Discover Top Posts Tagged with #otp trash

When I was 12 I thought I'd grow out of obsessing over my OTPs and be a responsible woman but now I'm 19 and I have even more OTPs and the obsession is getting worse lmao

#nuzi #hopurai #ffxiii 2 #2b9s #xiaoven #lynlumi #my otp feels #otp trash #This is so random #I'm alive

Okay I’m in a Vampire Mood...so it’s time to re-read #Crave by Tracy Wolff!! Jaxon and Grace here I come!!!

#crave #tracy wolff #jaxon and grace #otp trash #vampires #paranormal romance

Ghidorah: You seem to have a problem with me killing your wife.

Godzilla: Damn right, I do!

Ghidorah: But what if I kill you both at once?

Godzilla: .... I’m listening.

Mothra: Godzilla, NO!

#Godzilla #godzilla x mothra #mothra #otp trash #king ghidorah

*All right, couldn’t help but make some more fluff for Finn and Nick. Enjoy*

Tattoo

They are watching TV, nestled in their favorite armchair, quiet, calm, relaxed. She stretches her arm out towards him, a silent demand for affection. He begins the familiar comfort of trailing his fingers up then down her arm, slow, over and over, just the way she likes it. She scrunches her face at first, turning her body, leaning into it and against him, giggling. After a few minutes of the same motion on her arm, she adjusts to the feeling, the soft tickling, the way it makes her stomach flutter. He knows how much she loves this affection and she knows he can’t resist spoiling her and loving her this way. She feels close to falling asleep, lulled by his touch, squirming when he changes the speed of his fingers, too fast, too tickly, perfect.

She rouses from her slumber like state and asks him now “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool to get tattoos?”

“I guess,” he answers her with little thought to the matter, focusing instead on his fingers grazing her arm.

“Think about it,” she demands now “I was watching this show late one night when I couldn’t sleep and these people who get them are like, really into it and the details and it’s just really cool art.”

“Yeah but doesn’t it hurt?” he asks, fingers circling her wrist now, “it’s like a giant needle babe.”

“But it’s not like at the doctor’s office,” she explains “it’s cool.”

“Seems too painful to me,” he concludes, fingers stopping at her elbow, the place where blood is drawn and tapping there gently.

“What would you get if you got one?” she asks now, glancing up at him.

“I don’t know,” he admits “never really thought about it.”

“Well what if we got matching tattoos?” she asks now with a hopeful tone.

“Yeah right,” he scoffs “I would end up with some girly thing like a peace sign or flowers.”

“No,” she denies that accusation “that’s not what I’d pick for you.”

“All right, what then?” he asks.

“Something macho,” she says smirking “like a dragon, right here.”

She traces a pattern on his chest of what he guesses is a dragon, the motion tickling through the fabric of his shirt.

“Or the Cowboys logo,” she continues, lifting the sleeve of his shirt and tracing that pattern on his arm.

“That’s really lame,” he teases her, unable to hide his shiver from her at her gentle touch.

“It suits you,” she teases back “or just a giant football, right here.”

She sneaks her hand under his shirt and traces that pattern on his stomach, the contact gives him butterflies.

“Or maybe a skull,” she continues, tracing that pattern on his neck “or a big picture of Sam, how funny would that be?” she giggles.

She’s too much, he can’t help but think of how ridiculous he would look covered in tattoos from head to toe. But he loves this game she’s started so, when she’s rambling on about a tattoo of her face somewhere ridiculous on his body, he grabs her hand and stops her.

“All right fine,” he says, “tattoo me up all you want, but what about you?”

“I don’t care,” she shrugs but bites her lip in anticipation, knowing she’s next, “pick whatever you want.”

He makes a face in mock concentration as he says, “I’m thinking, hearts.”

“Hearts?” she questions knowing how lame and cliché that is.

“Yeah,” he continues, lifting her shirt now, slowly, the fabric brushing against her skin making her shiver, “little hearts, all right here.”

He starts tracing that pattern on her side, not once but several in a row, down a line, starting under her ribs and trailing down. She can’t help but giggle and squirm.

“One time, I saw this painting, it was just a cloud and some raindrops, it was beautiful,” he continues, “I think that would look good right here.”

He slides his hand to her stomach, tracing the loopy circle pattern for a cloud and creating invisible raindrops with several taps of his finger, over and over, driving her wild and making her laugh harder. She can’t hear whatever silly thing he says next because she’s too busy laughing, loving how this art session has turned into a tickle fight. He mumbles something to her about the sun, tugging at the waistband of her jeans, tracing a circle on her hip, then little squiggly patterns going back across her side and her stomach. She’s done for now, trying to curl up and stop him but he’s got her trapped in the chair, clearly having more fun with this tattoo game than she first intended.

“Stars, those are always a classic,” he continues, tracing that pattern on her back, unable to resist sliding his finger down her spine, reaching her lower back and tapping there over and over. She twists around, trying to escape but he’s holding her too tight. If he continues this game for too much longer, she might fall off the chair.

“Can’t get tattoos if you’re ticklish,” he teases her now, finding her hip again and starting to trace a heart shape there, once, twice, to her it felt like a thousand, her stomach fluttering each time he started.

“I know,” she laughs to him, finally admitting defeat, trying to grab at his hands, frantic.

When he finally thinks she’s had enough, he stops, letting his hand rest on her stomach, playful. She’s still giggling as she covers his hand with hers, feeling a rush of affection for him, she knows her face must be red from laughing but she doesn’t care, they were having the time of their lives just playing like this.

“So,” he says, grinning, pleased with having won this round “did you decide what to get?”

She shakes her head, grinning smugly, absolutely, madly, crazy in love with him and every single moment they get to spend together like this.

“That was mean,” she informs him.

“You started it,” he reminds her, letting his finger slide down her side in a zig zag pattern making her shriek at the unexpected tickly sensation. She has not even stopped laughing yet when he scoops her up and cuddles her back in his arms as she was before their silly game.

“If you really want one, we can get tattoos,” he says, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Okay,” she agrees but doesn’t give him a definite date to schedule their session, just happy to have him support the idea.

She snuggles back into a comfortable position, taking extra time to wiggle and get settled, adorable, melting his heart. She finally sighs, content again, flinging her arm out across his chest again, demanding his affections once again, which he starts, fingers finding her wrist and sliding down to her elbow, unable to resist tracing more shapes and patterns, taking his time, savoring how her skin feels on his, soft, delicate, watching goosebumps form. He could spend all day like this, loving any excuse to put his hands on her, gentle, soothing, just like she lured him into moments ago and he looked forward to the next thing she would ask that would lead them into something fun or silly. There was nothing better than her, pure, wonderful, soft, sweet, her.

#julie finlay #nick stokes #finn and nick #otp #writing #fanfiction #fluff #otp trash #tattoo