#he’s literally got no business looking like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maiamore · 23 hours ago

Text

LUCKY YOU

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 2.7k

Summary: Joel tries to read his book instead of giving his wife attention on his honeymoon.

Or, Joel fucks his wife at the beach.

Tags: husband!joel, public indecency, sex on the beach, established relationship, outdoor sex, p in v sex, accidental creampie,honeymoon vibes,able bodied reader, implied age gap, slight coercing(?) reader just wants her husband to fuck her on her honeymoon smfh, use of pet names, pussy pronouns, one use of the word daddy A/N: i don't even have to explain what conjured this, beach pedro y'all, i enjoyed writing this SO MUCH

Edit: this song, Image - Magdalena Bay suits this fic perfectly in my head arghh MASTERLIST

It wasn’t easy getting a man like Joel Miller to relax.

Every goddamn chance he got, he’d find a way to keep busy–mind or body. Fixing the creaky cabinet door, patching up the leaky air-conditioning unit that the landlord swore they'd call someone for. Joel thrived on activity, claiming it "kept the bad thoughts away." Whatever those bad thoughts were, you weren’t sure, but you suspected they’d always be lurking at the edges.

Even now, with the tropical sun bathing both of you in its’ lazy warmth and the lull of crystal blue waves breaking the shore, Joel had insisted on unwinding by reading, of all things.

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead. Given, it was a good read, you’d insist for him to give it a try. And you’d enjoyed it–a book that had you question societal norms and the ethical implications of how humanity treated animals and the environment through the eyes of Janina Duszejko.

Could you really be upset at your husband keeping his mind occupied with a good book?

Oh, you could. And you would. Considering this was your honeymoon.

Three blissful, chaotic years of marriage had finally led you both here. A getaway, tucked in a small Caribbean resort. You both managed to rub every damned spare penny together and finally found yourselves living a much needed pleasure.

You spent your mornings indulging in piña coladas and your afternoons barefoot on powder soft sand, cool foam kissing your ankles. Taking in the salty ocean air.

To Joel’s credit, you were finally getting to see a side of him you weren’t able to in your entirety of knowing him.

The deep creases of his brow had disappeared, replaced by something softer, easier. The only lines on his face now were the crows feet that appeared in his relaxed laughter. Work and responsibility kept him on his feet back in Austin. But here? With Tommy stepping up to manage Miller’s Construction, Joel had let himself breathe.

A man unburdened. Lord knows he’d deserved it. Though it was a double edged sword.

You’d never found your husband sexier than ever in his relaxed state and your libido was through the fucking roof.

If his hand wasn’t resting on the small of your back, it was tangled in yours, his thumb brushing lazy circles into your palm. And when it wasn’t there? It was on your thigh beneath the dinner table, his fingers tracing the outline of your knee absentmindedly.

You found yourself stealing glances at him.

In complete awe at the man who could quite literally wrestle a washing machine up three flights of stairs without breaking a sweat–look so utterly peaceful, sprawled on the sun lounger. Sand clinging to his calves and a vibrant blue book spread open within his thumb and forefingers.

Good fucking god. His hands.

Your palm crinkled around the sweet peach seltzer that you pulled from the mini cooler, desperate to quench the growing thirst. The fizz popped against your lips as Joel glanced up from his book, as Joel glances up from his book, offering you a smile with the soft shadow you brought with you. An angel you were, he thought.

He adjusted just enough to plant a kiss on your cheek, his scruff tickling your skin. A grin spread across your face and you leaned in to steal a proper kiss, only for him to swerve to give the book his attention.

“Enjoying your honeymoon with the book?” You snark, flopping onto the soft white cushion beside him. Unpacking the essentials you’d lugged out here.

“Don’t be dramatic, darlin’. S’a good book.” He remarks, voice slow and warm, like honey dripping from its dipper. He doesn’t lift his gaze to look at you. His palm comes up to knead around your waist in a half assed attempt to acknowledge your existence.

You huffed, sinking into the lounger. The deep blues of your bikini catching in the sunlight. Joel’s gaze flicked up for a moment and you caught the way his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, like he was trying to play it cool.

He snorted suddenly. “You tryin’ to be the book, hopin’ I’ll look atcha’ more?”

You paused, squinting at him before glancing down at your bikini and then the book cover. Damn it. They were the same shade of blue. A groan left you as you grabbed the sunscreen and tossed it his way.

“Don’t start. It’s a coincidence, Miller.”

He catches the bottle one handed, setting his book aside. You notice him eyeing you again as you turn to present your back. This surely would rile him up just a little and finally get his attention to it, wouldn’t it?

The untied straps of your bikini dangled and you give him a pointed look over your shoulder.

“Well?”

“A’right, Mrs Miller. C’mere.”

He muttered a curse underneath his breath, squeezing a dollop of sunscreen into his palm. He worked the lotion over your shoulders and down your back, his calloused hands moving slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second. The curve of your waist–down to the dip of your spine, it was all too much.

“You sure this ain’t part of your plan?” he begins, his voice low, a little strained now.

“What plan?” you tossed over your shoulder, feigning innocence.

“Mmhmm. You’re real sneaky, y’know that?”

You smirked, closing your eyes as his hands smoothed over your skin. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lets out a frustrated little breath, planting a chaste kiss on the back of your shoulder like it might ground him. His hands lingered for just a second too long on the gentle curve of your waist before he pulls away, clearing his throat and settling back into his lounger.

Joel was still a red-blooded man. How the hell was he supposed to keep his head straight when his wife looked like that, all soft and pretty, perched right there like she didn’t know the power she had over him?

Without another word, Joel busies himself with fiddling the pages. Trying real hard to convince himself he hadn’t just lost that round. But the way his thumb taps restless against the edge of the book gave him away.

You knew going into this relationship that being a man almost a decade older than you would entail a quieter life.

Joel’s age had never been an issue. Not when he could still work circles around men half his years and definitely not in bed. No, he had no need for the blue pill, thank you very much. But times like this? Times when you’d laid yourself out like a fucking michelin star dessert and he couldn’t be bothered to take so much as a bite?

That was fucked.

You lift your shades to perch on your head, glancing around the beach. It was almost empty, just a few scattered umbrellas and the rhythmic sound of waves breaking against the shore. Yet here he was, sunk deep into his book. The golden rays danced along his tanned skin, kissing the flecks of gray in his beard like he was a goddamn painting.

Your teeth catches your bottom lips before you finally decide to make a move. With a casual shift, you scooted snug next to him, thigh hooking around his underneath your paisley blue and white blanket. Your fingers drift to rest over his, twisting the cool silver of his wedding band.

Joel doesn’t look up right away but he gives a soft grunt of acknowledgement. Tugging you closer with a firm hand on your waist. He leans in to press a kiss just below your ear, the scrape of his beard sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Oh, not much,” you replied, glancing pointedly at his book. “Just wondering if it’s one of those magic books from Harry Potter that sprouts new pages.”

He smirks, finally tilting his head to look at you, eyes full of that slow, teasing mischief. “Maybe it’s ‘cause someone keeps tryin’ to distract me.”

You gasped, hand flying to your chest like you were scandalized. “Me? I’d never.”

“Uh huh,” he hums, clearly unconvinced.

You swat at his arm playfully but he catches your wrist, pulling you in for a deep kiss. It wasn't a chaste one this time. His lips locked with yours, slow, attentive. The taste of piña colada lingered on his tongue, mingling with the faint tang of sea salt from his earlier dip in the ocean. Your hands drift to the strings of his red swimsuit, sliding lower down the middle.

That makes him pull away. Looking at you half-lidded, though he doesn’t quite move your hand.

“You tryin’ to get us arrested, baby girl?”

“There’s no one around, Joel.”

You offer as you lean in to kiss him again. You feel him hesitate, rightfully so. Maybe it was the drinks you’d pumped into your systems earlier, but Joel doesn’t push you away this time. His rough palm comes to wrap around the back of your neck, drawing the sweetness of peaches from the seltzer from your tongue into his.

“Gotta make it quick, then.” He murmurs into your lips as you feel him guide you onto his lap. To your delight, your husband was already rock fucking hard for you.

He lets out a drawn out sigh as you rock your hips onto his erection, his palm steady behind you to encourage your movements. He couldn’t have been any harder now. “Lookin’ like fuckin’ sin.” His thumb swipes up to the gusset of your bikini bottoms.

“What’re you trying to do t’me?”

You smile against his lips. “Finally noticing your poor neglected wife?” You flip your hair to the other side of your shoulders to nip at his ear lobe. He tenses at that, grabbing your jaw with a rough hold.

“Had to, baby. Else we’d be spendin’ this entire vacation with my cock stuffed in this needy fuckin’ pussy.”

You shudder at the want in his voice. You attempt to reply but a thumb slips into your parted lips, two fingers coaxing the drool out.

You let out a soft uunff as Joel pulls out his fingers with a string of your saliva following. “Gross. Supergoop tastes like shit.”

“Yeah well, didn’t give me much time to get all cleaned up for you now did ya?”

He grins at your little complaints about the taste of sunscreen on his fingers. You were quickly shut up by the sensation of his split slick fingers nudging into your pussy.

You groan out. Hips jumping as he probes into you gently. You catch the flutter of your beach blanket in your peripheral, watching as Joel covers both of you–as well as it could've from the bottom down.

“Don’t think that’s gonna do shi—hhhhiitt.” Your words slurrs at Joel’s steadily thrusts into your pussy. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders. “God. Baby that’s so—…so good..” You manage, words barely a whisper.

Joel leans in to pepper kisses up your jaw. “I know. Practically suckin’ my fingers in.” He mumbles against your neck, fingers squelching deeper into your walls, caressing it in a repeated motion. His thumb swipes against your throbbing clit simultaneously.

“So fuckin’ warm n’ soft. She’s gonna milk my cock dry.” He mutters, more so to himself.

A sharp shiver creeps down your spine. “J-Joel—…i’mclose—…shit i’msosoclose—“ You mutter incoherently. Your hips rising a little to Joel’s persistent finger-fucking.

He hums against your shoulder. Other hand, keeping your hips down firm, making sure you felt the full bearing of his two fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy. “Give it t’me.”

Your eyes roll back in pure fucking ecstasy within a matter of seconds. Hips attempting to squirm away from Joel’s fingers. He kisses your cheeks softly.

“Good fucking girl.”

You let out a fucked out giggle. Suckling at his jaw and down his neck. Joel doesn’t give you much of a cool down, evident in the way he’d already been sliding his pre-cum soaked cock out of his swim trunks, nudging the tip against your sticky folds.

His thumb pushes aside the gusset of your bikini bottoms further, watching your slick bubble around the soaked fabric.

“Lookit’, all ready to fuckin’ go.” He grins. With a quick glance around to check for the soul of another, he fully sheathes himself into you.

He groans out and earns a pathetic whimper from you at the motion. Joel tips his head back against the lounger. Almost seizing up at how your tight pussy strangles his cock.

“Oh, god!”

“Ain’t god, sugar. All me.”

He chuckles at the way you shoot him a warning look, though it held no bite. Joel wraps his arm around your hips to piston himself into your pussy.

The sounds of your cunt squelching as you slam down onto his pelvis spurs you on even further as you ride him. Joel looks up. Letting out a sssst as though he’d been burned at the sight of your tits bouncing before him like a goddamned porn star.

“Right outta Hustler issue cover, baby girl.”

“Lucky you.” You laugh a little. Head tipped back to keep up your momentum, rocking your hips to his periodic grinds. You wince as your hair sticks to the back of your shoulders uncomfortably. The prick of overstimulation long gone at the glint of Joel’s gaze on you.

You feel the strings at the back of your bikini unravel at Joel’s gentle tug, allowing your bikini top to shift just enough for your tits to spill out.

Joel gathers your hair loosely off your shoulders. Driving headfirst to pop a tit into his mouth. The grumble he emits against your chest makes you giggle, the scruffiness distracting you from your discomfort.

“Ahhh shit!” You whine out. His hips stutter relentlessly into you as you arch deeper to rest your full body weight onto him. Letting him do the work as he lazily thrusts into you.

“Aww sweetheart, tired already? Lettin’ yer old man do all the damn work?” You offer a mere grunt at his taunt. “Shut up. You’re the one taking for-fucking ever.”

Joel doesn’t respond to you right away, but you get the memo when he pretty much begins to thrust into you like a man unhinged.

The grip around the back of your hair turns meaner when he tugs you to look at him. Deep brown eyes pooling in admiration and sheer fucking need.

“Look at me.” He commands. The way he jackhammers into your pussy being the only constant. “Look at me when I fuckin’ cum in this pussy.”

Your gaze flickers in slight surprise, soft gasps turning into moans when he thumbs your clit. “W-Wait. Joel—I-I can’t.” You manage when the sensation builds in you again.

He adjusts his hold onto your hair in a pleasant grip. Making sure you looked at him while he fucked you hard and fast.

“Yeah y’can.” He grunts into your ears, fucking you deeper in shorter bursts now. Joel could feel his balls steadily tensing up.

“Give daddy nother’ one n’ I’ll consider fuckin’ this come deep into ya.”

You grit your teeth in focus, desperate to give him what he wanted. If you couldn’t come with just his fat cock poking deep into you, you’d come at the way he was looking at you. Brows knit in focus, lips twitched in an attempt to not come.

You finally falter, nails digging into his shoulder as your gaze flashes white and orange. Squeezing around his cock. Joel shudders at the sensation.

“Shit, baby, I’m gonna—”

You snap your gaze up when you hear a shuffle from behind the parasols. It doesn’t register in your head how you managed to grab the yellow and white and yellow tube.

Joel seems to catch your shock, but he isn’t able to stop his cum from spurting deep into your cunt the same time you squirt an obscene amount of sunscreen into his chest.

His hand instinctively comes up to adjust your bikini top, more so to make sure he isn’t letting his wife flash her yabbos out to other people.

You stiffen up, palm smearing the sticky white lotion down Joel’s chest as one of the resort workers comes around with arms full of beach cleaning supplies.

“Um…bonjou?”

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic

433 notes · View notes

temiizpalace · 3 days ago

Text

☆┊GINGERBREAD MEN

SUMMARY: someone made gingerbread men! you’ve decided to share it with a special someone of yours. how do they eat it?

CHARACTERS: all dorms + grim (-ortho)

GENRE: fluff, crackfic-ish

WARNINGS: cursing

NOTES: debated between this and an angst fic but im feeling festive and holly jolly so you got the fluff this year. merry christmas!!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

EATS THEM LIKE NORMAL CAUSE THEY’RE “JUST COOKIES”

whether they’re in shape of a man or round, a cookie is a cookie. does it matter where you bite first? no! not like it has feelings—stop. he’s not heartless, these stupid cookies can’t feel anything. does not appreciate the way you look at him with a slight frown. he’ll acknowledge the fact they are more than regular cookies, does that satisfy you? please just say it does. you want to make houses for them too?! sighhh… get him the kit from the kitchen..

riddle, trey, leona, jack, azul, jamil, vil, malleus, sebek, silver

BITES THE HEAD OFF FIRST

snaps the head off and starts grinning like a fool. will literally INSIST it’s the most efficient way to eat gingerbread men and is not willing to reason. since he’s so mature, you’ve caught him one time biting the head off then putting the cookie back on the plate with red icing oozing from the top. nooo… he didn’t do that. the cookie was just bleeding, that’s all! don’t look at him like that, let him have fun. anyway, if you’ll excuse him. this plate of gingerbread wasn’t going to eat itself and these guys must be rushed to the guillotine. which was his mouth.

ace, jade, epel, idia

BITES OFF THE ARMS AND LEGS SO THEY “SUFFER FOR THEIR GINGERBREAD CRIMES”

if only you could paint a picture of the scene you had just saw. he throws the cookie onto the plate, interrogating it with questions straight out of a detectives movie. abruptly, he picks the poor cookie up and snaps off all its limbs, leaving the head before smiling at it wickedly. as he heard your voice, he turned suddenly. uhm.. you didn’t see that. he was just uh.. asking questions. to be fair this man owed time. wait, DONT YOU DARE TAKE PICTURES OF HIS SHAME. HEY! GET BACK HERE!

deuce, cater, floyd, rook, idia, lilia

POPS THE ENTIRE COOKIE IN THEIR MOUTH, SOMETIMES SEVERAL AT ONCE

feels like staring at a chipmunk. you had just watched him massacre what could’ve been an entire village of gingerbread men in less than 20 seconds because he thought it was funny. felt no regret whatsoever and will not hesitate to do it again. you try to explain to him why eating it this way was probably not a good idea, but fuck that!! who cares!! it’s christmas which means every man for himself!! and then he choked on cookies for 10 minutes so good luck to you, prefect.

ace, ruggie, jade, floyd, kalim, epel, lilia, grim

A/N: sorry, got busy again this month lol. here’s a xmas special to make up for the disappearance. merry christmas!!

date published: 12/25/24

411 notes · View notes

sanguineterrain · 2 days ago

Text

holiday spirit | jason todd

Summary: Stuck at a shitty office party for your shitty job on Christmas Eve Eve, you’re at your wit’s end. The last thing you expect is to play vigilante for a night with the Red Hood.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings/tags: panic attacks, reader has anxiety, creepy coworkers, office party shenanigans, canon-typical violence, jason being both a menace and a sweetheart, attempts at humor, fake relationship, silliness!

the divider

You’re grateful for a reason to escape. Someone announces that the lights on the obnoxious eleven-foot Christmas tree are burned out and you’re already on the elevator, volunteering to find spare lights.

You hate these office parties. They’re just a way to play politics, show off fiancés, and reaffirm cliques. You wanted to skip it all together. But Mr. Emerson, your boss, had insisted that attending tonight’s party was mandatory.

Alma had told you about a hundred times to skip tonight, but Alma’s worked here since the Reagan administration and has too much pull to be fired. You, conversely, have been here eight months, and if you get fired, your next job is going to be as a henchman for a B-list Gotham villain.

Being painfully ordinary and anxious is a toxic mix. Your doctor still thinks all your worrying is because of your menstrual cycle. He doesn’t believe in work-related stress.

So anyway. You’re just trying to get through tonight. And find some tree lights that work.

You unlock the spare office where all the holiday junk is stored and turn on the light.

The motherfucking Red Hood looks at you, one leg dangling outside of the window and one leg inside the office. He unclicks his harness.

"Oh my God,” you say, hand frozen on the light switch.

Red Hood pulls his leg in from the window and steps into the office. He puts the harness in a duffel bag and roughly zips it, then tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor.

"Oh my God.”

He glances at you, helmet eyes glowing. "No God here, just me.”

"Oh my God," you say again, near hysterics. "Oh my God, Red Hood."

"Always nice to meet a fan," he says irritably, brushing snow off of his jacket, flashing his holsters. Oh, fuck. That's a lot of guns.

"What, um—" You close your eyes, lick your lips, try to find your sanity. "To what do I—why—are you gonna kill me?”

"The fuck? You think I'd sneak into an office and kill someone in cold blood? What kinda operation you think I'm running?"

Your mouth opens and closes in horror. "Wh–I... I don't—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Hood."

"Please, Mr. Hood was my father."

He laughs. You taste bile in your throat.

Hood sobers. "Damn. Tough crowd. Look, sorry to freak you out, but I got shit to do. If you'll just point me to Hershel Emerson's office, I'll be on my merry way."

"That's m-my boss. Are you gonna kill him?" You can’t handle murder tonight. You’ll have a breakdown for sure.

"Literally, what did I just say?" Hood throws his hands up. "Not one minute ago. I'm not killing anyone!"

"Yet?" you ask weakly, mind inundated with too many mob movies to watch your manners. You know what the Red Hood is all about. Everyone does.

"No. I'm not killing Emerson. But he is a bad dude, so I gotta take care of business. Actually, I should kill him. He deserves it."

You squeak in horror. He raises a hand.

"But I'm not!" he says gruffly. "Respectfully, get a grip. You live in Gotham."

You swallow. "What're you gonna do to my boss if not kill him?"

Hood shrugs. "Eh, maybe scare him a bit. Mostly get intel to take him down. He's currently sitting on five million dollars of stolen life savings from clients."

You blink. "What?"

"Yup. What I really wanna know is which of his employees are in on it. He didn't do this alone."

Hood takes out a small roll-up pouch of what looks like lockpicking tools. You release your sweaty death grip on the doorknob, causing it to squeak. Hood doesn't look up.

five million dollars is ringing in your head. That happened here. Where you work. Your boss is even scummier than you thought.

“Is that a lockpicking kit?” you ask.

“Yup. Good eye.”

"This seems... illegal.”

"Well, I won't lie to you, most of what I do is. You won't be implicated though.”

He looks at you. You flinch. Even with the lights on, the Red Hood is scary as shit.

"Yeah..." he says, shaking his head. "You wouldn’t do well in prison. I can tell."

Your chest hurts. "I don't think anyone does well in prison," you say, eyebrows scrunching. "Have... you been to prison?"

"Only to break out a friend. You ask a lot of questions."

"Sorry. Um, Mr. Red Hood—"

"Ah-ah. Call me Red. Or Hood. No Mister-ing."

"Okay.” You lick your lips, hoping he doesn't go back on his temporary no-kill policy. “Hood, do you think you could come later? After the Christmas party?”

He tilts his head at you. You keep talking.

“Not that I don't admire what you're doing! Because I think taking down my boss for stealing money is great, eat the rich and all that, but, um, I came up here to get lights to replace the ones that burned out downstairs because that's a normal thing that happens and now you're here, at my job, and I'm freaking out. Oh God, oh my God—”

You grab the wall for stability, feeling like you've been rocking on a boat for hours. Sweat beads on your forehead. This time, you really do feel like you’ll throw up. Throwing up in front of the Red Hood would be humiliating.

“Look, I got shit to do, okay? I'm sorry you're freaking out but your boss is gonna cash out in a few days and then I lose him and that five million. It's now or never."

You should've just stayed home and baked cookies. Fuck being social! This is what happens when you're social: you meet morally gray vigilantes who force you to be complicit with their crimes.

Your cheeks feel wet. Are you crying? Maybe it’s sweat.

Hood points to the hallway. "Is there a camera outside?"

"Y-yeah.” Your voice is weak. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Can you call security on your way out?"

“Does your left arm hurt?”

“No, but—”

“Are your limbs stiffening?”

“No, but—”

“You’re not having a heart attack. Your speech is fine.”

Hood takes out a few more things from the duffel, then kicks it under a desk with his foot. You wheeze and grab onto the doorknob again.

It’s quiet for a second. Then—

“Shit. You're having a panic attack,” Hood says.

"Mm, probably," you say, hunched over like an armadillo. Fuck your stupid doctor.

There's silence as you wheeze quietly. Then something small hits your head. You flinch and squeal.

"You don't need to throw things at me!" you say, beyond defeated, near tears.

"No, I wasn't—sorry. It's a Warhead. I have one when I'm feeling… not my best. They're s’posed to help occupy your other senses so the panic disappears."

You stare at the candy, confused and suspicious at once. "Is it spiked?"

"Again, what sorta operation do you think I'm running? It's not drugs. Look." Hood unwraps a Warhead and sticks it in his mouth underneath his helmet. You hear him suck on it. "Eesh, that's sour. Okay? No drugs."

So you take the candy from the floor, unwrap it, and pop it into your mouth. The sour taste immediately overwhelms you. It's like your brain resets. You pant through the sour.

"Ough," you say, face scrunching from the taste.

"Yeah, right? Life changing hack."

You suck on the candy desperately and close your eyes, trying to find your breath.

“It’s okay,” Hood says, stilted and awkward. “Just, uh, focus on your breathing. Exhale longer than you inhale. Breathe through your nose.”

It takes another few minutes, but the feeling passes. Your chest lightens. It’s the quickest you’ve ever recovered from a panic attack.

“I was just kidding about the prison thing,” Hood says. “You’re not gonna go to jail ‘cause of this, I promise.”

Yeah, but what if you lose your job?

You spit the Warhead into a trash can and smack your tongue a bit. “Are you sure you can’t come back tomorrow night?”

“No can do,” Hood says. “Your boss will be gone by then.”

“It's just that I'm really bad with keeping secrets and according to Google, that's how ulcers form and I really can't afford any sick days off, so—"

You yelp as the door suddenly swings open, hitting your shoulder. You spin around.

"Hey," Bill says, squinting at you. "Where have you been?”

"No!" you yell, and turn off the light.

Bill stares at you, illuminated by the hallway light. “Uh…”

You clear your throat. "Ahem. I'm fine. It's just taking me a moment to sift through all these decorations. Please return to the party.”

You hate Bill. He’s a sleaze and doesn’t do any work. More than once, he’s trapped you by the water cooler in a conversation about his “smokin’” imaginary lawyer girlfriend.

“If you wanted me to come help you, you could've just said so," he says, reaching for the light, way too close. You don’t like his tone either.

"No!" you yell, blocking the light switch with your hands.

"What the hell? Why not?"

"Because—"

There's a creak from the back. You wince.

Bill immediately whips his head toward the sound. "Is someone here? Hello?"

He reaches for the light. Again, you block him, swatting his hands away.

"Would you stop—is someone here?"

"My boyfriend!" you blurt.

Bill stops, looking at you. "Your boyfriend? You've never mentioned a boyfriend."

"Well, I have one and he's here."

"Okay. Why can't I turn on the light and see him?"

"Because he's... um..."

You spot the red Santa suit out of the corner of your eye.

Oh, this is a terrible idea.

"He's changing! He's our Santa for the party. Surprise!" You make weak jazz hands.

Bill looks into the dark where you're pretty sure Hood is hiding. You hope, anyway. Otherwise Bill is going to tell everyone that you're making up boyfriends. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," comes Hood's unmodulated, deadpan reply, and you jump. "Don't turn on the light. I'm naked."

"Oh..." Bill looks queasy for a moment. "Uh—" He looks at you and suddenly grins. "Oh, I get it. You two were having fun before going to the party, huh? Didn't know you were such a wildcat."

"That’s disgusting,” you say. “I would never do that in the office.”

Bill wiggles his eyebrows. "Me-ow. Does the Santa thing turn you on?"

"I'm right here, Bill, and naked or not, I'll kick your ass," Hood says.

Bill pales and quickly backs out of the room. "Right. Sorry. Uh, carry on."

He closes the door. You push your back against it and exhale, heart racing.

"Bill is a shithead," Hood says.

“How… do you know his name?”

“Employee background check,” Hood says mildly.

"Oh… yeah, he's been written up a bunch of times for inappropriate behavior, but he's close with Emerson, so he never gets fired."

"Want me to kill him for you? Free of charge."

"What? No! Hood—"

"Oh, relax. I was kidding."

"Uh-huh." You turn on the light. Hood has his helmet on, and his voice is modulated again. "What're we gonna do?"

"Well, I'm gonna go make sure Hershel doesn’t fuck off to Bermuda. The lights you wanted are here, by the way."

Hood tosses you a box of multi-colored tree lights. Then he walks toward you. You plaster yourself across the door.

"Wait! You can't leave. I said that my boyfriend is going to be Santa. Bill will tell everyone. They’ll expect you.”

"I appreciate your quick thinking, but that's a hard pass,” Hood says.

"You can't leave now! Bill's gonna tell everyone I'm a liar and they'll think I was up to something worse in here, like snorting coke."

"I mean this gently: I think you should look into anti-anxiety meds. My brother swears by Xanax.”

“My doctor won’t prescribe it to me,” you say glumly. “He thinks my anxiety is made up.”

“Huh. Want me to kill him? I know a better doctor.”

"Well…” You hesitate, then shake your head. “No! No. Hood, please. They’re all gonna expect a Santa. And when I don’t show up with Santa, they’ll remember that I didn’t participate in White Elephant or any of that other office nonsense that I don’t want to waste my money on. I need this job!”

“They’re not gonna fire you for not doing White Elephant,” Hood says.

“You don’t know them! It’s a popularity contest.”

But Hood is indeed disinterested in the fact that you'll be the office pariah. Probably because he’s never worked in an office.

Instead, he ushers you aside without a struggle. Then he turns the doorknob.

"Wait! Wait, listen. If you dress as Santa, you'll have access to the party and offices. You won't have to sneak around. And people get really drunk at these. They'll talk. You can figure out who's helping Emerson steal money."

His hand pauses. He looks at you. You look back, wringing your hands.

"You're pretty crafty," he says.

"...Thanks?”

Hood releases the doorknob. "Alright, fine. I'll do the Santa shtick.”

“You will?”

He tilts his head. “Should I not?”

“No! No, you should. It’ll be a good disguise.”

He hums. “Sure. But we're in this together now, got it? You blow my cover and we both go down."

"Y-yeah, got it."

Hood heaves a gusty sigh. "Next time, I'm sending Roy in to do this shit."

"Who's Roy?"

"Ah." He holds up a finger. "Too many questions."

He makes a beeline for the Santa costume and then looks at you expectantly.

"Yo. Boyfriend or not, you're not watching me change. Guard the door, Mrs. Claus."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

You turn off the light and go into the hall, shutting the door behind you. It's empty, luckily. You rap your fingers on the box of lights, leg jiggling.

This is insane. You should just tell Hood you can't do this and let him figure out his own plan.

But then... this would make it easier to find Emerson's crime partner. And you're really sick of Bill being a jerk. You don’t want to be called a liar, or get iced out for the rest of your time here because you didn’t bring Santa. Maybe having Hood be your Santa-boyfriend would make people leave you alone. Which is a crazy reason to stick to this plan, but still. You're trying to find the bright side.

And all those people that Emerson stole from... surely, you have a responsibility to help get their money back and bring him to justice, don't you?

The door swings open. You turn around.

“You wear a mask under your helmet?”

“As a precaution.” He sounds defensive. “Lots of people in my profession do it.”

You doubt that. “Don’t you think it’ll be weird if Santa has a mask on?”

He hesitates, evidently debating between protecting his identity and arousing suspicion.

“Fine.” He carefully peels off the mask and tucks it into his pocket. The surrounding skin is slightly pink from irritation. His nose and cheeks are dotted with freckles.

And wow. The Red Hood has beautiful eyes. So vibrant and clear, like seafoam. And young! How old is he, anyway? He doesn’t look much older than you, if at all.

His eyes are framed by thick, dark lashes, and it makes sense, Hood being a brunet.

“What?” he snaps, glaring.

“Nice eyes,” you blurt.

His brows furrow. You remember the guns.

“Um, anyway. Should we go?” you squeak out, backing away.

Hood huffs through the beard. It flutters. "We need to have some ground rules."

"Okay."

"First, you should know that I will shoot if there's a physical threat at this party. Two, you're gonna call me Todd at the party. Three, if you try to tell anyone that I'm Red Hood or that I'm taking down Emerson, I will make your life hell. And if you're his partner, you'd better tell me now or I'm gonna be a lot less jolly."

"I'm not!" you say. "I would never do that. And I won't tell anyone you're Red Hood."

"Good. Let's go. Keep your ears open for hints about Emerson's partner."

He takes off in long strides. You hurry to keep up. The Santa costume doesn't slow him down.

"So how did you find out that Emerson's stealing?" you ask.

"Got a tip. You really didn't know he was stealing?"

“I don’t have access to the finances. I work in user interface. Website design.”

"Yeah? That's pretty cool. I got a brother who's into that stuff," Hood says.

"The same one who takes Xanax?”

“Would you believe it?”

You try to picture Red Hood with a regular family. With a brother or a sister or a father. It's hard to imagine.

“How come you don’t take anti-anxiety medication?” you ask.

“I have Pit Madness Syndrome, and it has a weird chemical reaction with that stuff.”

“Oh.” Subject change. Quickly! "Do you celebrate Christmas?"

"Not really. I'm not a believer or celebrator of much. You can see what my plans are two days before Christmas."

"Your family doesn't celebrate?"

Hood just grunts, eyes suddenly stormy. You take the hint and stop talking.

The room where the party is isn't particularly special. It's big enough to fit about a hundred people. For all the money the company makes, you'd thought that they could afford to splurge a little and rent an actual hall. Now you know what the profits have been going toward. But the decorations are decently lavish.

"Oh, wait." Hood leans in to speak in your ear. Lightning shoots down your spine. "I don't know your name."

You give it. He repeats it, and you shiver, like your boyfriend just said your name.

"'Kay. Stay in this room. We don't know how much Emerson or his partner knows, but assume they’re willing to do anything to get away with the money."

You nod. “Got it.”

“Hey, it’s Santa!” Bill shouts from across the room. “He made it!”

You smile tightly. “As promised.”

A few people wave. Others cheer.

“These people really like Christmas, huh?” Hood asks.

“You have no idea,” you say, hyperaware of his hand brushing your back.

“Don’t think I got your name, man,” Bill says as he approaches. He sticks a hand out. “Bill.”

“Todd,” Hood says, taking his hand and shaking. Bill winces at the handshake. You hide a smile.

“Ah, Todd. Right.” Bill looks at you, trying to subtly soothe his hand. “You’ve never mentioned him.”

You shrug. “Never came up.”

“I’m pretty private,” Hood says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “But we’re very much in love. Ain’t that right, baby?”

“Th-that’s right… honey,” you say, face going hot.

“So what do you do for work?” Bill asks. “My girlfriend’s a lawyer.”

You roll your eyes. Hood snorts.

“There’s no way you’re dating anyone. You look like you got dressed in the dark, Billy.”

You cough your laugh into your arm. Bill’s eye twitches.

“Enjoy the party,” he says icily. He glares at you, then stomps away.

“That was amazing, but I think Bill might retaliate,” you say.

“Don’t worry ‘bout him,” Hood says. “I’ll take care of it.”

You look at him with big eyes. “Hood—”

“Not like that. Just… it’ll be handled. Okay?”

You nod. Maybe it’s insane, but you trust him. “Okay. Want some punch?”

Hood hums. “No alcohol. Thanks.”

You go to the punch bowl, a little relieved to escape Hood’s piercing ocean-eyed stare. He’s intense. Whoever dates him for real is in for a ride.

Then again, you can’t imagine Hood meeting someone for coffee or dinner. You giggle at the image of him showing up with his guns and helmet.

“Hey, IT.” A woman in a white sweater you’ve seen maybe once waves at you. “Cool idea, bringing a Santa.”

“Yeah, Emerson’s too cheap to,” the man next to her says. They laugh.

You smile. “Glad you like it.”

You serve yourself two cups of the alcohol-free punch. Then you turn.

Your smile falls. Across the room is Hood and Tanya Donaldson, resident shit-stirrer. She’s trying to cozy up to him. You sigh and walk over, bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” Hood says, practically dragging you into his side. He takes a cup of punch. “Just met Tanya.”

You can guess exactly how he feels about that.

"Oh, is he your boyfriend?" Tanya asks, eyeing Hood like he's a slab of steak. “I had no idea!”

"Uh-huh," you say. "This is Todd."

She wiggles her fingers, grinning. “So how often do you go to the gym, Todd?” She rests a hand on Hood's arm. "I didn't know Santa was so big and broad."

Your gaze drifts to where you're pretty sure Hood has a gun strapped to his ankle, and the temptation does appear, you won't deny.

But you need this job and it's going to be really hard to explain why Santa's armed and dangerous, so you just grit your teeth. Tanya's the worst for this kind of behavior and she doesn't respect you, so bringing your hunky boyfriend is like dangling a bunch of carrots in her face.

And it’s not like Todd is actually your boyfriend.

"Are you flirting with me in front of my girlfriend?" Hood asks, prying her hand off of his arm.

"Flirting?" She claps a hand over her mouth, the movement slightly delayed from all the wine. "No, oh my God! I was just saying—"

"That's really pathetic," Hood says. "Don't do that."

He walks away and you follow, leaving a wobbly Tanya on her own. You smile to yourself.

"Thank you for that," you say.

Hood gives you a thumbs up. "I can plant evidence on her and get her fired if you want."

"No, I don't want to feel damned for eternity. Thanks anyway."

"You have a lot of assholes at your job," Hood says. "But you're not one. I admire that.”

You sigh. "They're not all bad. Alma is cool. She keeps me from quitting.”

"And where is she?"

"At home. She's a sixty-two year old accountant who doesn't care about these parties. Her hip aches when it's cold."

"Mm. Maybe you should follow her lead," Hood says.

"But then who would help you with your spycraft, Hood?"

He allows himself a tiny laugh at that. You wonder how often he laughs. If ever.

“Well, suffering Tanya wasn’t in vain. She said this whole party cost twenty grand.”

“So?”

He gestures grandly. “Does this look like it cost twenty grand to put this together?”

It's true. The alcohol is the most expensive thing here. No food, except for some people that participated in the potluck, but you don't trust anybody's food here. The decorations are old. Not to mention the Red Hood as your Santa. Your boss might have spared a thousand for tonight. No more.

“So where did all that money go?” you ask.

Hood snaps his fingers. “Bingo.”

“That is so shitty. I got a chocolate-covered pretzel as my Christmas bonus,” you say.

“A bag of ‘em?” He shakes his head. “Pretty cheap.”

“Ha, no. No, I got one big pretzel. In a box. The box cost more than the pretzel, I think.”

His eyes widen. “Jesus. Even I give more than that to my guys.”

“Got any openings?” you ask, half-joking.

Hood snorts. “Don't think you'd like what we do. Why d’you stay?”

You shrug. “Nowhere else to go. I have to eat somehow.”

“Crappy boss, crappy coworkers, no Christmas bonus. Hell, I feel sorry for ya.”

The Red Hood feels sorry for you. Perhaps you've reached a new low.

He drinks the punch and coughs. “Ahem, wow. Did you make the punch?”

“No, some people mixed it here.”

“Oh, then I'll be honest. Tastes like a flavor that's not found in nature.” He throws his cup away. You trust him and set your still-full cup on a table.

“I won't even mention the potluck,” you say.

“Yeesh. Can't eat at everyone's house.”

“That's what I say!”

He winks at you. You look away, flustered.

The crazy thing is, you could get used to this. Well, not specifically Red Hood, but having a boyfriend to bring to these functions, who’ll warn you against gross punch and defend you against Tanya.

And Hood is surprisingly good at this. If you forget the past hour, you can almost pretend that this is just another office party that you happen to be spending with your new boyfriend.

"Hey, look! It's Santa! Dude, check me out with Santa!"

One of the finance guys who's very drunk—you want to say that his name is Matt—bounds up to you and Hood. Hood tenses, reaching for his hip (gun!) and you touch his elbow, reminding him to relax. He drops his arm.

Matt reeks of alcohol, the front of his shirt stained with bourbon. He laughs, forehead shiny with sweat.

"Santaaa, hey, Saint Nick, take a pic with me, man!"

Matt throws his arms around Hood. Hood does not like that and shoves him off accordingly. But Matt doesn't seem to notice and holds up his phone, camera facing front. Hood slaps the phone out of his hand.

"No pictures," he says.

You wince. The guy stares and blinks, taking three to five business days to process what just happened.

"What the fuck, man? That was my phone!"

"Sorry. I'm drunk." Hood sighs like he's physically in pain, then leans back and makes drinking motions with his fingers. "Fuckin' wasted! Did you try those rum shots? Lit, dude!"

The guy cheers up, forgetting all about the phone. "Oh, yeah, for sure! I'm gonna go get one right now! Thanks, Santa!"

"You do that!" Hood says cheerily.

As soon as the guy leaves, Hood returns to his resting scary face.

"Wow," you say.

"I know. I threw up in my mouth a little."

You laugh. Hood grins. Then it fades.

"Damn it. We're getting no closer to finding Emerson's partner. I should just interrogate Emerson until he tells me."

Interrogate makes you feel woozy. You're pretty sure you know what Hood's idea of an interrogation is.

"Wait! We just need to lure them out. If they think their money might be in jeopardy, they'll sneak out of the party to go check on it, right?" you ask.

"Potentially, yes. But how do we lure 'em?"

"There's an alert if someone withdraws more than ten thousand dollars from the company. But I don't have access to the accounts," you say.

Hood smiles slowly. "You don't need it. Remember I mentioned my computer whiz brother?"

"Yeah…” You grimace. “This sounds illegal again.”

"Hell yeah it is. He owes me a favor too. Lemme call him."

You two go off to the side while Hood dials.

"Yeah?" comes a voice on the other end. He doesn’t sound at all like Hood, more like a one percenter from the Diamond District. This is Hood’s brother?

"Aliases only. I need you to withdraw fifty grand from Emerson Corp,” Hood says.

"Why?”

“‘Cause you owe me a favor. Just do it.”

“Zombie breath.”

“Shortass,” Hood says, voice taking on a distinct older brother tone.

“You’re such an asshole,” the voice says. He yawns. “B’s wondering if you’re coming tomorrow.”

“I’d rather die again,” Hood says. “And you can tell him I said that.”

“The broody emo bullshit is getting old, dude,” the voice says.

You giggle. Hood looks at you sharply. You press your lips together, properly chastened. Sorry, you mouth.

"Who's that?" the voice asks.

"No one," Hood says. "Did you do it?"

"Chill out. I'm getting past their firewall. So who is that?”

“It’s the TV,” Hood says.

“No, it’s not. That was a lady's laugh, IRL. And you wouldn’t lie if it was someone we know…”

“Mind your damn—”

“I’m helping him with a case,” you blurt.

Hood throws his hand up, glaring at you. It’s silent on the other end of the phone for a solid ten seconds. Then…

“Holy shit,” Hood’s brother says. “You do have a girlfriend. Wait. Hold on. This is wild. You don’t even have a social security number.”

“I do not have a girlfriend!” Hood snaps, drawing the attention of some coworkers. You nudge him. He exhales through his nose.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, you little fucker,” he says, quieter. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Can I ask your girlfriend a question? Respectfully, what were you thinking? You can do so much b—”

“Text me when it’s done,” Hood growls and hangs up.

You look at each other for a moment.

“You didn't hear any of that,” Hood says. “Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. Let's see who gets scared. He should do it right about…”

His phone beeps. You look around the room.

Soon, your culprit reveals himself. Matt!

Holy shit.

"He didn't want a picture," Hood says slowly. "He was frisking me! Motherfucker."

"But isn't he drunk?" you ask.

"No." Hood sighs in disgust. "How did I miss that? Br—someone I know does that all the time, spilling alcohol on himself so he smells like he's been drinking. God. Oldest trick in the book!"

"Do you think he knows you're the Red Hood?"

"No. But he might suspect something. Let's go.”

You follow Matt out of the party. He's walking fast. Yeah. Definitely your guy.

Down the hallway, Matt turns around and makes direct eye contact with you. You panic.

“Hood!” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “Follow my lead.”

Loudly, he laughs and puts an arm around your waist. “C’mon, baby, no one’ll know.”

And then you're being herded into a janitor’s closet.

You stumble in, confused and reeling from how easily Hood plays the affectionate boyfriend role. He follows you in, shuts the door, and pulls the chain dangling from the ceiling. The single light bulb turns on.

You take care to not knock over any cleaning supplies. You don't see the mop on the floor, however, and you trip backwards on the handle.

Hood's reaction time is impeccable. He jerks forward to catch you, tugging you back on your feet with his hands on your arms.

“Y’alright?” he asks.

“Uh-huh,” you say, mildly mortified. “Thanks.”

He lets go. You shift on your feet.

“How long are we gonna stay here?” you ask.

Hood checks his phone. “Well, he should've moved on by now. Let's—”

The doorknob jiggles. You look at Hood in fear. His expression is similar.

“Pretend!” you whisper, and that's all he needs to understand and move.

You're expecting your arms around Hood, maybe exaggeratedly feeling him up. You are not expecting Hood to hoist you up by the backs of your thighs and press you against the wall. You squeal, arms shooting out to hold onto his neck. Hood's beard ends up in your mouth and you spit it out.

The door swings open, revealing a very tipsy couple.

“Oops!” the woman says, grinning. “Sorry. Carry on.”

The guy gives a thumbs-up. “True love.”

You smile awkwardly. Something is pressing into your hip.

“True love,” Hood deadpans. “Rock on.”

As soon as the door closes, you're squirming.

“What is that?” you hiss.

“My gun! Oh my God, it's my gun,” Hood says, quickly setting you down. “It's not…”

He trails off and backs away. You stand there, processing what just happened.

“That wasn’t—”

“I didn’t—”

You both stop. Hood adjusts his beard.

“You're really strong,” you say, wringing your hands.

Hood nods. “Sorry about the, uh…”

“Yeah, let's just not talk about this.”

“Yup. Find Matt?”

“Absolutely.”

You open the door and peek out. The hallway is empty. Glory be.

“All clear,” you say, and Hood is on your heels as you sneak out.

“Any ideas on where he'd go?” Hood asks.

“Matt works in a cubicle like the rest of us. Emerson’s office is on the twelfth floor.”

“Fine. We'll hit Emerson's office first. More privacy, and maybe they'll both be there. Two birds.”

“Emerson's office is protected by a password lock. He changes it every night,” you say, scurrying to keep up with Hood.

“That's fine. I got a key right here,” he says, patting his holster.

“Wait! If the lock is tampered with, it sets off an alarm and security will come. You can't shoot it, Hood.”

He stops and sighs. “Why is everything so goddamn complicated? Alright, new plan. I'm gonna get my stuff from where we were and I'll break in the old-fashioned way.”

Fifteen Minutes Later.

“This seems really unsafe!” you say, watching Hood dangle outside a three story window on a wire. He's attached to a grappling hook but still. Still!

“Eh, I died once. Didn't stick. Hold the hook.”

“I am!” As if you'd do anything but. You don't want the Red Hood to become Red Goo.

Chilly December wind makes your eyes water and your nose cold. Still, you hold on.

“Almost there!” he says.

“Hey! What're you doing?”

You whirl around and close your eyes due to the flashlight shining at them. Even though the lights are on.

An elderly security guard glares at you. It's a good thing you're not an actual criminal… though after tonight, you're not so sure.

“Um.” You try to hold onto the hook while hiding it behind your back. “Bird watching?”

The guard turns off the flashlight and tucks it into his belt. He slowly walks to you.

“If you're doing something illegal, Miss, you're in big trouble.”

Well, this is fantastic. Of course it would be you that gets caught.

The guard is getting closer. Your grip is sweaty. He peers over your shoulder. You let go of the hook, praying to every spirit out there that Hood is as good as everyone says he is.

The guard looks around and scratches his head. You shrug, heart in your throat.

“See?” you say. “Bird watching.”

He frowns at you. “I've got my eye on you.”

“And I commend you for that.”

“Are you sassing me?”

Are you? You might be. You've been spending too much time with Hood.

Hood! You turn and look out the window. You don't see any red goo below, but it's also cold and foggy. Shit. You hurry to the elevators.

“Okay, happy holidays, bye!”

The elevator doors open. You press twelve and close the door before the guard can consider getting on with you and shooting you a hairy eyeball all the way down.

You hurry out and run down to Emerson's office. The door has been left ajar, which is good, right?

Bang!

You throw yourself against the wall. Shit. Maybe not.

Ugh, you told Hood no shooting! Son of a bitch.

“We're doing this tonight!” That's Emerson's voice. “I don't care if I have to shoot my way out.”

Shoot? Oh no.

You carefully peek through the crack. Hood is standing with his hands behind his head. His beard has blood in it. Emerson is in front of him, gun to his head.

Hood catches your eye. He gives you the tiniest head shake. You swallow.

You can't just leave him there.

Okay. Think. Emerson's back is to you. You can't see Matt, but you figure he's far enough away to not immediately shoot you. Hopefully.

Anyway, what's your other option? The feisty relic upstairs? You can't risk any civilians getting hurt.

Technically you're also a civilian but not tonight. Tonight you might as well be Batman.

You slowly pull the door open further. You sneak in, then hide behind the secretary's desk.

“Is it done?” Emerson snaps.

That's when you see Matt in the corner on a laptop.

“It takes time,” Matt says, obviously stressed too.

“Well, hurry up!” Emerson looks at Hood. “Then we'll dispose of Santa here.”

Hood shrugs. “You can certainly try. Many have. ‘M still here.”

“Lots of bravado for a man in a costume,” Emerson sneers. “What are you, police?”

Hood groans. “As fucking if! I'm not a cop.”

He hums. “Perhaps not. Otherwise this place would be crawling with them already. But you're alone.”

“How d'you know I'm alone?” Hood asks.

You're glad he's calm because you're feeling the beginnings of another panic attack. But you can't panic, not now. The adrenaline pulsing through you is the only thing keeping you from going catatonic.

You have no weapon, no plan. How the hell are you supposed to help Hood?

“You're bluffing,” Emerson says.

“He has a girlfriend,” Matt says. “Some IT girl. She might come looking for him.”

“Then we'll take care of her too.”

Matt looks uncomfortable but he doesn't say anything. Hood is still cool as a cucumber.

“She won't look for me. We had a fight. I forgot to buy the candy she likes.”

Candy? Why would—oh!

On the secretary's desk is a glass bowl filled with mini candy canes. You wrap your hands around it.

“She knows my favorite,” Hood says, locking eyes with you.

You throw the bowl with all your might. Emerson is too slow—Hood grabs the bowl one-handed and swings it, knocking the gun from Emerson's hand. The candy explodes into pieces. Hood swings again, this time into Emerson's head. The bowl cracks. Emerson crumples to the floor.

“Are you o—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In a blink, Hood wraps one arm around your waist and yanks you to the floor, covering your body. You curl into him on instinct.

“I got you, I got you,” he says, patting your shoulder. “You okay?”

You nod, words not coming right now. You squeeze his hand. Hood seems to understand and he scoots you both behind Emerson’s desk. Then he loads his gun and cocks it.

“Stay here,” he says, then fires six shots.

“Goddamnit!” Matt yells across the room. “This wasn't the plan! You're not supposed to be here!”

Hood laughs, which is absolutely terrifying. “Don't talk to me about ruined plans, buddy. I've been waiting all night for an excuse to shoot somebody. Please make my night.”

Matt fires four more shots.

“Fuck you, cop!”

“What the fuck? Fuck you more! I'm not a fucking cop!”

“Maybe it's the way you stand,” you say, teeth chattering from anxiety.

Hood squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “I stand like a cop? Gross. I gotta work on that.”

“You're somebody!” Matt yells. “You're not just some guy, Todd, don't lie to me. You and that chick from IT are in cahoots.”

You huff. “He knows your name but not mine?”

“I’d take it as a compliment.”

Matt fires again. Hood tucks you behind him.

“He won’t kill anybody,” he says, with way too much confidence, in your opinion.

“Oh, is that why he's peacefully shooting at us?”

“He's scared, sure. But he can’t kill. Trust me, I know. Hey, Matt!”

“What?”

Hood stands up. Your eyes bug out of your head.

“Hood!” you hiss. “Hood!”

He ignores you, of course.

“You won’t hurt anyone,” Hood says. He starts walking toward Matt. “You're not a killer, Matt.”

And all this time you thought Hood was sort of sane. Nope.

“I will shoot you!” Matt warns.

“Aw. You wouldn't shoot Santy Claus, would you?”

Matt pulls the trigger. You gasp. It clicks. The magazine is empty.

Hood closes the distance between them and grabs the gun, then elbows Matt in the face. Matt sprawls onto the floor.

“Yeah, I don't risk my life on human emotion,” Hood says, loud enough so you can hear. “People can be so unpredictable. I will take a chance on a gun that only fires seven rounds, though. For a guy in finance, you're not very good with numbers, Matty.”

You sigh in relief, slumping against the desk. After tonight, you're retiring.

“Y'okay over there?” Hood asks.

“Yeah.”

It's quiet for a bit. Then Hood returns and offers you a hand to help you stand. You do so on shaky limbs.

He's got a cut on his eyebrow and a bruise on his cheek. You frown.

“I'm sorry I let go of the hook. I thought—”

“You let go of the hook?”

You stop. “Um. No?”

Hood squints at you. “Choosing to forgive you for that.”

“I knew you were inside the office!”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I'm not the only one taking risks,” you say. “Matt still fired at you.”

“Eh.” Hood shrugs. “He’s a crap shot. And I counted the rounds. I maintain my point. Factually, he could not shoot me.”

“You could've told me the gun was empty,” you say.

“I wanted you to think I was cool and brave.”

You laugh. “I already think that.”

Hood looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to see right down into your soul. Intense. You cross your arms.

“So, um, ready to ditch this party?” you ask.

“With pleasure.”

“What about them?” you ask, pointing to Matt.

“I have backup arriving soon. Let's get your coat.”

You get your things while Hood changes back into his usual garb. He meets you at the back exit, the one that leads to an alleyway, Santa suit gone. The party's winding down and most are getting into their cars. You're grateful no one stops to ask where you disappeared to.

There's police outside, but they're not here for Emerson. It's Bill that's being questioned by Commissioner Gordon. You stop short at the sight.

“Hood… what did you do?”

“Hm? Oh! There might have been some discrepancies in Bill's finances and he might have committed fraud to pay off his gambling debts. All circumstantial, though.”

“Please don't tell me you framed my coworker because he's a jerk,” you say.

“No, but I'm not above that, for the record. I recognized Bill from when I was casing the Iceberg Lounge. That's where he racked up all that debt.”

You nod slowly. “That's how you knew his name.”

“Yup. He was a nobody, so I didn't bother with him. Had I known he was such a menace at work, well…”

You grin. “It's okay. I appreciate it now.”

Hood nods. The silence is awkward for a few seconds.

“So—”

“You don't have to keep working here,” he says. “You can leave if you wanna.”

“Hood…”

He puts up a hand. “Hear me out. I have a contact at Wayne Enterprises. I can get you an interview. Hell, I can get you the job.”

“And what would I owe you?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Think of it as a thank you for tonight. You didn't have to help me but you did.”

You open and close your mouth. “I don't… I don't know what to say.”

“Don't gotta say a thing,” Hood says quietly. “If anyone deserves a new year, it's you.”

“Oh.” Your throat feels tight suddenly. “Oh, Hood, that's really—that's nice of you.”

“It's been known to happen. Don't spread it around though.”

“But I don't want the job without interviewing!” you say. “I want to get it on my own.”

Hood nods. “Deal.”

You want to hug him but that seems like too much, even with all you’ve done tonight. So you take out a candy cane instead.

“I salvaged one from the bowl,” you say. “Merry Christmas, Hood.”

He takes it, tucking it into his pocket. “Merry Christmas. Need a ride?”

You shake your head. “I'm fine. See you around?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Stay safe, alright?”

“Oh, I will. Will you?”

He laughs. “No promises.”

Then you blink and he's gone. You shove your hands into your coat pockets.

In each pocket, there's a handful of Warheads. You smile.

#Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd x you #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd imagine #Jason Todd x fem reader #red Hood x you #red Hood x reader #red Hood fanfiction #red Hood imagine #red Hood x yn #red Hood x fem reader

398 notes · View notes

mixingandmelting · 3 days ago

Text

Winter Series: Day 7 - Mistletoe

Summary: how the tradition is kept when the two of you stand under the mistletoe that’s hung in front of the Christmas Tree as everyone is in the room to enjoy the Christmas party

Dick:

Duke covers Damian’s eyes, Stephanie covers Cass’, Tim rolls his eyes, and Jason asks who the hell is the culprit. Of course, honorable mentions for Alfred’s unamused expression and Bruce rubbing his forehead out of exasperation. For ten plus hours all he’s been wanting was to kiss you once. Just once. But, no matter how much he tried, it was impossible to even get a quick peck from how busy the two of you were with helping in preparing for the Christmas party in the manor. It gnaws at his mind from listening to your laughter and catching you smiling every time he passes by yet he wasn’t able to steal a quick one, much less be with you. So imagine how he feels when someone genuinely, innocently points out the mistletoe you and him stand under. With the glow of the fire in the fireplace and Christmas lights highlighting your features beautifully, his grin should’ve been obvious to what he plans next. His hand sliding from your waist to the small of your back, all his pent up frustration is released as he pulls and locks you in. There’s not a single drop of shame in him, ignoring your frantic taps on his bicep while taking in your burning face and tightly closed eyes as his fingers stay tangled in your hair. It tempts him to push against rationality and go further, only to not when he realizes you are literally out of air. With that, the kiss breaks and he pulls you up, laughing when you slap his arm while covering your face with a hand. He does complain a bit from the over exaggeration when everyone gets on his case after Alfred’s comment on how unacceptable his behavior was. He still thinks it’s worth it when your hand stays on his arm and he catches your blush remaining in your cheeks from the corner of his eyes.

Jason:

When it comes to traditions, Jason isn’t a stickler about it. As long as things seem Christmas-y and the people he cares for, especially you, are happy, he couldn’t care less. Ugly sweaters? Sure. Elv hats? That’s fine. Cover everything in gold, green, red, and white? Obnoxious, but tolerable. Mistletoe, though, is a whole different issue. He did hear about someone planning to hang mistletoe somewhere in the manor, but he needs to know whose idea it was to have it hung in front of the Christmas tree of all places. And to make things better, it gets pointed out when everyone’s in the room while he stands under it with you whose arms are wrapped around his tricep. He was initially not going to do it despite all the crap the rest gives (Dick and Tim currently top 2 on his hit list), not wanting to put you in the center of what seems like unwanted attention, only for his brain to freeze when his eyes catch your actions. A hue of pink looking vermillion red in the warm light around your cheeks and tips of your ears, glancing up at him for a second and looking away right after. That does the trick, his mind backing up and taking a sharp detour. Silently sucking in his breath, the back of his hand brushes your face and pushes back some stray hair away before he leans down and captures your lips. It’s gentle, soft, and pure, none of the sappiness to be found as it lasts only for a few seconds. He chuckles when you instantly duck your head into his chest as soon as the two of you part, leading to some of the others to coo from the sight. Wrapping his arms around your form, he chuckles and starts giving crap back, gloating over none of them not winning like he was as he waits for you to recover.

Tim:

There wasn’t supposed to be mistletoe. Much to Steph and Dick’s chagrin, he even made sure there wouldn’t be any, having gone through long lengths to get it banned from entering the manor and its vicinity this year. So how it got brought in and out of everyone, it was you two standing beneath it, he doesn’t have a clue. Knowing there’s no way out of it, he hasn’t stopped rubbing circles on the back of your hands as a means of keeping his sanity, color continuing to rise to his cheeks. PDA is not his strong suit, him treating intimacy being precious moments for him where he can re-memorize your features to all his heart's content without the worry of prying eyes or judgement. After all, he wants both yours and his days filled with memories of each other making every second count, not wanting a single regret left. That being said, having no contingencies for the unexpected situation, his mind starts to overwork itself to figure out how to deal with this debacle. How to make it brief but still perfect without being humiliating or gross, at what angle and pose to take that’ll be convenient for you and- oh. Eyes are suddenly wide open at first then slowly, fluttering closed. He leans in, tilting his head slightly as he melts from soft against soft, warmth against warmth. Tender yet brief, the two of you look at each other for a moment before ducking down, suddenly finding the grain in the wooden floors interesting. He’s very much aware both his hands are still holding yours. Not like there’s anything he can do about it, steam coming from his head with his blush now passing the base of his neck. He does note those that coos how he’s a “big bird flying on his own now”, swearing to get back at each of them in the most painful way.

Duke:

It’s been over a minute since someone oh-so-kindly noticed a certain plant hanging over both of you and yet no progress has been made. Sure, some of it was from his rebellious side of not wanting to give into the pressure and the satisfaction. Really though, most of it was from how the two of you were the same red as Jason’s helmet after looking like deer in headlights. He does think credit is deserved for managing to physically face each other despite his eyes and yours avoids making contact. But that’s it. He continues to rub the back of his head and neck while you won’t stop playing with your hair, 0% confidence, 100% awkward and embarrassed from all the attention that’s being given. His mind stays conflicted and hesitant between going for it from how (and he’s pretty he’s hallucinating it) there seems to be gold reflecting off of you from all the lights while not wanting to make you uncomfortable or feel forced. So the plan was to wait for you to show some sort of sign, until he and you get pushed from behind. Initially there’s shock but it quickly disappears, his arms supporting you by the waist with your hands resting over them. The two of you stay in that position and then, slowly back away from what seems like forever when in reality, it wasn’t long in the slightest. Faces covered by one hand while the other slides down to hold the other, he swears he can hear sizzles from how badly you two are burning. It only gets worse when some start cheering, others even expressing how “cute” the scene was. He does appreciate Jason clapping Dick back when the former states something about “young love”, only for the latter to ask if the eldest had finally accepted being old. Bruce didn’t appreciate getting dragged in nor being referred to as ancient.

Damian:

He refuses to do it. He won’t become entertainment for the family. According to what he found beforehand, it’s not even a tradition required to celebrate Christmas. It’s simply meant to romanticize the holiday and you and him are above romance for needing such a thing. He’s already having it bad where his heart won’t stop fluttering from you wearing the matching ugly sweater he’s wearing. His siblings keep pulling you away from him, curious who it was to have him wrapped around their little finger or so they said, though he fully disagrees that being the case. He tries to keep you near the snacks table so he can finally have you to himself only for it to not last long when your eyes land on the ridiculously large, yet admittingly, beautiful Christmas tree. Which of course, lands him into this situation that he completely faults you for, him having followed you when you suddenly started leaving his side. His scowl deepens when Tim and Steph go on about how it’s confirmed the two of you are really a couple for looking like matching red Christmas ornaments along with the matching sweaters. The rest of the siblings join in to egg on while Bruce and Alfred tries to mediate (Dick acted as if he was also but was obviously not when the corner of his lips kept twitching). Then, while he’s in the middle retorting back, he feels something on his cheek. He goes mute, words dying in his throat, his mind slowly processing what just occurred. Then he turns to you only for him to find your ears completely dyed, fidgeting nonstop and playing with the hem of the sweater. The moments get ruined from laughter but he eventually does your cheek back, telling you it’s his way of getting back at you with a stained pair of his own when no one looks. Or so he thought, which leads to round three of arguing to start.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin dc #red robin x reader #duke thomas #duke thomas x reader #dc signal #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #dc x reader

291 notes · View notes

wonderjanga · 3 days ago

Text

Little Billy the Assistant

Zatanna was looking for the Champion. She’d wanted to ask for his help procuring an ingredient for a potion. All she expected was a short trip and maybe adventure. What she didn’t expect was running into a magically gifted orphan homeless looking kid.

Zatanna: *takes a detour a cramped street with a bunch of stalls selling stuff*

Billy: *ahead of her, heads to a gate leading to an alley, looks around for a bit before literally melting the lock off*

Zatanna: *sees this and stares*

Billy: *casts one more glance back before nearly feeling his soul leave his body at the sight of her looking at him*

He looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Zatanna thought he was scared because he got caught by someone using magic in public. Billy was actually scared because she saw his civilian form do magic. Because what if she connected it back to Cap or something?!

Anyways, they made an uncomfortable amount of eye contact from across the street before Billy bolted into the alley. She tried to follow, but the crowd of the cramped street kept getting in her way, and by the time she got to the alley he was gone. Having lost him, she decided to ask Cap about the little boy about a week later when they were both at the Watchtower after he’d helped her find the ingredient she’d wanted. As for why it took a week for her to find him and ask for help? Billy had been avoiding her. Anyways…

Zatanna: “Cap, have you seen this little kid running around?”

Marvel: *immediately knew she was probably talking about him* “You’re going to have to be more specific than that Zatanna.”

Zatanna: “Okay… this little blue eyed black haired short little thing, maybe nine or 10-”

Marvel: *a little offended because he’s 12*

Zatanna: “-I saw him do magic the other day so he’s magical too. You know anything about him?”

Marvel: “Maybe? Why do you care about him?”

Zatanna: “Because recently I’ve had this idea of maybe having a little stage assistant.”

Marvel: “I thought you said you never wanted to share the spotlight or something?”

Zatanna: “That is true, but he was adorable! And I’m pretty sure he was also homeless.”

Marvel: *doesn’t know how to feel about being called adorable* “So…?”

Zatanna: “So he’d become my assistant and learn how to do his magic better since I doubt he has a teacher if I’m right about him being homeless. There’s also the added bonus of earning money which will benefit whether or not he actually is homeless.”

Marvel: *was prepared to say yes as soon as he heard money* “I’ll talk to him about it.”

Zatanna: “Oh? So you do know him.”

Marvel: “Maybe.”

Zatanna: “Maybe?”

Marvel: “Maybe. By the way, I’m pretty sure that kid you’re talking about has a job as a radio show host so he might not accept your offer if it conflicts with his schedule.”

Zatanna: “Radio show host? That’s a little retro, no? Buuuuuut… if he’s a show host, that at least means he has some pizzazz, so he could probably be good on stage too! As for the schedule thing, I mostly do night shows so he should be good.”

Billy mulled over this decision for many(two) days before deciding he’d accept her offer. As Cap, he told her to meet Billy at a popular street.

Billy: *waiting near a fountain and contemplating every decision he made up until his*

Zatanna: “Ah, it’s you! I assume Cap told you about my offer?”

Billy: “Yes? Could we uh… talk more about what the job would be like?”

Zatanna: “Of course! But first, let’s get some food in you.”

Billy: “What? Why?”

Zatanna: “Bud, you’re practically skin and bones.”

Billy: “Oh.” *sounds upset*

Zatanna: “Hey, hey, hey! No need to get upset! Try to think of the positives! I’m getting you food!”

They went to a little diner and ate while discussing all the things. What his job as an assistant would be, his pay, and so on.

Zatanna: “You sure know how to talk business, little guy.”

Billy: “Thank you…?” *sounds confused*

Zatanna: “I meant that in a good way.”

Billy: “Oh. Thanks then.” *smiles*

Zatanna: *just barely resists the urge to pinch his cheeks*

Zatanna stand by the fact that this kid was, in fact, incredibly adorable. Such a cutie honestly. And he’s such a sweetheart, too. After this meeting, they met up a couple more times, so Billy could rehearse being her assistant before he actually went on stage. Then the day came that he finally had to do his job…

Billy and Zatanna: *standing behind a curtain on stage*

Billy: “Uhm… Ms. Zatanna?”

Zatanna: “Yes?”

Billy: “What happens if I’m not good at being an assistant?”

Zatanna: *pauses to think* “Well, you’d stop, but I’d still continue trying to help you with your magic.”

Billy: “You mean that?” *just happy she wouldn’t immediately kick him to the curb*

Zatanna: “Of course.” *again has to resist pinching his cheeks*

The curtains soon opened after that conversation. The show must go on!

I’ll leave it up to you guys on whether he did good or not.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #zatanna #zantanna zatara

329 notes · View notes

rafesweetie · 4 hours ago

Note

rafe accidentally making a habit out of slapping bsf!readers ass and it becomes normal for them but he does it at a party or smth and nobody else thinks it's normal

ugh yes like it’s literally a goonfest between those two and everybody has to take a second look!!! im imagining s1 rafe here.. and his annoying friends… yummy!

rafe and you had a special bond, as you put it. truthfully, you were always a bit hazy anyway, eyebrows often furrowed in confusion when rafe’s discussing his business to you, or asking him to look things up for you. you wouldn’t call yourself stupid — just easily confused and sometimes unsure. so that’s where bsf!rafe comes in. he swooped into your life before you knew it, instantly attaching himself to the pretty girl who must need her knight in shining armor. you weren’t really sure how you got so close, but it happened.

it was innocent, for the most part. and i say that wholeheartedly. movie nights at your place, helping him babysit younger wheezie, going for ice cream. you didn’t act romantic, he was just like your bodyguard. well — your overly touchy bodyguard. his hands often found his way on your body to guide you through crowds and lead you places or simply hold you close when you were tired.

whenever you’d go somewhere without him, parting ways in your houses to get a drink and whatnot, he’d playfully slap your ass to shoo you away. it was meant ‘innocently’, or so you thought, but he did secretly love feeling it for the brief seconds he’d touch it.

rafe decided to make the brave decision of inviting you to one of kelce’s parties. you’ve been hanging off his arm the entire time, which earns some glances and whispers of ‘is that is girlfriend?’, only for the rumours to fizzle out when he’d be touching another girls waist whenever you were gone to the washroom.

sitting beside him while he deals coke on the low, he keeps his bicep around your shoulders as you chat up the people who want coke, because your sweet personality attracts business for your friend.

after about half an hour, you’re pawing at his salmon coloured polo and telling him that you’re gonna go get a drink. normally, he’d come with you, but he was in the middle of pouring a line for a girl with eyelashes that are falling off of the corners of her eye, so he just nods.

with a pat of your ass when you get up, sticking his hand up your skirt a little bit before you walk away, he barely notices all the confused stares in his direction. that is, until kelce is patting his back, saying, “bro! you finally bagged her, huh?”

he blinks. “the fuck d’you mean?”

“c’mon, man, smacking her little ass,”

“oh. no, we’re just friends, bro, just a.. habit, or whatever,”

topper chimes in. “dude, you don’t do that to friends. what, you hook up on the low or something? s’not normal to smack a friends ass, man,”

“me next, rafe?” kelce laughs.

“hey — bro, she’s coming, be chill,” rafe shoves his friends.

you come back and sit beside rafe again, blinking up at his annoyed face. “what?”

“no, nothing y/n, s’all good,”

“yo, y/n,” topper’s hand lands on your knee to get your attention and rafe pulls it off without thinking. “rafe smacks your ass, huh? think it’s normal?”

“gonna beat you with a golf club, man,” rafe mutters as you nod your head.

“yeah, why? he’s just teasing,”

topper and kelce laugh and you’re not sure why. all you can hope is that rafe doesn’t stop doing it anytime soon.

#౨ৎ isa writes #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron prompt

200 notes · View notes

wetpussyju1ce · 3 days ago

Text

the smallest Omega in town takes on the biggest Alpha.

+18 mdni

Alpha!König x Omega!fem reader

note: reader is described as skinny. small wrists and bony knees. shorter than the 141.

John's pack was known to be extremely loyal and fiercely protective over each other. They were nice though, friendly and liked to mingle with other packs and families in the village.

They were also extremely close to each other and in tune with each other's needs. And that's how the pack found out that König, their big, awkward Alpha, needed a bit of help when it came to ruts.

He usually spends them alone, much to his packs disagreement over those arrangements because it can't be good for you, it can't! Then they decided to take matters into their own hands and try to find König a rut partner. It was a very serious matter for them, they coaxed König out of details and descriptions about what he likes. They know he doesn't really have a preference if they're Alpha, Omega or Beta. So that's a good start.

He likes them pretty, soft around the edges and smaller than him, which could be literally anyone in the whole village considering his sheer size.

And that was about it.

So Johnny, Kyle, Simon and John went to work. Looking for willing unmated wolves to spend König's ruts w him. Surprisingly it was easy to find willing partners, they know König, have seen him around and the idea of being impaled on his knot was attractive to quite a few of them.

But the real problem started when König asked for a try-out, before his rut hits, because he knows that a knot of his size could be considered a weapon. And he doesn't want to feel the rejection and hurt during his rut when he realises his partner can't take him, or are scared of hurting.

So they accepted, all of them, pretty Alphas, shy Omegas and tiny Betas.

And it didn't go well, they all believed it could be achievable, like how big can he really be? Body-horror big, apparently because what the fuck.

Oh and König knew to anticipate this. The gods made a joke out of him when building him in his mother's womb. They gave him everything it was to be a perfect Alpha, and gave him the biggest knot that no Omega, or Alphsa/Beta could take. It was ridiculous.

He lost hope and decided to busy himself with rut preparations, stocking up one of their many cottages deep in the forest, away from everyone.

His pack was sad for their sweet Alpha, it pulled at their heart to smell his upset scent. he scented sad and defeated and they really wanted to try harder, to make it all better.

it got to a point where they had no idea what more could they do because obviously nobody could take his knot without causing themselves injuries. and their Alpha can't be alone forever, surely??? I mean, that's a bit dramatic but he obviously craved that type of connection and bond with someone. he can't knot his fist and someone's thighs, forever, it wasnt enough!

and when all hope seemed lost their doorbell rang.

and there she was. the tiniest Omega they've ever seen. well, she wasnt that small, but compared to them, she sure as hell was, dainty and skinny too, bony knees and tiny wrists. she was standing there, wearing a pair of shorts, boots and a t-shirt under a flannel, she looked like she just finished gardening, dirt stuck to her knees and caking her boots.

"Hello?" Simon greeted, confused.

"Is König in?" She asked, looking up at the taller man.

"No, why?" Simon raised a brow.

"Oh and I'm here for the rut partner try-out, thing. if that's still happening." She said, shrugging, all casual.

Simon's mind screeched to a stop, did she say try-outs?? is that how everyone in the village saw it as?? what in the hell??

"What the hell are you talking about?" Simon said, utterly confused.

"What? Did he find someone?" She tilted her head to the side, confused.

"No, no-- Just, what makes you think you can take his knot? You're fucking tiny." Simon went straight to the point.

She smiled, kind and unbothered, "I know he's big, I heard all sorts of things, but I believe I can help, and if it works, I'd also like an arrangement out of it, a heat partner if he'd be willing."

Simon feels like he should slam the door on her face. Just to save her guts from absolute and sure destruction by König's cock because no way in hell would she be able to take him. but then the Omega looks sure of herself. not cocky. just looks friendly and honest and she looks ready to help.

Simon maybe should have asked her to save her guts and go away but he doesn't. he let's her in, not knowing that she has spent years of her heats trying to shove as much of her toys inside her as possible. she doesn't even mention the fact that she ends up fisting her cunt every heat cycle. or when she has a heat partner w a knot, that knot ends up inside her alongside a toy at the same time.

the Omega ends up meeting König, says she would like to help. he disagrees at first because he's not in the mood to take her to the hospital, he really really doesn't want to hurt her. but then she begs him to trust her w the sweetest face he's ever seen, lets him scent honesty all over her and he agrees to give her a chance.

König n the Omega end up talking abt gardening and the sellers at the market and the prices these days. they quickly bond over growing vegetables and their shared dislike for that one guy that sells strawberries and swears that they're that naturally huge (and they're not even sweet, what the hell??)

they agree on a date, and a time, they would try to see how it goes before König's rut hits, and if everything goes alright, they'll spend it together.

when they meet, König's weary, she's not, calm and happy as a clam. she asks him to trust her, and it starts off easy, she holds his hands and König shivers because his are literally giant mitts compared to hers. she sweet talks him into relaxing, she sits on his lap and they start talking a little, then she goes ahead and kisses him and he realises very quickly that he likes that, he really does, her lips taste sweet and her scent is so sweet and delicious.

König's alpha quickly realises that this may actually work and he gets excited in record time, tents his trousers and gets his mouth on her tits, it takes no time for her to start leaking like a broken faucet. König's hand are slippery between her legs and he's about to pass out at the intensity of it all. she's everywhere around him and all he can do is suck on her breasts and purr.

then he gets a finger inside her tight and warm hole. it's wet and feels soft. then another goes next. and another. all the while she's making all sorts of noises, clawing at him, and the more fingers he can push inside her the more he's awed and amazed because for someone so tiny and fragile, she sure as hell can take so much inside her.

König wants a better view so he gets her on the bed, laying on her back and absolutely hammers his fingers inside her cunt, watching her stomach bulge everytime he drives his fingers in.

he's about to lose his mind at the sight alone, and then she cries, squeals and squirts all over his hand and arm.

König then gathers her in his arms, chest to chest, gets his arms under her legs, as they're pressed against her body, practically folding her in half, carrying all of her weight in his massive arms like she was just a doll to him, and finally dips the head of his cock between her pussy lips. he starts to push further in and she's moaning, clawing at his neck, he gets halfway in and he's sweating bullets because she's so tight and she's pulsing around him and yet, he knows she can take more. and he was right because he keeps dropping her on his length until it's all inside, to the root, and she wails, comes again, shaking in his arms and König is losing his mind, his knot swelling in record time. when he comes, he's dizzy and he's heaving like he ran a marathon and he hasn't even thrusted inside of her just yet.

they make all sorts of noises when fucking. it's animalistic. König sounds like he's about to pass out and the Omega sounds like that's what she's been waiting for all of her life. It was filthy, intense and so fucking loud that when Gaz was sent to check on them, as they used one of the many cottages John's pack owns, the moment the smell hits his nose, he freezes and turns back around, he does not want to be anywhere near them if that's how potent their combined scent is.

at least he knows they're having a great time. so he goes back, well, more like runs back to the house, a little bit scared and excited because finally their Alpha got to knot someone!

and when all that's said and done, and the Omega and alpha come back to the shared house the next day. König is out of it, nothing but statics behind his eyes while the Omega looks content, eats everything she's offered by König's pack, starved. but winces once in a while when she moves in a certain way. she scents happy, and König scents confused but content nonetheless. and that's everything his pack wished for.

#fanfiction #18+ mdni #fanfic #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig x you #könig x y/n #konig cod #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig x you #konig mw2 #cod mw2 smut

239 notes · View notes

cvnntagious · 6 hours ago

Text

˗ˏˋ pornstar!chris films with someone new ‧₊˚

꒰part two ✩꒱ (coming soon)

creeping into chris' condo as quiet as possible with a wrapped gift in hand, a large smile took up most of your face at the thought of him opening it. though, the more you explored the area, the more discouraged you got before eventually giving up with a loud sigh at the realization that he wasn't home. but then, where was he? he always told you when he was going to be out, but today? he didn't even so much as leave you a text.

if not for chris updating you on his whereabouts becoming routine, you truthfully would've thought nothing of his sudden absence, but with a confused look on your face, you found yourself setting his christmas present on the coffee table in front of you to plop down onto his couch. you slipped your phone out of your back pocket, instantly typing away at it.

it was simple and straight to the point, leaving no room for confusion; you'd never been the type to beat around the bush. you weren't upset, really—more like confused, is all. and you waited. sitting idly on his couch as you waited for that little 'delivered' alert to turn into 'read'.

it didn't.

not for a while, at least. you ended up leaving his house only about half an hour after you sent the message, seeing no reason in just sitting there overthinking it. but you still did. going on about your day, trying to distract yourself from that nagging voice in the back of your brain that whispered 'where's chris at? what's he doing?' and 'you're not special. he got bored of you, silly,' at any moment you weren't occupying your mind with something else.

you knew you were probably overreacting; being dramatic in a way chris wouldn't like if he could hear your thoughts. i mean, it's not even like you'd be that upset if he had gotten tired of you. he was only some good dick and a person to keep you company... every single day for the past month. shit, you needed to know. picking up your phone in a swift motion as you now sat on your own couch, having tried to watch a show as means to keep your mind off chris, you checked your notifications in hopes that you'd missed his text.

but something new caught your eye.

a notification from chris' twitter, far different than anything you'd imagined throughout the day. of course you clicked it, a small breath of relief coming from you as you'd immediately told yourself he must've been busy with his executives. oh, he was busy alright.

your eyebrows raised at the sight before you: a short clip of chris plowing into some blonde with big tits, her moaning and whining in such a forced way. he was grabbing and squeezing at them. i mean, shit, he wasn’t even a boobs guy. it was so unlike him, completely disregarding his original intent for his content—keep it authentic. the caption only contained the hub link, telling his fans to watch the full video there.

dread sounds about right. a look of dread spread across your face, as if you'd just witnessed your worst fear. except it wasn't your worst fear. at least you didn't think it was, until now.

without thinking, you found yourself in chris' messages again, seeing the 'delivered' alert still there like a taunt. it was a slap in the face, really. not even the fact that he'd went and filmed with someone else, but the way he'd so clearly purposely failed to give you any type of warning.

once you'd sent the message, seeing the little text below your blue message change to 'read' instantly, it all suddenly felt pointless — all the worrying throughout the day, the dread you felt when you watched the short clip chris posted, the hurt when you saw he ignored your message, and now, even the message you literally just sent to him.

w/c : 645

a/n : i'm gonna try to bust these out the best i can, but y'all might have to bare w me cs i'm proly the worlds slowest writer... this may overlap with the au calendar as well, so to be clear, this isn't my priority. if i have to postpone parts of this to keep up with the prompts, i will. that being said, hope you guys enjoy my first multi-part tumblr fic <3.

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

157 notes · View notes

beuxwhoyouare · 2 days ago

Text

Escaping Holiday Responsibilities

You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and all the boys. And who can forget about singing Hanerot Halalu after lighting the menorah. There’s symbols and entities representing all of the holidays. But outside of the season we enjoy our peace and quiet. Sometimes though a season is so rough you can’t really blame an entity for wanting to get away.

I may or may not be Santa Claus. I’d say the best perk about the gig is that when the time comes you’re almost guided to your successor who then dons the classic look. So it’s a give and take. I mean having the power to fulfill lists of gifts you desire is great, but acquiring the look of a tubby bearded old man isn’t all that. The coolest thing though is you may not know it, but just because you don’t write a list doesn’t mean you don’t have holiday desires. I can still deliver gifts based on the list you make in your hearts. Cute as hell right? I’m basically a mind reader!

Before all this Claus business, I was unemployed and recently divorced when I received the call to step into the good ol boots. So a gig is a gig. I took it and ran, but that was like 30 years ago. So now once I retire I’m actually gonna look old and ragged.

So there I was last night delivering gifts at this random place in Chicago. Doing my best to stay quiet, delivering gifts as low key as possible when CRAAAAAACK! I stepped on a large glass ornament I somehow missed. I thought I was in the clear after no one came to check what happened and as I headed on my way out a baseball bat swung at my head.

I took the hit like a champ but when I turned around to see I saw a man standing there in black sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt with the bat ready to swing again.

“Ho ho hey hey wait. I’m literally Santa.” I whisper yelled while showing snowy crystals come out of my glove.

Right as he began to swing again I pulled more tricks out of my hat.

“I know your name is Russell O’Connor. You got a gunmetal tricycle as a 4 year old because you thought the red ones the store had were tacky and wanted to look tough!”

That’s when he stopped mid-swing.

“How-how did you know that pervert? Have you been watching me for years?”

I began to hear his inner list….a young man now in his mid-20s regretting his life decisions to get a girl knocked up as a teen? Interesting. He desires to get away from the so-called mess he made.

“I can offer you a way out of the mess you made. If that’s what your true hearts wish is this Christmas?!” I pleaded to not be beaten once again.

“How do you know what I want freak?”

“Bro I’m Santa, I know when you’ve been like bad or good and whatever. Listen do you want to get away from the mess you made or what?”

“Yes okay but like how are you going to do it? You’re not going to kill me or anything?”

“Honestly no one’s really ever wished for this so I gotta be able to do it somehow. That’s the Santa magic!”

“Okay let’s go for it. Do it! Get me out of here!”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my gloved hands together and then pulled them apart. As I pulled them apart a spark started forming but I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I tried to hold it steady but before I knew it, the spark grew too wild to control. The energy then turned white and exploded.

There was a ringing and we both yelled but then black.

When I woke up I found myself pushing up from a bed? That’s weird I don’t remember finishing all my deliveries. I reached up to scratch my beard but instead of my long luscious white beard a more close shaved beard grazed my hand. Wait where are my gloves? And my beard?

I looked down at the bed I didn’t recognize before looking back up to walk over to a nearby restroom with the night light on. The dim glow painted a picture I couldn’t believe. Surely I’m dreaming?

I fumbled around the foreign room before locating the light switch, only to have the bright lights confirm what I was seeing. I raised both arms and posed….

“No fucking way!?” The cursing surprised me, being a Claus the job prevents your mouth from ever even forming a curse word.

I’m Russell? But the Santa step down process just returns you to your normal self not swaps you with someone? How did this? Could my desires have matched with his conflicting my magics intent?

I lifted the shirt barely hiding anything of my new body I now resided in. Woah…I wasn’t much of a gym person in my former life but maybe there’s reason to be. I mean look at this beef? I reached my muscular hand up to my new proud chest and squeezed. Ahhh grazing my new nipple I revealed a new found sensitivity I never previously had. Looks like that’s going to be fun, I nearly salivated.

I can do adult things again and live a life again! No more having to spend months working to achieve someone else’s dreams. Or maybe I’ll fulfill other dirtiest dreams. I mean this body should go to work somehow.

I’m sure OnlyFans would love to see how thick I am everywhere. It’s time to be a family man settle down the right way and make a good living by selling the best gift I’ve ever given myself.

My new tool hardening nearly pulling down my sweatpants waistband itself. I grabbed it before taking a peak at my new equipment. Ohhhhh looks like I’ll still be delivering gifts to quite a few people in different ways with this beer can.

#identity theft #gay #male body swap #body swap #male body switch

123 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 10 hours ago

Text

Live Stream

Sylus x gn!streamer!Reader

Based on a prompt from @syluspen that took me WAY TOO LONG to get around to. This is actually a compilation of all the little things I started for it but never really finished. So, uh, enjoy

Warnings: fluff, silly, established relationship, video games

Word Count: 909

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The first time was an accident, really. He didn't realize you were in the middle of streaming for how quiet you were being and came in to ask you what you wanted for dinner.

From that point on, Sylus was the most anticipated part of every livestream.

You didn't mind it. You love your man, love that he chooses to interrupt even when he knows you are streaming just to bring you a drink or give you a quick kiss just to let you know he's home from "work". You're always a little worried someone will recognize him. Thankfully, no one has so far, and hopefully it stays that way.

The chat's screaming is your only warning before arms wrap around you from behind and Sylus's chin is resting on your shoulder. You lean back into him easily, beaming as you pause in your gaming, letting it sit on a dialogue box, waiting to be read.

"Did you just get home?"

"Mhm." He playfully brushes this side of your headphones back with his nose, exposing your ear and kissing your sideburn. "What are you playing?"

"Dream Daddy." You laugh at the odd look he gives you. You circle your mouse over your avatar in the corner. "Aren't I cute? Think you'd still date me if I look like this?"

He huffs a laugh. "Sweetie, if I would still date you if you were a worm, I would still date you if you were a guy."

The chat is zooming by quickly on the secondary monitor he bought you. A lot of people scream about him being "bisexual confirmed?!?!!" He pays them no mind.

"Is it a dating sim?" he asks.

You nod, turning your head to kiss his cheek. "Awe, guys, he's learning!"

"Any good dating options?" he asks playfully. "My current partner keeps teasing me; I may need to browse some new options."

You laugh and he chuckles by your ear, squeezing you tighter in ardent affection. You open up a browser to pull up a picture of all the love interests lined up. You explain each one to him while he listens patiently.

"Which one are you going for right now?"

"Guess."

He hums thoughtfully. "Robert?"

"Got it in one."

"Well, he's the most like me."

??? Is he a cryptid hunter too????

literally look nothin alike how tf

Istg this guy is in some shady business...

You flip back over to the game. He can tell now that one of the other love interests is who you're talking to. You turn your head so you can whisper in his ear. "You alright?"

He hums again with a small nod. "Just tired. Don't worry, sweetheart."

"Let me finish this up and we can go to bed, okay?" You kiss his cheek to cement your promise. He lifts his chin from your shoulder and kisses your forehead. "I'll only be a minute."

"Take your time." He kisses your forehead again for good measure. "Have fun, sweetie." His arms slide from their place around you as he heads toward the door.

Sylus loves watching you like this. Usually, he would wait somewhere else in a manor, tending to product for buyers or going over contracts. Tonight, however, you'd promised your viewers that you would play a horror game, and you needed him there in the room as moral support.

Which meant he got to tend to his guns (being off-camera as it were) and watch you panic over a haunted bear that wanted to kill you.

"Fuck fuck fuck, where's Bonnie?!" You jump with a startled cry, nearly flinging your headphones off from the fright. You lean back into your chair, hands on your head, as you read chat and try to calm your racing heart.

"You alright, sweetie?" he calls, trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

You're either too dazed to notice it or ignoring it altogether as you hum noncommittally. "The rabbit got me," you murmur.

The chats start flooding in out of nowhere. A few donations, a lot of screaming...

"Oh, I forgot to tell you guys that my partner is here for moral support." You giggle breathlessly. You look over at him with a smile. "They got jumpscared by your voice."

He chuckles. "I suppose I should be flattered to be on par with the monsters in your game."

Headcanons:

He supports your streaming without hesitation

Top of the line monitors, ergonomic chairs, cat ear headphones - name it and it's yours

But he doesn't show up during your streams very often

Really you're the one who insisted he stay out of sight, given his work and the possibility that someone may just recognize him

He likes to play your livestreams in the background while he works

When you excitedly ramble to him about what happened later, he already knows, but he loves to hear it from you

If you mention craving something, he's there after a bit with exactly what you wanted, whether it's a drink or a snack

Understands completely if you don't want to eat on camera, and just saves it for you for after

Maybe sticks his head into the room to show you what he got, or messages you saying it's waiting on the table

Very very rarely is he ever in the room while you stream, but it does happen

He scared your viewers when he suddenly spoke up from the sidelines

They thought he broke in or something

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

69 notes · View notes

acciofictionalmen · 13 hours ago

Text

fallout in the snowfall ❆ part 4

james potter x female!reader

summary: when james kisses you on an adrenaline high, your friendship is in shambles as the true meaning of "just friends" becomes irreparably warped. you both desperately try to restore the platonic bond that you once shared, but at what cost...

warnings: strong language, sexual references

word count: 2k

series masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

A winter chill hung in the air as you and Gideon strolled across the Hogwarts grounds. So far you'd visited the black lake, which had frozen over in the cold, and the Greenhouse: where Gideon had tried to break off a rose for you but got caught by Professor Sprout.

Despite the abundance of warm layers you were wearing, the cold caused your teeth to chatter and you buried your hands deeper into your coat pockets. Gideon was in his element: describing past antics with his brother, Fabian, funny Quidditch stories and other tales. You smiled and nodded along, letting out the occasional laugh and hum of agreement.

Gideon placed a hand on your arm, veering you to the right as you turned away from the black lake and began the slow ascension to the castle. Any trace of snow had melted- only grey slush remained. You hoped that wouldn’t be the last of the snowfall that year.

“And what about you?” He asked.

You blinked at the conversation’s abrupt redirection. “What about me?” You laughed, a mist of cold vapour mingling in the air whenever you exhaled.

Gideon’s hand hadn’t left your arm, and he took the opportunity to pull you closer, “Tell me about…”

You waited patiently for him to continue, when you noticed he was distracted. Something ahead had caught his attention and you followed his eyeline.

A bench near the castle’s entrance. With two Gryffindor boys.

Gideon’s grip on your arm tightened as you neared them. Your eyes scanned for any alternate routes, but they were quite literally sat by the castle’s entrance. James and Sirius had noticed you by now.

In a desperate attempt to get his attention off the two boys, you tried to distract him, ‘“Have you seen Hagrid’s garden yet? It’s really special he’s put a lot of effort in this year-”

“Potter.” Gideon addressed James as you passed them, his voice low, unfriendly.

James looked up and his eyes instantly fell to your interlinked arms. You silently prayed to Merlin that he wouldn’t say something provocative. After last night, when you’d both said such horrible things, you couldn’t put it past him. You wondered whether after your argument he’d dwelled on every word, picked apart every tense movement, just like you had.

Both boys disliked each other now, and after James’ DADA stunt, you didn’t think any pleasantries would be recoverable. In his defence, James had apologised to Gideon afterwards. It wasn’t anything special, but an apology nonetheless. You hoped they’d just be able to put it behind them now.

A moment passed and you gently began to pull Gideon away, relieved that he’d chosen to take the high road.

But James wasn’t about to let it go, “Enjoying your… walk?”

After Mary’s lack of discretion the previous evening, James knew full well that you were on a date. He was pulling Gideon’s strings, messing with him to get a reaction.

You glared at James. He didn’t look at you.

“We’re on a date.” Gideon responded, defensively. Sirius smirked, but he continued. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Your cheeks warmed and you shot Sirius a warning look, his smirk softening slightly. Sirius was still a good friend of yours, and he knew he’d get an earful later if he instigated anything.

“Let’s just go.” You tugged Gideon’s arm again, frustrated that he wouldn’t just leave with you.

He seemed to relent a little, finally turning away from them.

You counted the steps as you neared the castle entrance.

You hadn’t even made it to step four when Gideon suddenly spun around, leaving your side as he stormed towards James. Your eyes widened as you rushed to him, begging him to leave it, to drop it. He ignored you.

James had already stood up, and you realised in horror that Gideon had drawn his wand. James had no choice but to do the same, maintaining that look of self-assurance that he knew would drive Gideon crazy. Sirius lazed on the bench, but his expression was alert- prepared to intervene if his best friend needed help.

Both boys assessed each other, and James smirked.

“Gideon please, leave it.” Your voice was firm, laced with anger.

Gideon’s face grew visibly red. “Rematch, Potter?”

You turned to James, who was finally looking at you.

“James...” You pleaded, your own wand drawn as you watched them warily.

James opened his mouth, about to reply.

“Flipendo.”

In a flash James slammed into the edge of the bench, groaning as his back made contact with the edge. Sirius got to his feet instantly and Gideon raised his wand, prepared to cast another spell.

“Expelliarmus.” Both boys’ wands flew into your hand.

They turned to face you, James standing up with a groan as he rubbed his back.

Your anger was blinding, humiliation and disappointment overwhelming you as your hand gripping their wands shook. “Selfish, arrogant bastards.”

James had the sense to look ashamed, eyes only on you and shining with regret.

“Now we’re even, Potter.” Gideon spat, snatching his wand from your hand and storming back to the castle.

You stood there, the silence uncomfortable. Sirius left the two of you alone.

Your face crumpled and you screwed your eyes shut, swaying slightly as you repressed tears, trying to calm the frustration that threatened to consume you.

Two arms wrapped around you and James pulled you into his chest. You allowed yourself to linger in his arms, just for a second, before gently pushing him away.

“Just go.” Your voice broke, the wind picking up as your hair whipped around your face.

James reluctantly took his wand. He watched you for a second.

“What?” You asked, sighing.

James frowned, “Why are you spending time with him?”

You turned to leave, but James caught your arm.

“No, genuinely. Tell me.” His voice was sincere enough that you faced him again.

“Just leave it, James.” Your answer was elusive and one that you knew would frustrate him.

The excessive wealth of James’ family meant his parents had given him everything growing up- without the threat of losing it. Now that he was losing you, he didn’t know how to react.

James was stubborn, but he also knew you were too. Deep in thought, he left.

Then you were alone, sighing as you tucked your wand away. Tears spilled, hot against the coolness of your cheeks. You didn’t know what you were doing anymore, caught up in a hug that you’d pulled away from and a boy who’d just disrupted your first date.

You took the long way back to the castle, waving at Hagrid as you passed, so that by the time you reached the castle it was past curfew.

It was dark, and you used the moonlight to guide you. Your steps were light and you were anxious about getting caught: Filch had been especially ruthless with his punishments since the start of term. You believed it was because the Marauders would be leaving Hogwarts in less than two years now, and he was expecting them to go out in multiple bangs.

You had almost reached the Fat Lady’s portrait when, by the lack of singing, you realised she must be in a deep slumber. You internally groaned, knowing she’d make a right fuss when you’d have to wake her up.

The entrance to the common room was a few metres away when you heard a loud meow to the right of the portrait.

Your heart sunk. There was no way you could say the password and get into the common room on time- wherever Mrs Norris was, you could trust Filch to be a few steps behind.

Looking around wildly you tried to find a place to hide, but there were only solid walls, and no corners to hide in.

“Psst.”

You jumped at the sound, spinning as you tried to find where the noise had come from whilst also painfully conscious that if Mrs Norris was here, it wouldn’t be long until Filch was, too.

Before you could shriek something was thrown over your head, and a hand clamped over your mouth. The material thrown over your head shimmered mystically, in a way you swore was familiar. You had an idea of who this was. Twisting around, you relaxed slightly. James.

Loose strands of black hair hung over his forehead, casting tall shadows across his face. James’ hand was still over your mouth as he pushed himself against the stone wall, pulling you into him so that your chest was flush against his front. He then wrapped a large hand around your waist. The proximity was killing you, your foreheads one breath away from brushing. You saw your reflection in his glasses, your wide eyes and pink cheeks. The sight was unsettling and you diverted your eyes.

James' fingers pressed a little more into your waist, causing you to look up again. He was looking at you. Your eyes widened as you stared into his, chest rising and falling from the adrenaline. You noted his expression - slightly taken aback - strange, for James Potter, who was always assured in himself and his knowledge.

You tried to speak, to question him, to ask what was going on, but his palm only tightened. He shook his head.

“Mrs Norris? That you?” Filch. You tensed.

A light appeared, and the realisation quickly dawned on you.

You angled your head, watching as Filch appeared, lamp swaying precariously in his hand as he followed Mrs Norris. Her yellow eyes luminescent, fixated on you. Instinctively you pushed yourself further into James, missing the way his breath hitched.

Filch neared until he was so close that you could see the yellow of his teeth and the menacing curl of his lips.

It hadn’t taken long to realise you were under James’ invisibility cloak, but if Filch came any closer he would surely hear you.

Filch stepped forwards, raising his light as he inspected you- or more so, the wall you were invisible in front of.

You recoiled, accidentally stepping on James’ foot.

James yelped.

Mrs Norris hissed.

And then you were legging it down the hallway, invisibility cloak bundled under James’ arm as you sprinted- the Hogwarts caretaker exclaiming loudly, his lamp violently swinging side to side and causing light to bounce all over the corridor. James was much faster so you immediately reached for his hand, allowing him to pull you. His hand clasped yours firmly as you ran down numerous corridors and various narrow flights of stairs until Mrs Norris wasn’t hot on your tail anymore. Your thighs were burning by the time you came to a halt, Filch’s yells sounding much more distant. It took a second for you to realise exactly where you were.

“Isn’t this,” you panted, out of breath, “the Hufflepuff Common Room?”

“Close,” James didn’t loosen his hold on your hand as you tried to catch your breath, he nodded to the door you were stood in front of, “This is the entrance to the kitchens.”

”Wait,” you stopped him, “what were you doing earlier outside the Gryffindor Common Room anyway?”

James examined you, before finally speaking, “I'd left to look for you. You hadn’t returned from..”

“Oh.”

Your heavy breathing calmed and an uncomfortable moment passed.

You took the time to properly take in your surroundings, realising that during your escape James really hadn’t been leading you through random corridors. You didn’t know what to make of that. The silence dragged for a moment too long, and you removed your hand from his.

But James didn’t look deterred. His expression was resolute.

You crossed your arms, peering around to double check that Mrs Norris wasn’t about to hurtle out the shadows. Once you were satisfied she wasn’t about to emerge spontaneously, you stared at the portrait of a bowl of fruit on the kitchen door. A late-night snack did sound appealing; your date with Gideon had been interrupted before you’d been able to go for dinner together.

James easily read your expression. “Hungry?”

Your look was answer enough and James grinned, satisfied to get his way.

A/N

merry christmas! if you celebrate, i hope your christmas was wonderful :)

please comment your thoughts as usual, and if you'd like to be added to the taglist just lmk ♡

series masterlist here ❆

taglist ♡

@pandoraswan @featherlightfairysworld @mus-tbe-a-weasley @hisparentsgallerryy @stanzie @wolfstar-jpg @fangirl-swagg @moonlightremblack @simp4myself @niniantics @froggiedragon @madevour @mayadisaster @sunflowerscloudydays @iloveremmy

#harry potter #hogwarts #sirius black #james potter #james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #remus lupin #the marauders era #gryffindor #slytherin #james potter x female!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #themarauders #mary macdonald #marauders era

54 notes · View notes

mishietishie · 2 days ago

Note

So you know how many of the jjk men like to tease…? Autistic reader who can’t tell they’re teasing pls 🙏🥺

Such a great concept, anon! I don't know much of autism, just that it's a spectrum, so I hope I've written this well! Also, I wasn't sure if you wanted a SMAU, so I'm just doing a regular thing <3!

JJK men x Autistic!reader

ft. Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro

TW: angst, hurt to comfort

pt. 1(?)

A/N: This isn't necesarilly autistic!reader coded, this can count for everybody! also i dunno if I'll make a second part, but we'll see.

Satoru Gojo

You were out with your boyfriend, Satoru, to a café in a more quiet part in Tokyo after a long business trip he had to take. He held your hand in his, fingers intertwining while sitting next to the other as you both looked at the menu to see what drinks and foods sparked your interest the most. You pointed at something on the menu, it was a pancake sandwhich shaped like a cat! It was absolutely adorable in your eyes, and you just had to show your boyfriend!

"Satoru, look! A pancake sandwhich shaped like a cat!"

The white haired sorcerer chuckled softly upon your excited chirping. He peered over your shoulder to see the food item that got you so excited. A little smirk formed on his lips as his sunglass-covered eyes scanned the picture

"A pancake sandwhich, huh? You're really lettin' yourself go, babycakes."

Satoru commented as he kissed your cheek. He didn't hold any malice in his tone, he was just teasing you. But to you, it felt like he thought you were gaining too much weight. You placed the menu card down, and got up. Mumbling you had to go to the bathroom. Satoru noticed the look in your eyes. But before he could ask anything, you already went to the restroom. Satoru decided to wait for you to come back, not thinking much of it. That was, until you were in the restroom for longer than usual, which made him grow concerned. He grabbed his phone, texting you.

"Mochi? What's taking so long?"

After a couple seconds, Satoru noticed you read his text, but you didn't reply. He knew you only left him on read if you were either multi-tasking or if you were mad at him. He assumed the latter.

Meanwhile, you were crying in the bathroom stall, thinking your boyfriend thought you were getting too fat for his liking. You tried to calm yourself down by playing with your rings, but it didn't help much. In the midst of your crying session, you could hear a familliar knock on the door of the women's restroom and a soft voice speaking from behind it.

"Honeybun? Are you there? Can you come out for me, please?"

You let out a shaky sigh, stepping out of the stall. You quickly washed your face and dried it with a paper towel before stepping out, avoiding your boyfriend's concerning gaze. He gently took your hand and lead you out of the cafe to a side alley before speaking

"What's wrong, sweetpea? Did something overwhelm you? You can talk with me, I'll listen"

Satoru stated, a soft smile on his lips as he tried to comfort you by rubbing a thumb over your knuckles, waiting patiently as you gathered the courage to voice your thoughts.

"Toru? Do you think I'm gaining too much weight for your liking?"

You avoided his widening gaze when the words fell from your lips. Satoru was silent for a second before speaking up, his voice soft

"What? Of course not, babycakes! You're perfect to me, so what makes ya think that?"

A lump you didn't know was in your throat got swallowed as a red blush crept on your cheeks from embarassment and endearment. Of course Satoru thought you were perfect, he always told you that. But his words just felt so mean to you..

"Well.. When we we're ordering and I showed you the pancake sandwhich, you said I was really letting myself go.."

Your boyfriend's blue eyes widened as guilt slowly filled them, he totally forgot that you had a hard time taking hints like sarcasm and teasing, taking things often too literally. He carefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you in a gentle embrace as he hid his face in your hair

"I'm so sorry, babycakes. I was just teasing you.. Didn't mean to make ya feel bad 'bout yourself.."

He mumbled, kissing the crown of your head. You hugged him back, sighing as you hid in his chest. You both stayed like that for a while until Satoru spoke up, a smile on his lips

"Cmon, babycakes. Let's go get those pancake sandwhiches. I'm starving"

It's save to say that Satoru would be trying his best to hold back his teasing comments for your own sake and self-esteem

Suguru Geto

Suguru walks after you in one of the bustling malls of Tokyo. Your boyfriend was internally disgusted by all the filfthy monkeys around you both, but he didn't let his distaste show. After all, today was supposed to be a fun shopping outing for the both of you since he has been preoccupied lately. Meanwhile, you happily gaze at the shop displays to see which shop you wanted to see first. Eventually, a cute display caught your eye. It was a beautiful layered dress with white frills at the edges. You headed towards the display and showed it to your raven-haired boyfriend

"Suguru, look how cute that dress is! Wouldn't it fit so well with my new shoes?"

Suguru switched his gaze from your beautiful face to the shopping display. He let out a soft huff, imagening you in that dress. It wasn't exactly your everyday style, but he knew you could make anything look good.

"Someone's feeling a little bold today, isn't she?"

Once those words left his mouth, you couldn't focus on what he was saying next. Did he think you wouldn't look good in it? Did he hate the dress? Was he making fun of it, of you??

Your racing thoughts distracted you from how he said you'd look good in it. Your feet simply dragged you away from the display. Suguru's eyebrows knitted together in concern as you suddenly left without a word. What happened? He couldn't tell. Your boyfriend wasted no time in following after you.

"Darling, what's wrong? I thought you said you liked the dress? Don't you want to get it?

He was met with silence, which he didn't like. He firmly grabbed your wrist, but still making sure not to hurt you.

"Sweetheart, I asked you something. The least you could do is answe-"

You suddenly pulled your hand out of his grip, telling him to leave you alone as you ran into the busy crowd. Suguru was concerned, what happened? Did he do something wrong? He honestly couldn't tell. When he tried following after you, he eventually lost you in the large crowd. Frustration and concern bubbled up inside him. The raven-haired cult leader sent out some of his smaller curses to search for you across the mall.

Meanwhile, you were infront of some sort of bookstore, panting heavily from how fast you were running. You felt like crying. Suguru's comment made you confused. He never said something like that to you, so it made you feel sad. You knew you shouldn't have just run off like that and give him an answer, but your emotions got a hold of you.

Still upset, you decided to head to a cafe across the bookstore and order yourself something to cheer yourself up. You sat on a sofa and ordered your favorite. A few minutes later, you got your drink and were about to enjoy it as much as you could until you noticed something out of the window.

It was one of Suguru's curses, jumping and pointing at you. In the distance, you could see Suguru approach. When he saw you through the cafe's window, he seemed relieved. Suguru flicked his wrist and the curse dissapeared as he made his way inside.

You sheepishly averted your gaze, your eyes filled with guilt. Suguru sat next to you and wrapped and arm around your waist, pulling you closer

"Oh, sweetheart. You're alright.."

His voice was filled with relief as he tenderly kissed your forehead before placing a hand on your soft cheek, his eyebrows still slightly furrowed.

"Why did you run away, love? What's going on? I wan't you to tell me the truth."

A sigh escaped your lips, averting your gaze as he cupped your face so tenderly. It made you feel bad about not telling him before.

"Well, when I showed you that dress, you said I was getting bold.. Do you think I'd look ugly with the dress, Sugu?"

Your boyfriend's eyebrows raised, realizing why you reacted like that so suddenly. He felt stupid now. He completely forgot you can't easily tell when someone's just teasing you.

"Oh, Y/N, I didn't mean it like that! I was just teasing you, I think you would look wonderful in that dress, my pretty girl."

Your cheeks reddened a little, feeling silly because of the way you reacted..

"I'm sorry, Sugu.. I should've told you earlier instead of acting so childish.."

Suguru smiled softly, kissing the top of your head while rubbing your back tenderly

"It's okay, pretty. 's not your fault." he mumbled, grabbing your hand in his.

"Let's go back to that store, and you can try out that dress to see for yourself how pretty you'll look, alright?"

And with a smile, you nodded. Quickly paying for your drink before walking hand-in-hand with Suguru to the shop. Guess this day will have a good end after all.

Toji Fushiguro

You and Toji had been dating for a while. You were aware of what he did, and that he wasn't always home because of it. But you didn't mind taking care of Megumi when he wasn't there, you loved the kid with your whole heart!

Today was one of those rare moments when Toji was home. Megumi was fast asleep and you two decided to have a cozy night in, watching TV. Though, you weren't really focused on the show in front of you, instead, you were talking Toji's ear off about a comic series you read with Megumi the other day. Toji listened to your every word, though it didn't look like he seemed interested, he was, really. He was happy whenever you and Megumi found something you both enjoyed, it made his heart swell despite the aloof exterior he always tried to keep.

Middle into your info-dumping session, Toji interrupted you

"Yeah, ma, sounds really interestin'. How 'bout we continue watching the movie, yeah?"

To Toji, it didn't feel like he said anything wrong, he just wanted you to also focus on the movie a little since you kept on asking him to see it. But to you it felt like he was dismissing your info-dumping. A seed of insecurity was planted into your head as the idea of Toji finding your constant chatting annoying gnawed at the back of your mind. So much to the point that you just zoned out.

Toji looked down at you, mindlessly staring into space. He waved a hand infront of you, but when you didn't react he called out to you

Eventually after the fifth time of him calling, you snapped out of your 'trance'. You looked up at Toji who seemed a little concerned

"Hey ma, y'r alright? You were kinda out of it just now"

You gulped, nodding your head while averting your eyes. You didn't feel so good, so you got up, saying you had to go to the bathroom.

Toji was a bit concerned, but he figured you just needed to wash your face or something.

So when you didn't come out the bathroom after 15 minutes, he got up and knocked on the door, being careful to not wake Megumi who was asleep down the hallway

"Everything good there, ma? You been there for a while now.."

Truth be told, everything was not good. You couldn't help overthinking about what he said, which lead to you subconsciously scratching your lower arms. You didn't hear Toji calling out for you until the door was suddenly kicked open.

There in the doorway stood Toji, who got onto his knees infront of you, holding your hands

"Hey, hey, ma. What's wrong, huh? Why y'r scratchin' yerself? Come on, talk to me, sweetheart."

You managed to look up at Toji, blinking a few times and taking some deep breaths before speaking

"It's.. It's just- God, Toji- do you think I'm.. annoying? That I.. talk too much?"

The raven haired man's eyebrows knitted together at that question, one of his hands went to caress your cheek with his thumb while the other still held your hand

"Hah? Course not, ma. What makes ya think that?"

You look down at your hands before looking back up at Toji. God, you felt so embarassed, and for what? You didn't know. You let out a shaky breath before replying

"Well.. When I was talking to you about the comics I read with Megumi the other day, it felt like you were dismissing me cause I talk to much.."

Toji let out a huff when you said that, though it wasn't one of annoyance. He gently wrapped his big arms around you, bringing you close

"I'm sorry, dollface. Didn't mean to make you feel that way. I love hearing ya talk, ma. But I wanted to have you focus on the movie 'cause you kept asking to see it with me."

That made your cheeks flush in embarassment, you hid your face into Toji's chest, mumbling apologies which earned you a gentle swat at the back of your head from Toji.

"Don't apologize, dollface. Now, how 'bout we watch the movie another time and you tell me all about those comics, yea?"

When Toji saw you nodding your head, he grinned and picked you up over his shoulder, which made you squeal in surprise. The assasin went to grab the doorknob, but then realized that he had kicked it down...

Guess you two will have to go door shopping tomorrow..

85 notes · View notes

tagsecretsanta · 2 days ago

Text

From @thalassastra

From @thalassastra to @niffler-gold

Prompt given:

1. Scott comfort. 2. After Jeff's return. 3. Scott finally getting the weight lifted of him (could be mentally or literally).

Would rather it just be focused on the brothers and dad not really any other characters.

Only warning is um it discusses the existence of Santa?!

The New Old-Fashioned Way

“Scott! Santa’s been!” Gordon bounced on teenage Scott Tracy’s bed, a present clutched to his chest and a cheerful grin on his face. “Uuuurggghhh. Too early Gordon.”

“But Santa’s been, look!” “Santa isn’t real,” Scott grumbled uncharitably, and tried to pull the covers over his head. Gordon wasn’t having any of that and pulled them back down.

“Of course he’s real.”

“You know it’s Dad. You’ve known that for at least two years now.”

“Yeah so? Dad’s real. Dad is Santa. Therefore, Santa is real.” He jabbed Scott with the still-wrapped present. “And he’s been. Look, you have one too!” He bounced to the bottom of the bed and picked up a shiny blue package adorned with cartoon Santas.

“Hey, gimme. That one is mine.” Fully awake now Scott took the present from Gordon and sat up, wiggling over so that his brother could climb in next to him. Grinning, they opened their gifts. Gordon squealed in delight as a cuddly fish fell from the package. Scott’s grin grew wider as a kit for a model airplane tumbled out. It was almost a joke present these days - he got a different kit each year, which he attempted to build and paint. Sometimes he even finished them. He always looked forward to seeing which model “Santa” had got him. “Come on, let’s go show everyone what we got!” Gordon jumped off his bed with a thump.

Scott finally glanced at his clock to see if he should be letting Gordon wake everyone up.

“Gordon, wait! It's five in the morning!”

—-------------------------------------------------

Many years later…

It was Christmas Eve. Sort of. When your work made you regularly cross time zones it was sometimes tricky to keep track. Still. Gone midnight on Tracy Island, so yes, Christmas Eve. Still the day before in New York, which was where Scott currently was, and still dark for another hour or so.

It was easy to think he had all day today and tomorrow to sort everything out. But the time he had gained going west he would lose again heading east. But he was in New York. Lots of shops! He could get those last-minute gifts. Head into the office to chase whoever was lingering out of it. Technically the office was closed as from lunch time for the Christmas break; they gave all their staff the week off. Some of them would hang about finishing things off though. Scott didn’t approve. They needed to get home to their families. He could finish up any paperwork and make sure that the staff got home on time. Or go to do their Christmas shopping. He really should have started that already. It was almost stereotypical, a man of his age leaving it until Christmas Eve. But he’d been busy. But Dad was home! He had to make this Christmas the best one yet!

He gritted his teeth as the beam lying across his shoulders shifted. A trickle of dust poured down through his torchlight, glittering in a mockery of the season’s decorations. He glanced down at the shop workers huddled together in the narrow space he was holding open. He was under no illusions; he knew he wasn’t holding the whole shop up on his back, just keeping something in balance that was holding something that was holding something else and stopping the situation from getting worse… but it certainly felt like he was holding the whole building up.

“How’s it going there, Virgil?” he grunted through gritted teeth.

“Nearly with you. Hold on.”

“Holding on.” Don’t think about the weight. Think about other stuff. Like the orders that still need to be put through for the new year. Like that loose connection in Thunderbird One that kept telling him that the port light was out even though they’d checked it and it was fine, but what if the light really did go out and he ignored it thinking it was just a faulty warning? Like should he buy brussels sprouts cause no one except John and Virgil really liked them but it was kind of a tradition? Besides they would complain that it was the only time they got to eat them and they were nice. Nice. Huh.

The beam shifted again, the weight pushing him down to one knee.

“Virgil!”

Light.

The space that had been confined was illuminated in a bright white, the cold air of the night brushed past his fingers, and the weight was gone.

The shopworkers scrambled to get out.

Scott sat down with a thump and took a deep breath, feeling it filling his chest, stretching his aching shoulders, holding it for just a moment, before slowly breathing out the tension and relaxing. He’d done it. They were out.

“Hey, Scott.” Virgil put a hand on his shoulder; it was sore, but he welcomed his brother’s reassuring touch anyway. “Not a good idea to rest here, bro. Come on. Everyone’s out, and Two’s got our morning coffee waiting.”

Scott laughed.

“Morning? Was evening when we left the island.”

“Evening hot chocolate then,” Virgil gave him a gentle tug. “Come on, on your feet.”

He helped Scott up and they climbed over the rubble and away from the flashing lights and cameras, back up into Two’s module.

“I’ll clear up,” Virgil offered. “Take a break. You've been up for hours. In fact, get John to fly One back. I'll fly home and you can sleep.”

Scott yawned and looked at his watch.

“No, the shops will be open in a couple of hours. I'll head to the office, grab a shower and get those orders in, then I can head over to the store-”

“Seriously, Scott? Take a break. We're all having Christmas day off. If you wear yourself out today you're just going to spend it sleeping.”

“Yeah but I've still got stuff to do.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It's gotta be perfect, you know? Dad-”

“Dad doesn't expect anything other than for you to be there to celebrate with him. Awake. Come on, Scott. You don't have to do everything for him, you know. He's Dad.” “He was stranded in space for eight years, Virgil.”

“Yeah?” his brother started shifting some boxes, replacing tools and supplies that had been dragged out when he’d arrived. Scott leaned back on a crate, watching.

“You can’t act like everything is just going back to the way it was before.”

“I don’t. I’m well aware of how far he’s progressed with the physio, how far he still has to go, and the physical damage that likely won’t be healed. But he’s still Dad. His mind is still as sharp as ever, and he hasn’t lost any of that determination that he had before.” Virgil grunted, lifting another box. “The problem is, Scott, that you are not letting anything go back to the way it was. He’s capable. He’s already not the same guy you pulled off that rock a few months ago.”

“I know. I’ve read his progress reports too.”

“Do you, though?” Virgil paused in his rearrangement of Two’s hold to stare at Scott. “‘Cause I get the feeling you don’t really believe them, and you’re not going to until you see Dad start to do more.” He shifted another box. “Which you’re not going to see until you slow down a bit and pay attention.”

“Yeah, well,” At a loss for how to argue against that, Scott pushed himself off the crate, stretching and ignoring the crack his shoulder produced. “I’m going to the shops. I’ll be back for bedtime.”

Virgil gave him a disbelieving look.

“I promise. Someone’s gotta go get your disgusting sprouts.”

“Fine. I’ll wait here to fly you home. If you’re not back in five hours I’m going to come get you.”

“You won’t need to.”

“Good. ‘Cause that would be very inconvenient. I still have to add more glitter to the card I’m making for you.”

“Uh, I said no glitter this year! It gets everywhere.”

“Tough. Christmas is sparkly. You shall have sparkles.”

“See you later, Virgil!”

“Five hours.”

Scott threw a wave over his shoulder as he departed for the offices.

A shower, a clean outfit and a coffee later and Scott was feeling… well, tired, if he were honest. But he had an hour to sort the paperwork and three hours to shop before Virgil would be after him.

Of course nothing was that simple, though, because the paperwork he thought he’d completed last week had been bounced back, and he could delegate it, but he wasn’t going to do that to anyone on Christmas Eve. Or Christmas Eve Eve. Still the 23rd here, he reminded himself. It wouldn’t take long.

Two and a half hours later he pushed the last of what he was going to do away and rubbed his eyes. There was more to be done, but it could wait. It might mean a bit of a crunch in the New Year, but he needed to do the shopping. He needed to make this Christmas perfect for his Dad’s homecoming.

Whenever John went shopping, it was a precise operation. He would look at the footfall trends, the weather reports and optimise the route to visit the shops he wanted to go to in the order that required the least doubling back. John would never, ever, have ventured into the shops two days before Christmas. Scott had to admit, his brother was onto something.

The crowds jostled and heaved, queues to check out stretched back into stores, blocking access to the shelves. It wasn’t so much that Scott minded crowds, certainly they didn’t bother him as much as they did John, but it was frustratingly inconvenient when he was in a rush.

There were some things he knew he had to get; A few fresh items that he hadn’t remembered to list on the last supply run; (bag of sprouts, some chestnuts, a bunch of fresh sage to make stuffing with,) some Eggnog, and chocolate after dinner mints, (because he’d always liked getting an extra sweet after dessert.)

As he piled the food into his basket he tried to work out what time he’d have to start cooking in the morning to make sure everything was ready, then decided he’d figure that out later. He was too tired right now. He (eventually) checked out with his purchase and belatedly realised that it would have been far more sensible to leave what he knew he needed until last, because now he had to carry it around while he browsed for gifts.

Luckily Kayo was easy to shop for; in the weeks leading up to Christmas she would always make sure to leave magazines or website pages open with things she wanted. It was just a matter of “stumbling” on what she had been browsing and coordinating with his brothers to make sure they didn’t all buy the same thing. This year he had been allocated a kimono wrap style silk top with a turquoise and pink floral print, which he knew he could get from one of the big department stores, because he had actually checked that some time ago with the intention to call in and get it bought early. He hoped there would be something he could get to go with it there too, because he’d always thought it was more exciting to at least have something that was a surprise, even if it was just a pack of sparkly hair bobbles. (Kayo had actually declared that a very thoughtful gift because hair bobbles would frequently vanish.)

May as well start with that, he thought as he wound his way down the street. He was still lacking a good present for Gordon, and had no idea whatsoever what he should get his Dad. What do you get the guy who both owned an island and had lived with nothing for nearly a decade? He’d had everything and nothing. A box of chocolates just didn’t seem to cut it.

A man in a tophat and tails opened the door for him as he entered and Scott nodded his thanks, giving a smile that was perhaps starting to verge on the side of a grimace. Tables decorated with whimsical Christmas scenes interspersed shelves of nuts, biscuits, chocolates and dried fruits. Further on makeup, bath bombs, soaps… He scanned the goods on display as he wound his way to the clothes department, hoping that inspiration would strike.

He’d barely reached the silk tops, (stopping only to pick up a jumper for Gordon that he’d spotted on the way,) when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to see Virgil’s name across the screen.

“It can’t have been-” a glance at the time told him that it had, in fact, been five hours since he’d set off from Two. He did consider ignoring it and pretending that he just hadn’t heard the ringtone in the busy store, but he wouldn’t have put it past his brother to suddenly appear out of the crowd, pick him up and carry him out. He reluctantly swiped to connect the call.

“Hello.”

“Time’s up. Meet me back at Two, I’ll fly you home.”

“I’ve still got to buy a few things…I haven’t checked out here yet. …and I haven’t got Dad anything.”

“Scott, he doesn’t need anything. Just grab him some food. Honestly, he’s still loving anything with a taste, he’ll appreciate it.”

“It just feels so impersonal, you know?”

“You’re overthinking things again. Seriously. I’ll give you an extra twenty minutes. Look around the store you’re in, grab something that reminds you of Dad, even if it’s just a little toy plane, and come back.”

“Thirty minutes?”

“Twenty. You’ve got to allow time to walk back here and if we don’t leave soon we’ll miss the evening at home, Christmas Eve movie together, remember?”

“..okay.” He hung up and then marched as quickly as he could through the store thinking; something that reminds me of Dad, something that reminds me of Dad…

“You get something?” Virgil asked as Scott came jogging up to Two.

“Yeah…” Scott ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure I did so well on the presents front this year. I should have started thinking about it earlier.”

“Relax Scott. All done now. We should be back before midday, enough time to get a sleep in before tonight. Try to have Christmas off from worrying.”

Scott frowned as he followed Virgil to the flightdeck and settled into the co-pilot seat and tried to relax for the flight home. He couldn’t help but do a bit of worrying though. Christmas had always been a big deal in the Tracy household; and this was the first time in eight years that his Dad would have a proper one. What if it didn’t live up to the memories? He closed his eyes so Virgil would think he was trying to get some sleep while he ran through the dinner plans in his head again.

—----------------------------------------------

The lights on the tree were multicoloured, because everyone agreed that even though they were rich now, “classy” plain white lights were boring. The only other light was from the projector, playing the first movie of the night. They hadn’t been able to decide between “A Muppet Christmas Carol” and “Die Hard” so it was a back-to-back, with festive drinks and snacks.

Scott was sitting on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder with Virgil and his Dad. It was warm, the lights were soft, the muppets were singing. His eyes were heavy.

He couldn’t go to sleep yet. It’s not like he hadn’t grabbed a few hours when they’d gotten back earlier. There were still things to do. Still things he needed to prepare for the morning, presents as yet still unwrapped…

“Might want to hold off on starting Die Hard, Virgil,” Jeff said softly as the first movie ended.

Virgil looked over to see Scott slumped on his Dad’s shoulder, mouth slightly open, eyes shut and breathing deeply.

“I’d leave him, but he’s not as light as he used to be. And he’s going to get a cricked neck at this rate. We’d better wake him and send him to bed.”

“Don’t wake him. I’ll take him. I’ve done it before.”

Jeff frowned at his son, then raised his eyebrows in surprise as Virgil stood and picked Scott up, with a smooth enough motion that the older brother slept through being moved.

“Does this happen often?” he asked the room at large as he watched Virgil carry Scott out.

“Does Virgil try to pick Scott up and take him to bed? Yes,” Gordon grinned. “Does it work? Most of the time, no.”

“He normally wakes up, unless he’s very tired,” John clarified.

“Then they have an argument about it. Then Scott goes to bed. Then they make friends again in the morning when they apologise to each other,” Alan added, oblivious to his older brothers shooting him a look that said he could have left the arguing part out.

“I see,” Jeff frowned. The Scott he remembered was meticulous about getting enough sleep; always wanting to make sure he was fit enough for anything the day threw at him. That he didn’t always, well, that was news to him.

Virgil returned a few minutes later, giving a thumbs up.

Good he’s getting some rest now, Jeff thought, that’s something I’ll have to have to deal with. But for now, there were other things to think about. One son asleep, four more to go.

—----------------------------------------------------

“Scott! Santa’s been!” Gordon crashed onto his brother’s bed, no longer a small boy, but a rather heavy man. Scott woke up with a start as he was bounced off the mattress.

“What?! Gordon?” He rubbed his eyes sleepily. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Gordon was grinning at him. “Santa’s been.” He waved a present in his face.

“Santa?” Scott repeated with a sleepy frown. He didn’t remember coming to bed. In fact he was still wearing his clothes from the night before. He wiggled up onto his elbows and looked down at the foot of his bed. Sure enough, there was a blue gift, wrapped with a silver ribbon, and a label with his name in cursive attached to it.

“Well?” Gordon didn’t grab the present as he so often had in years gone by. This one was for Scott and he knew Scott needed to be the one to pick it up first.

For what seemed like the longest time to an impatient Gordon, Scott just started at the present, convinced that he was dreaming. Eventually he sat up and crawled to the end of the bed. Picked up the package, running his fingers over the ribbon and re-reading the name on the label. It wasn’t his father’s handwriting - it was Santa’s. It was the same script his Dad had used to disguise his own hand when he took the role.

“Santa’s been,” he whispered. “Santa’s back.” He grinned and opened the present, pulling the ribbon free and ripping the paper off.

A model kit Tiger Moth fell out.

“This was the one I’d asked for when-” the tears started to run down his face, but he was still smiling.

Gordon’s eyes looked a bit glassy too, as he threw his arm over his brother’s shoulders and gave him a hug.

“Hey, shall we wake the others and show them?”

“Wake the… wait, Gordon, what time is it?”

—-----------------------------------------------

The sun was rising, golden light streaming through the windows and sparkling off tinsel and glass, causing the huge Christmas tree to glitter in a rainbow of colour.

Underneath; a stack of presents, not all of which had been there the night before.

Scott felt as if he were in a dream. It was the same, but different. Their childhood tree had been half the size, it would have hit the ceiling of their home otherwise. But the years-old paper and dried pasta decorations they had made at school, the over-glittered salt dough shapes they had made with their mom, still hung among the shop bought baubles. There were still candy canes that Alan claimed he didn't touch until Christmas day, yet were always fewer in number than at the start of the month

He watched as Alan raced Gordon to the tree, sliding on their knees to stop among the presents. John and Virgil followed at a more leisurely place, having already obtained hot drinks.

Virgil's hair was sticking up funny, and John was wrapped in an interestingly-patterned dressing gown. They were all smiling and laughing, and there was an air of excited anticipation. When was the last time they had tumbled into the living room in PJs to open presents? They’d left that long behind, always putting it off to get dressed first, because really, what was the rush? But now, Scott felt the buzz too, the remembered magic of the morning. His Dad had pulled up a seat with a good vantage point near the tree. He was dressed; smart shirt, not a hair out of place, and sipping his coffee with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

And just for a moment, he looked as he had all those years ago. Scott saw him dark haired and strong, a quiet presence while the rabble of boys dug through gifts, reading labels and pushing parcels to the recipients with enthusiastic calls of “this one's for you!” and “look what I got!”

“Hey Scott!” Alan slid a present towards him, breaking his reverie. He grinned and forgot about the things he hadn't had time to organise, instead moving over to sit with his brothers and join in. There were gifts from his siblings, a fancy hamper of biscuits, jams, chutneys and chocolate from Lady Penelope, a jumper his grandmother had made, and, for the first time in eight years, a stocking stuffed with little gifts from “Santa”. He ripped the paper off patterned socks, a box of chocolates, a book, a puzzle and a bottle of colour changing bubble bath. Colours were compared, chocolates swapped, advice on puzzles offered and rejected.

He dished out his gifts to his family, (hastily wrapped after Gordon had woken him), and tried not to squirm a little as he handed his present to his Dad over.

“Get anything that reminds you of him,” Virgil had said. What had made him think this represented his Dad he had no idea, but it was what it was.

Jeff opened the parcel to reveal a shirt with flamingos all over it, and laughed, a genuine, happy, surprised laugh.

“Your mother bought me a shirt just like this, when you were a toddler. You loved it. You'd sit on my lap and count the birds. I thought you'd be too small to remember it.”

“I didn't,” Scott replied in surprise. “Not really. I just saw it and thought of you.”

“It's perfect. Thank you Scott.” And he meant it.

Scott grinned. He’d really been enjoying the morning, living in the moment with his family, but the sun was getting higher and he knew he had to get on with things.

“Well, I'd better get to the kitchen,” he looked at his watch, attempting to remember any of the timings he’d worked out on the flight home the day before. “I think it might be a bit late starting…”

“It's already started.” Jeff smiled and gave him a wink. “Don't worry, Scott. Santa got everything organised today.”

“You did?” Scott blinked. “I mean… but… how?”

“I worked out how to survive on a rock for eight years and ran a multinational company for several before that. You think I couldn't figure out how to sneak a few presents home and sort a dinner?”

Scott turned red.

“Well, uh… I just thought…”

Jeff laughed.

“I got some of it prepped yesterday and had a bit of help from Brains before he flew out with setting up the cooking timers. He left a little robot here, that’s quite a help in the kitchen. Honestly, it’s all in hand, and you can help me with dishing up when it’s ready.” He smiled.

“Why don't you go play some games with your brothers? Looks like Alan has a couple of new video games, and Gordon's setting up a chess board there.”

Scott glanced over. Alan was starting up his console, while Kayo collected controllers and Gordon was carefully pouring something into a set of frosted glasses arranged on a board, while John and Virgil watched. John was seated in the opponent's chair and had a much more serious expression on his face than Virgil who was wearing a face-splitting grin.

“Shots chess?” Scott realised. “Oh no, who got Gordon that?”

By the time dinner was ready, both Gordon and John were tipsy, (they had had the sense to stop after one game, after all, Dad was watching), Alan had been permitted a go at the shots chess against Virgil using lemonade and cola, and Scott had found himself caught up in games and laughter and simply forgetting that he’d ever been worrying about how long to cook potatoes for.

They settled around the big table, to roasted turkey and honeyed ham, crispy potatoes and parsnips, steamed carrots and (in Virgil and John's case) sprouts. There was sparkling wine to drink, pudding with brandy cream, for afterwards. Finally, they settled around the lounge with coffees and the after-dinner mints, allegedly to watch a movie, but in reality, to doze after having eaten slightly too much food.

There was a pleasant lull in the afternoon; a pause where each member of the family took themselves off to have a bit of space and quiet. They knew they would come together again later, and it was in companionable silence that they arrayed themselves about the place each absorbed in their own task. John and Alan had stretched out at either end of a sofa, leaning back on the cushions, legs tangled, new Christmas socks on display. The only noise coming from either of them was the flutter of paper as they occasionally turned a page in their respective books. Gordon and Kayo had gone for a walk, insisting that exercise helps with digestion. (John had claimed that it did nothing if you waited through a two-hour movie after dinner before you went for the walk, but was threatened to a rematch at shots chess instead, and so had conceded the point.)

Virgil was painting on the mezzanine, trying out a set of metallic paints he had received. Scott had settled himself nearby, dragging a table into position and tipping out and sorting the parts of his kit airplane.

He glanced down over the balcony railing to see his father sitting at his desk with a newspaper folded on his lap, and some magazines arranged before him. He was chatting softly with Grandma. It looked like they might be doing a crossword. Scott smiled, as a long-forgotten memory resurfaced of the pair of them doing word puzzles from time to time.

Everyone was content, and calm. Scott returned to his model, concentrating on the immediate task, warm in the knowledge everyone was safe and happy and home.

—-------------------------------

The sun set over the sea, and the stars appeared in the clear night sky.

Scott found himself standing on the balcony outside, with a glass of whisky in hand, the salty ocean breeze mingling with the scents of the trees, and the lingering smells of pudding and cinnamon wafting from inside. Virgil was playing the piano, happily taking the requests that were thrown at him. There were a few old favourites, some classics and an ill-fated attempt at converting this year's viral Christmas hit into something that could be played on the piano.

He took a deep breath, drinking in the scents, the sounds, the sight of the lights reflected on the pool below. It was only now he'd had time to reflect on the day he'd realised just how much he'd needed this. To let go, to be a child again. And it had been good, really good. It had, he realised, been perfect, without him obsessing over getting everything just right.

His dad joined him on the balcony, glass in hand.

“Merry Christmas,” he raised his glass and took a sip. Scott did too, acknowledging the toast.

They stood in silence for a few moments more, his father enjoying the same sensations.

“When I was out there,” he tilted his glass towards the stars, “for a while, I thought it was the pageantry of Christmas that I missed. The lights, the colours, the food.” He shook his head. “It wasn't, really. It was seeing you and your brothers have fun.”

“It really has been. Fun, I mean. And I can't remember the last time-” he suddenly realised what he was saying and shut his mouth, then gave his Dad an awkward smile. “I hope you've had a good day too?”

Jeff laughed and clapped his son on the shoulder.

“I've had a great day. Do you know how long it's been since I've gotten to order other people around?” He grinned. “I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of getting all this sorted without you noticing. And to see it all come together…” He gave a short laugh. “It's so refreshing, working things out again.”

“I thought you'd have had enough of working things out, after…well you know.” Scott nodded up towards the sky.

“There was a lot to work out there, sure, to start with,” Jeff leaned on the balcony, next to his son and looked up at the stars. “I had to figure out how to make things work, how to get sustainable food, water, power…” He shrugged. “...and then one day I'd done it. Got everything working, everything running on cycles. Got a routine. And then that's what I did, day in, day out for years. I tried to keep my mind active, of course, drew stuff, wrote things. But actually using the skills I enjoy to organise, to face a new challenge. That's something I've not done in a long time.” He smiled at Scott. “To be perfectly honest a lot of the time I was pretty bored.”

Scott smiled in amused surprise.

“I guess I thought you were working every second, up there.”

“It was pretty quiet.” He took a sip of his drink and then gave Scott a sideways look. “I missed working with others too. Letting them take some of the burden. Collaborating. Delegating.”

Scott huffed a gentle laugh.

“That wasn't subtle.”

“Subtlety was never my strong suit. Virgil told me whenever you weren't sure what to do, you'd ask yourself what I'd have done.”

Scott mumbled something about interfering brothers.

Jeff laughed.

“Well for the most part, you got it right, Scott. You've achieved more than I could have ever imagined. But you got one bit wrong…”

Scott felt his stomach drop. What had he done wrong?

“I never even tried to take all that on my own.”

“...But you built the company from the ground up, got it going-”

“With help. Your mother's for a start. Who do you think was earning a living when I was starting out? She loved her work, yes, but even so, I wouldn't have sat at home trying to launch a business if she hadn't agreed to it. And if it hadn't been for your grandparents helping to look after you boys, well it would have never worked. And even away from family, I had a budget to get things off the ground, and that included things like paying for an accountant to help with bookkeeping when necessary… and do you think I made the website alone? I mean, I had a go, but it looked like someone had made it at the kitchen table.” He patted his son's shoulder again. “I'm not superman, son.”

“Oh. I just, I guess I'd never thought about that.”

They settled on the balcony, a comfortable silence passing between them while they reflected on the past.

Scott became aware of his Grandma requesting a song. Virgil launched into “Rocking around the Christmas tree,” and she started to sing, then his brothers joined in. He smiled to himself, memories of them all singing as his mother played the piano so many years before.

“You should be CEO again,” he blurted out.

“Scott, when I said you needed to ask for help, I didn't mean I wanted to take over from you. You've been doing an excellent job and I don't want to take that away from you.”

“No, I want you to.” Scott swirled his whisky around in his glass, watching the liquid spin close to the edge. “I really hate meetings.” He gave a half smile. “And I seem to remember you quite enjoyed them.”

Jeff wondered if that was a dig at the family meetings he'd call whenever he was trying to work out which boy was responsible for the latest mischief.

“I thought when you came back that things had changed too much to go back to how they had been. You'd been through so much, and we've all grown up… heck, the world is different in some ways too.” He furrowed his brow in thought. “And I don't think it will go back, not exactly, not to how it was before. And I think that's why I wasn't letting anything go back at all. I think I was scared because it wouldn't be exactly the same as before, it would be like, I dunno… grasping at trying to relive those days and then finding it coming up short. But I'm not scared of that anymore.”

“What changed?”

Scott grinned.

“Santa came back. And it wasn't the same but it didn’t matter that it was different. I still felt those feelings again, the excitement of a bit of magic in the air.”

Jeff grinned.

“I was a bit worried you'd think it was a foolish old man trying to relive your childhood.”

“No. It felt…happy. I feel happy.” Scott visibly relaxed, his shoulders softening and giving a contented sigh.

“So… you really want me to take over TI?”

“Yep.”

He considered it for a few moments.

“You know, I think I'd like that. I don't think I had even thought about the fact I could go back, really.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“We’ll work something out, together. But for tonight let’s just enjoy ourselves. Come on, I want to join the others.”

The group at the piano had gotten to the end of the song and belted out at the top of their lungs:

“Everyone dancing merrily, in the new, old-fashioned wayyyyyy!”

Scott grinned as his father went inside.

“Here's to doing things in the new old-fashioned way.” He took a drink, gave the starscape one last look, and followed his Dad inside to be with his family.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa 2024

27 notes · View notes