucking course, Tommy’s is a five minute drive to your place, making your way to the door you swing it open to see Joel standing there. His nostrils flared, phone held up to his ear, dropping it and angrily stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Just give me five minutes, I swear, they were meant for you and I have fuckin’ proof,” Joel says, holding up a piece of paper.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You groan, smacking your phone onto the entry table.  “Why are you here?”

“I was on my way home from Tommy’s. Figure I’d come here first,” Joel says, holding the paper out to you, “Go on, look at it.”

You grab it, glancing it over. Farrah’s Flowers printed at the top, with your name listed as the order’s recipient, eyes bulging out of your head as you look at him.

“Told you.”

“Wait, then how the fuck did they get to Becky then?”

“Somebody fucked up, that’s all I know but that is my copy of the receipt for buyin’ them in the first place, and that is your name on it,” Joel smirks in triumph, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

Your shoulders relax as you open the door wider, motioning your head for him to come in. He gives a subtle nod, making his way into your home, you slump against the door once it’s closed.

“Joel,” you start, “What the fuck are we?”

He cages you against the door, pushing his lower half into you. You sigh, looping your arms around his neck, looking at those dark chocolate eyes.

“Well,” Joel says, kissing your cheek, “I want you,” placing a soft kiss against your lips, “More than just for sex,” he whispers, against your lips breathing in each other's air causing you to feel a dizzying arousal. Lips collide with him in a hungry kiss, tongues rolling against one another, gasping when his hands creep down to hook around your thighs lifting you, grabbing onto your ass before pulling you away from the door and carrying you to your bedroom.

Joel lays you down on your bed hovering over you, never breaking away from your lips, licking into your mouth with desperation like this might be his last chance. Arousal begins pool in your underwear. Hands gliding down his back, feeling the warmth radiating from him, lifting the bottom of his shirt until he finally lifts to fling it off.

“Don’t want anyone else,” Joel husks, lightly biting your neck, causing you to moan at the sensation of his teeth against your skin, “Just you.”

“Joel,” you whimper as his hand travels down the length of your shirt, pushing it up to expose your tits, ducking his head down. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiffened peak before switching to give the other equal attention, kissing a trail down the soft flesh of your stomach until he reaches the top of your leggings.

“Can I?” He asks, looking at you, fingers hooking into your waistband. You give a firm nod and he pulls them off along with your underwear. He sighs once they are off, using his shoulders to spread your legs further apart, “So fucking pretty,” he hums, nipping and kissing along your inner thighs, slowly making his way to your center.

You can feel his breath against your folds, trembling with anticipation for his tongue and lips to make contact, letting out a soft moan Joel begins lapping at your folds, sucking your bundle of nerves into his mouth. Tongue massaging circles against your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan, raking your fingers through his hair and lightly tugging.

Joel’s hum reverberated into your core. His mouth opened and he began to fuck you with his tongue while firmly holding your gaze. You’re back arched at the sensation, letting out a gasp. You roll your hips against his face, his nose pressing deliciously against your clit. He grunts, moving his thumbs to spread your lips, licking a stripe up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. Your legs begin to shake at the sensation.

“Oh my god, Joel!” You whine, arching your back, feeling the band tightening within your core, begging for release. Joel sinks two of his thick fingers into you causing you to cry out, moving them to massage that sweet spot against your walls, “Yes! Oh my god, fuck!” You could feel the smug smirk on his face, knowing you’re about to come.

“Come on,” he coos, firmly licking your bundle of nerves “Let me have it baby.”

You cry his name out over and over as you feel the waves of pleasure crashing through you. He continues lapping at your folds, wanting to make sure he gets every last drop before you push his head away. He crawls up the length of your body, the denim of his jeans scratching against your skin.

“Good?” He asks, you nod giggling and he smirks, grabbing the nape of his neck you pull him closer to your face, looking into your eyes he whispers a hi. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, surging forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groans into your mouth, grinding his bulge against your center, the rough denim providing friction against your core. His hand moves to his belt, swiftly unhooking it and unbuttoning his jeans. Hands sliding down to help him push the denim off his hips, boxers following suit. You grip his hard length, stroking it from tip to base. Palm spreading the precome over his long thick length. Joel lets out a soft moan at the touch.

“Want you inside me,” you whimper, rubbing his cock against your slick heat. “Please.”

He bats your hand away, grabbing his cock to tease your folds more, rubbing his tip up and down your slit. You let out a moan when his tip catches against your entrance. Only for him to slide back up to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles against you.

“Joel,” you begged, titling your pelvis, “Please, please fuck me.”

Joel smirks, sliding his cock back down to your entrance, feeding you his bulbous head. You writhe, feeling the stretch. He sinks into you slowly, filling you up until his tip kisses your cervix. Fingers gripping his back, each of you letting out a satisfied moan.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel murmurs into your neck, nipping and sucking on your pulse point, letting you adjust to his size, “Best pussy ever,” placing gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Joel, move,” you plead, hitching your legs up on his waist, “Need you to move.”

He pulls out slowly before snapping his length into you again, letting out a shaky breath at the harshness of his thrust. Your grip on his back tightens, sinking your nails into his skin. He lets out a hiss as he rocks his hips into you, trying to find that spot that makes you see stars. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, “Don’t want anyone else, darlin’.”

Breathy moans shared between kisses, sweat slicked skin gliding against each other. He pushes your thighs back further into a mating press, finding that sweet spot inside your walls.

“Oh my god,” you whine, back beginning to arch, “Right there!”

His cock massages that spot with every stroke, causing your muscles to tighten. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening, walls beginning to flutter around his shaft as he drills into that spot over and over.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel growls, feeling the heat of his skin slapping against yours, “I need you to come, baby. Ain’t gonna last much longer.”

You moan wantonly as you feel his dick twitch inside of you. Joel holding out to make sure you come first. The coil in your belly finally snaps, sending you over the edge, white hot electricity flowing through every limb. He thrusts into you harshly half a dozen more times before his hips stutter.

“Only you, darlin’, only want you,” he grunts, as he empties himself inside you, painting your walls with his sticky release, “only want you.”

Joel collapses, holding himself up by his elbows on either side of your head, nuzzling his nose against yours, placing soft kisses against your lips.

“Only want you,” he sighs.

—

You spent the next hour, in each other's arms, talking, snuggling and kissing.

“I can’t believe you would think I’d want Becky,” Joel booms with laughter, eyes crinkling around the edges. You smirk playfully, slapping his arm.

“Look,” you giggle, “I didn’t know if her flirting finally wore you down!”

“Hi Joel!” He says in an exaggerated high pitch, batting his eyelashes, “My, you sure have been working hard!” he adds with a girly giggle, lifting his pecs to create some sort of cleavage.

“Oh shut up!”

“Did you see the flowers though? Like actually look at ‘em?”

“Not really,” you sigh, playing with a loose thread on your blanket.

“Purple tulips for new beginnings and love,” Joel says, planting a kiss on your cheek, “Jasmine for devotion,” he continues, kissing your other cheek, “and pink roses for appreciation,” he smiles before kissing the tip of your nose.

“Really?”

“Yep, the florist helped me pick them out,” Joel says, grabbing the back of your neck pulling you into a kiss, “Told ya they were for you.”

[lovegasmic]

 WORKING OVER TIME.

TOJI, KENTO, SUKUNA + FEM!READER.

mdni. dub con, gangbang, a bit of inappropriate touching but you don't complain, no curses au ( you all are office workers lol ) , stuck in a wall, cunilingus, anaI fingering, use of spit as lube, oral male receiving ( w Nanami and he's kinda mean ) unprotected sx aka creampies and cum swallowing. words used to refer reader: dummy, princess, slut. NOT PROOFREAD

“c’mon pretty, I know you can get it” ever since you arrived at the company, Toji hasn’t lost a single chance to tease you, making his approach seem friendly when in reality, he just wanted to fuck you raw.

“i’m trying!” you huff in return, embarrassed by the current position that you find yourself in, stretching your hands to reach for the documents folder that fell behind large rack, and you, being the only girl working after hours was the perfect fit to help the man retreat such important material, “i can’t reach it!”

Toji is so grateful that you’re not watching him, allowing his eyes to wander through the way your round ass is up in the air, standing on tip toes while letting out huffs of exertion, sounds Toji wished to hear while being balls deep in your tight pussy. a soft yet firm slap lands on your butt cheek, not painful but making you squeal, “Toji!” you yell, ignoring the way your face burns and core throbs, denying the attraction you had to the man wouldn’t take you anywhere.

he chuckles, “you’re almost there, just a bit more... although, i’m not complaining if you take your time, the view over here is wonderful”

“you’re the worse” you mutter, used to Toji’s behavior and way too over friendly touching, the tips of your fingers brush over the hard edge of the folder, skimming in a little further to grasp it with a triumphant sound, “i got it! Toji help me out”

“of course, princess” the man smirks, holding onto your hips but instead of pulling, you feel him pushing you down and deeper into the rack, your head almost hanging from the other side of it.

“Toji you idiot! now i’m stuck, you made it worse”

“nah” he tuts, “i think I made it perfect” there’s a deep laugh coming from his chest, clearly enjoying himself, rubbing his hands across your thighs.

“what’s going on?” another voice joins, steady steps approaching your squirming form, and you can tell who it is immediately, another one of your coworkers who adores teasing you nonstop.

“dummy got stuck while trying to pick up a folder that fell” Toji’s voice is filled with humor, a bit mockingly if you had to say.

Sukuna grins, allowing his hand to rest on the small of your back, “is that so?” you hear him laugh.

“i hate you both” you bite back, trying to ignore the growing wetness between your legs, most likely staining your panties and dripping down your thighs.

“oh, but it seems like you’re enjoying this” the pink haired man speaks again, letting a single finger trace the contour of your pussy through the pencil skirt you wore, pushing enough for your wetness to seep through and drench the other layer of fabric.

“i’m not!” you hiss, futilely trying to kick the men only for them to grab your legs, one each.

“this sweet cunt of yours says otherwise” Toji huffs, raising your skirt until it pools around your waist, taking a teasing lick across your covered slit to which you mewl, hips wiggling against your better judgement, “don’t fight, honey, we’ll make you feel so good” Sukuna’s hands then reach forward, spreading out your pussy lips after Toji tugged your underwear down, letting it stretch around your knees.

“what a pretty thing you are” Sukuna speaks, letting his fingers caress the skin of your folds, teasingly sliding them across your wet clit just for a brief second.

by this point all rational thoughts are pretty much gone from your head, focusing on Toji’s heavy breathing straight in your core, and Sukuna’s thumbs keeping your hole spread and leaking. a loud groan resonates in the small room, followed closely by the dark haired man’s tongue plunging into your sopping cunt, so deep and so good your hands desperately try to find purchase in the smooth wall right in front of your eyes.

“she’s gorgeous” Sukuna groans, palming his bulge, “isn’t that right, Kento?” and you yelp at his words, a sound that could get easily mistaken as a pleasurable one since Toji kept on slurping loudly against your clit, sucking on your folds and swirling your slick on the tip of his tongue.

Sukuna and Toji were something, but you actually held respect towards the blonde, worried about how his opinion on you would change by watching you moan over your coworker eating you out.

“what do you think you’re doing?” his voice is deep and calm, a bit tired if you had to admit.

“Kento!” you gasp and kick, earning a pinch in your ass and Toji’s muffled voice vibrating in your pussy, “if you’re going to moan someone’s name so prettily it better be mine”

“oh, c’mon, join the fun, she’s enjoying the attention, like a little greedy slut” this time is Sukuna’a turn to speak, returning to his place by hunching next to your hips, his face hovering over where Toji continues his assault and letting a glob of spit to fall in the crack of your ass, using the thick substance to rub on your puckered hole.

“n-not there! i can’t—” you whine, thighs shaking from the double stimulation.

“you say that but your pussy is fluttering like crazy” Toji chuckles, now using two of his fingers to penetrate your hole, going at such a fast pace that you’re unable to speak and just moan, “cum, I know you’re close” he rasps, his fingers not flattering until liquid gushes out of your cunt and soaks his fingers at the same time as Sukuna’s finger dips in your asshole.

“o-oh, my god—!”

“fuck yes, you’re so goddamn sexy” they half praise, half groan, both men digits still buried inside your holes and moving in sync, slowly driving you insane.

a second finger joins the one in your ass and the ones in your pussy disappear, replaced by a sticky trail that left on your thigh, up and across your asscheeks where Toji glides his cockhead against, tapping on your clit a couple of times for his own selfish enjoyment in hearing you beg.

“please...” you whine, not certain of what but the emptiness of your cunt brought tears to your eyes, twitching in aftershocks of your previous orgasm.

“you better be on birth control, baby, because i’m fuckin’ you raw”

“elders first” Sukuna chuckles, observing intensely how Toji’s cock slowly disappears into your wet hole, ripping whines out of your mouth and forcing your ass to squeeze Sukuna’s fingers, biting back a groan of satisfaction at the idea of how tight you might feel inside.

“fuck me! f-feels so good!” you scream, attempting to dig your nails in the wall as a shiver runs down your spine once Toji’s cock is deeply buried inside your pussy, drooling precum inside your slippery walls.

“so fuckin’ hot, i’m going to enjoy breeding this tiny pussy” you mewl while the man starts to pound into you, slapping Sukuna’s hand away and replacing it with his thumb, fingering your tight hole as his cock stretches your cunt, groaning deeply at the tight squeeze of your walls, sucking him deeper with each thrust.

“i’m cumming again” you cry out, embarrassingly sooner than expected, unable to stop the sudden wave of pleasure surging through your body and forcing your walls to clamp down on the cock ruining your insides. he continues to fuck you through your orgasm until his own high gets triggered, cumming hard with a deep growl, halfway pulling out to spray your folds and lower back with cum.

“prettiest pussy i’ve ever fucked” Toji says, stepping aside to allow Sukuna to pull your thighs back, forcing you to take his cock in one swift motion, filling every inch of your pussy.

“you love this, don’t you, a perfect fuckhole, letting us take turns in fucking this tight pussy” Sykuna growls, moving in slow but hard thrusts that knock the air out of your lungs, bringing tears to your eyes and you slick to drip down on the floor.

“y-yes, Kuna! my pussy feels so good” you babble delirious, thighs shaking under the intense and hard pounding into your hot cunt, overstimulated but feeling impossibly good.

“fuuck, you’ll make me cum soon, better stretch this pussy nicely for Kento, hm? he acts all serious but has been jerking off for the past hour” Sukuna’s last words come quietly, almost like a secret you pretty much enjoy considering the sudden tightness in your walls, squeezing tightly around his cock while his hands grip your hips tightly, keeping you still as his balls slap against your clit.

“f-fill me up, please” you beg, eyes crossing as your pussy cums around him, taking Sukuna with you as his hips speed up, groans turning into growls while he fills you with his hot cum, pumping into you with tiny thrusts, more like humping your ass.

you breathe heavily, trying to compose your erratic heartbeat as Sukuna pulls out, cum oozing out of your hole and dripping down your thighs.

an unconscious yelp gets ripped out of your throat at the sudden pull of your legs, unstuck and landing on the floor with a dull thud where your knees hit.

“open your mouth” Kento growls, tugging your head back slightly enough to guide the dripping tip of his cock into your mouth, a bit of consideration to your abused cunt.

“wettest cunt, wettest mouth” Sukuna whistles next to the blonde, watching how his length comes out of your mouth glistening and soaked with your saliva, “aren’t you perfect everywhere?”

ignoring the other men in the room, Kento starts to use your throat back and forth, careful but firm enough to bring tears to your eyes, adoring how there's drool slipping from the corners of your lips, eyes glossy and almost rolled to the back of your skull with how good you feel. it doesn’t take much time for the man to approach his orgasm, rubbing your tongue with his cock head and slapping your cheeks before plunging it inside once again, his groans only increasing with the subtle buck of his hips against your mouth.

“i’m cumming, you swallow it all” he huffs, pressing into your mouth as deep as possible, making your nose rub on the peach fuzz above his cock, choking and moaning as cum fills your warm mouth. “next time I’ll be cumming in your pussy, since you love slutting yourself out”

[elllisaaa]

in ur last svt post (which made me fold btw) you mentioned you love doing bf thoughts (and we love reading them!!) so i’m gonna be the one to do it… any dirty bf!wonwoo headcanons sweetie? 🫣

not me dropping two wonwoo asks in one day like i’m not hansol biased i’m gonna run away 🏃‍♀️ he’s so husband material tho (getting back into my svt phase is fun 🙂‍↕️)

lmaoo honestly it's valid being whipped for wonwoo, i am too even though i'm a seokmin and chan girlie (hansol is coming at me these days though...)

BF!WONWOO who's a silent lover, but who loves you so much that everyone can see who smitten by you he is.

another member of seventeen that i think is a very good listener. wonwoo is always ready to listen to you when you need to talk, be that because something funny happened to you or because you had a bad day. and he's also really good at giving you advice when you have a problem. he strikes me as someone who's emotionally smart, so it isn't difficult for him to know that you're sad without you having to tell hims. sometimes he'll notice that you're not doing well and he will prepare you a little snack and deliver it with a kiss and a sweet "i love you, i'm here if you need to talk." that almost makes you tear up from how caring he is. also, wonwoo's hugs must feel incredibly good, like being engulfed in a warm bubble of love that's so soothing you immediately relax in his embrace. you could literally spend your whole life hugging him because it's genuinely the best feeling in the world.

"it's okay darling, i'm here now. everything is going to be alright."

wonwoo would love to play video games with you. it's good if you are already into it, but it would be even better if you don't because he would love to teach you how to play his favourite games. he would even use it as an excuse to make you sit on his lap while he's trying to show you how to play. from there, you would often play together, but it's also not rare for you to simply sit in wonwoo's lap and watch him play, or take a nap there, lulled to sleep by his breathing and heartbeat. one of his favourite ways to spend a date night at home with you is playing board games. you'd pick out one or two games together, make yourself some tea and prepare snacks and then you'll spend your night playing together. the members often joke about how the two of you are like an old couple but you don't care because what matters is that you're having fun during these game nights. also, wonwoo loves to just stay at home with you, all cozy in your matching pajamas and getting to see you all relaxed. he obviously loves it when you're dressing up when the two of you are going out, but you're the most beautiful to him with only a big beautiful smile on your face.

"let's just watch a movie tonight, i don't want to see other people, only you."

he's adamant on reminding you of how beautiful you are every single day. and that's the way he says it that makes you blush - like it's the most natural thing ever and that it's obvious. however, when it's your turn to praise wonwoo, he gets shy and bashful, and you literally have to fight him to get him to accept the compliment. but wonwoo loves your insistence on adoring him and he loves the attention - he's down bad for you, but it's good to know that you're down bad for him as well. he would often take photos of you without you noticing when he thinks you look particularly pretty. he won't show these pictures to you, but he has folder of them on his phone and on his computer too, and he looks at them when he's away from you and that he misses you. wonwoo would put all these secret photos into a pretty album he made and decorated himself, and he would gift it to you for your anniversary. overall, he would gift you a lot of mindful things like these, and you keep all of them in a little box under your bed.

"when did you take this one nonu ?" - "when we went to the botanical garden, you were so pretty that day."

BF!WONWOO who's a service top and who loves to please you, but who can also get a little bit mean when he wants to.

wonwoo definitely loves cockwarming with you. when you sit on his lap while he's playing video games, it's not impossible that he'll end up pushing your panties to the side and slipping his cock inside of you, not moving at all. he just loves the intimacy of it, how much you trust him and relax into his touch immediately. but it's impossible to not get hard when your pussy feels this wet and this warm, nor when you're sometimes clenching around him. wonwoo usually gives up pretty quickly, because he loves the feeling as much as you. most of the time, he would grip your hips and help you drop down on his cock slowly until the both of you cum. but when he's feeling more needy, he would bend you over his desk and fuck you rough from behind until you're screaming his name. but sometimes, you can stay like this for a long time, even managing to fall asleep because it feels so warm and safe to be so close to him. it's the way you feel so comfortable around him that gets him going mostly.

"just sit on my cock for while baby, then i'll fuck you, okay ?"

overall, wonwoo just loves to please you in every way he can. he's inflexible about foreplay because he loves to have you cumming at least once before he fucks you - his girl should get as much orgasms as possible because you only deserve the best. he woul often keep his glasses on while eating you out, because even if it's the most comfortable for him, he knows how crazy you go when he looks up at you through the fogged lenses and how hot you think he is when he has them on. wonwoo prefers positions where he can see your face as he fucks you, so missionary is a must with him. he loves to see your face contort when you're close to the edge, and he loves to watch you as he brings you to your orgasm - your pretty expressions and the sounds you make often enough to trigger his own release. again, he loves how close he can be to you in this position, chest and forehead pressed against each other's, whispering praises and love confessions against your lips while he ruts his hips into you deep.

"you're so pretty darling… so fucking pretty like this."

despite him being very romantic, he also knows how much you like it when he shows you how strong he is. wonwoo would definitely manhandle you into bending over for him if that's what you want - and he's not gonna lie by saying that he doesn't like it when you become all putty in his hands because he's holding your hands firmly behind your back. it's quite good for his ego too to hear you gush about how attractive he is, how hot his strength and his muscles are. wonwoo also uses it to his advantage when you've been a little tease or that he's frustrated. all these hours spent at the gym are worth it when it allows him to hold you down against the mattress while he pounds into you until you're crying out his name and that tears are running down your face. of course, he's always mindful of any signs of discomfort when he's rougher, but you both love it when wonwoo doesn't hold back and ruins you. it feels rewarding to know that he can make his girl scream his name so loud that the neighbors complain the next day.

"i'm not gonna let you go until you're dripping baby, i need to have you again."

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

Hello! Many people have said this but ill say it too, I LOVE YOUR COMIC SO MUCH ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I really wanted to ask you about how you do the backgrounds? (Something i struggle with) whats the process? Like from start to finish, also, to do the rise backgrounds do you use reference from the show and generally real photo of ny? Or do you come up with them? And last question- The shadow and light on the background- Like HOW

i know it’s a lot of questions but i’m just so curious qwq and wanna learn to be better, thank you again in case you read this and respond, in case you don’t, i hope you have a nice day and a wonderful life uwu keep up the great work! (≧◡≦) ♡

Backgrounds are a really broad subject and I'm always a little overwhelmed when asked this question. Just like drawing the human body, backgrounds take time, repetition, and practice!

My answer got a bit long, so it's going under a read more :) but if you digest info better in video format I found this on youtube

It pretty much goes over everything I wanted to say, but in a much better way. I wish I had found it before writing all this out lol

ok, first of all, I'm not a teacher nor was I built to be one of those cool helpful art tutorial people who do a full coloured tutorial filled with illustrations. This is just going to be a messy "how I do backgrounds / environment layouts from start to finish." kinda thing.

... lets start with a sight tangent.

Sketch from Life!!!

If you want to get better at backgrounds I recommend doing some sketching out in the real world!

When I was first getting into doing backgrounds I went to cafes and parks to just sketch the buildings and objects. Sketch rocks, flowers, clumps of grass, garbage cans, bottles, tables, street signs, etc. If you are drawing a tree observe how the trunks twist, how the bark flows, or how the leaves are bunched.

If you can't leave the house the same still applies! Sketch the interiors of your house, the walls, or common objects like chairs and bookshelves. How are objects stacked? items on the floor?

If you aren't comfortable with drawing outside or in public you can take some photos to draw from! They are good for practice and you can use them again as references later. Alternatively you can find pictures online of buildings and objects to sketch as practice.

All spaces have objects in them, it becomes easier to draw those kinds of spaces when you already have spent time observing and sketching them.

ALSO! They don't have to be good sketches! It's just to build out your mental catalogue and strengthen your perception of perspective.

now the actual thing...

BACKGROUNDS

(the pictures used for this are my own. I dug them out of my 2022 folder)

Backgrounds have slightly different rules based on what you are making them for. Videogame Environment Concept Art vs Animation Layouts vs Comic Backgrounds vs Illustration backgrounds.

They all follow the same basics, which I will go over here, but the intention and function of those designs are going to be different. It's all about how you set up the scene and what it's purpose is!

Brainstorming and Thumbnailing

I like to think about a location as though it is a character. An abandoned old house with creaky sagging floorboards is very different from a futuristic space ship with sharp metal floor panels. A gas station has a very different feeling from a library.

I usually start by asking what is this location's story? Why was it built and for what purpose? What kinds of things does this room need to fulfill that purpose? You don’t need solid answers, but its good to be thinking about it while you are working.

Next, sketch some ideas for how this place is going to look. For me, this usually involves drawing the idea from multiple angles and then making lists & small sketches of the objects I think should be filling the space.

Example: The main character of my original work is a Wanderer. They collect a lot of things on their travels, but those items have to be small enough to be easily carried in a backpack. I wanted his room to be in the corner of an attic, walled off by curtains, and filled with trinkets. You can see some of my brainstorming above.

References

I only look for references after I've done some sketching and planning; this is to solidify my idea first so that I don't accidentally copy anyone else's work. I will make a moodboard with pictures of lighting, colours, items, rooms with specific ceiling beams, old chairs, etc. basically whatever I feel fits the vibe.

Honestly, I don't use references as much as I should. For ROTTMNT fanart I look at backgrounds and screenshots from the series to study the style. I also reference actual photos of NYC to get a feel for how Rise condenses the visual information.

In general, it's good to have references of real life objects/locations, because there are so many details like cracks in pavement, stickers on polls, crowning on buildings, fancy fencing, weird chair legs, etc. that you might not think of. It's the imperfect details that can make a location feel more alive.

Perspective

Once you have your chosen sketch we move to.... the infamous perspective boxes. Doing backgrounds is just learning to be comfortable drawing So Many boxes and carving items out of them.

Many better artists than myself have made videos on perspective, vanishing points, and all the technical bits. Videos like THIS ONE and THIS ONE are helpful (this post is great too!!). There are probably a lot of classes to be found on Skillshare or Schoolism. I learned a lot of this in my college art course, so I can't give you a specific video which helped me.

You can get by and be a good artist without learning this stuff. There are quite a few successful artists who have admitted they never bothered to learn perspective (one of these people even made a whole graphic novel series).

I personally avoided properly learning this stuff until I was in my 20s because I thought it would be boring and difficult to do. tbh I really wish I had learned it earlier because it's so much fun to make those silly little boxes imo. It looks scary and complicated but, just like drawing humans, it just takes time, repetition, and practice to develop the knowledge and skills.

Cleanup

You have your boxes and lines! Cool! Now to make a scene out of it. Fill in the details, get everything placed were you want it! Generally, the lines of each item will point back towards the horizon line, but they can have different perspective points.

Generally you would want to clean it up and get your room completely sketched before doing the lineart. I tend to combine the steps (not recommended)

Lineart

I've mentioned how I do this before. Closer objects have thicker lines and more detailed inside. Further objects have thinner lines and less detail. I didn't quite achieve that balance with the image below, but it's close enough.

Colours and Shading will have to be a separate post. In the meantime, I highly recommend the book "Color and Light" by James Gurney. I used to borrow it from my local library and a good chunk of my knowledge was learned from it :)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: double chapters when I know I shouldn't.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“We got a suite available, Amalia?” The man, the owner of this casino, Bucky, asks as he approaches the glass counter of the hotel lobby. You barely keep up as your surroundings smear and your head spins. Everything’s happening so fast. 

“Mr. Barnes,” the woman on the other side greets as she nears the slim monitor, “I think we should.” She glances at him, then your sister as she blathers drunkenly in his arms, “having a good night?” 

“Oh, just some friends in the city for a night,” he lies easily, “she got a bit carried away so we’ll let her sleep it off.” 

You chew your lip as you stand just behind him. Your stomach lurches as your eyes wander around the fine decor. It’s all out of your price range. Again, your brain is a beat behind.  

“Doll, would you get that?” He asks as the desk agent holds out a small folder. 

“Oh, yeah, er,” you rush up to take the room keys, “sorry.” 

“No problem, just got my hands full,” he scoffs, “Amalia, have a good night. Hopefully you don’t get anyone too rowdy.” 

“Thank you, sir, you too,” she preens after him as he heads off across the lobby. 

Once more you’re on his heels as he struts toward the elevators. You catch up to him and force the frog from your throat, “uh, sir, Bucky?” You stammer, “I don’t think... I can afford--” 

“Doll, don’t worry about all that. It's on the house,” he stops before the elevator and stares at the golden doors, “I’m not some sort of grifter. I offered, I’m not gonna squeeze ya. What’s the room number?” 

“Er, oh,” you open the little folder, “720.” 

“Right, hit the button,” he nods before him. 

“Sorry,” you cringe again. You’re so behind. It must be so obvious to him how lost you are. Maybe that’s why he noticed you. He feels bad that someone so pathetic could exist. 

You press the up button and the doors open. He nods you ahead of him and you step into the box. The walls are transparent and you can see outside along the river. He gets in and comes to stand parallel with you as you avoid looking through the glass. 

“Seven,” he says. 

You make another mousy noise and tap the button. You recoil, clutching your hands over your chest, and stare at the doors. As the elevator rises, you feel a wave of head rush, and you sway just a little. You gulp and widen your eyes. 

“Not a fan of heights?” He asks as the box stops sharply and the doors ding and open. 

“Not really,” you mutter. 

He waits for you to exit first and you eagerly do. He follows as you look back and forth between the doors, searching out the number to match the folder. 720, right at the end. You fumble and it takes three tries to swipe the card correctly.  

Finally, the door opens and you push it inward, holding it as you flatten yourself to the wall to let him through. He enters without hesitation. For a moment, you wonder what it must be like to be so sure and so comfortable in a place like this. To have this be your normal.

You let go of the door and trail him further inside. The room is huge. Not just one room, but two. The front room is closed off by a pair of doors, painted white with fine spirals etched into the wood. You flit ahead of Bucky to slide them open and reveal the bedroom. He takes your sister to the bed and lays her down as she lets out a bubbly belch. 

“Sorry,” you apologise on her behalf as you hover in the door. 

“She’s her own person,” he stands back, “you need anything, call down to the desk. They’ll be happy to get you whatever. Oh, and, should probably have some water ready for the morning. She’s gonna be feeling this.” 

“Right,” you push your lip out then quickly fix your face, “thank you. I...” 

“Checkouts at eleven but I’ll tell Amalia to mark you down for a late departure,” he comes towards you slowly. 

“Oh, we won’t stay that long,” you assure him and scrape your palms together. 

“Ah, you got somewhere to be? Work? Gonna be a long day after tonight.” 

“No, I... I don’t...” your eyes drift to the wall. Again, you can’t help but admire the ivory paint and the crystal lamp and tall posts of the bed. “I don’t... have a job.” 

“Mm, tough out there,” he says, “just gotta find the right thing, huh?” 

You want to fold into nothing. This man, a millionaire at least, who owns this whole place, is telling you you’ll find something one day. Just like your mom does when you melt down over another rejection. Ugh. 

“Thanks, yeah,” you take a heavy breath. 

“You’re tired,” he surprises you as he caresses your sleeve, “I’m not gonna keep you up. You get some sleep, alright?” 

You nod and reach to scratch your neck, shifting away from his reach. He’s so much bigger than you that for a moment your stomach is crawling, as the thought occurs of how much control he really has. Not just because of who he is. 

“Good night, doll,” he purrs and brushes by you. 

You stay as you are, staring at your sister, muttering to herself. Why does she have to do this? You could be sleeping in your own bed but instead you’re here, burning in shame and pity. You turn as you hear him near the door. 

“Night,” you offer up. 

He stops and turns back, sending you a wink, “there’s a hot tub in here so... might enjoy the room at least.” 

You force a smile though your stress likely makes it more a grimace. He spins and leaves you, the door shutting with a click and releasing you to your self-reproach. You drop your head in your hands and huff. You are leaving the minute your sister wakes up. You never want to see that man again. You just pray he forgets you just as quickly as you want to forget this whole night. 

🃏

You hardly sleep. Your sister’s drunken snoring keeps you from relaxing for more than twenty minutes at a time, not to mention how unsettled you are. You hate sleeping in new places but moreso you hate that even on a night out, after all the assurance that you could just enjoy yourself, that you are once more a burden for someone else. 

You get up just after six. You rub your forehead as you go out into the front room and look over the amenities. There’s a fancy coffee maker with pods and a mini fridge with a glass door. You take out a bottle of water to leave by the bed for Roxie then return to figure out the coffee. You don’t often have any but your head is pounding. 

You sit down and sneer at the bitterness. Did you make it right? You never liked the taste so you can’t tell. You finish the cup if only for the soothing warmth. 

At seven, you get up to check on Roxie again. She’s still out like a light. Come on! You want to go. 

You rinse the mug in the sink as best you can and return it to the shelf. There’s a knock on the door. You flinch and reluctantly tread down to the hall. You peep through the hole as you fix your clothing. You push down the handle slowly to greet the woman with the cart. 

The golden embroidery on her white blouse marks her as an employee and she beams a smile in your direction. It’s too early for that amount of cheer. She has her hands on the cart, angling it towards the door. 

“Morning, miss, breakfast, complements of Mr. Barnes,” she declares, “where can I put it?” 

“Um,” you back up slowly, “inside... uh, by the table, I guess.” 

She rolls the cart in and asks if you need anything else before she leaves. You shake your head. There’s more than enough there for you and Roxie. If she can even stomach any of it. You’ve seen the way she is after her nights out. 

You sit and stare at the buffet of food before you. Fresh fruit, waffles, pancakes, french toast, bacon, eggs... everything and more. Just another favour to feel bad for. 

As you look over it all, you notice a note, nestled between the glasses beside the pitcher of orange juice. You take it. That must be the bill. You unfold it and read the slanted capitals hand-written across the casino-branded page. 

‘Good Morning, Doll,  

Enjoy breakfast on me. 

B. Barnes’ 

Under his name, is a sharp zigzag of the same black ink, a post script below. 

‘PS. If you’re still looking for a job, call me.’ 

You nearly drop the paper. What? You stare at the digits of his phone number and slowly lower your hand to your lap. This can’t be real. Could you really work at a casino? Would you be a dealer? Or maybe you’d be more suited to a cleaner, somewhere you can be out of the way. 

A long groan interrupts your inner turmoil. You fold the paper and tuck it away. It’s something. You’ll have to just figure out later what. 

“Coffee,” Roxie grumbles as she appears in the doorframe, gripping her skull. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you get up and go to the machine. You grab a random pod and shove it into the top. 

“Where... how’d we get here?” She sits heavily and reaches for a piece of bacon. 

“Um, you... you were really drunk so...” 

“How the hell did you get us a room? Wait. Did we win? Blackjack?” She bites into the greasy strip and moans. “Or... I didn’t sleep with that guy, did I?” 

“Erm,” you frown, thinking for a moment before you realise she must mean that Sam guy. “No...” 

You don’t explain. You don’t know how. Oh yeah, you were such a disaster that the owner noticed and didn’t kick us out. Actually, he let us stay in an overpriced suite because... you don’t know. 

“He must be loaded if he’s handing out hotel rooms,” she scoffs as she continues on in her assumption. You don’t correct her. It doesn’t matter. “Coffee,” she snaps her fingers as the grind quiets. 

You bring her the mug and she adds too many packets of sugar before she tastes it. You hide the paper in your cardigan pocket and search for your purse. You fish your watch out of it and put it around your wrist checking the time. 

“We should head out before nine,” you say. 

“Why?” She scoffs. “Ugh, what’s the bath like in this place? I could use a soak.” 

“Mom’s going to be worried.” 

“Nah, she knows I’ll get you back,” she waves you off and stands.  

She walks slowly, rubbing her temples as she sips from the cup, and examines the hotel room. She dips into the bathroom and the light flicks on. You hear her turning the faucet and shifting things around.  

You play with the zipper of your purse. You reach inside and pull out your phone. You get up to grab the key folder and enter the wifi code into your outdated model. It takes far too long to connect. You type into the search of your browser, ‘Bucky Barnes’. 

Almost at once, an image of the very man who carried Roxie into this room appears. It’s familiar. You tap it and it opens up a local news story. That makes sense. He’s younger, his hair is shorter. You remember when the casino changed hands and was renovated all those years ago. It was big news. 

Hm. Not just rich, famous, at least to a degree. It means he has a lot more going on than two disorderly girls at his casino. He’ll forget. You just hope you can too. 

Roxie comes back in a robe and put her mug on the table, “make me another. I’m gonna try those jets.” 

She spins away and you stare at her empty cup. How can she not care about anything? Does she not realise that she ruined the night? That she made a fool of both of you? No, she just sees shiny things and forgets all about her own behaviour. 

Well, you’re not like her. You don’t like being a burden or asking for things or living on someone else’s affection. You look down and feel along your pocket, the slip of paper firm through the fabric. You could clean a few hotel toilets for a buck. It’s not like you have much else going on. 

[romaniacs]

▌ㅤNATASHA ROMANOFF — IN LOVE WITH A SECRETARY

( read more ) synopsis — natasha wants to keep you safe and be the person she needed when she first got into the company. she didn't really intend to catch feelings for you. warnings — headcanons, slightly suggestive, tooth rotting fluff.

coming from a real secretary

secretary natasha romanoff is your coworker

and she’s so good at her job

doesn't let anything pass

you, as a probationary employee, mess up so often

but she takes a liking to you quickly, reading you so easily

and she truly wants to help you through this period

she can tell you like her the most out of everyone

she notices that, and she can't lie, that kinda motivates her

natasha puts her hair in a bun to avoid distracting you

she wants to be professional

but undoes some of her shirt buttons

she's a bit contradicting to herself

but she tells herself it's only because it's always hot as fuck

she usually goes for a drink on her break

breaking her secretary look with a leather jacket

and taking you with her

she offers you a cigarette outside

and pats your head when you refuse it

you just can’t escape feeling things for her, she's so attractive

even when she's smoking

when she helps you out and leans down to hear you better

her hair brushes against your cheek

and you can't learn shit

she will talk and explain endlessly until you do

then you will look into her eyes

just so your mind will go blank when she asks a question

her eyes are pretty, and her voice so melodic

on week one, she says "there, hun. just save it in that folder"

... are you listening? do you want me to repeat that?"

"mhm, sorry" you say.

week two... "did you understand that?"

"i think so."

"good, i'll let you try doing it then"

"i'll try not to disappoint you"

"you'll do good, i taught you well" she smiles.

"but you can always count on me, sweetie"

on week three... "what are you thinking about?"

her

your face flushes all of a sudden

you were picturing her touching you

squeezing your waist, grabbing your arm

pulling you in for a kiss

imagining her breathing against your skin

you know she tastes like cherry gum

you always take shyly the gum she offers

as you do anything

people take advantage of that

natasha sees herself in you often

she'd struggled with her boss for a while

because the man took a liking to her

but she put him in his place eventually

"i'm not into men" she'd mumble when she got asked out

people were stupid about that

so her old coworkers tried to mess with her

now, if yours call you by a wrong name, make your job harder

or insist on taking you out, natasha is around

she protects you from them

"her name's y/n. use your brain a little" she tells them

"it's funny until i report you, hand her papers over"

"she's taken by me today, you can get going"

when she says that, she makes sure it's true

she takes you out for a good, expensive meal

buys you huge cakes filled with strawberries for dessert

goes "oh, try this!" and you take a bite of a fruit off her hand

you don't know if she's just extremely friendly

or attempting something with you

the way you are with her

"need help with anything?" you always offer

she always agrees

she is always making sure you're near her

and she's there for you too

when she is sobbing over anything

after holding in so many feelings

and you are pissed off at a friend

both drinking the night away at a bar

natasha goes "i hate being alone.

i hate wanting to do things, say things

and never doing so. things end quickly. life ends quickly.

i think we don't enjoy it enough."

"is that what's making you sad?" you ask

"that makes me angry" natasha downs a cup

"i'll just go for it. i'm done with this"

she kisses you

it's such a tender, calm yet deep kiss

you don't let her pull away though

it feels so soft

at the second kiss you share, her mind is far gone

whishing for more

natasha takes you over to a corner

her white unbuttoned shirt is thin

badge noisy as she pulls you closer

her mouth goes down your neck,

your hand goes down her waist

nothing has ever felt so deliriously good

you love the way she pulls your head to the side by your hair

just so she can leave kisses on your skin

it's hot, so is the bar, even more so now

she has an amazing time with you

gets to the office with you the next day

and people don't even wonder why she gave you a ride

... but you slept over at her place

still, natasha doesn't seem to treat you too differently

which is a good sign

it means she really was flirting before all that

"are you going downstairs, sweetie?"

"yeah. need to hand on supplies to steve.

they’re in the warehouse, right?" you ask her

she thinks. "sure, yeah" she thinks and thinks

natasha decides to go downstairs with you. to help

she knows you don't have second intentions

your feelings are always really pure, but hers aren't much

you hold her by her pinky on the way, to stop her

"is that something we're gonna do... occasionally? casually?

or maybe never again?"

"kissing?"

you nod. "are you serious?" she sounds surprised

why would it be just an occasion? i like you"

natasha approaches you, holding your chin with her fingers

"you're too precious for that, don't you know that?"

she places a sweet kiss on your lips

"so no?"

"have as many as you want.

i like your kisses" she says softly

her sweet voice reaches your chest

it gets so full of so much joy

natasha takes you as seriously as you'd expect her to

and lets you kiss her all you want

the next week, you have matching necklaces

then, bracelets

then, rings

natasha lends you her clothes

"it's cold, baby, take mine" she puts her jacket over you

always, always takes you home

so you get close to forgetting your own way home

you're always at her place now

"you guys have been weird" wanda says, your coworker

"have you been making out? you look radiant"

"oh my god. it's just the weather, wanda"

"weird" wanda squints

of course you've been making out whenever you can

natasha teaches you way more than what had been planned

her hair in a bun is styled by you since you ruin it as you kiss

plenty of times

pulling on it

and leaving her breathless

she tries to sound formal with you at work though

"you look so cute today" she whispers in your ear, however

"do you have a girlfriend? yes? she’s so lucky, oh my god"

she teases you so much

in cute ways only

but has to act serious periodically

"you gotta finish that by tomorrow, okay?"

"i need you to come up to my office"

"can you sign this?"

her slow, formal tone gets you sick in the stomach

in a good way

you crave her closeness so damn bad it hurts

then she kisses you and cools it all down

your coworkers take a year to figure out about you two

once they do, they mess with you only

"ah, i'm gonna go to the warehouse for the fourth time today!

with my apprentice! who i shall offer financial assistance to!

because i'm a loser for my girlfriend!"

they are so ironic and stupid

"fifth," natasha corrects as she overhears them one day

they freeze

a girl who was previously laughing looks about to cry

"our record is ten, don't look so shocked"

they're speechless

and natasha's proud of herself. and you

you always kiss her lips

she always wants to hold your hand, be touching you

she really just wants to spend all her time with you

you love a bit differently, but it's enough

she's always willing to teach you more

about your job, love and herself too

[gemstone-roses]

Make it better

Hannibal x reader

Hurt/ comfort.

no specific plot. I’ve just really needed this.

Thankyou @ajokeformur-ray for reading this over and assuring me it wasn’t utter garbage. ILY ♥️

Warnings: reader is estranged from her family. Female reader, Mentions of death, panic attack, anxiety, stress. OOC Hannibal maybe. Shush. 🤫

A/N: I know I’ve been a bit absent. I’ve had an incredibly difficult few months and it just keeps getting worse. I’m working on all your requests I promise. I wrote this in the hopes it would make me feel a tiny bit better. If anyone needs any comfort I do hope you find a bit in this too.

The ache in your chest that’d settled there the past few weeks was showing little sign of residing. You sat in the worn armchair in your little office flicking through the brown folder making sure your work was correct before handing it to Dr Lecter. You took witness/ surviving victim statements, and passed them onto Dr Lecter to look over at the beginning of any case that came through. Hannibal admired you and your strength, sensing a deep wound buried somewhere in your past.

A few weeks ago, on the way to a crime scene, he’d asked you how your week had been you’d told him you’d had news of an estranged family member who’d passed, and said nothing further. Hannibal could sense there was a struggle of some sort, like you didn’t know what or how to feel, and a stirring of horrid memories you’d hoped long ago to bury. He’d offered sincerely to be a listening ear as a friend, and you’d waved him off, thanking him, assuring him you were fine.

You’re here later than everyone else, a consequence of your unrelenting mind, not wanting to go home just yet.

Every single bone in your body aches, the events in your personal life of the past few months weighing heavily on you.

With a defeated sigh you untangle your legs from beneath you and head to Hannibal’s office. You’re not expecting him to still be in, taken aback slightly when his door is ajar and Bach is sounding softly through the door. You knock, even though he always insists if his door is open you may come in without doing so.

“You’re here late” Hannibal cocks an eyebrow, he’s not at his desk, he sits on the couch that divides the room of his office, his slight curiosity soon turns to concern as he regards you. The bags under your eyes are considerably deeper, your slightly hunched frame, arms wrapped around your middle, folder tucked under your arm, like you’re subconsciously trying to comfort yourself.

“Ah, I just wanted to get this done for you” you say, passing him the file. He notices the slight quiver of your hand as you pass it.

“Thankyou, do you want some tea?” He asks kindly , getting up to get you a mug before you’ve even answered.

“I don’t want to impose” you said a little awkwardly, old insecurities coming to the surface thanks to the past few months.

“You are never an imposition” he says, his voice laced with concern. He’s missed you these past few weeks, you’ve been present, physically, but your sarcastic quips and laugh hadn’t filled the room for weeks. You’d told him in general conversation how you were estranged from your family- they were awful people, who did awful things, and he never pressed you further. Only assuring you that it was their loss, and they were undeserving of a person as lovely and kind as you.

“Sit” he says, gesturing to the seat next to him and handing you the mug, his fingers brush yours as you take it, his hands are warm, at one point you’d wonder how they’d feel holding yours, now, feeling like you’d insulted him by accidentally brushing your fingers against his.

“Sorry” you mumble, Hannibal catches it, his heart aching at your words, wanting nothing more than to take away whatever was hurting you.

Hannibal places his cup on the side, kneels down in front of you. It startles you slightly. You’re glad you have your hands wrapped around the mug, as Hannibal would definitely pick up in your nervous fidgeting.

Hannibal reaches a large hand to cup your face, you turn towards it.

“It’s alright” he says lowly, stroking your cheek.

You bite the inside of your cheek, lest the tears that have been unable to fall finally spill. You shake your head, lip quivering.

“I’ve got you, I’m here, your safe” he soothes as you blow out a shaky breath, chest tightening.

“Y/n, darling” Hannibal speaks, he’s lowered his voice, cupping your chin now forcing you to look at him. His brows furrow, taking in your struggled breathing and your shaking frame. “Can you take a deep breath for me?” You try, unsuccessfully of course, eyes slightly wild with panic. “Okay, Okay, look at me, slowly, yes?” He coaches, splaying his hand on your chest. “Good” he nods, his other hand squeezing your shoulder. “Again” , and you do, Hannibal nods, a reassuring smile on his face. “Good girl” he says, thumb swiping at your tears. He stays holding you, hand on your chest comfortingly until your breathing returned to normal.

“I’m so-

Hannibal cuts you off.

“Ah, no, none of that” he admonishes gently.

He rises from his knees, towering over you on the couch, his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into him. His hold is strong, Hannibal presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m making your favourite this evening, come home with me” he says. You tense slightly, again not wanting to impose.

“Allow me to make it better for you, even just for a night” he whispers. “Okay” you say.

He insists you sit by the fire as he cooks, refusing any pleas from you about helping. You eat together, and in the night, he holds you. You curl into his open arms as he wraps them around you, encasing you. You feel safe there, Hannibal pressing soft kisses to your forehead and muttering soft compliments as he waits for you to drift off, and you think, perhaps everything will be alright as long as your here with him.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: “Babe, you have an amazing brain, love everything going on in there-”

Charlie: “Thank you!”

Vaggie: “-but we need a LITTLE bit of organization or we’re NEVER gonna remember what great ideas you had five minutes ago.”

Charlie: “Wait, what great idea did I have five minutes ago???”

Vaggie: “I don’t know. You scribbled it on a napkin and there’s like, five hundred of those scattered around our room.”

Charlie: “Aw shoot.”

Vaggie: “Some of them are folded in the shape of swans?"

Charlie: "Nnnoooo I've been trying so hard not to DO that so much!!!"

Vaggie: "It’s, pretty impressive honestly.”

Charlie: (huffs) “Okay. Fine. Maaaybe you’re right. Maybe I might have a slight, uh, organizing thoughts problem.”

Vaggie: “No worries sweetie, I have a solution.”

Vaggie: (dramatically steps aside) “BAM!”

Charlie: “OH OH VAGGIE! YOU GOT ME METAL BOXES~!”

Vaggie: “They’re filing cabinets.”

Charlie: “OHHHHH!!!”

Charlie: “…..”

Charlie: “How… how do we activate the filing cabinets?”

Vaggie: “You put your ideas in folders, label the tabs on the folders, put them in a drawer, and label each drawer. Then when you’re looking for something you just open the drawer and-”

Charlie: “Bam?”

Vaggie: “Bam. There it is. The brilliant ideas of Charlie Morningstar.”

Charlie: “As organized by Vaggie, her amazing wonderful super smart and beautiful girlfriend!!!!!”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “I don’t think looking good has anything to do with organizing…”

Charlie: “Hmm, you still are though, miss good looking. Annnnnd it DOES have a lot to do with what I’m thinking about right now.”

Vaggie: “What’re you thinking, Charlie?”

Charlie: (grins)

Vaggie: “…really? Right here, in front of our new cabinets?”

Charlie: “Heheh. I like it when stuff is ‘ours’~”

Vaggie: “Why do I get the feeling the first recorded thoughts of Charlie Morningstar are gonna have to be filed under ‘for our eyes only’.”

Charlie: “Your smirk would have to go there too then. But does this mean it’s a good idea!?”

Vaggie: “Definitely.”

Charlie: “WOO! Kisses kisses kisses-”

Vaggie: “AFTER we’ve cleaned up all these napkins. AND have neatly folded the ones that aren’t already swans.”

Charlie: “Wh- but- but there’s almost five hundred of them!! The kisses-?”

Vaggie: “One kiss per every fifty napkins, how’s that sound?

Charlie: (pouting) “Insufficient kiss ratio.”

Vaggie: “Sorry, but as much as organizing your brain turns me on, the storm of paper in here is kinda a total mood killer. No way I can focus on anything with this mess everywhere. So. Start cleaning.”

Charlie: “I’m starting to think writing on napkins was my worst idea yet…”

Vaggie: “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been paper airplanes again.”

Charlie: “THEN I could’ve just thrown them all out the window! Be free! Fly!!! Shoo! Let me make out with my girlfriend in peace!”

Vaggie: “Ha!”

Charlie: “…. Vaggie. What if we-”

Vaggie: “Charlie no.”

Charlie: “Oh come on! Swans can fly!”

Vaggie: “Not when they’re fancy origami ones that we’ll just have to clean up later anyway.”

Charlie: “Feh. Stupid ideas on stupid napkins.”

Vaggie: “Would one kiss per every two dozen napkins make you feel better?’

Charlie: “Yes.” (deep sigh) “But I’ve only folded ten.”

Vaggie: “Perfect, I’ve done fourteen, so that makes two dozen.”

Charlie: “Wh-”

Vaggie: “Kiss ratio completed.”

Charlie: “It’s based on our combined number???”

Vaggie: “Why not. You like it when stuff is ‘ours’, don’t you.”

Charlie: “….yesthankyouiloveyouonekissplease.”

- a few several many moments later –

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “I’m suddenly getting the idea that… those were way more than one kiss.”

Vaggie: “I don’t care and wasn’t keeping count. File it under ‘Vaggie can’t multitask for shit’.”  

Charlie: “Mmm, ehhh. I think we just need a ‘Vaggie has AMAZING focus while kissing, but specifically only on the actual kissing’ folder instead.”

Vaggie: “Are you trying to get me to kiss you again.”

Charlie: “Is it working?”

Vaggie: (shoving napkins in her hands) “Here. Fold.”

Charlie: “I’m filing that under a yes~”

Vaggie: “Charlie. Fold. NOW.”

Charlie: “Hm-hmm-hm-hmmm~” (folding at lightspeed) “My newest great idea is that we should get even MORE filing cabinets.”

Vaggie: “Oh for-”(throws aside napkins) “-fuck’s sake-” (gives up and kisses her again)

[plumbobpaparazzi]

Peek into my Mods folder...

This is dedicated to @alltimefail-sims or anyone who needs a little help with lag!

I have several mods I refer to as "efficiency mods" that are little quality-of-life tweaks that make the game smoother for me, either by reducing lag or reducing immersion-breaking hiccups. As always, your mileage may vary, but hopefully this is helpful to someone. :) List of mods under cut to keep your dash clean.

No Intro - Whether you are trying to 50/50 your mods, testing new CC, or just need to shave time off your game loading... get rid of the cinematic intro.

Free Will Delay - Do your sims curbstomp their queue and proceed to fuck off to something unrelated? Yeah, me too, until I got this mod. From the mod description: "[E]very time you tell your sim to do something, they will be forced to listen! …For 5 minutes. Then they get free will back again. This is probably why controlling Sims in Sims 4 feels so bad! Because you lose control the second they start doing what they're told. Even if you queue up actions, the total time is STILL five minutes- because it goes from the last direction you give your sim. So you can tell them to do 3 hours worth of stuff while paused…and they'll get control back after 5 minutes. This mod changes this timeframe to an option of your choosing, to make controlling your sims feel more rigid."

Simulation Unclogger - This is an oldie-but-goodie mod from Turbodriver that helps interrupt when Sims get stuck in an endless action loop.

Evolve/Fertilize All Plants - Kind of weird how we can Harvest All but you can't Evolve or Fertilize All, right?

No Empty Venues When Arriving - Helps with the issue of going to a community lot and waiting around for Sims to show up. May cause increased lag if you are bottlenecked by RAM.

Food Autonomy Overhaul - Stops your stupid Sims from eating ingredients, AND allows Sims who hate cooking to autonomously grab quick meals. Didn't know they wouldn't do that? Yeah. That's a thing.

Don't Do That! Version 1 and Version 2 - Removes autonomy on annoying actions that can't be affected by MCCC tuner, like reactions and some trait idle animations.

Less Obsession - Lowers autonomy for certain things without disabling entirely. I still want my Sims to paint, but I don't want them to start a new figure painting any time they are left unsupervised.

Smarter Self-Care - Makes Sims prioritize their needs better before they are uncomfortable. I only use the packages for NPCs and Pets.

NPC Relationship Autonomy Fix - Stops random Sims from breaking into your house to ask to be your BFF (and tunes the requirements so they actually have to be your friend first.)

Buy More Upgrade Parts - Allows you to buy a package of 50 upgrade parts for when you are grinding out handiness or robotics.

The following mods are all by Bienchen and don't have a direct page for each package. You can search by name pretty easily on their website. I recommend flipping through and grabbing anything you find useful - I have a total of 368 of their mods installed. Here are some highlights:

novisibleecoeffects - The aurora will nuke your framerate. I know it's pretty, but oh my god.

noautonomousbakewhitecake - Does what it says on the tin, keeps your house from being overrun by cakes.

harvestnogroupinteraction - Stops club members from autonomously harvesting plants. Those are MY death flowers!

lessemotionidles - Reduces unnecessary idle animations from emotions, great for preventing your Sims from looking flirty at inappropriate times...

lesspreferenceidles - Stops your sims from thinking about how much they like fishing/fitness/etc. when they should be doing things.

happytoddleridledisabled - Stops the idling from the Happy Toddler trait. SUPER useful for family gameplay.

laundry_buffsandsoloidlesfix - Stops or reduces idles related to laundry. It's just clothes, bro

eldertweak - Reduces elder animation idles.

hastopeewalkstyleforchildonly - Helps get your Sims to the toilet in a reasonable amount of time.

tinyhousebuffhider - I know I'm in a Tiny Home, I don't need a moodlet.

lottraiteffectshider - Hides the little floating lightbulbs around Sims heads from lot traits.

notraitnotifications - I know my geek likes video games, I don't need the pop-up every time I play.

noholidayoutcomenotification - Please don't rub my nose in the fact I forgot to celebrate.

nofestivalnotifications and nofestivalnotificationsound - Helpful when a pack is new, but years later... no thanks.

noenrollmentandscholarshipinfo - No more info screen about the two universities. I think most of us know it all by now.

nouprootplant - Never cry because of a misclick again

simschangeoutfitwhenhotorcold - Should have already been autonomous, but alas.

novisualpoliteintroeffects - I don't know if I am the only one, but the glowing really bothers me.

restaurantsittweak - Sit down and eat your dang food! No more wandering Sims.

longerprom - Takes 6 hours instead of 4 so you can actually do something.

I probably have other QoL mods that could be helpful, but these are my recommendations to start with. Love to all the modders that keep this game playable <3

[gravehags]

desinare

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: awwww look it's a pre-relationship fic just like old times, dinner party, reader meeting the papas, reader and copia being awkward little weirdos with baby crushes, papa nihil slander, references to other curator reader fics

Words: 3,784

Summary: Your very kind cardinal friend has invited you for a meal with three Satanic popes. Surely there's a proverb about this.

a/n: i had so so so much fun writing this lmao i didn't realize how much i missed writing them pre-relationship. my beloved nerds.

~~~

“Eh, signorina?”

“Fuck!” you yelp, dropping the stack of folders you were holding in shock. “Shit…sorry Cardinal. How do you move so quietly with all that fabric on?”

“M-many years of practice, heh,” he kicks himself for how stupid he sounds, wringing his hands while you smile kindly up at him as you stoop to pick up your papers.

“Teach me how some time? I’m always falling over myself. I’d love to have even an ounce of your grace.”

He can feel his ears burn as a dopey grin spreads across his face. She complimented you. Now compliment her back. Go on, say something charming, idiota.

“Dancing!” he half-shouts, making you jump. You fucking fool. “I…I mean I learned how…how to be graceful from dancing. Ballet. In my youth.”

You’re making an impressed face now which is worlds better from the look of terror you previously wore when he barked at you like a senile chihuahua.

“The Cardinal is a dancer?” you murmur, eyes glittering, “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Oh, it’s been years,” he blushes, “this old body doesn’t move the way it used to.”

He swears he sees your eyes flick up and down his form and a tiny smirk lift your lips.

“I don’t buy that for a second, Cardinal.”

Are you flirting with him? You turn to busy herself with organizing your folders but Copia can see the pink tinge at the tips of your ears.

“Do you like bolognese?” he says, once again loud and blunt. 

“I…what?”

“My…my fratelli and I - the Papas that is - would very much like to meet you. A-and share a meal with you. If you are interested?”

Your mouth forms a little “o”.

“There’s more than one Papa?” you ask, cocking your head. 

“Sì, sì, there is also eh, Papa Emeritus I and Papa Emeritus II, known as Primo and Secondo, respectively. Terzo you already know,” he grumbles, and your lips twitch.

“Three Satanic popes and a Cardinal. Wow…life sure comes at you fast, huh? Never expected this from a job offer.”

“So…is that a yes?”

“No,” you say and Copia’s face falls, “I mean - shit - sorry! A no about the bolognese. I don’t eat red meat. But a definite yes for the dinner, I’d love to meet some more people here! You’re very kind to have invited me.”

“Ah,” he waves his hand dismissively, but a smile still curls his lips, “We don’t get pretty new faces around here very often. It would be our pleasure.”

It doesn’t dawn on him what he said until he sees your lips silently form the damning word and your cheeks light up. Shit, why couldn’t he be normal around you?

“Anyway,” he says, his voice going up a humiliating octave, “would you be available this week? Friday evening, perhaps?”

“It’s a date. I mean–” you look as panicked as he feels at your wording, “--a dinner date. W-with your…with the Papas. And yourself. Sorry, where should I meet you? I’m uh, still familiarizing myself with the abbey. This place is huge.”

“Eh, how about I meet you at your office and I’ll lead the way from there, sì?”

“Sì. I mean, yes. Is there a…should I dress a certain way?”

An image is conjured in his mind of you in a pretty cocktail dress, heels lifting your shapely calves and your decolletage on display—

He shakes his head to rid himself of the vision.

“Uh…dress in whatever is most comfortable. Undoubtedly Secondo will put you to work in the kitchen so–”

“Oh good,” you say, “I mean my culinary talents are uh…definitely lacking but I’d be happy to help and keep busy. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, and all that. Well…something like that anyway, I’m not sure if there’s a Satanic version. Anyway I am definitely blabbering on so feel free to ignore…literally everything that just came out of my mouth.”

You’re embarrassed. As if he couldn’t listen to you talk and talk and talk for eternity. He’s about to tell you something to that effect before his brain yanks him away. Bit much for only knowing her a month, fool. Instead he gives you a friendly nod, and bows slightly.

“I’ll eh, see you Friday then yes? At 6:00?”

“Sounds perfect. And…thank you. I don’t remember if I said it or not but thank you for making this place feel like home.”

He feels as if his heart is about to burst from his ribcage.

“Signorina,” he murmurs, “it is my honor. Ciao.”

“Ciao, Cardinal,” you say softly as he turns and exits your office. He doesn’t see the way you collapse into your desk chair with a dreamy sigh.

—

You’re going to be late.

As soon as your work day ended you hustled up to your apartment and began getting ready but it’s now 5:41 and you still have no idea what the fuck you’re going to wear. Half your wardrobe lies scattered on your bedroom floor (you know it’s going to make you insane when you return later that night but fuck you can’t remember what clothes you even own) as you stand in the center of the room in your underwear.

“Okay. Okay you’re going to meet three Satanic popes,” the sentence has a delirious laugh bubbling out of your throat. “Three Satanic popes and one…sweet…handsome…Cardinal. What is the correct choice.”

You eye a snug, knee length burgundy velvet cocktail dress to your left. You’ve been saving this one for a while - for a real special occasion. You would undoubtedly impress but…nah. Too much. To your right is a pair of mom jeans - you pick them up and give them a tentative sniff - acceptably clean. You toss the jeans onto your bed behind you. Okay now for a top. How about…ah! You spy a soft, dark green sweater in a pile and snatch it up. Cozy, comfortable, and practical. Perfect. As for shoes…your well-loved black Chelsea boots should do the trick. You look down at your watch.

5:48

Shit! Almost tripping more than once you jump into your jeans and pull the sweater over your head, tucking it halfway into your waistband. You don’t have the time or the patience to put any makeup on beyond a few swipes of mascara and a dark red lipstick and when you make it out the door with your phone and keys, it’s five to six. You briskly power walk the entire trip to your office and by the time you’re standing outside the door, you’re clutching your side and heaving for breath. You pray to whoever is listening that the Cardinal is a little late so you have a chance to compose yourself but before you can even form the thought–

“Signorina?”

You spin on the spot, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Cardinal!” you rasp. “Uh…hi.”

“You look lovely,” he says with an anxious little smile that gives you butterflies, “you’re glowing, signorina.”

“Thanks, it’s the sweat.”

You ought to be taken out back and shot like Old Yeller.

To your immense relief, he doesn’t look disgusted but instead seems to relax as if your odd faux-pas cuts the tension. Chortling, he gestures for you to follow him with a gloved hand.

“What’s for dinner?” you ask, as the two of you proceed down the hall.

“You’ll have to ask Secondo that, I have no idea what the maestro has planned for us this evening.”

“Sounds ominous,” you smile.

“Eh, sì. He is.”

Oh God.

“Your week has gone well?” Copia asks, adeptly changing the subject.

“Yes, just you know. Trying to make sense of everything von Schreck left me with. Can’t help but feel his presence looming over me whenever I change something he did. Did you know him well?”

“Not well, no. He was a quiet man, kept to himself. His eh, mind started to go, in the end. Became paranoid.”

“Ah. Explains his cataloging system then. If you can call it that.”

You realize you’re now in a wing of the abbey you’ve never seen before - a long hallway with a dark red rug running the length of it and arched doors. Copia stops at one that is open and gestures inside with a nervous smile.

It’s a kitchen. A very large, very well equipped kitchen with a massive island and high ceilings. There are three men standing inside it - you recognize one of them and the other two are staring in your direction. The tallest (and from what you can tell, the oldest) has a soft smile on his face. The other is also tall but broad where the older figure was slim, the overhead light glinting off his bald head. Terzo hops down off the counter, swirling a glass of wine and grinning. You’re suddenly aware of four pairs of the same mismatched eyes boring into you.

“Uh. Hi.”

The three Papas are on you like flies on honey in a snap, pulling you into the warmth of the kitchen while Copia removes his black biretta and wrings his gloved hands. With a shaky voice he introduces you to the two you are unfamiliar with and to Terzo he simply gives a hard stare.

“It’s an honor to meet all of you,” you murmur, smiling around the room, “Wow, three Satanic popes. I haven’t even met one uh…regular pope. Not to say you aren’t ‘regular’ or ‘normal’, of course. The Satanic versions are so much more interesting.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Do you drink?” the bald, mustachioed one - Secondo - asks.

“Please,” you sigh in relief. He gestures you over to the counter.

“What do you know about Italian wines, piccolina?”

Piccolina? You remind yourself to look that up whenever you manage to take a bathroom break.

“Uh, not much. That is to say…nothing.”

He smirks. You know immediately this man is a heartbreaker.

“I will teach you. This riserva is from the Ministry’s vineyards in Piedmont. Made from Nebbiolo grapes.” He pours you a generous glass which you swirl delicately in your hand before leaning in to sniff.

“Oh! I’m definitely getting…red fruits, perhaps cherries? Something mineral, like the way a damp cave smells. Hold on–”

You take a sip as Secondo watches you carefully.

“Wow that’s gorgeous,” you gush, “I didn’t smell the rose element but I definitely taste it. You said the Ministry made this?”

“Sì,” he nods, as he pours more into your glass, “I’m pleased you like it, you have excellent taste.”

“Oh, I really don’t,” you smile, “you’d cringe if I told you some of the swill I find acceptable. Particularly what I drank in college.”

He laughs loudly.

“What kind of self-respecting American college student drinks wine?”

“One from California, that’s what,” you smirk.

“Secondo stop hogging our guest,” Terzo calls from the other side of the room. “I want to see her pretty face.”

Secondo ushers you over to the small breakfast table where Copia sits with the other two Papas before leaving to fetch several wine glasses.

“Don’t you look bellissima tonight,” Terzo grins, and you blush as he gives you a very obvious once-over. That smile disappears though when he jerks violently, slamming his knee up under the table.

“Stronzino, that hurt,” he hisses at Copia, who has carefully schooled his face into a neutral expression. 

Huh. Wonder what that was all about.

You’re distracted by Primo softly saying your name and you turn to the older man with a smile.

“Are you enjoying life at the abbey so far?”

Ah. Well about that. You want to lie - to tell him everything has been smooth sailing but something about the way he looks at you instantly makes you want to be more candid.

“It’s um. It’s been…a lot,” you say, looking down into your wine glass, “The Cardinal is really the only one who speaks to me outside of Sister Imperator. I-I haven’t got out of my apartment much except to go to work. I’m a little self-conscious about exploring, to be honest.”

Primo gives you a gentle smile.

“Do you know where the greenhouses are, fiore mio?”

Fiore mio. Another one for the list.

“I think I know where the gardens are but I’m not sure if they’re nearby–”

“They are.” he says, “Sister Imperator…doesn’t have much use for an old relic like me. I spend my time tending to all that grows here. With some assistance from my ghouls.”

“Ghouls?” you ask, cocking your head.

He smiles.

“Ah, you haven’t met any yet, have you? Well I won’t spoil the surprise. I’m sure the Cardinal would love to tell you about them some time. Anyway, all this to say…please come visit me when you have the opportunity, sì? Ah, that reminds me,” he gets up and walks through an adjacent doorway to what you assume is the dining room. When he returns, he’s bearing a bouquet of vibrant pink dahlias in a glass vase.

“Oh!” you say, setting down your wine glass as Primo places the flowers on the table in front of you.

“For you, cara. To welcome you.”

You’re squeezing the meat of your thigh as hard as you can under the table to keep from crying but the tears well up in your eyes all the same.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he reaches out to take your hand into his long, wizened one.

“Cazzo, are you making her cry, you old fuck?” Terzo grouses.

“Terzo!” Copia says with a sharpness you’ve never heard from him before. You’re not sure if it’s the wine but you’re definitely picking up on some tense vibes between the two of them.

“Uh, need help with dinner, Secondo?” you ask, trying to cut the awkwardness.

“Most of it is already finished but you are welcome to assist with the antipasti. Forgive the lack of aperitivo but someone forgot to pick up olives today.”

Secondo glares across the room at Copia, who turns beet red.

“That’s okay, I don’t like olives anyway,” you say cheerily. Primo groans.

“Ugh! Philistine!” Secondo snaps, making a sharp gesture, “Get over here and atone for your sins before I kick you out of my kitchen, piccolina.”

Now your face is red.

“Yes, Papa,” you murmur obediently as you rise from the table, missing the way the four men look at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Va bene,” Secondo says gruffly as you approach the island, leaning over to pour more wine in your glass, “Do you know how to toast bread?”

You give him a look.

“I think I can handle toast,” you scoff, setting down your glass. “Are we making bruschetta?” 

He favors you with a nod and a half-smile. A point in your favor.

“Here is the olive oil,” he says, gesturing to his left, “here is the balsamic. I have already diced the tomatoes and here,” he turns and opens the large refrigerator, coming back with a healthy amount of burrata, “is the cheese. Think you got it?”

“I…think so? Wait, do you have a grill for me to use or…”

He hands you a square metal pan with holes perforated in it.

“You’ve used a brustolina before?”

No, you have not used a brustolina before.

“How hard can it be? Don’t worry about me, please go sit down.”

He gives you one last sideway glance before snagging his wine glass off the table and joining his brothers. 

Ten minutes later, Terzo is standing on the breakfast table waving a rag in front of the aggressively beeping smoke detector as Copia looks as mortified as you feel.

“It’s alright, fiore mio,” Primo soothes as you sniffle, staring at the charred remains of what used to be several slices of sourdough bread.

“It’s toast. I cannot believe I actually fucked up toast.”

Copia scurries to your side and Primo steps away to make room. When your head thunks heavy against his shoulder he wraps an arm around you, making soothing noises. 

You don’t see Terzo thrusting violently into the air with a wide grin on his face, still standing on the table but you do see Secondo yank him down when he lets out an undignified squawk. The noise has you choking out a laugh, and you turn to Copia to see him staring down at you with a painfully soft expression.

“It’s nothing, piccolina,” Secondo says, unhanding his brother, “We didn’t need bruschetta anyway. Prometto. The real star is coming soon. Please–” he picks up your wine glass and gives you yet another generous pour, “--go take a seat. Enjoy the company of the Cardinal, and Primo, and my other idiot brother.”

You nod, accepting your glass.

“Sorry,” you murmur, and you feel Copia’s hand rub warm circles on the small of your back. You’d be willing to burn all the toast in the abbey if this is what you got out of it.

“It’s nothing, signorina, truly,” he says quietly in your ear, leading you back over to the table. Secondo efficiently dumps the cremated bread into the garbage and puts an apron over his head which reads “Osculari Coquum.” 

By the time Secondo tells the four of you to take your seats in the dining room you are…pleasantly tipsy and incredibly hungry. The smells coming from the kitchen are so decadent, you can feel yourself salivating. 

“Here we are,” Secondo says, entering the room with a loaded plate, which he places in front of you, “Pollo alla cacciatora con riso.”

You have to sit on your hands to keep from rudely digging in before the others have been delivered their meals but as soon as Secondo sits down, you’re ready to strike. Before you can, Primo speaks up.

“I would like to toast our lovely new friend. To your health and happiness. May you find a home here amongst us. Benvenuta nostra sorella. Ave Sathanas.”

Sorella. The word sounds familiar, as if you’ve heard it in the abbey halls before. It makes a warmth bloom in your chest that you’re certain cannot be attributed solely to the wine.

“Grazie mille,” you murmur with a smile. “Thank you all for having me this evening, I appreciate it more than you know.”

Copia’s hand, resting next to yours on the table, twitches and ever-so-slightly his gloved pinkie finger brushes against yours. You look at him out of the corner of your eye but he’s staring diligently down at his plate, mustache twitching as he fights to smile. The sight makes your heart thud in your chest. It’s as if the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to everyone else despite the fact that neither of you openly acknowledge the other. It’s a breathtaking feeling and you wish you could put your finger on what is so special about this peculiar man.

“Bella, if you don’t eat that I’m going to eat it for you.”

Terzo is staring at you from across the table, mouth full of chicken cacciatore. The whole room, in fact, is staring at you.

“Shit! Right! Sorry I was…I don’t know where I was. Hmm.”

The four men once again exchange a look as you politely dig into your chicken and rice. It’s divine, as you knew it would be. The conversation flows wonderfully, the Papas all eagerly explaining the Ghost project to you.

“So you are all part of the same band?”

“We each had our terms,” Primo explains, “I was the first, Secondo was second, and now Terzo is the third.”

Your brow furrows as you mouth their names and something clicks.

“I’m sorry, you’re all brothers and you’re named first, second, and third? Who does that to their kids?”

Copia snorts into his glass at your candidness.

“Our idiot father, that’s who,” Primo says, and you’re shocked at his venomous tone, “You’ve met Papa Nihil, have you not?”

Oh. You’ve met Papa Nihil alright.

“Ah…yes. Yes, we’ve met. I don’t think he cares much for me.”

Terzo laughs.

“We all have that in common, bella mia! Consider it a badge of honor.”

You don’t quite know what to say to that and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

“So,” Secondo begins, “you must listen to each of our albums and tell us which one you like best, sì?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m qualified to properly judge that sort of thing–”

“We insist,” Terzo says imperiously, “I want nothing less than an album ranking and your overall top five songs. Cardinal, see to it that she gets educated.”

“I don’t see how this is my area of expertise,” Copia says sullenly, stabbing at what remains of his chicken. “It’s not my band.”

Hmm. Another frisson of tension.

Interesting.

“If everyone is done with their meal, shall we move back into the kitchen for dessert? Piccolina, how do you feel about gelato?”

Your cheeks redden at the moan that escapes your mouth. Copia coughs sharply at your side, having turned red himself.

“What’s your favorite flavor, bella mia?” Terzo asks, rising from the table as you do.

“Stracciatella, definitely, but I will never say no to chocolate.”

“Ah! A woman after my own heart! Copia do you hear this? She likes stracciatella.”

The Cardinal remains seated, nodding distractedly. As you exit the room you see Primo move closer to him and put a hand on his back, leaning in to speak quietly.

—

“Oh topolino…she’s just as lovely as you said. Kind, smart, beautiful. Burns bruschetta but eh, no one is perfect.” Primo smiles as Copia looks up at him in earnest.

“Papa…I really like her.”

It’s the first time he’s voiced his feelings out loud and he can feel the flush on his cheeks creeping down his chest.

“I know, ragazzo mio. And you know what? I think she really likes you too.”

Copia’s heart skips a beat.

“Really? You think so? I-I want to do something nice for her, something she deserves but I’m not sure–”

“Spend time with her,” Primo says, smiling, “She is very lonely. Continue to be the friend you have been thus far - that’s what she deserves.”

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” Copia murmurs, “Surely she’ll tire of me or–”

“Surely nothing of the sort,” Primo says firmly. “If she cares for you as I suspect she does, she will welcome you into her heart. All parts of you, not just the best ones. You’ll see, topolino. Prometto.”

“Grazie,” Copia whispers as Primo places a kiss on his forehead.

“Hey you two what flavor–oh, I’m sorry, I’m interrupting something.”

You move to exit the room but Copia stands abruptly.

“No, please. Stay.”

You smile. If only he knew now how you’d take that request to heart.

[yeyinde]

thank you for tagging me @ivymarquis ! i debated between this, the regency fic (fleshed out), or one of the other Price fics i'm working on (home from college for the summer and seducing hot older neighbour Price whomst you had a crush on since sixteen (aka daddy issues, the playbook), DomPrice, etc), but i think the Soap fic will probably be finished before all of those. so, here is the baby trap piece with Soap.

nothing smutty but this def captures their odd, imbalanced dynamic perfectly, i think:

“And you have no cellphone? No satellite phone?”

“Ye can check it—” he makes a flippant motion toward the glove box in front of you. “Deader than ever.”

You hesitate only briefly. Long enough to level him with a searching look that yields no results (every expression hidden behind a thick, unruly forest of overgrown hair jutting out to his Adam's apple) before you reach for the compartment, gingerly pulling it open, and—

Sometimes, things get overlooked by their surroundings. Swallowed in the vacuum. Blending seamlessly into the muddle, the commotion. Or hidden. Can you spot the mountain lion in this tumble of rock and bush?

This isn't like that. 

It sits on top of a manila folder. Sleek black and cold silver. You're not terribly well-versed in guns—the extent of your knowledge stemming mostly from formulaic crime shows aired late at night; CSI, NCIS, Criminal Minds—but you recognise this one instantly. Some sort of handgun. Police issued, you think. It's bigger than you'd expected. Looks heavier, too. 

Your heart stutters. The air galloping out of your lungs in a stammering rush. 

He makes a noise, soft and nonchalant, as if keeping handguns in the glove box of his old, burnt umbre truck is perfectly normal. 

“Fer protection,” he mumbles. You catch the jerk of his chin in your periphery. “Forgot I had it in here. Been usin’ the rifle for huntin’ mostly. Or the shotgun.”

Three guns. You swallow. “Why—” your voice comes out in a brittle whisper. You clear your throat. Pretend it helps, that you don't feel as vulnerable as you sound right now. “Why, um, why do you need three?”

“Not fae around ‘ere, are ye?” He echoes your words from earlier with a wry twist of his mouth, eyes slanting in the sunlight. “Tha’,” he takes his hand off your thigh to jab his finger at the handgun. “Is fer wolverines.” His index finger falls, his thumb juts out. He jerks it over his shoulder. “Tha’ is fer huntin’. The shotgun back home is fer bears.” 

You try to move out of the way when his hand falls back to your thigh, but the pain radiating up your leg immobilizes you. There's not much you can do in this situation but endure.

Military. Wounded in action. Three guns. Touchy. 

You're not sure what to think. It would be easier if you couldn't. 

“What do you hunt?” You ask instead, glancing out the window to the barren landscape rolling out around you. There doesn't seem to be much in the jagged hills, towering mountains. 

“Gettin’ hungry? Donnae worry, doe. Go’ tha’ pesky hare I was tryin’ tae shoot on the ledge fer dinner tonight.” 

It's not much of a comfort. The idea of being injured—by accident, he claims—to such an extent over a rabbit makes you feel a little sick. 

“That's it?” 

“I can make a mean steak outta anythin’. Stews fer tougher meat. Fish, too—whitefish, arctic grayling, and lake trout. Learned how tae make a nasty fishfry from the locals in Nahanni Butte. Bannock, too. Got berries ‘round ma cabin. Caribou, Moose. Taste better in tacos or burgers. Mountain goat, Dall’s sheep. Been eatin’ better ‘ere than ah did at home.” 

“And you're—just allowed to hunt them?” The website advised of a permit through some special outfit needed to hunt when you requested your pass into the park. Said that only aboriginals were allowed to do so. “You're not—”

“Aye,” he cuts you off with a small nod. “No huntin’ in the park. But. We're not in the park anymore.”

“Where are we?” You ask again, firmer this time. 

“I told ye. Nearly home.”

“And where is home?” 

The way he sucks his teeth makes you recoil slightly. Wet. Irritated. As if he's tired of this conversation already. 

“Close.”

You don't let his flat tone deter you. “Are we—are we still in the Northwest Territories?”

“Thereabouts.” 

It's not an answer. It doesn't reassure you in the slightest. 

You open your mouth to say so, words curling on your tongue when he jerks his chin toward the handgun, brow furrowed. 

“Thought ye wanted tae check on the satellite phone.”

His tone is severe. A growl curdling the ends, pitching it down, down. Displeasure, irritation, blooms in the gnarled petals of witch hazel when he narrows them into slits. 

[jsmifty]

ONE MORE NIGHT FNAF AU CHARACTERS - THE SUIT - Part 1

Above is the SpringBonnie suit from my FNAF AU/rewrite called "ONE MORE NIGHT".

More info under the cut!

This is the first of many posts showing off some of the characters designs. I will talk more about the AU itself in other posts, however since this is the first I might as well give a basic rundown, it will be at the bottom of this post. William Afton himself will get his own post but this is just about his suit.

Anyway. This is the SpringBonnie suit from my FNAF rewrite!

I never really liked the completely butt naked suits, it always looked really weird to me. Generally when i draw the other animatronics I stick to the basic canon design (without the clothes), but with Springbonnie I realllyyyy prefer the design with some clothing over the top. idk why, it just makes him look siller.

Also if those things are being worn, I can imagine they're stinking hot during the summer, and I know the three piece suit is probably no better for keeping cool but at least he looks cool while dying of heatstroke. :)

There is also an animatronic version version of the suit of course!

Axe > Knife

The suit (SpringBonnie) was made as a suprise gift for William for the opening (By Henry Emily).

The suit has two varients. The summer varient, and the other one. Specifically in the hotter seasons, the suit is only worn with the head, paws and feet + usually a purple suit.

The other version, is the full suit, which covers the full body (is featured in the small doodle to the left). The full suit sometimes features a bowtie, or an undercoat (just to decorate it a little). And you'd be suprised by how quickly it can be put on. William got springlocked in this version specifically.

When specifically William wears the suit, his hair being too long, pokes out from underneath the head of the suit. It sometimes gets tangled in the springlocks! This makes it difficult to take off, ESPECIALLY if the springlocks are released.

Some more art of him (all a bit old):

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

The rewrite, which will be uploaded to Ao3, is split into 4 to 5 parts (it will be put into an folder on Ao3 to make it more organized). The timeline follows off canon for the most part, however most of the events have been organized into a specific timeline. The order of the games specifically that I am following is below.

(if the text is unreadable: FNAF 4 → FNAF 2 + Sister Location → FNAF 1 → FNAF 3 → FNAF 6)

PART ONE is centred before the main six games, and overlaps FNAF 4. It is centred around Henry Emily and William Afton (and their families) during the early stages of their animatronic making endeavours.

The other 3-4 parts have been planned out but I won't talk about them that much right now.

The AU leans a lot more on the characters, their motivations, and their relationships with other characters. It focuses more on telling the story in full than in hints, like the games do.

It is likely not going to be completely accurate to canon, so if the timeline changes with new FNAF releases then big whomp I've already made a timeline and I'm not touching that thing again.

If anyone wants like, a clearer rundown of what the fic is about if you are interested please feel free to comment or go on my asks i really appreciate any interest shown in this project, its annoyingly important to me LMAO

IF YOU READ THIS FAR, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! like I yap so much, and this is me holding back and ive already written wayyyy to much for a singular tumblr post :( but yeah

If you'd like to see a specific character from FNAF in my AU/Rewrite, feel free to ask!!!!!!!

[sometimesanalice]

Oh Christmas Tree

Summary: Bradley’s never been one to look forward to the holidays, that is until he met you. He’s excited to do everything, including getting his very first real Christmas tree.

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, allusions to smut. Minors DNI.

Length: 7.2K 

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(What was supposed to be a quick fluffy Christmas fic, somehow turned into this, enjoy!)

The atmosphere at the Hard Deck was livelier than usual, the music seemed more upbeat and the voices a little louder. It was the first time in a while that the entire Dagger Squad was together in one place. News of the success of the Uranium Mission traveled fast and had been keeping them busy in the months that had followed.

Things seemed to settle down a bit as the holidays rolled around, some has dispersed home for Thanksgiving while a few others had been given last minute orders to ship out for a short mission. You’d been dying to take Bradley Bradshaw home to meet your parents in person, but he had been one of the few sent away only set to return the day after Thanksgiving.

You’re sitting across from Natasha at a high top near the pool tables in the back of the bar listening to Jake talk about his visit home, while your boyfriend next to you talks animatedly about something related to his latest mission with Bob.

“I shaved off an extra 5 minutes from the last Trot. Turns out I’m in even better shape than I was the last time I was home for Thanksgiving,” Jake brags smugly taking a swig of his beer from his nearly empty bottle.

“Wait, you come from a Turkey Trot family? That explains so much. Please tell me, you guys wear matching Seresin family shirts for it too,” you tease without remorse. “Oh! Or maybe those turkey leg bobble headbands?” 

You hear Bradley snort into his beer as he drops a well-defined arm across your shoulders. He’s wearing one of your favorite Hawaiian shirts from his collection, and you’ve been having a hard time keeping your eyes and hands to yourself.

“Bradshaw! Are you going to let your girl trash talk me like that?” You turn to Bradley to see him smirk with a shrug at Jake’s indignation.

“I mean, if the headband fits,” he replies lifting his bottle up in cheers.

“Darlin’, you wound me. And for the record they don’t match, since we all get to decorate our own with those paints in the little squeeze bottles,” he says pointing his empty bottle at you before turning to Bradley, “And see if I ever save your smug ass again.” He walks away making his way to the bar for another beer.

“Formal petition to change his callsign to Turkey now. Him and Rooster could be the Bird Bros,” Natasha jokes after he’s out of earshot. “What about you, how was your trip home?”

“It was pretty good,” you feel Bradley start playing with the ends of your hair, while he picks his conversation with Bob back up. “Since my sister had the baby, my parents have been leaning into the new grandparent thing pretty hard. So I set to establishing myself as the fun wine aunt, and basically drank cranberry mimosas all day.” You pause to take a sip of your drink, “Which I regretted immediately the next day when my parents decided it was imperative that we all go to their favorite Christmas tree farm as soon as it opened to cut one down together. Baby’s first Christmas all.” You unlock your phone to pull up the folder you made of pictures from the visit, handing over your phone to let her scroll.

“Since they’re flying out to spend Christmas with my sister and her in-laws in Philly, I tried to talk them into an artificial tree. Which is blasphemy where I’m from, I’m pretty sure the state tree is the Douglas Fir. My family takes the tree hunt very seriously, there’s a science to it and everything,” you lean over to swipe past some of the selfies you took to show her the completed tree in your parents sitting room. 

“However, as you can see, my attempt to talk them into the lower maintenance, yet slightly ostentatious, fluffy pink tree of my dreams was met with a hard pass,” you say laughing to yourself.

She swipes backwards a couple times on the pictures. “This one is cute, why didn’t you post this photo?” she asks holding your phone up showing a selfie of you at the tree farm.

“Which one? Let me see,” Bradley requests, his conversation with Bob now abandoned. He’s already leaning into you and reaching across the high top with his large hands to take the phone from Nat.

It was a photo of you that Bradley hadn’t seen before. You were pink nosed wrapped up in cozy looking scarf, surrounded by pine trees and grinning into the camera. And his heart swells at the sight of the image before him. It’s just so you.

“You really look pretty,” he states sincerely. He glances at you briefly to see a hint of a blush spread across your cheeks before turning his gaze back to the picture of you.

He’d known you had been just as eager as he was for to him come home with you to meet your parents in person. You had even concocted a plan that involved him to try and help you get your hands on your Aunt Christine’s corn soufflé recipe.

“My mom has tried to get it for years, and she refuses to share it with anyone!” you’d lamented to him one evening after a couple large glasses of wine. “She always says she’ll email it, but she never does!” You gesture wildly. He loved getting to know all sides of you, but two-drink you was a particular favorite of his.

“Mmm. Girlboss, gaslight, gatekeep,” he nodded along in solidarity.

“Exactly, Bradley! You get it!” You take another long, deep sip of your Merlot, your feet tucked under you on his couch. “Me with my wiles and you with your Rooster charisma, I think this might be the year! I’ll set the groundwork and you can lay the ruggedly-handsome-impossibly-sexy-American-hero-thing on thick,” he loved how animated you were getting and he was having a hard time keeping the indulgent smile off of his face. “And she’ll fall right into our trap and release the goods all while thinking she’s staring in her own Hallmark movie.” He knew he would do anything for you, what his girl wants she gets. If that involves some light to heavy flirting with your aunt, so be it. He was getting soufflé recipe for you one way or another.

However, those plans were quickly dashed when he got the mission orders at the last minute. His stomach was in knots when it came time to tell you, but you were quick to put him at ease by reminding him there was always next year. “Plus” you’d said, “it gives us a whole year to craft our Stealthy Soufflé Scheme. Although, maybe we can pop up in May or June? I want to show you all the sights, we can even go hiking! And I’m definitely planning on taking you on a beer tour.”

“That sounds like the perfect trip, Sweetheart. I’d love that. I’ll see about getting a request submitted first thing in the morning,” he was already setting a reminder in his phone so he wouldn’t get too distracted at work and forget. He wasn’t going to let you down again.

“Oh. That’s probably one I snapped really quick and forgot to send to Bradley. I was probably already spamming him too much as it was,” you answer in response to Natasha’s question. Even though you knew exactly why that one never made it his inbox.

Since you’d be spending the holiday apart, Bradley had requested that you send him pictures throughout your visit so that he didn’t feel like he was missing anything. You had sent him ones of you at the grocery store with your mom, of you holding your niece, a few silly ones fueled by too many champagne heavy mimosas, and some less family friendly shots of you in bed wearing the deep wine-colored lacy lingerie set you had planned to surprise him with. And then a few without the lingerie set too.

You had known he wouldn’t have the best reception, so you sent them as things happened knowing that he’d respond whenever he could. You just wanted them there waiting for him. However, a few days in was getting hard to know what was too much when all you could see were all your outgoing messages to him.

You had felt yourself getting a little self-conscious and started second guessing the things you sent, like the picture from the tree farm. You didn’t want to go overboard and scare him off or make it seem like you were rubbing his face in all the things he was missing while he was on assignment. You had just wanted him to know that you were thinking about him- which was pretty much all the time.

Turning your head to take him in next to you. He’s sitting there with a soft smile on his face while he is tapping away on your phone. When his phone lights up mere moments later, you realize he’d just sent the image to himself and was now paging through the folder looking for others.

“For being a Communications Specialist, you’re really bad about updating your own social media. That one was definitely worthy of making it to the grid,” Nat announces as she slides off the barstool taking Bob with her to go dominate on one of the pool tables.

Bradley hands you your phone back. “You know, I’ve never been to a Christmas tree farm. Or even had a real tree for that matter,” he murmurs a bit ruefully when it’s just the two of you, picking at the label of the bottle Natasha had left behind.

“When I was younger we only ever had a fake tree. And then after my mom passed, everything with Mav, and moving around so much I just kind of didn’t ever want to think about it. I never thought to get anything for myself.” He lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “I’m really happy you’re sticking around to show me the ropes this year,” he says earnestly, sounding much lighter than before.

The thought of him fending for himself for so long makes your heart hurt. You lean into him pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. “I’m happy you want to spend the day with me,” you tell him brushing your nose against his as you pull away. 

“I did my good daughter duties, but flying home during the one of busiest days of the year was enough for me. And I wouldn’t want to subject you to the Richardson’s by going to Philly, my parents call them the Dickardson’s for a reason,” making a face that causes him to laugh.

“We’re going to have the best Christmas together, I wouldn’t want to spend the day with anyone else.” This time when you pull him in for another kiss your lips are eager to meet his. The slide of his mouth against yours never fails to make your heart beat wildly in your chest.

You could spend days kissing Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and never want to break for air. It’s only at the sound of someone’s loud wolf whistle that you break apart as you’re brought back the moment.

“You know, I’m still not over the fact that my girlfriend withheld such ‘compelling content’ from me,” he teases, using air quotes the buzzwords he’s heard you say from listening to one too many of your late night zoom meetings.

“It was the last day! You were getting in before me, and I thought you’d want the real deal instead. And to tell the truth, I didn’t know if I was overdoing it. I didn’t want to make you feel left out,” you explain honestly. You’ve always been the type to keep those insecurities to yourself, but you’ve been trying to do better. He makes you feel safe enough to open up without holding back.

“Sweetheart.” He picks up your hand his mustache brushing the back of it as he places a kiss there. “You could never overdo it. Spam away, send me everything. I love getting those pictures, it makes me feel closer to you. But, I do know how you could make it up to me.” As he sends a mischievous wink your way.

You’re hit with a brief vision of you on your knees before him in that wine-colored set he still has yet to see in person. 

“Oh, do you?” You ease off your stool to stand in front of him, his legs automatically widening for you to step in between them.

“Wanna come help me pick out a tree this weekend?” he asks, slipping his hands into the back pockets of your jeans to tug you in even closer. “I hear you know a thing or two about picking out the best one,” his eyes crinkle around the edges as he smiles broadly at you.

You don’t bother fighting back the grin that takes over your face. “Stick with me, kid,” you say taking his sunglasses from where they rest against his chest and sliding them on, “I won’t lead you astray.” 

Bradley had the best afternoon learning the ins and outs of selecting the perfect tree at the tree lot with you. 

He had found a tree place with a festive name that was about 30 minutes away, it was probably a bit different than what you were used to, but he hoped you’d be happy with the options there. He had even called in advance to make sure they had the specific variety your parents usually got after texting with your dad to find out what he should be looking for.

He had wanted to pick you up from your apartment, but you had insisted on meeting him at his place since you had an early work meeting scheduled in the morning. And had greeted you with a coffee in hand from your favorite shop when you arrived.

He’d even worn the plaid flannel shirt you had bought for him when you were visiting home for the occasion. When he parked the Bronco in the lot, you had giddily exclaimed, “Bradley, look at all the trees! There’s way more than I thought there’d be. It smells like home!” 

Once you were both out of the car you had grabbed his hand threading your fingers between his, and set off like a woman on a mission. He’d felt rather pleased with himself. 

The outdoor speakers were playing the local Christmas radio station and there were rows and rows of trees under a few large white topped tents. He loved how seriously you were taking this, and if he wasn’t already totally enamored with you this would have sealed the deal.

You’d taught him how to determine its freshness, “You have to pull a needle off and see if it bends or snaps. If it snaps then it’s already way too dried out and you’re just purchasing a giant match stick.” 

From there the came the scent test, “Now sniff the tree, you have to get your face in there. The stronger the tree scent the longer it will last.” 

And finally, the aesthetics. 

“I like mine a little girthy and on the fuller side, but that’s all a matter of personal preference. You want some gaps, so that the heavier ornaments can hang better, but not too many. And the top has to be straight, no one wants a lopsided tree topper.”

“That’s not the only thing you like full and girthy,” he couldn’t help but let slip out.

“Bradley, there are children here!” you admonished while looking around wide eyed, but that didn’t stop you from grazing the front of his jeans every chance you got.

So, when he managed to find what you excitedly deemed to be the “absolute most perfect tree!”, he couldn’t help but preen his face feeling a bit warm from the attention and praise you showered him with.

He’d hauled the tree up to the check out where it was bundled while he paid, and then carried it over his shoulder out to the Bronco. You’d trailed behind him carrying the wreath you’d picked out humming along with the music.

“Is there such a thing as a competence kink? Because this,” you had mused gesturing to him tying the tree down in the back, his hands tingling, “is definitely doing it for me.” He had just grinned and shaken his head at you, his face heating up a bit. However, he couldn’t help but flex a bit more for your benefit as he finished up.

And when you made him pull off the road less than 10 minutes later, to indulge in that new self-discovery with your mouth around his cock, well that was very much for his benefit.

Now you’re with him at his place.  You guys had wrangled the perfect tree into the house and had gotten it set up in front of his windows in the living room near the upright piano he had tucked in the corner. He loved the smell that was filling the room and the way you’d lit up once it was in place. If he had his way, you’d be around all the time.

Bradley could hear you singing along to the Christmas album he had picked up that was playing on his Dad’s old record player as you worked on putting together some hot toddies in the kitchen. You had put him on light duty, and he was determined to make it the best-looking thing you’ve ever seen.

He worked going round and round the Christmas tree, the lights all shining merrily. He took his time making sure to wrap and tuck the lights around the branches, the cozy glow filling his chest with warmth.

But the longer he worked the more he was starting to get worried that he was coming down with a bug or something, his face starting to feel slightly feverish. His throat getting thick and uncomfortable.

He’d noticed it earlier at the tree lot, but didn’t want to give it too much thought. The Navy had ruined his Thanksgiving plans with you and he didn’t want to let you down again. He worked to string lights on a few more branches adamant to push through for you. 

“Sweetheart,” he reluctantly called out to you, “I think I might be coming down with something. I’m not feeling too hot, and my throat is kinda scratchy.” The guilt was starting to settle in the pit of his stomach, maybe if he rested now he could keep it from getting too bad.

He turns to see you coming out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs in your hand, your eyes going wide.

He turns back to the tree looking to see if he accidentally fucked something up. It was his first time with a real tree, maybe the lights needed to be strung differently.

“Bradley. Oh my god.”

You had just put the finishing touches on the hot toddies and were already walking out of the kitchen when Bradley had called out to you. Those beverages were quickly abandoned on his coffee table as you propelled yourself towards him.

His face was brightly flushed and his eyes were shade of red that made your own itch in sympathy. You reach up to tug at the collar of the flannel he was wearing to get a better look at the skin of his neck and chest. The scars on his neck were standing out in contrast to his reddened skin.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” Even his voice was sounding a bit scratchy. You ignore him in favor for undoing the buttons at the cuff and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, trying to not let yourself get too anxious. “You tryin’ to get me to put these lights up topless like some kind of sexy Santa?”

You shush him as you finally get the sleeve rolled up when your suspicions are confirmed, his thick forearm is absolutely covered in angry looking raised red welts. 

“Oh no. Roos, baby. You’re breaking out.” Already pulling him away from the 7-foot issue occupying the living room and heading towards the kitchen, “I think you have pine tree allergy.” 

He finally looks away from your face and down to his arm, a deep furrow settling over his features, “Oh fuck.” You get him seated at his oval oak dining table grabbing your phone to figure out what to do next.

“Yeah, ‘Oh fuck’,” you repeat back to him eyes skimming the information on the page you clicked into.  You’ve always been the type to take charge in a crisis, this would be no different. You’d make sure he’s taken care of the way he needs to be. The way he deserves to be.

“How’s your breathing feel? Is your throat feeling tight or like it’s closing up?” you ask looking up at him.

His red-rimmed honey eyes seem to shift focus like he’s lost in thought for a brief moment.

“Rooster.”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, baby,” he says a bit bashfully. “I’m used to being the one levelheaded in stressful situations, but you should see the intensity on your face. I think you coulda been a pilot.”

“Bradley, I’m flattered. Truly,” you’ve learned that he isn’t the type to say things he doesn’t mean and you respect the hell out of what he does. “Although I’m sure there are a few more qualifications I’d have to pass than that,” you reply lightly, petting the back of his hand resting on the table. “But I need you stick with me here. I just need to figure out if we need to get you to the ER or not.”

He nods. “It’s a little thick, but not like it’s going to close up. And really scratchy, ‘s all.”

“Ok, that’s good. That’s good,” you repeat again more to yourself than him. 

You love this man so much, and he deserves the world. This is the last thing you would have wanted for him and his very first, and last, real tree.

You can still hear the record playing in the background as you try not to gnaw on the inside of your cheek working to put your game plan together.

After firing off a quick text to Jake, you quickly pop upstairs to Bradley’s medicine cupboard, hoping that he has some antihistamines tucked away in there. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see the pink box, grabbing it you tear off a couple squares from the silver lined sheet to bring back to him.

He’s still sitting where you left him at the dining table. He’s slumped down in the chair his mouth pulled down at the corners, and you think it’s probably because he’s not feeling the greatest right now. You hand him the meds and a fetch him a glass of water, watching as the tendons of his throat flex as they work to swallow the pills down. The red welts have finally made an appearance there too, and are an angry contrast to his usually golden skin.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, hmm?” You bend down to catch his eyes with your and holding out our hands to him. He nods once taking your smaller hands in his as he lets you pull him up. 

You help him to unbutton and remove the flannel shirt trying to avoid further contact with the hives on his body, not wanting to cause him anymore discomfort. Once his wide chest and arms are uncovered, you work his jeans down his thick thighs leaving him in his tight black boxer briefs. There’s nothing more than you love than being up close with Rooster’s body, but right now you’re on a mission and can’t be distracted by all the skin before you.

While you’re still feeling concerned for him, you can feel your anxiety starting to settle a bit from where it was at earlier. You’ve got a plan, you’ve already checked off a few things, and you’ll be able to take a breath once Bradley is taken care of.

He’s ruining everything with you. First Thanksgiving and now Christmas. 

How the fuck did he not know he was allergic to pine trees? He’s 35, he should known those kinds of things by now. Shouldn’t he?

He is frustrated as fuck laying on top of the king-sized bed in his darkened bedroom, the stinging of the hives on his arms and upper body were driving him crazy. God, his eyes itched and burned. Although, he couldn’t tell if it as from the reaction to the tree or from fighting the sudden urge to cry for the first time in a very long time.

The afternoon was not going as he had envisioned it. He wanted to sing some carols loudly while getting tipsy off hot toddies with you. Dance with you in between hanging ornaments on the tree. Maybe fuck you under the tree if he played his cards right, he wanted to be the one to get your tinsel in a tangle. 

All he had wanted was to make you happy. You weren’t spending Christmas with your family, and he didn’t want you to miss out on anything being in California with him instead. He was really excited about the holiday for the first time in what felt like forever, and it had everything to do with you.

“Do you have any oatmeal here?” You had asked him not too long ago, and it was all he could do to point you in the right direction as the guilt was eating away at him. Once you had found it, you had sent him away to go upstairs to get him further away from the tree. His strong, capable, and pretty girlfriend was left to deal with the mess downstairs without him. 

He could hear the whir of the blender and wondered what you were up to. Sulking at the fact that all he could do is wait for the antihistamines to kick in, and hope that he’d be feeling better soon so that he could help you take care of things.

“Bradley? Baby, are you awake?” You entered the dimly lit room cautiously, approaching him gingerly on the bed and holding a large bowl with something fluffy and powdery looking in it. He hadn’t heard you come up the stairs.

He loved the sound of your voice. He loved it in the morning when it was thick with sleep, how excited you got when you were talking about something you were passionate about, and he especially loved the breathy whispers and words of encouragement from you in his ear late at night when he was moving so deep within you. What he didn’t love was being the reason you were so anxious, that he was at fault for why your tone was so laced with concerned. 

“Yeah,” although he was starting to feel sluggish, “’m still awake.” He felt your cool hands on his face and leaned into your soothing touch, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“I’m going to make you an oatmeal bath,” you informed him gesturing to the bowl in your hand. “From what I’ve been reading online that should help calm down the hives, hopefully stop them from spreading anymore.’

“Okay, Sweetheart,” he sighed. He can hear how pitiful he sounds, but right now his girl is the only thing that is making him feel good, and he will do anything you ask of him.

You set about turning the taps on for the large tub in the bathroom, twisting the handles to get the water to come out at the right temperature. Once you were satisfied, you swirled in the oat powder you had made watching as the water turned cloudy, then headed back into the bedroom to get Bradley.

“Let’s get you in the tub so you can soak for a bit, yeah?” He looks so miserable alone stretched out on the bed. “It’s not too hot, and it should help you feel better,” you help him to sit up placing a kiss to the lines of the scars on his cheek trying to comfort him.

Ever the soldier, he dutifully follows you into the bathroom. Once he is stripped of his briefs and comfortably situated in the milky mixture, his eyes flutter closed as he reclines back, leaning his head against the ledge of the tub. You move kneel on the floor next to him running your fingers through his sun-streaked waves.

Your little pocket of peace is disturbed a few minutes later by the ding of your phone.

“Jake just got here,” you announce filling him in on the next part of your plan, “He’s going to help me with the tree.” 

“’posed to be my job,” Bradley sulks making a petulant sound in his throat. You can’t help but let out a gentle tsk while fighting back a small smile at his response.  

“I just want you to relax here and let the oatmeal do its thing. I’m going to get things wrapped up downstairs it shouldn’t take too long, and then I’ll come back to check on you.”

“Mmhm, fine,” he sighs as you press a kiss to his forehead.

You let Jake in and he is quick to jump in taking over by unwinding the lights off from the partially lit tree. He’s even quicker to haul the massive thing out of the house and into the back of his truck, as the new owner of the 7-foot Noble Fir. After the tree is deposited, he heads back in and helps you coil the lights back up so they’re not in a tangled mess on the floor making some light small talk because he can tell your mind is elsewhere. 

On his way out the door he shoots you a cocky salute, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face.  “You can thank my new Trot PR for how quickly I was able to run back to my place after I got your SOS text to get here as quickly as I did, Darlin’,” he drawls. 

You flip him off, but tell him to text you what meals he’d like you to make and bring over later in the week as thanks for his help. And with a quick kiss to his cheek, you shoo him out the door wanting to get back to your boyfriend.

After he leaves, you break out the vacuum and work on getting the needles off the ground before moving on to the laundry. You grab the pile of Bradley’s clothes from the floor in the kitchen where you had left them before stripping down to your underwear, throwing everything in the washer and turning it on to get rid of any potential lingering irritants.

You make you way back upstairs, stopping to slip on one of Bradley’s old UVA t-shirts and grabbing him a loose pair of navy sweatpants, before going in to check on him. He is still there soaking his head tilted back and eyes closed, just as you had left him. Thankfully the hives have seemed to stop their spread leaving his face untouched. His neck, chest, and arms still bearing the brunt of his allergic reaction.

You gently knock on the door to announce your presence, not wanting to startle him. “You ready to come out now, baby?” Before him you had never been a pet name person, but now all you wanted to be a source of comfort in his life. A soft place for him to land.

“Yeah,” he turns his head towards the sound of your voice, “I think I might be getting a bit prune-y, but that felt really good. Thank you, Sweetheart.” He has finally opened his eyes and looking right at you, with a smile small and soft, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You’re trying not to read into it too much, not wanting to let your anxiety get the best of you. You help him up from bath and use the handheld to first shower him off, grabbing a fluffy towel to help gingerly pat him dry. As he bends to pull on the sweatpants you had brought in you turn to rinse out the remaining oatmeal residue from the tub. He presses a kiss to the back of your head as he passes by you to make his way back to the bedroom.

By the time you’re done he has already climbed into bed, the comforter on your side already pulled back as he reaches out for you to get in with him. The white percale sheets you had helped him pick out were cool and luxuriously soft to the touch, and you feel yourself release the breath it felt like you’d been holding since you entered the living room holding those long forgotten hot toddies.

Bradley is quick to lace your fingers together and tuck his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, his mustache ticking the soft skin of your throat there. For all of his golden retriever energy, he is soaking up your affection and attention like a lap cat as you slowly rub your free hand up and down his broad back.

However, he’s still entirely too quiet. Your lips press tightly together on their own accord as you begin to think that there’s something more on his mind that he’s not sharing with you than just the effects of the hives and double dose of Benadryl.

You’re about to speak up when he beats you to it, “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. I just wanted you to feel at home and now I’ve ruined Christmas.” You’ve never heard his voice sound so small.

Oh. Oh no.

“Bradley, please look at me.” 

You lean back a bit as he removes his face from the spot it was tucked into and study his beautiful yet troubled looking eyes. “Is this why you’ve been so quiet? Please tell me you haven’t been spiraling thinking you’ve ruined anything.” He looks away, and you feel your brows scrunch together.

You cup his cheek in your hand, running your thumb down the cleft of his chin, “I love you so much and we’re going to have such a wonderful Christmas together, a tree is a nonissue here, baby. You matter more to me. I hope you know that.” His gaze finally meets yours and you continue on, “I need you to hear me. You’ve got absolutely nothing to apologize for. Nothing is ruined and nothing that happened today is your fault. Ok?” Nodding your head, needing for him to understand and let go of his misplaced guilt. 

You see the exact moment he absorbs and believes everything you’re saying to him, his shoulders releasing the tension that had gathered there. “Ok, I hear you.” You lean into him to place a tender kiss on his lips. “I love you so much,” he breaths against your mouth.

“I love you too,” you say pressing one more lingering kiss to his lips before encouraging him to settle his head back down again. He reaches for your hand, guiding it to his hair, prompting you to comb your fingers through his curls. 

“Now that we’ve settled that, how are you feeling? What else can I do to help?” 

“You’ve done so much for me,” he murmurs kissing your neck gently. “’M just tired now and want to hold you for a bit. The Benadryl is starting to kick my ass.” He pauses for a moment, “But maybe we can order some pizza, Sweetheart? And put on one of those Christmas movies you like? Y’know the ones where the people live in a town is named something like Tinselville and their dogs fall in love?” He asks his voice sounding a bit boyish and hopeful. 

You can’t help but let out a giggle because, really, his description is not too far off. You can feel his smile against the side of your neck as you turn the tv on.

“You can have whatever you like, handsome boy. Pizza and Oscar quality Christmas content, it is.” You grab your phone unlocking it and opening up to the delivery app, when Bradley plucks it from your hand tossing it to the side and placing his in yours instead.

“Order from mine instead, it’s my turn to take care of you,” he states slinging his arm low over your hip.

You click the button on the side to wake his phone up only to see your face smiling back at you on his lockscreen. Nose bright from the cold, surrounded by trees, and wrapped up in a scarf your mom had loaned to you since you hadn’t brought any practical winter-wear home with you.

It’s the picture that Bradley has sent himself the other night at the bar, and you’re flooded with a rush of affection for the man nestled against you. You notice his wallpaper is still the picture of you and him from this Halloween when you’d surprised everyone by dressing up as him, he’s kissing you squarely on the mouth while grabbing a handful of your ass. It was one of your favorites too.

You’d just finished submitting the order, when a text from Jake comes through, and you roll your eyes.

Those 5th Gens didn’t get you, but you’re taken out by a fucking a Christmas Tree. Would hate to see what one of those tree shaped car fresheners would do to you.

You’re not going to let him come for your boyfriend, even in playful roasting, when you just managed to picked his spirits up. Not tonight, Hangman. And you set to typing your response with your one free hand, the other still carding through Bradley’s curls. 

Listen up, Lieutenant Turkey Trot. I was planning on surprising you with a bottle of that Texas bourbon you like when I swing by with the food later this week, but now that’s up to you. Do with that what you will... xx

Not bothering to wait for a response you hand Bradley back his phone only to see it light up again. “Lieutenant Turkey Trot,” he snorts, “Damn. Hangman apologized. And he says he wants a lasagna and your chicken and dumpling casserole.”

Southern men are too easy. Nothing is as important to them as food and their mamas. You smile smugly to yourself, making a mental note to go to remember to stop by that speciality liquor store by your place.

The food is delivered not too much later, you and Bradley eat in bed the box sitting between you while making fun of the plot of the movie you had turned on. You can tell the Benadryl is staring to win when Bradley’s running commentary tapers and his breathing begins to even out.

“It’s ok to go to sleep, baby.”

“Just resting my eyes, wanna see if they figure out why the poinsettias aren’t blooming.”  

“You should get your rest,” you gently press, “I’ll set record it and you can find out tomorrow.”

“You’re gonna stay the night, right?” He asks sleepily as he concedes and begins to burrow down into his bed.

“Of course. If you want me here, I’ll stay.” Truth be told, you liked his bed better than yours. You’d even went back to the shop where you’d helped Bradley pick out his sheets from and bought the same percale set for your place in an attempt to help you sleep better.

You set an alarm for earlier than you’d like, remembering you have a meeting first thing in the morning. “I might have to leave a bit earlier than usual though,” you mention softly, “Since I’ll need to go to my place before I have to head in to the office.” You hadn’t originally planned on staying over due to your early morning and now you were kicking yourself for not grabbing a few things to keep in your car just in case.

“Yes. Stay,” he murmurs and reaches out to you, wrapping his arm around your midsection and pulling you to his chest. You let your fingers trace lightly down his forearm, feeling the hills and valleys caused by the welts that litter his arm. He lets out a hum of contentment in response, you’re pressed so close to him you can feel the vibrations of the sound from his chest against your back.

You think you’ve finally lost him to sleep when he mumbles already half gone, “Why don’t you keep more things here?” You can feel his warm breath against the back of your neck.

“How much were you thinking? You saying you want to share a drawer with me?” you lightly tease.

“Bring it all,” he sighs, “Want you here.”

The sound of his soft snores filling your ear only a couple minutes later.

You don’t bring up Bradley’s half-asleep musings, you won’t hold him to anything said under the influence of the antihistamines. While the thoughts of moving in and living with Bradley made your heart beat a bit faster, you kept those hopes tucked away just for yourself.

It was now a week after the pine tree debacle, Bradley’s hives were quick to clear up after a couple days and a few oatmeal baths later. Your skin was still reaping the benefits of the oatmeal too after he managed to coax you in with him one evening. 

He had texted you earlier in the day asking for you to swing by his place after work. You knew the door would be unlocked for you, and you let yourself in.

“That you, Sweetheart?” He called out from nearby, you can hear the sounds of some crooner singing in the background.

“Yeah, it’s me." You set your purse and work tote down before bending to undo your heels at the door. “Hey, I was thinking on my way over here, I bet lots of places still have artificial trees left in stock that we could get. I feel like we need a Christmas redo.” You get one off and begin working on the other, “I was planning on getting one to liven up my place too, maybe I can find one of those ostentatious pink ones I tried to talk my parents into getting and fulfill a lifelong dream.” You say that last part with a little laugh.

You finally win the battle against the top buckle of your cute shoe finally kicking it off and wiggling your toes out, “Ooh! Maybe we can go to that cute cocktail bar off 17th afterwards? One of my coworkers was talking about their new seasonal drinks today and it seems festive.”

You fish your phone out of your purse and make your way to the living room, “That is if you didn’t have anything planned.”

Your voice trails off at the end because when you round the corner you find Bradley in his living room looking very proud with a self-satisfied smile on his face already standing next to a Christmas tree.

A very large, very fluffy, pink Christmas tree.

You stand there entirely stunned. The juxtaposition of your tall, handsome naval aviator next to this truly over the top frosted tree has your brain working overtime. The entire room is cast in a dreamy glow from many strands of white lights he had already spun around it.

“I still feel bad that about what happened the other weekend, and I wanted to make it up to you. At the bar, I heard you telling Phoenix that you always wanted a pink tree, so I hope this is similar to what you hand in mind.” He seems to be getting a bit nervous now, since all it seems you can do is just blink at him. He reaches around into his back pocket pulling out a small tube, “I even got some of those scent stick things to tuck in if you-” 

He doesn’t get to finish since you’ve launch yourself at him.

“Bradley!” He catches you easily with one arm as you begin peppering his face with kisses.

His laugher fills the room and his grin lights up his face at your reaction, “Are you happy, Sweetheart?”  

“I’m the happiest! Oh my god! Are you for real?” you exclaim in between kisses. You stop the assault on his face to take it in your hands, “Seriously though, there is nothing to feel bad about. You’re what matters most to me. I mean, yes, I absolutely love this. But you should have what you like too.”

He takes a step back, with you still in his arms and propped up on his hip. He thoughtfully studies the tree in front of you both. “Yep. This is definitely the perfect tree,” he declares proudly, “It’s full and girthy. Has some good gaps, and look at that top. Straight as an arrow. Although we might need to get some more decorations for it, but I got it started.”

You look from him back to the tree puzzled, since you don’t see anything on it aside from the lights. He walks you both closer, and pulls off what looks to be a strand of curling ribbon with a shiny silver object dangling from it from a branch on the tree. 

A key.

He sets you down back on your own two feet, holding you close against his body bringing his forehead to yours. “I meant it, Sweetheart. Bring it all. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be here. All the time. With me. You’re the only thing on my list this year, you’re all I want. Will you let me give you more than a drawer?” His honey brown eyes gazing at you hopefully.

You already knew what your response would be even before he pulled that key from off the tree, and the answer must be all over your face because Bradley’s face breaks into a beam as he picks you up and spins you around.

The choice has always been easy with him, it’ll always be a yes.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Causally hyper-fixating over all things TGM at bradshawburner

You can find the prequel to this story here!

Find out what happens during their second Christmas together here!

You can read more of my stories here!

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 7)

The one thing Uzi did not mind about her transformation was her ability to fly alongside N during scavenging missions. He often had to slow down (thrusters will always be faster than manual flying), but it didn't seem to bother him in the least, especially when she was sharing her favorite songs with him over short-range.

And no, it didn't all consist of Nightcore thank you very much. She was sharing the ones she thought he would like.

Of course, N liked all of them, so she probably could blare Nightcore at full volume and he'd like it, but she was still keeping it mostly mainstream, mostly because he seemed to like singing lyrics if he knew them, which was fun!

Because he was good at it.

He nailed nearly every note so long as he was familiar with the song, and it was gorgeous, his voice smooth as butter and just high enough to reach the minor keys without sounding off.

And yes, it did make her core flutter like it was full of a million butterflies, but that was besides the point.

“Hang on, lemme give you this one.” She sent another over to him, her wings flapping above her as they both glided comfortably.

“How many do you have?!” N asked excitedly, although it was definitely in the sense that he was eager to hear all of them and not that he wanted her to stop.

“Years worth of emotional repression leads to years worth of saved angst, what can I say?” She replied, poking a little fun at herself, she pushed ahead as he opened the audio file, scanning the ground for any parts she needed.

This one was a little angry sounding, but the guitar was nice, and there was a woman singing in the background that he wished didn't sound so sad, but it was pretty, at the very least.

“Do you want me to just give you my playlist? I've kinda just been sending you singles from it this whole time.” She fell back in line with him, wings beating above her, wow, he never realized how strong they looked before.

“Yes!” He beamed, being ecstatic to listen to more, it was leagues better than anything he'd ever heard play at the manor, plus he felt as if he was learning quite a bit about her just through her saved songs.

He noted the complete lack of love songs, there were plenty of breakup songs, but it didn't seem that Uzi had either never felt that way about anyone or she may have just not liked the sappiness of them. He wasn't sure, he was kinda hoping for the latter, she deserved someone to make her happy, surely?

“Here. But we can't spend all night doing this, it not really what we're here for…” She sent him a massive folder that was going to take a bit to install, in the meantime. They both flew upwards, trying to spot things from higher up.

“No worries, what are we looking for?” He asked, just replaying the same songs he'd already listened to on repeat, just at a lower volume.

“A hardware store preferably, that explosion melted all my railguns internals… stupid J… pain in my ass even in death.” She added, sounding bitter. He didn't argue.

“Hmm, I think I saw one last night. I can send you the map data?” He offered, not noticing how closely they were flying, he could feel each beat of her wings. The urge to wrap his tail around her hit him suddenly. She wasn't in danger. What was this about?

“Sweet! Yes!” She gave him a thumbs up, and so he sent the map data to her, and she went silent looking it over intently.

And here he was admiring how she could intently focus of his map data while also flying near perfectly again, if he ever needed to revist a location he had to stop flying lest he hit something. Not her though, her mind was so lightening fast. Not just in this, but in everything.

Man his best freind was so cool. And pretty.

She… was pretty. But that was random.

“Yeah, you did pass one, this way!” She did pause in the air for a moment, but only to turn to him and make sure he was following, he nodded, letting her lead him.

Her tail swirled behind her as she kept herself aloft, it was graceful in it's own way, since she had to think more about consciously flying then he did, and so she ended up doing more spins and tricks in the air just by flying normally. It was almost like watching a dance, albeit a bat-like one.

“We're here.” He heard her shout before diving, and he followed without question, landing beside her with a metallic thud in contrast with her graceful perfect landing.

Okay, what the heck was going on with him today?

“Anything specific?” He asked, dusting the snow off himself before it melted and refroze to his chassis. Ignoring the random intrusive thoughts that seemed to be increasing in frequency and intensity.

“Small screws, wiring, oh! And capacitors! Lots and lots of capacitors.” He knew at least what two of those things were at what they looked like, so he nodded and followed her into the blasted out store after beating the snow out of his cap.

Her tail whipped around into a flashlight, pointing it at the rotten shelves and the icesicles hanging above them, a skeleton was at the counter, still in uniform, and still in the position of looking bored.

“Split up? I'll look for the capacitors, you get the screws and wiring?” She turned to him, with the absence of others she always seemed to smile, he gave her a thumbs up and beamed her one right back, before turning and wandering to the nearest shelf, leaving them both alone with their thoughts.

Uzi was already searching deep in the electronic section, trying to find capacitors that weren't completely broken or frozen, with a task at hand her mind was blessedly empty for once, enough that she was humming absent-mindedly whatever song had gotten trapped in her head.

She didn't sing, she didn't like her voice and thought it was too deep for most songs, but humming was fine, if it wasn't done in front of other people. Robo-God forbid someone hear her not being aggro for ten seconds. But here she was alone, and N was on the other side of the store, he couldn't hear her.

And even if he could, it was N. He wouldn't ever make fun of her for anything.

She smiled. At this point trying to deny her feelings was pointless, he made her feel so special, so wonderful. And he was so happy to spend any time with her, whether it be listening to her music or watching a movie or agreeing to visit a baby with her. He was always down, loving every second.

It rubbed off on her, she found herself smiling more, liking her life more, liking herself more. She was beginning to feel less like a freak and more like a person, all thanks to the lovable goofball she called her best freind.

And she wanted to call him more, connect with him more, but… she couldn't be certain he felt the same way. He was always so loving but he was like that with everyone, he cared, and that's just who he was.

So nothing he did proved he liked her like that. Romanticly. Never in a million years did she ever think she would be longing for someone, or even have a crush in the first place, but here she was, admitting to herself that… she was in love. Ew

But at the same time, the way he had been looking at her in the nursery, with a small smile on his face and his eyes digitally half-lidded. He looked… almost like he wanted to kiss her.

But that had to have been her imagination, he'd asked if she felt better right before, maybe he'd just been concerned.

With a victorious gasp she found a whole box of preserved capacitors and quickly stashed them in her bag before going off and trying to find the boy in question, core full of butterflies but also very very heavy.

N had finally finished downloading Uzi's monster of a playlist and was skimming through it while picking up his second box of screws, he doubted she needed this many, but being an overachiever never got him in trouble before.

He fingered the wiring he had in his pocket, feeling satisfied that he'd completed his task and yet still felt anything but.

He was… confused.

Uzi was his friend, his best friend. And yet the more he thought about her the lighter his core got, in a way that was new to him. Well no, that was it wasn't it? It wasn't new.

It was just attached to a new person.

But… he didn't have a crush on Uzi did he? He could form sentences just fine around her, he wasn't nervous or artificially sweaty. He just wanted to be close, to protect her. To be there when she needed him. That wasn't romantic. It was protective! Like all friends should be!

And yet he still felt unsatisfied, like he was missing something.

“Hey! Did you find what we needed?” He heard her before he saw her, bounding up to him with a crooked smirk, her tail twitching behind her and her wings folded against her back. She was cute…

He shook off his thoughts again.

“Yeah! Here!” He he presented the screws and the wire to her with a smile, his tail twitching as her hand grazed his as she took them, no that wasn't a spark you're imagining things.

“Thanks!” You ready to head back? It's going to be morning soon.” She asked, punching his shoulder playfully, a small laugh left his mouth.

“Yeah! And we can listen to music together on the way back!”

“Sure buddy.”

And with that they took off, commenting on songs and cracking jokes about the stupid ones, flying high to get home faster. With each minute he felt himself relax, whatever confusing mess his thoughts were causing right now didn't matter, they were laughing, and she was smiling. He would figure it out later.

“Is… is this song about a potato?” He asked slowly, causing her to snort before devolving into a fit of laughter.

“Y-yeah? I thought it was funny, and I rigged the teachers lounge to play it on repeat once.”

N didn't want to ask why, but he felt that it was a very Uzi thing to do.

“Hey, I might need to crash at your place tonight. Charge is low and I don't wanna pass out on the way home.” As she said that, a little low battery symbol appeared at the top right corner of her visor, showing she wasn't lying.

“Sleepover!” He shouted, making her smile again, he really liked her smile…

“Yeah, whatever.” She rolled her eyes, but her words lacked any sort of bite. There was a brief comfortable silence before;

“Oh… this one's kinda sad.” His face fell at little as he listened. An orchestral swell being out of place in the rest of the playlist.

I am tired of this dream….

Will it ever end for me?

“Sorry, I don't have a lot of happy ones that aren't also sarcastic…” She admitted sheepishly, she probably should find happier songs now that she was thinking about it. She felt happier now, what was the harm? So long that it was only her and N that would ever hear them.

I don't have the will to know…

Can you help me see?

“Oh! Duet!” He hummed happily, that fact alone seemingly making him feel better about it.

Let my body keep you warm…

Let my essence be your breeze.

Oh. This was a love song, and a rather longing one. He looked over Uzi's playlist, this one was added only recently. About three months ago, huh that was around when prom happened.

Can you hear me calling?

Please look out for meeee…

“N! Look!” Uzi shouted and he looked up, the gas giant was being eclipsed by Copper-9s barren moon, causing the entire night sky to be lit up in a burnt umber red. But he'd be lying if he said that was what caught his attention.

Can you set me free?

Will you take my soul away?

Uzi was silhouetted in the light perfectly, sending warm oranges and reds bouncing off her features like she was gazing at a roaring fire, she was hung in the air, snowflakes falling slowly around her, the light turning them to embers dancing in the air. She was smiling, her hands reaching out to touch one of the dancing flames.

Casting me in cold

Bury me in bones

Rest eternallyyyyyy…

He felt all the moisture in his mouth evaporate on the spot, and any further thought through his processors die. If flying wasn't an automatic process, he would have fallen from the sky in shock.

She looked beautiful.

Will you take me home?

Can we see the moon again?

Dancing in the dark

Till we fall apart

I can't end this dream...

Next ->

[nenelonomh]

organization 101

organization is about how we gather stimuli in our environment to complete tasks quickly and more effectively. it's about arranging our surroundings, providing order, and structuring items and activities around us.

this topic can be applied in so many instances - including physical spaces, digital files, schedules, and mental clarity.

staying organized offers several benefits:

★ when you're organized, you waste less time searching for things or figuring out what to do next. this efficiency leads to increased productivity

★ clutter and chaos can contribute to stress. an organized environment promotes a sense of calm and control.

★ organization helps you allocate time effectively. you can prioritize tasks and allocate resources efficiently.

★ a clutter-free workspace (or living space) allows you to concentrate better on the task at hand.

★ organized spaces encourage healthier habits, such as regular exercise, balanced meals, and adequate rest.

but how can you stay organized?

★ start with one area of focus (e.g. closet, desk, documents, ...) and gradually expand. focusing on one area allows you to see tangible progress, and as you declutter or organize, you'll build momentum to tackle other spaces.

trying to organize everything at once can be overwhelming. by narrowing your focus, you can prevent feeling swamped. concentrating on a specific area also allows you to learn effective strategies,, which you can apply to other parts of your life!

★ keep a to-do list. you can use a planner or digital tools to track tasks - and prioritize and sort tasks by urgency. write things down promptly to avoid forgetting them.

by freeing your mind from trying to remember all of your tasks, this mental offloading allows you to focus on the present moment. you can also assign urgency and importance, ensuring you will tackle what matters most.

★ give everything a home. clutter happens when items lack designated spaces. organize your physical and digital spaces intentionally.

★ once organized, maintain order consistently by building habits and systems. regularly review and adjust your systems when needed.

maintaining daily habits can significantly contribute to staying organized.

digital files

personally, the biggest issue i have with organization is building (and maintaining) a good system for digital files. it is crucial for me to learn how to organize these well, however, as a digital creator.

here is the process:

★ create a folder structure,, and design a clear hierarchy of folders that reflect your workflow. organize files logically based on projects, departments, dates, or file types.

at the moment i sort my files as content home < links, content plan, instagram, pinterest, tumblr, youtube < scheduling, post ideas

however, sometimes i find myself with documents that don't fit any of these sections. my plan for the future is to reorganize this to be the most effective it can.

★ use descriptive file names,, and name files clearly and concisely. include relevant keywords to make searching easier

★ consider using tags to categorize files across multiple dimensions. tags enhance searchability and allow flexible organization.

this is something that i am looking to employ!

★ utilize cloud services like google drive or dropbox for easy access from anywhere.

i will forever be a notion girl,, even though it is not quite a cloud service, it allows me a similar experience.

★ make decluttering a routine. delete duplicate or unnecessary files.

★ pin essential folders to your sidebar for quick access.

physical decluttering

writing this, i was reminded of the (horrid) bedrotting trend, especially those videos where people would show their rooms with shit everywhere and mould growing on stuff. i'm aware that some people find it super hard to maintain organization or declutter - hoarding is a very real issue.

the benefits of staying organized were previously mentioned, but decluttering specifically has its own little set of positives. this includes reduced stress, improved focus, enhanced productivity, and more positive overall wellbeing.

here are some essential tips if you are struggling to get started:

choose a small area or category to begin decluttering. set a timer (15-30 minutes) and sort items in that area into 'keep', 'donate', 'trash', or 'unsure' piles.

you could also attempt a room-by-room approach, by tackling one room at a time. focus on completing each room fully before moving on to the next.

try to organize your belongings into categories (keep, donate, sell, discard) to make decisions easier.

remember - progress comes from consistent effort, and small steps lead to a clutter-free space.

further reading

i hope today's post was helpful!

as for further reading, check out these sites: ★ How to Declutter Your Home: 6 Best Room-by-Room Methods (thespruce.com) ★ First Steps to Decluttering - Understanding the Clutter - Being Minimalist ★ Productivity, Organization & Personal-Development | 101 Planners ★ Executive Functioning Skills 101: Organization | Life Skills Advocate ★ How to Be Organized - 10+ Habits - Organized 31 ★ How to Be More Organized & Productive | 10 Habits for Life Organization (youtube.com) ★ How to Be More Organized (verywellmind.com) ★ How to Organize Your Digital Files | Reviews by Wirecutter (nytimes.com) ★ Master How to Organize Digital File Management (riverfy.com)

❤️ nene

image source: pinterest