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diejager · 6 months

Note

hi i love your work so much omg

…what do you think of the scenario of monster!141 x (platonic, if you want, it’s probably for the better) reader that’s made up of thousands of worms/spiders/or whatever creatures. reader is always covered up in clothes that cover up the entire ‘skin’ and they speak extremely weirdly/like everything’s speaking all at once and the voice is just sounding from the mouth but also in the torso? and legs? . the thing is that reader is shy or something and doesn’t want to admit that they’re just a hive mind of creatures, but it’s just kinda obvious not really (well obvious to monster 141). 141 doesn’t really want to comment on it because they’re just nice like that and find ways to help Reader get through some situations lmao (help i’m sleep deprived and i made this thought in 3 AM ish).

i give you a piece of 🧀

Many

Pairing: Platonic Monster 141 + König & Horangi x monster!reader

Cw: spiders, blood, military inaccuracies, canon-typical violence, cannibalism? Eating human, hive mind monster, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2.9k (A/N): I’m gonna be honest with y’a, I went on a spree and completely forgot what you first asked for but uh… I used some of your ideas and I hope it’s apparent enough?

For someone as decorated as you were, you were awfully timid, shying from human and hybrid interaction like a plague. Perhaps it was unintentional, the stiffness in your shoulders or the constant coverage, but to the world around you, you were nothing but an awkward person whose social cues were lost to time after more than a decade in the force. Starting your days covered head to toe, black over more black, or khaki and brown over more khaki and brown depending on the situation of your stay and deployment.

Despite your social anxiety, your voice stayed strong and unwavering in the field, a cold, monotone voice that would coordinate the team if needed —you were a prolific intelligence specialist, that found your calling in intelligence gathering from the deepest and darkest pits, and an infiltration specialist that was sought out for your proficiency and successful operations worldwide, especially the undercover Ops done in secrecy. You’ve led a few clandestine Ops with Laswell for 141, the Station Chief letting you lead and direct them, trusting your insights and they always resulted in successful missions, coming back bruised and battered but alive and securing the cargo (or whatever they were sent there for).

That meant that they knew you, your voice, your confident tone when you directed them, your unwavering decisions and your helpful guidance, but they hadn’t seen you until a few months ago. You were officially assigned to Task Force 141 as their Intelligence and Infiltration specialist, working on and off. This would be the first time you actively moved to the front, standing beside them during infiltrations, slipping into the enemy base with efficiency and silence. You moved as if you were a part of the shadows, melting into the darkness and disappearing from any camera and scans, your body invincible to infrared cameras or heat sensors.

You moved with fluid motions, your body incredibly - scarily - flexible and seemingly aware of everything around you. To humans, you were probably the most skillful and abnormal human, born with talents that far rivalled those of hybrids, and a saviour to some for being able to keep them alive even through the hardest moments of their capture; but to monsters, to hybrids, you were special, a different type of creature that held a different category in the classes, one that humans knew little outside of the government and military.

Whereas humans saw you as a stiff and socially awkward human that covered their whole body, TF141 knew better, they could sense it a mile away, the difference in you, the odd aura and smell you projected. Soap and König had mentioned it in the past, in the bustling Mess hall where they shared a table, Soap had noted that you smelled off, of something dead yet alive and König only brought the oddness of you holding thousands of different scents, musks that didn’t originate from one place, but from around the world.

Gaz and Horangi gave off-handed comments about sudden movement under your clothes, a slight - near invisible - ripple under your neck or on your arm, their eyes zoning to the smallest of movements. Gaz brought it up first, his voice hesitant and confused, frowning down at his plate when he mentioned it to the others, only to feel reassured that he wasn’t imagining it, the small ripple that no one else perceived, when Horangi shared his own observations. Horangi had seen small black spots moving over your shirt and under the tight mask hiding your face, tiny-legged creatures climbing over you and vanishing under your clothes as if they were never there.

Rudy was the best at understanding people, sympathising with both monsters and humans, but you just seemed lost, a shy creature that always hid from others when you weren’t needed. He and Alejandro remembered when they spoke to you after an Op, catching up to you before you fled to hide in your room, your tone was soft and shy, but it seemed to come from everywhere, never staying in one place as if there wasn’t a source to your voice. One moment your voice would come from your face, and then the next, it’d be down your abdomen, every word you spoke came out of a different area, but your chin never moved, face still and unmoving.

They brought it up to Ghost, who’d sit with them at their table, pushed against the wall for privacy around human soldiers, since he - leaving out Price - knew you best, having worked with you a few times in the past where they needed your expertise in infiltration and hostage securing. They had hoped that Ghost could give them a few insights on you, whether it be about your kind or your uniqueness, they wanted something - anything - to quell their growing curiosity. Not only was Ghost one of their only sources of information, but he was also a paranoid one, always demanding an operator's file before and after they joined, his mind going through loops to calculate the danger of the new addition. Ghost was a guarded and walled-up character, ensuring that they wouldn’t betray him in the long run.

Unfortunately, Ghost knew as little as they did, Price was stricter with your information, keeping it under a hard lock and key. Only he and Laswell held information about you, your little quirks and details were a secret to anyone who wasn’t in the higher-ranked stations or the commanding rank and station chief. They had nothing to go on but theories, little hypothesis until Price or Laswell - whichever caved first to their incessant pleading - disclosed your personal file. So they did what they could with their observations, combining up with different monsters they’ve crossed paths with. You could’ve been one of those crossbred hybrids where they coupled for specific perks, or an experiment, seeing that you had an aversion to physical touch and human interactions. The least possible one, by far, was that you were an Eldritch being, a creature of horror and madness.

“Classified for now, sergeant,” was all Price had told Soap when he cracked, his puppy-like excitement getting the best of him. “You’ll have to ask them, yeah?”

That left them with little to no choice but to watch you more closely, to observe their surroundings for any clues and to note anything bizarre since they couldn’t necessarily outright ask you. You fled seconds after anyone tried to start a conversation, head down and feet moving too swiftly to not seem like you were avoiding them or any long discussion as if you knew what they were planning. You seemed to have eyes at the back of your head, reacting instantly when one of them would follow you wherever you went, slinking from one shadow to the other, trying their best to hide from your sight and sense, but you were an expert in your own right, knowing and aware of undercover tactics when one was used against you.

Fortunately for them, other clues helped, subtle signs that most people wouldn’t even catch. The first one was small, jerky spiders that weren’t local to the UK or any continent, they weren’t like any arachnid they’d ever found, that was the first thing they noticed when they came across one, but the true challenge was to catch one of those pesky things. They were quick and small, evading them as if they had a mind of their own, their bites painful if one of them tried to grab it with a hand, the tiny fangs piercing through the thick material of their gloves, but once Soap got his paws on one, he made sure to keep it in the glass container. The spider was small, its exoskeleton so dark that it seemed to swallow any light rather than reflect it, a shade of black so black that it didn’t let any colours out. It didn’t look hairy, the shell so smooth and spotless that it seemed like two circles if they ignored the scrawny legs.

Those spiders were almost everywhere, yet they went unnoticed by the people walking around the base and them until now. Other than the spiders, your aversion to physical contact and socialising, and favouring your privacy much more than anyone on the TF. You didn’t eat with them —you never seemed to eat at all. Your voice moved so often that the possibility of you having many mouths came to mind a lot. Your body was extremely nimble, bending in odd - sometimes painful for others - ways. Over other observations, everything they took notice of you were things that were inhuman, it made you a minority in the military - much like them - and a mystery to your team.

They went on for months, unbothered that they might have seemed slightly obsessive, a stalker following his obsession. They weren’t worried about others calling them out, humans would chalk it up to monster stuff with a sneer and look the other way when Ghost or König glared at them. That didn’t escape you, Price or even Laswell’s eyes and ears around the world.

“You boys don’t know when to stop, hmm?” Price wore a frown, brows cocked questioningly. His tone was one of a tired and relenting to their months-long search. “You’re lucky they weren’t mad about this.”

“So you’ll tell us, boss?” Ghost hid his excitement better than the rest, his chest rumbling lowly and eyes narrowed darkly, but not with a dangerous gleam.

“Better if you see it yourself,” he sighed, crossing his arms, hunching against his chair, lip quirking at a corner. It was a cheeky lopsided smile, teasing them with having to wait longer. “It’s hard to explain in words. It’s quite the sight.”

And a sight it was! Watching you melt to the ground, your body scattering in thousands of small spiders that moved towards the body lying before you. You’d been paired with Ghost and Soap for this Op, leading them down a path you knew didn’t have any hostiles, getting intel back from the many spiders scattered around the area. They were the first to watch you eat, arachnids swallowing up the bodies, devouring them at record speed. You ate flesh and bones, ligaments and tendons melted by your acidic bite that only left clothes behind as an indication that someone died here. They were the lucky ones to see you eat, to bear witness to your monstrosity in the flesh and your moment of weakness where you had to sustain yourself, shedding off the shape of a human body.

It left Soap filled with awe, seeing you break away in thousands of individual bodies and come back together as one, and Ghost’s mind strewed with questions, some answered when you told them that you were self-conscious, a hive mind made up of spiders to form a body. You weren’t hiding away because you were afraid of them or that you hated socialising, you were simply too self-aware of your making, of the natural fear of eight-legged creatures. So you hid, shying away from people, thinking that they’d hate you for being what you were, a colony of undocumented spiders working as one.

Horangi, Rudy and Alejandro caught you in action on the second covert operation when you were given the signal to lead your small squad into enemy lines. They watched the clothes you wore ripple, little critters bulging out from under your protective gear and rolling down your body in waves, black masses dropping off and separating. You were spread around the place, everyone acting as an extension of your mind and body, and they were —thousands of spiders sharing one mind. You shrank lightly, your body mass lower than it was with your body spanned across the area, working as your eyes and ears from afar like cameras worked for Laswell, except that your reach was farther and more potent.

It was expected, but not less surprising to the three, watching your body shorten and little spiders crawl all over you. It would’ve made the hardiest monster shudder in fear or repulsion, feeling hundreds of legs moving about over their body, it would’ve made them slightly apprehensive, knowing from Soap and Ghost that your bite could be acidic, melting tough muscle and robust bone. It made more sense as to why you were so nimble and so observant, you had parts of yourself scattered around, working to map out everything and see everything. You were what made you so sought after for your skills in clandestine missions and covert infiltrations, it was scarily inspiring.

Gaz and König were the unlucky ones, being in the wrong place at the wrong time to see you “die”. With how unlucky his streak with helicopters was, it wasn’t a surprise that he was falling from another one, his wing bleeding from a bullet wound, the copper piercing through the meat and grazing the bone. It had him handicapped for the next few missions, staying on base until it healed completely unless he wanted to cause a bigger issue with his third pair of limbs. You were medevaced, watching Gaz grunt and groan, holding his wounded wing against his chest with a face screwed in pain. He’d been in an unfortunate situation, being purposely targeted by the enemy, and the situation couldn’t get any worse.

The helicopter was shot down, and the flares deployed too late to stop the missile. It was a fiery mess, there was screaming and the loud crack of metal breaking, you could hear Laswell yell out in the coms, her worried and frantic voice trying to reach you and Gaz in the falling blaze. Most harpies feared fire, the flames burning their feathers and scarring the skin, making it impossible to regrow feathers on some rare occurrences. Gaz couldn’t remember much after the fall, waking up in pitch darkness, his skin crawling with shivers and invisible hands. He couldn’t make out left from right, he didn’t know if he was lying face down or on his back, and he wasn’t even sure he was conscious, seeing that all he could see was black. Then he felt sudden movement, a prickly sensation covering his body until light broke through.

He could feel his arms and his legs, he could stretch his wing out when he sat up, he wasn’t burned or hurt more than what he had before the crash, but he couldn’t see you when he looked around. He palmed the ground, feeling around the rough floor for you, your small, black spiders. You were on and around him, slowly climbing off him and flocking to a large mass. Your clothes were gone, burned to ashes in the mess while you shielded him, taking the brunt of the heat and burns. He swallowed down the quake that wracked his body and rushed to you, frantic to see whether or not you were in pain. Rather than forming back into a human, your appearance resembles more of a large mammal on four, clawed legs. Seeing that you were fine - or so he thought - he called back for evac, getting cover with your prone figure guarding him until the other helicopter and support came back.

König’s accident was more vicious than Gaz’s, losing control of his urges, letting himself shift and rampage through the area, ripping apart both enemy and ally. You were another body in his path, his claws tearing through your chest with sharp, bloodied hands. The others panicked, watching you scatter into pieces, falling apart from the seams as if someone had pulled out the only string that held you together. Instead of blood and guts, intestines that should’ve called out in a bloody mess, you broke apart, some fell to the ground, crushed under König’s weight, and others clung to him, swarming to stop him before he caused more chaos.

It looked like a futile attempt from outside viewpoints, watching the beast stumble blindly, his face covered, your thousand pairs of legs locked to keep his mouth closed from causing more harm to others with his serrated teeth made to gnaw through bone and break flesh and muscle to consume and feed his big appetite. They could only stare at König trash around, limbs slowly being locked together, bounding his arms from flailing and slashing at people and his leg from blindly ambling and rushing towards his next victim. You rippled around König, a mass becoming a full-body restraint containing the hybrid’s grunts and growls, unmoving and unrelenting against him.

You kept König’s rampage in check, keeping him contained while they moved both you and him to the aircraft and back to base where they could wait out the shift, the burst of rage in the hybrid. Gaz had thrown you a bundle of clothes after König fell asleep, you slipped off and crawled to your clothes, reappearing in a human shape under all your protective layers. Although they knew you could take extensive damage and survive unscathed, they still worried, would your strength still held together with a chaotic mix of human resilience and percht invulnerability.

You seemed to have let yourself go a bit, letting Soap or Gaz drag you around the base, letting Rudy and Alejandro strike up a conversation, letting Ghost or König sit with you in silence, and letting Horangi get the jump on you and follow you soundlessly because he was curious (and answering his questions). You might not eat with them, but you swallowed down your fright and agreed to sit at their table while they ate, digging into their preferred meal and occasionally replying to their friendly banter. You were still nervous about spending so much time in public, the looming fear of being faced with disgust from your allies was still possible, but you - with the supporting pat on the shoulder from Price - worked through your storming thoughts and insecurities.

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

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sanyu-thewitch05 · 6 months

Text

Yandere! Idol! group x F! Reader

Honey 🍯

TW: Buttplugs, kidnapping, noncon, food kink, throat fucking, gangbanging

Pt. 2

A/N: This idol group is entirely made up and not based off of any group in real life.

"Haneul, you've been staring at your phone for a while. Are you ok?" Sol, Haneul's groupmate, asks, tapping Haneul on the shoulder.

Haneul's beige skin shines in sunlight, his black hair blowing in the wind, and his cheeks blushing so heavily that there are two red dots. Haneul had been stalking you since he became a trainee.

"Is it that coffee girl again?" Jason questions, leaning his head over the passenger's seat. "Dude, you've been stalking her since she was 15. We're both 22 now. Just ask her on a date already and make her ours. Besides, it would clear up the nasty rumor saying that she's a sasaeng."

"I suppose I should. We do have to write a love song for our album, right, Jason?" Haneul suggests showing Jason, Sol, and Honey a photo of you walking home.

"Driver, turn at this road," Sol says, looking at your location from the GPS tracker in your earrings.

"Yes, sir," The driver says, making a hard right.

"Stop next to the girl in black," Haneul says, seeing your earrings glimmer in the sunlight.

A black van screeches to a halt next to you, and suddenly, you're pulled inside. You try to scream for help, but a hand goes over your mouth, preventing any sound from leaving.

"Shh, sweetheart~ You're ok now," Sol whispers, rubbing your head.

Haneul shuts the door and rubs circles into your thigh.

"How are you doing, sweetie?" Honey asks, buckling you and wrapping a tight arm around your waist.

"Who are you people?!" You scream, making Jason disappointed.

"How could you not recognize us? We've been around you since we were trainees. We even wrote several songs for you. How could you not notice us?" Sol rants, making you cling to Haneul's arm.

"Sol, stop it. You're scaring her!" Haneul scolds, holding you in his arms.

Sol's navy blue hair practically stands up, and he turns away from Haneul.

"You brutes are all scaring her. I can't believe you guys couldn't get her in the van besides kidnapping her. Don't worry, baby, I'll keep you safe," Hani says, kissing your tear-stained cheek.

"Don't touch her like that! I saw her first!"

"Shut up, Sol! Does the word OURS mean nothing to you?!"

"I don't want to hear that from the punk who tried to ask her out!"

"Neither you nor Haneul can talk, Sol! Especially when one of you had plans to keep her chained up in your room!"

The idol's argument turns into a physical altercation, and soon enough, they're pulling hair and throwing punches. All you can do is cover your head and cower near the car door.

"ENOUGH!" The lady in the passenger seat screams, turning around to face the idols. "EITHER YOU SHARE Y/N, OR NOBODY HAS HER, AND I LET HER GO!"

There's an awkward silence in the van, and the idols slowly let go of each other.

"Yes, Manager Choi," The boys say, fixing themselves up.

"I knew letting you guys move to America was a mistake," She says, turning her head around. "Hey, stop crying. You might as well get used to them. You've become the fifth member of the group."

You cry harder and feel your heart sink.

~~~~~~~~

"Ta-dah! Welcome to the Hive!" Honey says, opening the door to their three-level house. "Upstairs is your and Haneul's room. To the left of yours is mine. Then, to the right are Sol and Jason's rooms. We have our own bathrooms, but feel free to come use ours if you want company."

You shuffle into the room and see the memorabilia from award shows and events. The air has a sickening sweet smell, almost like honey, that makes you nauseous. You feel the bile in your throat build up until you can't hold it anymore. You run to the nearest bathroom and vomit until your throat burns.

"Our queen is sick. I'll get her a spoonful of honey to make her feel better," Hani says, walking to their kitchen.

"Get it all out, sweetie. You'll be okay," Haneul says, rubbing your back and pushing your hair behind your ears.

Your face rests on the toilet seat, and Hanuel moves you so you're on his chest.

"Hani, hurry. Her face is turning pale!" Sol yells, running to your side. "Haneul, get her near the toilet again."

Your eyes roll into your skull, and your vision goes dark.

~~~~~~~~

"Mm," You groan, waking up to Hani rubbing your feet.

"Hello, my queen. Are you feeling better?" Jason asks, moving a piece of hair out of your face.

The smell of honey overwhelms you, and then you see the bee pajamas you're wearing.

"Don't worry, we didn't do anything dirty. Sol only changed your clothes and brushed your teeth," Haneul says, kissing your left cheek while Jason kisses the right. "How does our queen feel?"

"Let me go!" You scream, only to have your limbs restrained by each group member.

"Aww, I think our Queen Bee needs a good fucking to calm her down?" Haneul says, climbing on top of you and unbuckling his pants.

"Stop it!" You scream, making Haneul silence you with a kiss.

Hani hands Haneul a honey jar, and the black haired member covers his cock in the golden sweet treat. He opens your mouth and sticks his dick into it. Haneul slowly thrusts and has to restrain himself from throat fucking your mouth off as he feels your tongue unconciously lick the honey off his cock. Drool goes down your chin as Haneul deep throats you, and the lustful male thrusts faster, hitting the back of your throat. He sends cum straight down your throat, and slids his dick out of your mouth.

"How cute. Our queen is all calm now that she has some honey in her," Hani says, wiping some cum off your mouth.

The sweet taste stays on your tongue, and you stare into space, not noticing the other boys unbuckling their pants. Soon after, another cock enters your mouth, followed by another one. They move in synch as they thrust into your mouth. Sol and Jason grunt as the friction from your mouth and their dicks touching each other. Their hands wrap around each other's waists to steady their pace, and they thrust faster.

"Come on, Jason, Sol. Your cocks need to fill up our queens mouth," Hani says, spanking Jason and Sol's asses. "Come on, cum like the mindless sperm drones you are!"

The two members twitch in pleasure, and they cum from your mouth. A pool of cum forms in your mouth, and you swallow it. Hani hands Jason, Sol, and Haneul a stinger butt plug, and they cum, putting it in as it goes further. Hani does the same, and his cum spills out of his pants.

"Us busy bees need to get to work creating more honey," Hani says, leading the boys away as they try to mess with the butt plug for another round of cum.

#yandere idol #male yandere #yandere noncon #yandere boy #f! reader

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dejwrld · 7 months

Text

— takuma ino misses your adorable little face and your even more adorable moans while he's away for a mission.

( cw ) ⸻ female anatomy describe, her/she pronouns, black coded reader, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial, overstimulation, phone sex, feminine pet names, mentions of cum, mentions of spit, spit usage, told in third pov cause it's through ino's eyes, established relationship (reader and ino are dating), ino hive we up and running, reader is a college student, ino is away for a mission, wc: 2.1k, minors dni ! repost from old account!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀dedicated to the hottest ino simp ever @honeybleed

THE MOONLIGHT SHINED THROUGH THE CREAM-COLORED HOTEL CURTAINS. The sound of the hotel room's air conditioner hummed alongside the nude-colored walls as the only form of light that illuminated the room was from Ino's cell phone. His black shaded hair fell into his face while texting on his cellphone. He immediately updated Kiyotaka Ijichi on the mission, admitting that he'll return to Tokyo tomorrow noon. He couldn't wait to return home.

Specifically, he couldn't wait to go home to his girlfriend who loved complaining about him coming to her home bruised and battered after an eventful mission of fighting curses. His brown-colored eyes traveled the miniature alarm clock on the hotel's nightstand before going back to his phone. "She's probably sleeping," He uttered to himself.

But that didn't stop him from sending the notorious text that always leads to something devious.

You Up?

When he heard the familiar sound of his message going through, he waited to see if she would read it. Which she did immediately. He felt his lips curl into a smile seeing the text bubbles pop up indicating that she was typing. Similar to a dog getting a big fat treat, Ino's face lit up seeing her text message. He hated to admit that the young woman made him go weak on the knees on some days. He hated to admit just how love-sick he was when his stomach would form the most hideous knots thinking about her when he was out putting his life on the line. The bone-chilling feeling of possibly not making it back to her always was a thought Ino was forced to push out of his head countless times. Even when he had gotten a small cut or bruise, he still hated the look of worry that decorated her face when she saw him.

His thoughts were briefly interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Her contact photo of her smiling right back at Ino flashed on the screen. He assumed that she must have missed him just as much as he missed her. When he let the pad of his thumb press the green-colored accept button on his phone screen, his face lit up in the darkness seeing that beautiful smile on her face. Even though her lights were dimmed a bit in her room, he still could see that smile that made him fall for her.

"What are you still doing up so late?" Don't you have class in the morning?" Ino jokingly questioned, his eyebrows knitted together in a playful look of confusion.

"My class isn't until noon, so I'll be okay. I just wanted to make sure my boyfriend is okay since he's out slaying curses and whatnot," She sighed.

"Y/N, I'm good. I'll be back in Tokyo before your noon class ends. Unless..." His voice trails off and Y/N finishes his sentence.

"You're assigned another mission, I understand." Y/N sighed again as Ino watched her sink even further into the pink-colored stuffed animal he won her on their second date. "I just miss you so much." Her voice alludes to a cute whine that causes Ino to smile a little.

"I miss you so much too."

"How much? She questioned. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she waited for an answer to her question.

Ino found himself leaning over to turn on the lap that was on the nightstand so she could get a better look at him other than his ominous shadow in the darkness. He watched as her face lit up now being able to look at his face. From the way, his dark-colored hair fell to partially cover the scar that decorated his forehead to the way that you could clearly tell he was exhausted but was fighting his sleep just to see his pretty girl face.

"I don't want to keep you up. You look so tired," Y/N pointed out.

Once the word tired tumbled off her tongue with worry, Ino let out a yawn. His hands went up to rub at his eyes before speaking, "I'm good. I'm not hanging up until you tell me to."

"Good because I have been thinking about you a lot, if you get the drift," Y/N says.

Ino's eyebrows raised in curiosity. He let his tongue glide across his lips before his mind went to catch Y/N's drift. His cheeks instantly stained a crimson color as he gave his girlfriend a foolish grin. A grin she's seen one too many times. A grin that causes her to playfully push him away when his callous curse-fighting hands would grope at her ass when they're out in public. The same grin he gave her before waltzing his way into the mall dressing room with her.

"You have an early morning probably, I don't want to keep you up," Y/N huffed as Ino noticed that she was leaning against the headboard of her bed now.

"I told you, I'm good," Ino uttered as he looked at her. His eyes darted from her face to her hardened nipples that poked out of the thin white-colored tank top she wore back to her face. "What do you have in mind?" He questioned.

"You know what I have in mind Ino." She whines. She slides down her headboard in a dramatic manner before speaking once again, "I was going to send you some pictures, but I'm needy. I miss your touch and your dick."

Ino chuckled at her statement. His fingers comb through his dark-shaded locks before looking at the hotel nightstand clock. He was sure this would help him fall asleep faster, plus he did miss the sound of soft moans in his ear. "Fuck it." He uttered as he sat up in his bed.

He mimicked the way Y/N was, placing his back on the headboard. "Let's do it," He says gaining the cutest giggle from Y/N.

"Okay, but I went to a store with one of my friends and brought something."

Ino's eyebrows raised at her words. Although he knew what his girlfriend was alluding to—he still couldn't wait to see what she would bring to the steamy FaceTime call. During her absence, Ino's tugging down the pajama pants he wore. The alluring thought of having phone sex already caused his dick to twitch in anticipation. As he held his iPhone, his hand traced alongside his toned abs before palming himself through the fabric of his boxers.

"You're ready Ino?" Y/N questioned. "I'm going to call you off my MacBook, 'kay?"

"Yes," Ino could hear the phone hang up before he could see her calling back. He answered the call with quickness and his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store when he saw the view.

The only view of his girlfriend's cute pink-colored panties that covered her pussy he's been balls deep in too many times. If Ino look closer, he could see the faint dampness in between her legs that imprinted her panties. He saw the vibrating wand that was a similar color to her panties and chuckled. "Could you hear me okay?" He asked.

"Mhmm," Y/N answered before she tugged off the tank top she was wearing revealing her bare chest.

At that moment, Ino was kicking the thin sheets that covered his lower half. His body instantly grew hot at the sight of his girlfriend. His cock aching to be touched and he wished it was her touching him. His teeth grazed at his lower lip before he spoke once again, "Go ahead and give me a show pretty girl."

He heard her chuckle. "And how do you want me to give you a show, Ino?" She asked.

His eyes looked at the pastel pink wand in her hand on the phone and she could only playfully roll her eyes. However, the curious glint in Ino's eyes caused her panties to be soaked.

The next minutes consisted of Y/N's placing the wand against her bare folds. Her legs quivered feeling the vibration in between her thighs and Ino felt like he was on a cloud despite being miles away from her. He was so enthusiastic to please himself, but first, he had to make sure Y/N felt the same way. He needed her to feel as hot as he was in the hotel room.

"How you're feeling baby?" He asked as he watched her move the wand in a circular motion.

"Much better if you were here," Y/N says through subtle moans.

Ino could see her hands shaking just a bit due to the intoxicating feeling that was placed on her clit. "Just imagine, I am there." He says.

Y/N has never heard Ino's voice leak with so much sex appeal. Perhaps it was the heat of the moment. She let her body relax in her queen-sized bed and her eyes shifted closer. Her grasp on the wand seem to grow tighter as Ino's voice echoed out of her laptop speakers. If she thought hard enough, she could imagine that it was Ino holding the vibrating toy against her clit.

"Just me in between your thighs eating you out just the way you like it," Ino said. "You always tend to run away from me when I'm down there, but I always pull you right back to my face. Or the fact that you always tug at my hair when you're about to cum, thinkin' I don't want you to cum all over fuckin' face."

"Fuck." Y/N breathed out while she could feel her orgasm coming bit by bit.

Ino would sneer at the sight he was seeing and instantly flipped his camera so that Y/N could see the lower half of his body. His hands now tugging down his boxers freeing himself from the growingly tight space. His cock slapped at his stomach and oozed with precum from the thought of his pretty girlfriend. He brought his hand that wasn't holding his phone up to his mouth. Pooling all the saliva he could and spitting it in his hand. His free hand palmed his cock starting from his pink mushroom-shaped tip to his girthy shaft.

Y/N's mind seemed to be doing mental backflips at the sight of Ino's cock. The woman has seen many men dicks in previous relationships, but nothing could beat Ino's. A very persistent grower when it was time to please her. He kept it trimmed and neat, but not exactly clean-shaven. Gosh, she couldn't forget it seemingly having a curve to the left.

"Fuck—Y/N. I missed you so much," Ino moaned out as he was letting his hand guide up and down his cock. He was trying so hard to attempt to mimic the exact type of grip Y/N would have if she was giving him a handjob.

Y/N gasped out Ino's name repeatedly as if it were a scripture. Her mind felt like a bottle of shaken-up soda. Her body was getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. The two of them have shared countless times like this before due to Ino's sorcerer's work, but tonight was a bit different. The pornographic sound of Ino beating his dick and the sound of Y/N's moans was enough for Ino to gain a noise complaint from whoever occupied the hotel room next to him, but he could care less. He needed to watch his girl cum.

"Fuck." Ino uttered as his hand guided up and down the shaft of his cock. "I'm going to cum, let's cum together baby girl."

Y/N couldn't even focus with the way her toes were curling in anticipation to cum another time. Her moans that called out Ino's name as the pastel pink wand was pressed against her clit, "Okay." She moaned out.

In a matter of seconds, Ino was a grunting mess as he could feel his body heat up. The sheer thought of imagining Y/N's hands around his cock caused the sorcerer to go feral. When he felt the thick ropes of cum splatter out, his head fell back in complete bliss. His breathy grunts bounced off the walls as he glanced down at the mess he made. His face drained of its color and the only noticeable color that stained his face was the shade of red from the desirable pleasure he formally was experiencing.

The couple came down from the small moment of being on cloud nine due to them cumming together and the only thing that was heard between the two were the breathless pants.

"When you come back, just come to my place." Y/N would say.

Ino would get out of bed, instantly going to the bathroom to shower (again). He could hear Y/N shuffling around her room, most likely doing the same thing he was about to do. "What about class?"

"I can always get a doctor's note and I would rather you be the one to make me cum and not a vibrator." these were the last words Ino heard from Y/N before he heard the sound indicating that the FaceTime call ended.

"Gosh, I fuckin' love her," Ino uttered to himself.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino smut #anime smut #anime x reader #female reader #x female reader #angelshubnetwork #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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joelsmochi · 8 days

Text

honeypie - joel miller

summary: part 2 to honey (can be read as a standalone, doesn’t have much to do with the original plot!) warnings: not proofread, 18+, slight angst?, age gap (everyone is legal!!!!!), bickering/arguing, double date trope womp womp, degradation, dubcon, creampie, joel is a smidge misogynistic insecure and possessive wc: 2.6k a/n: this is mainly just some self indulgent yet rushed storytelling (so sorry, i wrote it in an hour because i was bored at work lol)! i wanna write a part 3 and actually include the beekeeping a little more but i have nooo idea how i’m gonna do it but we WILL get there one day babes!!! until then, enjoy this fluffy angsty sex 😽!!!💓

“If you guys are gonna bang when I’m in the house the least you could do is be quiet!” You heard Sarah shout from the other side of Joel’s bedroom door after banging on it.

Joel grimaced, his body tensing beneath you but you were almost oblivious to the complaints of your best friend. Almost.

You didn’t let up on your movements or noises whatsoever and as much as Joel loved those sweet little moans spewing from you as you humped against him, he loved his privacy much more especially when it came to his daughter.

You shook your head profusely when he attempted to get you to stop, insisting on how you were almost there.

“Soclosesoclosesoclose—just w-wait, I’m cu—fuck. Ahh, fuck, I’m cumming. Oh yes! Yesyesyesyesyes! Ohh—oh, my God—“

Joel covered your mouth with a clammy hand, feeling torn from his mixed feelings of lust and embarrassment.

Going downstairs didn’t help him feel any better either, especially when Sarah began berating you both, not that he blamed her for it.

“Call it payback for all the times I let you and your boyfriend have sex in my bed,” you retorted.

“In your bed?!” Joel mumbled to himself.

“Yeah yeah, could have at least waited until I was gone,” Sarah muttered.

“Sorry, Sar,” you hummed, “your dad is just really hot.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Come on, man.”

“I didn’t even know you were home,” Joel complained. “You’ve been with Jared or whatever his name is all week.”

Sarah’s squinted her eyes, annoyed by the lack of care from her father. “Alex. His name is Alex dad—see, I hate this!”

“Oh, by the way, Sarah,” you said, pattering behind the kitchen counter, “wouldn’t use the open jar of honey if I were you.”

“UGH! EW! Fucking ew!”

♡

“Other than the obvious,” Sarah mumbled, “how’s my dad taking care of you?”

You wore a bright smile and looked away from your reflection momentarily. Joel was… Joel. Rough around the edges but he was a genuine person, confident in the external reality but a little insecure. Not unbearably insecure though, just enough to make you know he was trying his best.

He wasn’t the most romantic but you figured it was just from him being out of the game for so long and you knew you could train him to be more romantic if it was needed.

He didn’t push you aside or make attempts to subtly suggest you needed to leave after sex either; he’d pout real big and give you those gorgeous puppy dog eyes until you held him. He loved making you laugh.

But it definitely still felt like just sex rather than a relationship. You weren’t particularly complaining, but you weren’t bragging about it either.

“Good,” you answered.

Sarah could tell from your tone how honest it was. Good meant great, happy, damn near perfect.

“Good. I’m glad,” she said. “I was worried he’d be like one of those incels that get real creepy and pervy after thirty-five.”

“No, no, he’s great,” you reiterated. “He’s very funny. Smart. He asks me to tan in my bikini while he’s working on the hive or the yard.”

You watched from the corner of your makeup coated eye how tightly she grimaced.

“Images. In head. Don’t want them there,” she dramatized.

“I have to hear every last detail about you and Al up to where he’s shoving your cervix into your stomach. You can deal with a little sexiness from us,” you said.

“It’s just so weird,” she whined.

“Do you want me to stop seeing him?” You asked.

You had slowly began to worry about how this would affect your best friend over time, you knew it was a weird situation. You had no issue cutting Joel off if it meant Sarah got to be happy. There were other men in the world, there weren’t other Sarah’s.

“No, God! No. It’s just not as simple as I was expecting. You know?” She explained kindly.

“Totally! I’d be weirded out if you were hooking up with my dad while I was across the hall. I’m not blaming you there, or anywhere for that matter. Just know you come first.”

“Well, yeah, who else is going to wax your back hair and not judge you for it?” She teased.

You rolled your eyes at her.

“Lots of men with weird fetishes.”

♡

“Can’t believe I agreed to this,” Joel huffed.

He adjusted the waistband of his jeans making his shoulder briefly flare. You let your mind wander while Joel complained about the double date you had arranged with Sarah and Alex. You were currently waiting in the parking lot for them to arrive.

“It’ll be fun. You’ll get to meet Alex and see he is a respectable man and you and I get to pretend we’re a couple for a few hours.”

“Pretend?” Joel questioned. “W-what do you mean pretend? Are we not together?”

“Uh, no?” You said.

Joel didn’t appreciate your amused reaction and questioned you a little more.

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend— you haven’t even taken me on a date,” you explained. “Did you really think that conversation wasn’t necessary?”

“So if we’re not together then what is this?”

You sucked your teeth before simply saying, “Sex.”

Once the four of you were inside Sarah and her boyfriend felt the tension between the two of you.

You watched Joel punch in all of your names into the keypad before pressing ‘start game’.

“So Alex, what do you do for work?” Joel asked.

“Oh, well right now I’m working at a café downtown, but I’m majoring in political science to become a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” Joel sounded impressed.

“Lawyers are great at communicating,” you antagonized. “They know what questions are… Important to ask.”

Joel rolled his eyes and motioned between you and the bowling balls. “Just go. Good God.”

“Dad, what did you do?” Sarah asked.

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” He defended.

“Girl, what did he do?” She asked you.

Shrugging, you said, “I don’t know. Since Joel thinks he’s so great at communicating, maybe he should answer. I’m gonna go bowl.”

“Hope you gutter!” Joel shouted after you walked away. “She told me I needed to ask her to be my girlfriend.”

“You thought she was your girlfriend?!” Sarah said with wide eyes.

“Well… Yeah? Do I really need to verbally ask her that?”

“That’s why I got a strike, bitch,” you said while slapping the back of Joel’s head.

Sarah and Alex awkwardly stood up so that he could pretend to teach Sarah how to bowl properly. But the bickering between you and Joel didn’t end there.

“I thought it was obvious,” Joel told you. “I have you over all the time. We fuck. We laugh. Did I really need to ask?”

“So what would have happened if I pissed you off and you were to say ‘it’s not like you’re my girlfriend’?”

“I do not sound like that!” Joel scoffed. “And I would never do that to you, you know that. I just kinda figured you were mine, you know?”

You squinted at his unearned possession over you, feigning offense and scoffing obnoxiously.

“Yours? I’m not your property, Joel. You don’t get to claim me.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you goin’ to do about it? Fuck some other loser?”

You grinned, and immediately he regretted his words.

“That’s exactly what I’ll do,” you whispered.

Alex and Sarah sat back down and you asked if they wanted anything to eat or drink before walking away to go to the bar.

“Hi, what can I get for ya?” The boy at the counter asked.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen, why?”

“You see the older man on lane twelve?”

He looked and then nodded.

“Well, I wanna make jealous so if you could just smile and pretend to flirt with me I’ll give you ten bucks,” you explained with a sly smirk.

“Fifteen,” he negotiated.

“Ugh, fine. Can I get two lemonades, a beer, and a water please?”

“That’s not coming out of my tip, is it?” He questioned whilst punching the order into his screen.

“It will if you don’t start looking at my boobs,” you said through your faux smile.

You leaned onto the counter and gave the employee a clear view of your cleavage, which he seemed to appreciate very much.

But Joel wasn’t only focused on the teenage boy behind the counter, he noticed the numerous men gawking at your short shorts that showed off too much of your ass with you bent over the counter the way you were.

“Dad,” Sarah’s voice brought him back to reality. “Your turn.”

By the time Joel managed to spare you had returned with everyone’s drinks and Joel didn’t give you the satisfying reaction of jealousy like you’d hoped.

Wondering if you went too far, you drank a bit of Joel’s beer to imprint a lip gloss stain for Joel to taste in between sips. Something you noticed he loved to do over the past few weeks whenever he made you coffee or tea. You never finished your drinks and Joel always lined his mouth up with your lip print to taste you every chance he got.

And as you gave him the cheap plastic cup that held his beer, you watched as he habitually sipped right where your lips had been. Occasionally licking the rim of the cup before taking his next swig.

A couple of games later, you and Sarah managed to team up against the boys and kick their asses each and every frame. They sulked while you two gloated from the ending of the final game all the way back to the cars.

“Okay, okay. We get it, girls rule, boys lose,” Alex said.

“It’s boys drool,” Sarah corrected before turning to hug her father who placed a kiss on her forehead. “Night, dad. I’m gonna stay at Alex’s.”

“Okay, babygirl. Call me tomorrow.”

“Oh, and word of advice,” Sarah whispered after you got into Joel’s car. “Girls like what boys consider pointless communication. Take her out a few times, make her feel special, and ask her to be your girlfriend. She really likes you, she’s just making you earn it.”

Joel softly smiled and nodded. “Mmkay. Thanks.”

Once he got in the car he didn’t acknowledge you in the least bit, finally free to punish you for letting those men get a free show.

“Not a word?” You nudged his arm as he drove. “You could ask me now.”

He snickered, the most noise he’s made in the last ten minutes.

“You don’t get to just fucking claim me, Joel!”

Joel sped up before pulling into a rest area.

“Come’ere,” he hoarsely demanded.

He unclipped his seatbelt and began undoing his belt and jeans.

“Don’t get all fuckin’ shy on me now, girl. Come on.”

You hesitated but unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed into his lap; he moved his seat all the way back and pushed his jeans low enough for his cock to spring up and slap his belly.

Instinctively you reached for it, but he removed your hand from his hardening length and held your wrists tightly behind your back with one hand. Using his other hand to grab your face by your cheeks he forced you to look into his cold eyes.

“Do you not want to be with me?” His voice strained as he asked that, a hint of hurt glaring in his dark eyes.

“Of course I want to be with you,” you answered.

“I don’t play games,” he said, gripping your wrists even tighter. “Don’t fucking—“ A soft smack landed upon your cheek. “Don’t fucking do what you did tonight ever again. Get on your knees.”

He slightly shoved you back as he loosened his grip on your hands and face; you submissively sank to the rough carpeted floor of the car and he wasted no time pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving his fat dick into your wet mouth.

He tasted so fucking good, the mix of his clean flesh and salty precum like honey dripping onto your tongue. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned along his shaft as you eagerly bobbed your already hazy head up and down.

Joel’s hips rolled up in pleasure, gurgling out helpless moans as your nose rubbed the wiry hairs along the base of his shaft. Despite the aching and soreness, you loved having your throat full of Joel.

You took initiative and pushed against his hand, nonverbally telling him to make you suffer, and he shamelessly did so.

He couldn’t tell if the slick that was coating his balls was your spit or tears and he didn’t give a fuck. If you were going to show some loser teenager your tits and some loser bachelors your ass the least you could give him was some fucking remorse, right?

Joel felt powerful, in charge in ways he never experienced before. Your flooded eyes looked into his and saw how contorted his face was, so even if he was the one telling you what to do you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

“Give me that fuckin’ throat, baby,” he moaned. “Oh, fuck! That throat is so fucking tight—mnh. God…damn baby. Feels so fucking good.”

He smacked your wet cheeks as encouragement before slowly pulling you off of his dick; you coughed at the gust of oxygen that flooded your lungs, giggling as he smacked his fat tip against your puffy mouth.

“Look at you, baby,” he whispered. “So pretty when my cock shuts that smart fuckin’ mouth a’yours up.”

“You love my fucking mouth,” you smugly said as you climbed into his lap.

“I do, but I think you forget what it’s supposed to be used for,” he whispered.

“You can stuff my mouth all you want, I’m still gonna give you a reason to use it.”

An eyebrow of his cocked up and a grin spread across his face at your confidence.

“Take your pants off,” he instructed seductively. His rough hands ran up your arms and back while you did what he said. “There you go,” he moaned when you slid down on his wet cock. “You’re such a good fucking slut for me, honey.”

“Just—just ask me, and I’ll s-say yes!” You shakily moaned as you relentlessly bounced on his dick.

Joel gripped your neck and began fucking into you from below, pushing deeper than he needed to, definitely bruising your cervix.

“You know you belong to me. All that fucking shit about claiming you and how I don’t own you, fuck was that?”

“Joe—elll, ugh!” You screamed into his chest, not sure if you were cumming or if your cunt was just overwhelmed with sensitivity. “Just ask, just ask baby I promise I’ll be good I’ll never misbehave again.”

He popped your ass and chuckled cruelly when you flinched and moaned. “Be my girlfriend, babydoll. Hmm? I want you to be my girl. You’re already my slut. Will you be my girl, babydoll?”

Your eyes gawked up at him and you couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged against your lips.

“Yes! Yes, yes, baby! Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“Say it,” he begged. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours Joel! Fuckfuckyes I’m yours! I belong to you! I fucking belong to you!”

Joel felt the familiar deep stretch in the peak of his belly at your cries. He listened to you submit to him, let him claim you as his, ultimately marking his territory as he began to cum inside of your warm cunt.

“Thaaaat’s my good girl,” Joel growled as he fucked the last of his spend into you.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, climbing off of him. “You’re such an ass.”

He chuckled at this, the softness in his laughter coaxing a giggle from you.

“You love me,” he mumbled.

“Mmm, not quite,” you said as confidently as your tired body would allow.

“Oh, honeypie… You’ll get there soon enough.”

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller tlou #beekeeper!joel #pedro

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sanjifucker42069 · 7 months

Text

Good Boy

It was a warm day on the Going Merry. It was mid-afternoon and you were alone on the ship, busying yourself by swabbing the deck. The rest of the crew was out on their own journeys, Nami and Usopp shopping, Sanji gathering supplies, and who honestly knew what Zoro and Luffy were up to. You hadn't felt like travelling, you were docked here for a few days, and you really wanted to just rest. But that was this morning, and now you were bored. You sighed, perhaps you should've planned something too.

"(Name)!" You spun around at the sound, seeing Luffy waving both arms at you. Beside him, Sanji carried boxes of supplies. Your eyes softened. Moving to the gangplank you wave back at the boys.

"Ahoy Captain!" You joked, eyes shifting to Sanji and winking. "And ahoy handsome chef. What brings you to my ship?"

Sanji softly smiled at your antics, whilst Luffy boarded the ship excited. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." Luffy grinned, grabbing your shoulders. You laughed.

"So no hat?" You joked. Luffy shook his head.

"Where is everyone?"

"You two are the first ones back." You shrugged, turning to Sanji. "Can I help ease your burden there, Sanji? That's a lot of stuff."

The man huffed humorously, jostling the boxes in his hands to be more comfortable as his long legs boarded the ship. He shot you a lopsided grin. "And subject a pretty lady to manual labour? I don't think so."

You giggled. Damn that man and his charisma. Luffy buzzed with excitement next to you. "You all good there? Did you eat a hive of bees before you got here?"

Luffy ignored you, instead badgering Sanji. "Can we give it to her now, Sanji? Please?"

Give you what? You cocked your head, confused at your fellow pirates' attitude. You shot a look at the chef, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged.

"I suppose so."

"Yeah!" Luffy pulled something from his best, handing it to you. "(Name), we got you something. Look, look! Isn't it cool?"

You gasped. A book. It was a modest size, covered in a gorgeous (colour) cover. You ran your fingers over the cover, feeling its coarseness. Eagerly you untied the side tie. The paper inside was gorgeous, a creamy ivory paper with a thickness that made you excited at its possibility. It was lightly textured, perfect for any kind of medium. Truly a beautiful sketchbook. You fawned over it. How did they know? You'd tried to not let it show that you were almost through your current sketchbook. You forced your eyes to acknowledge the two, happiness swelling in your chest.

"Ah Luffy it's perfect! You're such a good boy!" You praised, cradling the book to your chest. You quickly drew the captain into a bear hug. Luffy laughed, scratching the back of his neck. Beside him, Sanji pouted.

"It's no big deal (name), we can't fulfil your dream if we don't have something to draw in!"

"I helped too love." You heard Sanji flirt. He was just joking, well, half-joking. Well, no, if he was honest he really wanted a hug. But he couldn't just outright ask for a hug that wouldn't look cool. So he tried to hint lightheartedly. It didn't bother him too much when he noticed you roll your eyes, chuckling.

It did, however, bother him when he saw you turn your body to him. He didn't really think you'd acknowledge his flirtations, so when you outstretched your arms and pulled the tall man into a surprisingly strong hug, he blanked.

Oh.

The hug was warm, firm, and he could feel all of you against him. You smelt so good, smiling of sea air, soap, and something uniquely you.

"Well thank you too." You laughed, squeezing him for emphasis. "You're also a very good boy."

Oh!

Good boy. Sanji really didn't want to admit how much he liked that. Neither did he really want to unpack all that. He didn't want you to catch on to just how much he liked that, so he quickly squeezed you back before pulling you back to arms length. You stared up at him confused. You heard him clear his throat. Sensing his discomfort you let go, patting his shoulder. Any hurt you may have felt you covered up with a bright smile, clutching the sketchbook to your chest.

"I'm gonna start sketching immediately!" Before Sanji could respond, you were retreating back to the girls' room, keen to get to work.

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

It was a cool night. Sanji was lying in his hammock, sleep evading him. The thin cotton blanket resting over his chest. Beside him, he heard Zoro's annoying snoring, Luffy to his right muttering something about meat between snores. The nose symphony slowly chipping away at his sanity. At least Usopp was quiet, he supposed. He wondered if the girls' had to put up with this. His mind wandered, what were you up to? Were you sleeping away without a care, or were you possibly scribbling away in that little book? Sanji sighed. He wondered what you drew, you always seemed so at peace. Sanji considered getting you another one, even if it was mainly to hear your praises. Gods, he'd do anything if he could please you.

"Good boy." Sanji breathed. You were going to be the death of him. He felt his heart flutter. Yeah, he guessed he probably was whipped for you. He let his mind wander. What if he fully hugged back? Would you reciprocate? Would you kiss his cheek? He felt himself flush. He could imagine how soft your lips would be, how you'd pull back with that sweet smile. If he was lucky maybe he could-

SNOOOOOOOOOOORE!

Sanji felt a growl bubble in his throat. He couldn't thrive in these conditions. Savages, having no respect for romance. Swinging his legs over the roped edge, he jumped out of the hammock, stalking his way out of the guys' quarters.

Instantly, he was hit with the cool night air. If he wasn't awake before, he was now. He lazily wandered along the deck, supposing he should probably rearrange the pantry for the ninth time if he was awake. Bare feet padding along the hard wood, he inhaled deeply, the salty sting of the sea invading his nostrils. Nearing the galley he saw it. A light at the front of the boat? Confused and intrigued he crept closer. Who the hell would be up at the hour? And then he saw it.

You wrapped up in a blanket, scribbling away in your old sketchbook. Sanji felt a soft smile creep up. You looked so cute, periodically looking up to study the scene in front of you. He felt like swooning, the way the moonlight kissed your hair, the way you seemed to sparkle, a gem in the cold night.

"What are you doing up sweetheart?" He mused, secretly relishing in how you jumped. You clutched the book to your chest, exhaling deeply as a grin formed. You whipped your head to meet the handsome chef.

"Sanji, you scared me! I'm drawing the moon. It's so pretty tonight." Your grin made him flustered. "Why are you up?"

"My bunkmates are bad for my beauty sleep." He feigned annoyance. You laughed.

"Yeah sure, like you need beauty sleep." He felt his stomach do somersaults. You opened the blanket, tapping the wood next to you. "Got a seat right here. Surely you must be cold?"

Sanji wasn't. It was a pleasant night. However, he'd be an idiot to pass up such an opportunity. He settled down next to you. You drew him in, settling the blanket around his shoulders, dragging him further against you, giggling as you went.

"Comfy?" You asked once he stopped squirming. Sanji was hyper aware of your thighs touching, you leaning into his side.

"Yeah." He breathed out. He felt his nerves buzzing, watching as you all but snuggled into him. He needed to calm down. "You like the sketchbook?"

"Love it." You beamed up at him, turning back to scribble marks down. Sanji felt his heart swell. "It's got such nice quality paper. Where did you even find such a thing?"

"Markets. Looked like it had your name on it. Luffy wanted to get you this one that was huge, but you like thicker pages, so this one just seemed like a good fit. 'Sides, I'm sure you've finished your last one."

Sanji's breath hitched as you leant your head on his shoulder, arm gripping his. "You remembered that? Gods you're good to me."

"Only you love." He managed to choke out without sounding too flustered, adding a wink to further sell the facade. You giggled. "What have you got in there anyway?"

"Oh! You wanna see?" You sounded shy, looking up at him. Sanji nodded. You offered him the older sketchbook, apprehension clear on your face. Sanji began thumbing through the paper. "I know its not brilliant but-"

"Darlin' these are stunning." He praised, tracing an intricate sketch of Merry with his fingers. You beamed next to him when you couldn't detect a lie, a blush forming on your chubby cheeks. Sanji stared at the pages, in awe at your skill.

There were sketches of the others, one of Usopp holding a mop, a detailed one of Zoro napping. His eyes caught a particularly beautiful portrait of Nami against the tangerines. He gasped. You'd captured her beauty expertly. He turned the page, there was a spread of sketches of his crewmates, of Luffy and Usopp playing on the deck, sketches of Nami plotting her maps at the galley table, even a few of Zoro exercising. He felt a frown form. There were none of him. He didn't mean to feel so selfish, but you'd captured the crew with such liveliness and love. He certainly didn't realise you had been studying his face intently.

"What's wrong?"

Sanji sighed, realising he'd been caught. He figured he'd broach the subject with humour. Plastering a fake smirk on his face he turned his attention to you. "These are incredible (Name), they look great, but am I not model material?"

You extricated yourself from your hold against him, getting to your feet. Sanji immediately felt disappointed by the loss of touch. "Wait here." Your voice was shaky.

Sanji sighed sadly, he shouldn't have said that. Instead he did as he was told, waiting patiently for your return. You must have been gone five minutes, five aching minutes for him to consider his mistake. When you returned you were holding something behind your back, looking visibly uncomfortable. Sanji raised a brow.

"Love I didn't mean you had to paint a portrait of me now." He laughed softly. You thrust a book in his face, eyes scrunched shut. He delicately tried to take the book but you didn't budge.

"Promise you won't laugh?" You asked shyly, peeking open one eye. Sanji frowned. He'd never laugh at you. He nodded. You relaxed your shoulders, agreeingly giving him the book. He was going to open the book but he took in the way you fidgeted in front of him.

"You not gonna sit back down?" You shook your head, not trusting your voice. He sighed. With no hesitation this time he opened the book.

Oh.

The first used page he came across were small sketches of him working in the kitchen. There must have been four or five small, quick drawings, but that was unmistakably him. In awe, he turned the page, greeted once again by drawings of him, bigger this time. You'd sketched his face while he was cooking, clearly oblivious to your staring. He felt himself freeze. That was him. It was clear there was a lot of time put into this. Just how long were you staring at him? He thought you were drawing the food, not him! He felt himself blush, embarrassed by the revelation. Keen to see more he continued through the book, seeing sketches of only him. You'd sketched his hands, his eyes, so many little drawings of his face. There were even sketches from his sparring sessions on the deck. These. These were all him? He felt a bit lightheaded. When he made it to the last used page he stopped. There was a rather intricate drawing of him smoking, leaning over the Merry's bannister. It left him breathless. There was so much detail.

"Uh." Was all he managed to force out.

You blanched. "Oh! I'm sorry, I've weirded you out. I..." He saw you reach out to take the book back, his grip tightening.

"I like drawing you, wanna make sure I get your features right." You muttered. Sanji tore his face away from the page when he heard you take a shaky breath in. He looked up and jolted at the tears in your eyes.

"(Name), I-"

"I'm sorry. It's really creepy right? I'll stop, I promise."

"These are all me?" He managed dumbly. You cringed. He felt his heart thumping loudly.

"Yeah...That's your book."

"Do the others?"

You shook your head, tears starting to fall. "Just you. It's weird, I know-"

"I love it." He breathed out.

"What?"

Sanji stared up at you, closing the book with care, and setting it to the side. He grabbed your trembling hands, trying to coax you down to his level. You followed, dropping to your knees.

"It's beautiful love. You've made me look beautiful."

"You are beautiful." You muttered.

Sanji couldn't take it anymore, he pulled you flush against him. You squeaked, falling into his chest. His arms came up to hug you tightly.

"I'm the luckiest man in all the seas." He smiled. That managed a laugh out of you. You peeked up at him, eyes wide and cheeks tear-stained. "I was really jealous when I saw you drew everyone else. Don't know how I never caught you drawing me."

"I'm sneaky." You joked, earning a laugh. You snuggled against him.

"Can I kiss you?"

Your eyes shot back up to him, choking on your own spit, all you could manage was a a strangled, "What?"

"Wanna reward my little artist. So can I kiss you?" Sanji spoke as if he was talking about the weather. You nodded dumbly.

Wasting absolutely no time, Sanji caressed your face, softly. He started softly, before crushing his lips to yours. You squeaked happily, moving to try and get closer. Your lips moved in tandem, sharing kiss after kiss. You felt electricity shudder down your spine, sweet sighs escaping. Sanji felt like he was on cloud nine, committing all of you to memory, tracing your lips as if he needed to map it to mind.

Unfortunately you needed to breathe, and you pulled back, eyes sparkling. You panted lightly, trying desperately to catch your breath. Sanji took in how flushed you look, lips swollen from his attack. You were grinning wildly at him.

"Wow." You breathed. Sanji laughed. "You're really good."

Sanji mulled over your words for a second, before throwing caution to the wind. Fuck it, he got to kiss you, he supposed anything else right now was a bonus. "Am I your good boy?"

What Sanji didn't take into account is how his flirty demeanour can come across as purely teasing. You groaned beneath him. Sanji got his hopes up at the sound. but you pointedly looked away.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, it seemed funny at the time."

Sanji's heart fell out of his ass. Ow. But you had kissed him?

"I'm not?"

"What?" You looked at him inquisitively, taking in how hard he tried to hide his dejection behind that smile. You brightened, the puzzle clicking together. "Wait. You like that?"

"No!" Sanji lied. He didn't like the cheeky grin you were now sporting, it always spelt bad news for him.

"Oho I think you do. That's why you were being weird! You were jealous that I called Luffy a good boy?! I thought it was because I hugged you. You like me, that's so cute."

"You literally have a sketchbook dedicated to me."

You giggled. "No, we're past that. You like being called a good boy?"

"I like being called your good boy." He muttered. You giggled, causing him to further frown. Soon, he felt your soft hands on his cheeks.

"Ah, you really are so cute. My heart. Kiss me again good boy?"

"Stop teasing me." Sanji pouted, cheeks red. You laughed.

"Nuh-uh! You tease me constantly, I finally have some ammunition of my own! Wait until you have to put up with me calling you pretty boy."

You peppered his face with kisses before finally planting a smooch on his lips. Sanji grinned into the kiss, pulling you further into his lap. You nipped at his lower lip. He obliged, parting his lips for you to attack. Sanji sighed as you thrust your tongue into his mouth. Gods, he could die now and be happy.

You were in absolute heaven. If you'd known Sanji would be this receptive, you would have kissed him months ago. And his blush? Gods, you could grow addicted to flustering him. Pulling back with a wet smack, you stared down at him, taking in how beautiful he looked under you. With a delicate hand you lightly cradled his chin.

"Would you be a good boy and model for me someday?"

Sanji cocked an eyebrow. "We that far ahead are we?"

You laughed at his hidden meaning. "I meant just letting me draw you properly, but I wouldn't say no to staring at your naked body."

Sanji blushed, his ears burning and mind racing. He covered it up with a cough. "Are you going to be like that from now on? What happened to my cute little artist?"

Your grin was more of a smirk, Sanji mused. He liked when your mischievous side came out. The idea that this would be a regular occurrence made him dizzy. You kissed his cheek. "Now that I know you like me I have no need to be shy. You're stuck with me."

"And what a shame that is." Sanji smiled, resting his head on your shoulder. You laughed.

You really could get used to this.

#sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #one piece x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla x reader #bro i liCHRALLY am so in love with this fool atm #the day i call him vinsmoke sanji is the day i am DEAD #that boy is black leg idgaf #fluff

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sometimesanalice · 4 months

Text

Make You Mine This Season

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

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe just a bit up?”

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

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

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

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

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

Ever the showman.

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

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

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

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

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

You love this tree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course you did.

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

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

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

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

“I sure did, sweetheart-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“After what, Roos,” you ask skeptically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Because facts are facts, Bradley.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s almost laughable now how wrong you were.

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

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

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

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

“It snows in Virginia, I googled it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had only been a matter of time.

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

You meet the ice hard.

You feel pop.

A rush of warmth.

And then throbbing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you just love him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bradley,” you whine.

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

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

He’s already all you’ve ever wanted.

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

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

“What’s wrong, Roos?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was it the woman in the striped sweater?”

“Yes! It was her!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’m always right,” you hum.

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

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

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

“Your shirt,” you call out sleepily.

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

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

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

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

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

Your cast rests heavy on his chest.

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

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

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

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

As does the aching in your right wrist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Literally.”

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

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

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

“C’mon, let me hear you say it.”

You don’t make him wait for long.

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

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

Your Bradley. Your fiancé.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes to forever. Yes to him.

This season and every season.

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

And the one after that.

And the next one after that.

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

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

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

You can read my other stories here!

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