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aeyumicore · 1 year ago

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the sixth of march - rafayel birthday special

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: rafayel x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with very little plot

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 5.09k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, semi-public bathroom sex, switch!raf, whiny!raf, semi-public sex, mirror sex, oral sex m!receiving, face/throat fucking, standing sex, hitting it from the back, creampies, cum swallowing, cum in panties, birthday sex, leaking cum in public, please let me know if i missed anything!

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: it’s our little fishy’s birthday! happy birthday rafayel! <3 short lil (lol 5k words short) smut for our precious raf’s birthday. idk why i always end up having raf x y/n sex be in the bathroom its purely coincidental LOL

please note that this is NOT based on his birthday event story OR the birthday event card. It might be somewhat similar but i wrote it entirely separately. If there’s any resemblance its purely coincidental, so don’t expect this fic to be accurate to the event!

as always pls enjoy :) also come interact with me on twit @/aeyumicore

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

"Bruschetta, miss?”

Your head snaps to the politely smiling waiter in front of you, holding a tray of the most delicious glistening bread bites, topped with vibrant red cherry tomatoes and fresh green basil.

"No, thank you,” you decline politely, having had your fill of the endless lavish hors d'oeuvres at the birthday party you’d put together for Rafayel. Instead, you let your eyes wander back to the highly in-demand purple haired birthday boy across the sea of random people you didn't know, and honestly you weren’t sure Rafayel knew them either.

You’d originally wanted something quaint and intimate for Rafayel’s 25th birthday, but thanks to Thomas it’d turned into a huge elaborate party with business partners, sponsors, and just so many important industry contacts. The guest list spun out of control so fast, until it became a full blown business event.

Honestly, you felt so terrible. You knew this is not what Rafayel wanted for his birthday, but he was being an incredibly good sport about it, making polite conversation with every single person that approached him. Which was extremely unlike him, and that scared you even more. Besides the brief embrace you’d shared when he’d arrived, you hadn't had the chance to spend any time with him tonight.

So, like you had the rest of the night, you stared at him from across the ballroom floor, admiring him from afar. He was so unfairly dashing in his white jacket adorned with a gold leafed lapel chain that matched the stars and moon that hung off his golden waist chain. His black tie hung loosely against his hard chest, contrasting beautifully against the shining white pearls on his lapel.

He’d picked out and gifted you a matching dress for you to wear, and had a driver deliver it to you this morning. It was nothing short of art itself, an extravagant golden a-line tulle evening gown with an expensive sequin and pearl applique that mirrored the starry night sky. The strapless sweetheart neckline pushed your cleavage up as the high slit exposed your bare legs, leaving you feeling beautiful and confident, something Rafayel always knew how to do.

Rafayel looks up from the undoubtedly very rich and important man he’d been talking to, and catches your stare from across the room. His lips don’t quirk, still caught in his conversation, but his eyes sparkle as they drink you in, the corners crinkling in their own little smile.

You grin back at him, raising the glass of champagne you’d been holding onto for the entire night, and taking a languid gulp. As you lower the glass, you purposely let a droplet drip down your chin, using your index finger to catch it and bringing it up to your tongue to lick it off.

Even from yards away, you can see Rafayel’s eyes darken and his neck bob with a gulp. You watch as he falters in his words, trying to steel himself back into his conversation. Chuckling to yourself, you turn away from him to give a brief reprieve of your teasing.

The champagne lights your face ablaze, so you decide to run to the bathroom to touch up before your makeup starts melting off. You weave through the hordes of elegantly dressed guests, slightly in shock of how many people showed up to celebrate Rafayel. Or at least showed up to get in his good graces.

The banquet hall you’d booked was expensive and intricate, and the bathrooms were no different. As you slipped into the single unisex washroom you barely noticed as Rafayel slipped in behind you before you could let the door shut fully.

You yelped in surprise as he followed you into the single stall bathroom, but the alarm dissipated when you realized it was him and not some random stranger.

"Rafayel!” You reprimanded, pushing the door shut behind him so as to make sure no prying eyes caught the two of you, "What are you doing?!”

Rafayel doesn’t respond, instead capturing you in his embrace, his hands settling around the small of your back as he pulls you tightly into his hard body.

"You shouldn’t tease me all night, it’s not very nice,” he hums, playing with a curled lock of hair against your cheek.

You feign innocence, eyes widening and head cocking to the side, "What am I doing?”

Rafayel pouts, his cheeks rosy under the fluorescent bathroom lights, "It’s my birthday, you should be nicer to me.” He tucks the strand of hair he’d been playing with behind your ear.

"I haven’t gotten to see you, all night,” he sulks, his voice tinged with a sharp whine.

You can’t help but giggle at his childish behavior and tease him a bit, "But you were looking at me just earlier!”

He grumbles, thoroughly unamused, "You know that’s not what I mean.”

You sigh and let yourself melt into his hold, your arms wrapping around him in return, "I know, I'm sorry Raf. This was supposed to be small, just you, me, and some friends. It got out of control so fast.”

He continues with his pouty tirade. "It’s my birthday,” he whines, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, "And I don’t even get to enjoy the only thing I want.”

He pulls away so he can admire you again, this time right before his hungry and waiting eyes like he should’ve been able to. His gaze devours every inch of you, from the exposed and flushed skin to the way the dress hugs your figure in all the right ways.

"I miss you,” he complains, eyes still drinking you in and hands tight against your waist.

"M’sorry Raf,” you murmur, dusting his purple locks away from his eyes, "I missed you too.”

He sighs dramatically, "I don’t want to talk to any more of those old farts. Especially when you look like this right across the room.”

"It’s a beautiful dress. I didn’t have the opportunity to thank you for it yet,” you mumble bashfully, suddenly nervous under his scrutinizing stare.

"I knew you would look exquisite in it,” he grumbles, "But I thought I would be able to spend my night admiring it on you. And off you.”

And though you can tell Rafayel is half joking, you can’t help but feel bad that you’re partly to blame for him having to spend his birthday like this, with people who wanted his attention for their own personal selfish reasons.

"I’m sorry babe, it’ll be over soon. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

Sighing deeply and theatrically again, "How will you make it up to me? I only get one birthday a year, you know?”

You get a mischievous and filthy idea. Your hands travel from his back to his abdomen, pushing slightly to create space between your bodies. He eyes you curiously, but lets you continue. As your hands travel further south, undoing the intricate latch of his expensive belt, his eyes widen.

"H-hey! What are you doing?!”

As you get down onto your knees, pulling his pants down with you in your descent, you look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them earnestly, "My birthday boy is unhappy, and we can’t have that can we?” Though the bathroom is spotless, the tiled floor likely cleaner than your own bathroom, you’re careful to bunch the beautiful gown up and hold it above your calves, as best as you can.

"I can just give you one of your birthday gifts right now,” you murmur, "But you’ll have to wait until we’re home to unwrap the rest.”

Rafayel only gulps in response, his cheeks and earlobes slowly turning crimson as he’s left standing in just his briefs. Mesmerized, you watch as his erection lifts against the restraint of his underwear, grasping the base with your fingers and reveling in the way he whimpers into the brisk bathroom air.

You rest your lips against the tent in his briefs, licking at his length against the clothing. He hisses, hands finding purchase in the sink behind him to ground himself against your teasing licks. You keep your eyes glued to his, batting your eyelashes as you take his cock out. As the cold clean air of the bathroom hits him, he sucks in another sharp breath, gripping the sink almost painfully.

Rafayel has to remind himself how to breathe as he watches your beautiful eyes widen as you lick at the copious amounts of pre cum dripping down his length and onto his briefs.

"H-holy shit,” he wheezes out, throwing his head back as your tongue skillfully maneuvers over his glistening bulbous head, the skin pink and angry, demanding attention. You take him fully into your mouth, moaning at the taste of his slick filling your senses. Rafayel whines and twitches at the vibrations of your mouth, trying desperately to keep from busting his load into your mouth right there.

You tease him dutifully, only letting his cock enter your mouth, not taking him into your throat just yet. A mess of whimpers and moans, Rafayel holds himself back from forcing his length down into your warm and waiting throat, like you’d let him so many times before. The sight of you, all done up in the beautiful golden gown he’d personally picked for you, on your knees for him, drove him insane, but he wanted to be a good boy for you.

"Baby,” he whimpers, beautiful sobs breaking out from his mouth, "You feel so g-good.”

Your mouth bobs up and down earnestly at his praises, and he’s being so good for you you want to reward him. But your hands are busy holding up your dress from falling to the bathroom floor which makes it difficult for you to service his entire impressive length. So instead, you use one hand to bring each of his palms into your curled hair. Luckily you’d worn your hair down in tousled waves so you were able to easily thread his fingers into them, urging him to grip onto you.

You hold his hand there until he gets the message of what you’re asking him to do, or rather giving him permission to do, and he hardens further with excitement. His fingers tighten at your scalp as he begins to fuck into your mouth, eyes rolling back at the feel of your thick lips against the veins of his cock.

"Hah – you’re so good to me,” he pants, pelvis fervently hitting your mouth as you do your best to relax your throat and take him as deeply as possible. He continues to babble, "F-fuck feels so good baby, I-I can’t stop.” He handles you roughly, hands tight and pace unrelenting, but you absolutely love when he’s this demanding with you.

You moan at his words, feeling yourself dampen in your panties, trying to let the vibrations hit him when he’s as deep as possible. You use your tongue to stroke the vein on the underside of his shaft, wanting to see your birthday boy come undone just for you. He bucks excitedly into your mouth, absolutely lost in the way your mouth attempts to accommodate every inch of him.

"You take me so fucking well,” he whines, still fucking vigorously into your mouth, "Your mouth was made for me to fuck, my perfect girl.”

Rafayel’s vision blacks as you gulp around him, your throat constricting impossibly tight against his cock. The sounds of your guttural choking drive him to the edge, and when he looks down to see tears running down your gorgeous face and drool trailing down your chin, his erection lurches with the need to release deep down your throat.

"M’gonna cum baby,” he warns, "You can take it all right? You can, you will.”

You hum in response, and the vibrations send him over the edge. With his hands intertwined in your hair, Rafayel lets out a strangled moan as he absolutely explodes into your waiting mouth.

You do your best not to choke on the sheer amount of cum he releases, the sweet-salty taste blinding all your senses. You lick his cock diligently, working him through his climax, and savoring every last drop of his essence.

He twitches with overstimulation inside your mouth, but still painfully hard. You release him and gasp for air, as stray rivulets of cum streak down your chin. Rafayel bends down to lift you up off your knees, mesmerized by the fucked out look on your face, even though he’d only ravished your mouth.

"That was incredible, you are incredible. I wasn’t too rough was I?” He inspects your face carefully, wiping a tear off your cheek.

"You weren’t,” you reassured with a smile, turning to the mirror and sink behind him.

"Is your birthday night slightly better now?” You tease, fixing your appearance in the mirror. You wash the spit and cum from your chin, and then dab carefully at the dark smudges of makeup smeared under your eyes.

"I want my other gift now,” Rafayel mumbles, coming up behind you and moving your dress to the side so that the slit parts and exposes the back of your thighs.

"H-here?” You ask in disbelief, as if you didn’t just suck him off. But your risque streak had evaporated as fast as it had come, and now you quivered at the idea of having sex in this private, but still public, bathroom, with dozens of people outside likely looking for the artist himself.

"Can I please?” He pouts, and you can see his begging eyes behind you in the mirror, "It’s still my birthday for another few hours.” His hands fiddle with your dress impatiently, but still waiting for your consent nonetheless. "And I was so good tonight, talking to those people all night when all I wanted was to be with you.”

Your heart squeezes at his adorable pleas. You can’t deny the way the idea of Rafayel taking you in this shared public space has you leaking. The hungry longing in his eyes, masked by the adorable puppy eyes, makes you cave. You nod gently, and Rafayel’s instantly on his knees, burying himself under the tulle of your dress.

You can feel Rafayel pausing with his face close to your heat. "Raf?” You whisper, breathless with anticipation.

"When did you buy these?” You realize he’s admiring your panties, part of a set you’d bought to surprise him for his birthday. You’d nearly forgotten you wore it under your dress, wanting him to unwrap you like a present after the party.

"Happy birthday Rafayel,” you giggle weakly, his breath fanning over your cunt, making you squirm. The purple haired artist is speechless under you, staring at the intricate embroidered sea stars and shells that adorned the turquoise semi sheer mesh, making it look like you were naked save for the beautiful applique.

"You’re telling me you were wearing this under the dress?” You can tell Rafayel was on the edge of going feral just by admiring the little knit shells against your most delicate region. You shivered thinking about how’d he’d act when he’d see the matching bra, hopefully later tonight. His words came out strained, as he tried his best to keep himself level.

"It’s your birthday, and I wrapped myself up nicely for you,” you murmur, as you lean over the sink with your hands gripping the sides, waiting for him to finally do something. You almost want to step back and shove yourself into him, but you do your best to remain patient, letting him admire every inch of your lace clad cunt.

He swears, finally snapping out of his trance, "Fuck, I will take my time with you later. Right now I j-just need you.” You hiss as his fingers finally glaze over your no doubt glistening folds, the cold air nipping at your exposed and sensitive area. He pulls the intricate lace off of you, stuffing it into his pockets so as to not let them touch the floor.

You cry out when his lips find your dripping cunt, devouring you from behind. His strong fingers grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart slightly to give him better access to his favorite dessert. Like you yourself had earlier, he moans at the taste and his vibrations resonate straight to your g spot. Your knees buckle at the pleasure, and you do your best to keep your moans muffled in case anyone was waiting outside the locked door.

Rafayel fucks you with his tongue languidly, his hand reaching between your legs to rub at your throbbing nub. Your eyes roll into your head, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, biting down to stop the scream from ripping out.

Rafayel is unhappy with your muffled cries of ecstasy, wanting to hear you in full. He stands to his full height, leaving you whimpering at the loss of his warmth against your dripping pussy. He stands, incredibly tall behind you, leaning into your ear.

"You know I hate it when you hide your noises from me,” he whispers, lining up his hardened length against your hole, bending you over the sink.

"I-I don’t want anyone to h-hear,” you stutter, grinding yourself onto his cock, wanting to be filled.

Rafayel rubs himself against you, gathering your slick and lathering it all over, "Then I'll just have to force them out of you, huh?” With that slight threat, he sheathes himself fully into you, you practically scream into your hand, except this time Rafayel yanks your hand away, holding it behind your back firmly. Your scream echoes against the walls of the bathroom, and you pray no one is outside the door. Anyone within ten feet of the door would undoubtedly hear the lewd noises coming from inside the bathroom.

"Let me hear you,” he purrs against your ear, thrusting slowly into your gummy walls. But still, you bite your lip, the idea of someone hearing you both mortifying and incredibly hot.

His thrusts are rough and demanding, making you bump into the cold surface of the sink. With Rafayel’s other hand he grabs your chin between his fingers and holds it up so that your eyes level with the mirror in front of you.

"Watch. Watch me fuck you baby,” his voice is so charismatic you can’t help but obey him. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, as you watch his face contort as he fucked into your womb. He smirks at you, hands leaving your face when he’s sure you won’t look away, to grip your waist. His large hands manhandled you so deliciously, using your body like a toy against his ravaging strokes.

Watching Rafayel’s cocky smile as he forced you to keep contact with his eyes through the mirror quickly drove you closer and closer to your climax, the excitement of it all unbearable. Your moans echoed throughout the bathroom, the sounds of his pelvis hitting your ass deafening.

Rafayel ravages you with the intent to make you absolutely lose your mind. He wants you to moan so loudly that you can’t restrain your cries of pleasure, so that anyone outside could hear exactly what he was doing to you.

"That’s my – haah –fucking girl,” he moans, hand smacking against the ripples of your ass bouncing against him. You yelp at the contact, the pain mixing deliciously with the endless ecstasy. Your walls sucked him in repeatedly, squeezing every inch of his length, trying to milk him. "Taking me so so well. Hah – look at you, spoiling me for my birthday.”

His palm gently strikes your rear again, "I must be the luckiest damn man on this planet. In this galaxy.” He reaches to your front, rifling through all your layers of tulle to find your clit, rubbing the slick nub until tears leaked out of your eyes.

"R-Raf, feels s-sooo good,” you slurred, leaning backwards so you could reach up for his hair as he gripped you from behind. Your bare back slotted tightly against his chest and your fingers gripped into his soft purple hair, tugging roughly. You laid your messy hair into his chest, and he rested his chin in the crook of your shoulder and neck, and the two of you made eye contact in the mirror.

Rafayel always put your pleasure above anything else, focussing on making you feel good before he even thought about himself. But your ecstasy was his pleasure. And so as he watched your face contort, eyes practically all whites, tongue lolling out of your beautiful lips, tears running down your face, his cock throbbed wanting to fill you to the absolute brim.

He was suddenly filled with the urge, the need to breed you. His woman, who’d dressed up just for him, in a set that was undoubtedly picked just to drive him insane. His love, who he spent the whole night admiring from across the room, when all he wanted for his birthday was to be with you. His girl, his everything, who’d spent weeks planning a whole night for him, even if it didn’t turn out the way he’d have wanted.

Well that wasn’t entirely true. It actually did turn out exactly the way he’d wanted, with you a wet whimpering mess for him, his cock stuffed inside you while you begged for more. This was in fact exactly how he wanted to spend every second of his birthday, inside you.

"You’re – hah – all mine,” he slurred, drunk off your pussy, his thrusts becoming sloppier with each stroke, "I’m gonna cum in you tonight, ‘kay?”

You nod eagerly, watching his feral expression in the mirror. His brows crinkled adorably, with his lip gripped tightly in his teeth. "You’re gonna – fuuck – walk around the rest of the night with my cum leaking out of you, okay baby?”

You clench at his filthy words, knowing he’s dead serious. Amidst the lust filled haze, you’re so fucked out that nothing sounds better than that. The idea of having to mingle with so many people while Rafayel’s claim to you literally drips down your legs is just enough to have you crying out for him, completely uninhibited.there was no doubt anyone even remotely near the bathroom would’ve heard the way you wailed and moaned for him.

You catch Rafayel’s satisfied smirk in the mirror as he takes you repeatedly from behind, eyes still glued to yours. The heat in his blue-purple orbs is palpable, almost threatening to devour you whole, and your grip tightens in his hair. You pull him impossibly closer, straining your neck painfully so you can turn and kiss him.

He leans in so you don’t have to bend too far backward, taking your lips passionately into his, even at this awkward angle. You slide your tongue into his mouth, wanting to take the teeniest bit of control as his cock burrowed its way into your stomach, claiming every inch of your gummy walls.

Rafayel moaned at the feeling of your sweet tongue flickering against his, letting you explore his mouth. He was happy to relinquish control, even if only slightly, especially if it meant he could watch the way your face contorted at every little movement he made.

The mirror made things exponentially more erotic, the way he could see his girl blissed out in front of him, and admire every single angle and aspect of you taking him so beautifully. The way you could watch each other, watch the way your bodies made absolute art together.

As your tongues danced, your cunt clenched in anticipation, wanting desperately to release all over him.

"R-Raf,” you pant, "M’so close.”

"M-me too love,” he ground into your ear, teeth gritting on the brink of pain, "Gonna paint your beautiful little pussy ‘kay?”

You nod vigorously, eyes shutting as you feel the orgasm creeping up on you and igniting every nerve ending on fire. You gasp as you feel Rafayel’s fingers gently grip your throat, squeezing just enough to have sparks ignite in your vision.

"Watch,” he commanded forcefully, a rough demand you so rarely heard lacing his alluring musical voice, "Need you to watch when I pump you full of my seed, okay love?”

You force your eyes to stay open, watching the primal expression on his face as his thrusts go deeper, harder. He forces himself into brushing harshly into your g spot, his free hand returning to rub ruthless circles onto your soaked clit.

You scream out when he touches you, every single point of contact an endless tsunami of pleasure. His eyes command yours, forcing you to watch every single thing he does to your body.

"God you’re so fucking beautiful, and you’re gonna – hah – look even more beautiful with my baby inside you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, lust getting the better of your usually sound judgment as you clench uncontrollable around his throbbing cock. He hisses at the harsh squeeze.

"Such a greedy girl,” he huffs breathlessly into your earlobe, nibbling down gently, "You want to be a mommy that bad? You’re trying to – hah fuck – squeeze it out of me?”

His words push you tumbling into your body numbing orgasm. You’re unable to hold back the scream that wrenches from deep in your throat, Rafayel’s fingers still gripping forcefully.

"Oh god, m’cumming Raf, cumming so hard,” you wail, body fluttering around him uncontrollably and knees going weak. Rafayel holds you steady so that you don’t crash into the floor as he continues to fuck into your body, so close to his own unraveling. He only grunts in response, losing himself in the tightness and warmth of your grip on him.

"Please, please, please!” You beg, wanting him to give you everything he has. You’re still in the thick of your orgasm and you wracked with the absolute need to feel him all over your insides.

Rafayel whimpers into your ear, getting wrapped up in the way you beg for him, "Sh-shit Y/N, if you keep s-squeezing like that I'm gonna –” he cuts himself with a torrid curse as your orgasm causes you to crush him inside of you.

"Y-yes please. Raf please. I need you s’bad,” you cry as he stares at you in the mirror, refusing to let go of eye contact. You’re desperate to feel him release inside you while you’re still in the midst of your own climax.

"O-okay love, anything for my needy little princess,” he groans out, before unleashing the most unholiest of swears, erection faltering inside you and trembling as it unloads completely.

Rafayel grips you for dear life as he cums inside you, his load hot, thick, and unrelenting. His hand is still at your throat as he whimpers into your ear, his breath hot and warm on your skin. You watch the euphoria on his face as he continues to rock into you, his copious release already leaking out, dripping down your thighs.

You reel, feeling faint and short of breath, as you come down from your high, still leaning back into Rafayel’s sturdy stature. His arms move to wrap securely around you, kissing the curve of your neck as his languid thrusts slow to a stop.

"You’re the best birthday present ever,” he murmurs, burying his face into your neck and inhaling your pheromones, absolutely drunk off of you. He removes himself from the warmth of your cunt, and you whimper as your combined release comes rushing down your thighs, your poor pussy just unable to hold the sheer amount of release Rafayel had pumped into you.

You try your best to smooth your dress, grabbing some paper towels to wipe your thighs off. But Rafayel stops you, his fingers gentle but firm against your wrist.

"What are you doing?” He’s smirking at you, so much mischievous light in his eyes. He fishes your panties out of his pocket and hands them to you expectantly.

"Put them back on,” he grins at you, looking absolutely and devilishly handsome despite having just ravaged you thoroughly. You on the other hand looked like a mess, like you’d undoubtedly just been fucked.

You’re about to whine and complain, but you bite it back, wanting to please your birthday boy. Sighing, you lift your dress, slowly slipping the panties back on. You wince as the fabric dampens, pushing the release back into your sopping cunt.

"Let me see.” Rafayel is on his knees in between your legs again before you know it, widening the slit of your gown. He admires you for a good ten seconds, before kissing your inner thighs and rising back to his feet.

"Are you satisfied?” You tease, trying to shake off the discomfort between your legs.

"Hmm...I guess you’re a little forgiven…'' he feigns being deep in thought, scratching his chin with his fingers, "I expect many more presents when I take you home tonight.”

You lean up on your tiptoes, even in your heels Rafayel still towered over you, and brushed a gentle kiss to his lips. You giggle at the way even the softest kiss has his ears and cheeks turning deeply pink. "There will be many more presents for you waiting at home. Of the naked variety.”

You thoroughly enjoy the way Rafayel shys away from your eyes, the crimson on his face deepening. His excitement is evident by the way he has to readjust his dress pants, and he clears his throat trying to calm himself down.

"You’re going to regret that at home, sweetheart,” he grumbles.

"Will I?” You can’t stop teasing him, your eyes glimmering with mischief as you whip around as gracefully as you can, slipping out of the bathroom and leaving him thoroughly frazzled behind you.

–

You spend the rest of the night trying to mingle with Rafayel’s guests, and trying your best to ignore the way Rafayel’s cosmic eyes track your every move. The way you feel like he can see right through your layers and layers of tulle, and see his milky white essence dripping slowly down your thighs.

He grins at you from across the room, raising his glass of champagne at you as he throws himself animatedly into conversation with his guests, with much more enthusiasm and vigor than he had previously all night.

And when he did take you home that night, he absolutely did make you regret teasing him on his very own birthday, in ways that had you unable to walk the next day.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

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breakmeoff · 17 days ago

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Wet n Wild

featuring: han jisung x fem!reader warnings: swearing, peeping tom hannie, shy hannie, some crack. smut: brief handjob (m receiving), unprotected p in v, breeding kink. mostly porn, very little plot lol MDNI, 18+ only* word count: 1.7k synopsis: han can't help but stare at you through his hotel room window, watching you sunbathe unabashedly. once you catch him peeping though, he tried to play it off - and poorly. so while you try to teach him a lesson about not spying on people, he can't help but word-vomit his inner-most dirty fantasy. note: this is part of the Larie's Libations 200 Followers Celebration. this was requested by my sweet anon reader 🩷🩷, whose selection is listed below. thank you for reading! LARIE'S LIBATIONS - Dark Whisper Splash [Rum] — Han Jisung [Water] — Pool [Cherry & Citrus Rind] — Quirk (Shy/Easily Flustered) Kink (Breeding) Masterlist

“She has to know what she’s doing… right?” Han mumbled to himself, two fingers curled around the edge of his hotel room’s curtain. The room was mostly dark, except the sliver of light that he was letting slip past the crack between the two drapes normally shading the window that faced out directly to the pool.

SKZ was on the second leg of their tour and the band and staff were taking a very much needed two days respite, which was the reason that you were enjoying the hotel’s amenities in the middle of the day.

This was the second major tour you’d been on with the boys as one of their makeup artists. While not super close with any of them, you had established a good working relationship with the kids, falling into a big-sister type role with them as you were a few years older than Chan.

However, when Han found himself staring at you through his window, the last thing he considered you was family. “She’s been hiding that ass the whole time? …How? How have I not seen that before?”

Subconsciously, his free hand dropped to the front of his basketball shorts and cupped his semi-hard cock, unable to take his eyes off of you.

Every move you made was being watched, including the moment you placed your hands on the edge, and hoisted yourself up and out of the pool. As you fully stood back up on the cool decking, Han gulped dramatically, watching the water cascade down your tanned skin, and drip from the small black bikini you looked devastatingly hot in.

Walking barefoot over to the lounge chair, you bent down to grab your towel, giving Han the perfect visual of your ass sticking out towards him. Resting a foot on the lounger, you began drying off some of the excess water and stood back upright, starting to towel off your hair as you looked over your shoulder, glancing directly over to Han’s window.

You weren’t dumb, and Han was less than subtle, so of course you’d seen him peeping at you through the curtain off and on for the last 10 minutes or so. Was a damn good thing he was cute, because had it been anyone else it might have seemed pervy - but you were amused.

Finally, you dropped your towel back down onto the chair and turned around to fully face him, your hands coming to rest on your hips. There was no way he wouldn’t have known you were looking directly at him.

“Oh fuck!” He yelped, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as he quickly closed the curtains. With his hands still pinching them shut, he looked around his room frantically. “...she didn’t see me… right? The windows are dark…” he tried to reassure himself, “it was just coincidence she looked over here,” he chuckled.

Holding his breath, he separated the curtains just enough to let one eye peek through to see if it had just been a fluke.

With a smirk on your lips, you still stared right at him and the window. Lifting one hand, you crooked your finger at him in a silent ‘come hither’ motion, daring the younger man to come outside and face you in person.

Squeaking, Han swiftly closed the curtain again, his cheeks flushing a bright red. “Shitshitshit, fuck, what do I do? What do I do?” Giving himself a moment to freak out and calm himself back down, he paused before taking one last look back through the drapes.

But… you were gone.

“What the…” he mumbled, pulling the curtains apart wider than before, starting to look more obviously around the pool area. Furrowing his brows in confusion, he was about to crane his neck in another direction when he heard a knock on his door.

“Fuck!” He whispered, letting go of the curtains again before ducking down into a crouching position, as if making himself smaller would hide him behind the solid wood door. He froze, not moving an inch, and waited for whoever knocked to leave.

But, after a few seconds, he heard the knock again and a muffled voice. “Han, I know you’re in there. Open up.”

Pinching his eyes shut, he silently screamed in a moment of panic. Still bent down in his crouched position, he began ‘walking’ slowly to the door, doing his best to stay silent. If you couldn’t hear him, he could pretend to be invisible... right?

“I saw you watching me, the jig’s up.” You said, your voice still coming through garbled. Another moment passed. “Open your door or I’ll go get Chan.”

Popping up to his full height, Han raked his fingers through his hair before he pulled the door open and smiled at you brightly, as if this was the first time he’d seen you all day. “Y/N! What a pleasant surprise!”

“Figured that might get you,” you teased, a single eyebrow arched upwards as you stood before him, your towel wrapped around your body. Tilting your head, gesturing in the direction of the pool, you questioned him. “See something you liked out there?”

“What? Where?” He looked around, peeking over you towards the pool area. “Oh, over there? No, nothing. I saw nothing. Never looked over there before in my life.” Han babbled, obviously overcompensating. And poorly.

With a slow nod of your head, you kept your eyes on his face, completely flushed pink and awkward as hell. Shifting your stance, you unwrapped the towel around yourself and brought it to drape over your arm, completely exposing your bikini to him in 3D, high-def color, imax screen quality reality. “Nothin’ huh?”

Han’s jaw dropped as the towel came off and he could see you almost completely unobstructed in front of him and up so close. “Uhh…” he stammered, his eyes slowly scanning your frame, completely unaware of what you had just said.

Huffing a small laugh, you reached forward and tipped his chin up with two fingers, bringing his eyes back up to your face. “You wanna keep staring or do you wanna maybe do something about it?”

His brain short-circuited and he just stared at you, his mouth agape, blinking with a stunned expression on his face as he tried to process what you just asked.

Seeing that you were going to need to take matters into your own hands, you placed your open palm on Han’s chest and pushed him backwards into the room. Closing the door behind you, you tossed your towel onto a nearby chair, and watched as he kept walking backwards until the back of his knees found the bed and he sat down.

Closing the distance between you, you approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him necessarily, but determined to show him a good time. Placing your open palms on his shoulders, you leaned down, fanning your breath over his parted lips. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll really give you something to look at…”

Han’s eyes were locked onto yours, and all he could do was nod his head, sucking in a deep breath. “Yes Ma’am.”

Hearing exactly what you wanted, you pushed him back onto the bed and slowly crawled over his body, crashing your lips against his feverishly. Han moaned desperately against your mouth, lips, tongue, heat tangling together as his hands were all over you, any and everywhere he could touch.

It didn’t take long before your hand slid down his stomach and under the waistband of his basketball shorts, firmly gripping his now fully hard erection, pulling a breathy groan and whimper out of the younger man.

Once you had him weak for you, and putty in your (literal) hands, you tugged his shorts and briefs down, his weeping cock now sprung at full attention. Untying the strings on the side of your bottoms, you pulled your bikini completely off and straddled him, one hand firmly around his shaft as you guided him to your soaked core, sinking down in one, slow, all-consuming motion.

Han’s head tipped back and he moaned wickedly, his hands grasping at your ass, desperately needing something to hold onto as you moved expertly above him. “Fuck Y/N, you’re gonna kill me. Soso good…”

Your grin was sinful, loving how he was crumbling so quickly for you. Bouncing yourself up and down on him rhythmically, he lifted his head enough to look down at where your bodies met, mewling through parted lips. “You’re so good at this…” he mumbled, stars in his eyes as he let you guide everything.

“I think about this all the time… always wanted to touch you… so fucking hot….” Han’s hands slid from your ass, up your hips, side and then fully cupped both of your bare breasts, watching them in a dazed manner. “Perfect tits… fuck, so soft, shit, your pussy feels so good…”

Breathing out a laugh, you started to grind your hips above him, providing more friction to your clit against his pelvis. “Holyfuckingshitohmygod,” he cursed out, eyes pinching shut for a second before they reopened, focusing back again on your pussy. “Gonna fucking cum so much inside you… gonna put a baby in you,” he grunted, lifting his hips up involuntarily, thrusting up into you.

“Wait,” he paused, fingertips gripping into the soft flesh of your tits, eyes looking up to yours. “You on the pill? I don’t have a… nnnnfghhhh, condom…” he moaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Yes, Hannie…” you laughed, lifting your hips to fuck yourself up and down on his cock once again. “I’m on the pill, now be a good boy and take it…”

“Okay good…” Nodding absently, he couldn’t decide where he wanted to look, eyes raking between your face, tits, pussy, and then back up again. “Then I’m gonna fucking put twins in you, get you all fucking fat with my babies…” he moaned.

“...can’t wait for everyone to see your belly all swollen with my seed, knowing that I claimed your pussy and made you a mommy……” Han cried out, his words slurring together, head smacking back against the mattress, just as he tensed up below you and came.

my tags: @angel-writes-here @idkimobsessed @queenofdumbfuckery @mfcherry @downingmorphine @pixie-felix @d3kstar @lveegsoi @ebnabi @nebugalaxy @babystay724 @mmarusa @imagine-all-the-imagines @erisuna @beabidoobee @hanniesbubuwife @bbykaixx @riri53 @jinniesgirl @alx-wyjsr @skzswife @hwangjoanna @stephanieeeyang @minnysproutgriffinteddy @jqtsblyth @magicshuhua @loveesiren @szonyix6277 @seungttttop @moontabi

#larie's libations #han jisung smut #stray kids han #han x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung #han jisung x you #jisung x reader #stray kids jisung #skz jisung #skz han #stray kids han jisung #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz x reader

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papervenom · 2 months ago

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cedric diggory and all the ways he quietly loves you... (a habits list, and probably not the last one i’ll make)

hi! omg this is my first headcanon (blurb?? one-shot??) whatever it is I've had so much fun writing it!!! it’s been a busy few days and I promise that I’m still working on the next chapter but i wanted to get this out because it made me so soft 🥹 thank you so much to the sweet soul who requested this, it genuinely filled my heart up putting it together. here are some of the little things cedric diggory does when he’s in love with you. habits, quirks, tiny rituals. the kind of stuff that piles up over time and makes you realize just how much someone sees you. feel free to imagine them as canon in the insatiable universe (because honestly, they are)

★ he always waits outside your classes — and outside the entrance of your common room in the mornings!! even if you’re running late, even if he’s drenched from practice. he’ll lean against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes flicking to the door every few seconds, and the moment you appear? he lights up like you’re the only person who exists.

☆ he compliments you so genuinely it makes your chest ache — not just your looks, though he tells you you’re beautiful constantly, like he’s never gotten over the sight of you. one afternoon, you’re mid-ramble about something completely ridiculous (a dream you had, a weird bug you saw, whatever) and he’s just staring, all soft-eyed and smitten. then, without even thinking, he says, “i swear, i could listen to you forever. doesn’t even matter what you’re on about. your voice is my favorite sound.” it’s so simple, so achingly sincere, you forget how to breathe for a second.

★ he kisses your forehead twice — always twice. even if he’s in a rush, even if your friends are around and it’ll definitely earn you a round of teasing. one kiss for hello, one just because. it’s instinct at this point, something he does without thinking. soft and automatic, like he’s pressing a little promise into your skin. two smooches, always.

☆ he tidies up for you when you’re not looking — he doesn’t say anything, just stacks the piles books you left out in the library, folds your laundry into neat little piles, quills tucked back into their case. he never mentions it. just blushes when you catch him in the act. “you always do it for me,” he mumbles, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

★ he keeps little pieces of you tucked away like they’re lucky charms — a hair tie, a scribbled note, your lip balm, the lighter you left in his pocket. once, it was a folded napkin with your lipstick mark on it. you don’t even know half the things he’s saved. he just likes having bits of you close, like tiny proofs that you’re real and his.

☆ he whispers that he loves you when he’s half asleep — you’re beside him reading, trying not to wake him, but his hand finds your waist and his eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep. “i love you,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with drowsiness, before pressing a slow, sleepy kiss to your shoulder. then he’s out again, like he just needed to say it, like it couldn’t wait.

★ he’s quietly obsessed with touching you — not in a flashy or obnoxious way, just enough that everyone knows you’re his. sometimes, when he sees you after a long day, or just when he’s overwhelmed with how much he’s missed you, he lifts you up in a tight hug the same way he did the first time he saw you at the yule ball, like the rest of the world falls away and it’s just you. he wraps his arms around you so tight it knocks the breath from your lungs, sways you a little like he can’t believe you’re real. in the hallways, he threads his fingers through yours like it’s second nature. under tables, it’s his hand on your thigh, thumb tracing slow circles it’s never excessive. never overdone. it’s just cedric — quietly, constantly marking the fact that you’re his favorite person in any room.

☆ he talks about you like you’re already his family — he’ll say “we” when making plans. tells his mum about your favorite meals so she can make them whenever you visit. he’s already talking about bringing you to christmas next year. and when he’s home visiting, his parents hear about you constantly. stories about what you did that made him laugh, how you did on your last assignment, just proudly gushing about you. back at school, you slip into most conversations with his friends even when he doesn’t realize it. “(Y/N) said that yesterday,” he’ll murmur, or “she actually read that book, said it was brilliant.” he thinks he’s being casual, but he’s so transparent. the boys tease him constantly, but he just grins and shrugs because he can’t help it. you’re always on his mind. always the first thing he wants to talk about. it’s like loving you changed his whole vocabulary.

★ he pays attention to everything — how you take your tea, the way you hum when you’re deep in thought, how you always tap your quill twice before writing. he catalogs you like he’s afraid of forgetting all the little things, the soft details, the throwaway comments. he picks things up for you without you asking. if you mention needing more ink, he’s already got your favorite shade tucked into his bag. if you say you liked the apple tarts at breakfast, he starts sneaking one into his pocket every morning. he reads whatever you’re reading, too. your favorite books, old essays, reading assignments. he reads it all just so he can talk to you about them. it’s not performative. it’s not a show. he’s just genuinely curious. about you, your thoughts, your world. he wants to know everything you know.

☆ he’s always calling you sweet nicknames — darling, dove, love, baby, sweetheart, flower, angel. he cycles through them like he’s trying to find the one that suits you best. once, you teased him for it and he just shrugged, grinning. “you’re too many lovely things to choose just one.”

★ he seeks you out at parties — if you’re not arriving together, you can bet he’s scanning the room the second he walks in. it doesn’t matter who he’s talking to, or what kind of crowd he’s in the middle of. the moment he spots you, he’s weaving through the noise like nothing else matters. “there you are,” he always says, smiling like the night couldn’t properly begin until he found you. sometimes he’ll kiss your cheek without thinking, or slip his hand into yours so casually it makes your heart skip a beat. it’s like his whole body sighs in relief just from being near you again.

☆ he stares when he thinks you’re not looking — you’ve caught him across the room, in the mirror, from your periphery, just watching you with this enamored look in his eyes. and then you both just… laugh. quiet, giddy little giggles like neither of you can help it. it’s your thing now, that shared glance that says we’ve done this before. because you have. that first night at the feast, evenings at the library when you were strangers across the room, something magnetic pulling your eyes back to each other again and again. like you already knew. like you were remembering, not meeting.

★ he listens so intently it makes you nervous — like he’s absorbing every word, every shift in your tone, every pause you take to catch your breath. his grey eyes soften when you speak, stormy but warm, like they’re made to reflect you. when you tell stories, he watches your mouth more than he should, totally entranced, smiling a little when you get excited and trip over your words. when you cry, he doesn’t rush to fix it. he just holds your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and listens. not because he’s waiting to respond, because he wants to understand. because whatever hurts you, he wants to carry some of it too.

☆ he mouths “i love you” when he’s too far to say it — from the field during a match, where his hair’s a mess and his cheeks are flushed and he finds you in the crowd like it’s second nature. across the great hall, when he’s seated too far to reach you but can’t stop looking anyway. through the library shelves, when you catch each other in passing and he just stops, smiles, and mouths it, soft and sure, like it’s a secret just for you. it’s quiet. subtle. not meant for anyone else. but he says it like a promise, every single time. and you always say it back, even if it’s just in your smile.

★ he tucks your hair behind your ear when you're nervous — gently, like he's grounding you with the smallest touch. he knows you get anxious sometimes, knows the signs without needing to be told: the way your fingers fidget, your breathing shifts, how you stare a little too hard at nothing. so he leans in close and murmurs, “you’re okay. you’ve got this. i’ve got you.” his voice is soft, steady, certain. like a lifeline. even if you don’t believe it yet, he always does. and he’ll keep saying it until you do.

☆ he still gets flustered when you call him handsome — every single time. you’ll say it offhandedly, in the hallway, at breakfast, when he’s stretching before a match, and without fail, he ducks his head with a shy little smile, ears going pink. “you’re just saying that,” he’ll mumble, but he can’t quite stop the way his mouth curves or how he reaches for your hand after. sometimes he tries to play it cool, but he always ends up grinning like you’ve made his whole day. and the truth is, you have.

★ he gets visibly sulky when you’re upset — he wears your emotions like weather. if someone’s rude to you, if your insecurities start creeping in, if you just look a little too quiet for too long… he notices. he goes broody and still, tight-jawed, barely blinking as he mutters, “who do I have to kill?” and even if you laugh, he means it just enough to make your heart flutter and your anger soften. later, when things calm down, he pulls you in without a word, tucks you against him like he can shield you from the world. “you shouldn’t ever have to feel like this,” he murmurs into your hair. and you believe him, because somehow, with him, it feels true.

☆ he touches you absentmindedly when he’s studying — parchment spread out, ink smudged on his fingers, brow furrowed in focus. but even then, his body finds yours. his thumb draws slow circles on your thigh. your pinkies are hooked beneath the table like a quiet promise. his foot nudges yours every so often, like he’s checking to make sure you haven’t drifted too far. he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it half the time, but you do. and it always makes your chest feel full. like even when he’s buried in notes and diagrams, you’re still the grounding point. always his center of gravity.

♱ 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ♱

thank you so much for signing up! if you’d like to be added or removed, feel free to shoot me a message or visit the taglist form 💌

@yuveyoo, @milkpeanuts476, @iwannabeapinkaesthetic, @eviaroy, @josephineable, @verymuchinlovewithyou

i have so many more where these came from… if you’d like a part two like + repost pls!! 💌

#cedric diggory #cedric x reader #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts boys #insatiable universe #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory x you #reader insert #tumblr writing #long post #love letter #my brain is just cedric diggory now #papervenom requests

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ilydeku · 1 year ago

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Hello!! Before I start, I just want to say that your green profile aesthetic is so prettyyy😭😭😭 it honestly reminds me of Pinterest idk. Can I request IT!girl!reader dating middle school Izuku? (im just in love w loser bf x drop dead gorg reader!)

tysm anonnie !!❤️❤️

im not sure if i did this right, but here u go 😭💕

you, an IT girl, dating izuku in middle school

- now this is quite the unexpectation

- what were you doing with the quirkless loser, Deku??

- you, so full of confidence with the way you carried yourself, loads of friends, grades of flying colors, beauty unmatched, a strong quirk. the list goes on

- him? the only thing remarkable is probably his will to keep going. just a quirkless outcast, a shameless nerd with unreachable dreams

- LITERALLY THIS LMFAOO:

- so why? it came as a GREAT surprise to see a post of you and Deku hanging out at a kitty cafe on insta. was it a dare? a prank? like ts gotta be some typa joke right

- WRONGG.

- they're merely scratching the surface, a surface that's not at all what it seems

- he's a really sweet boy, completely taken advantage of because of his meekness

- despite being quirkless, he was the realest person you've encountered in the school: observant, hard working, respectful. it's not like a quirk defines you anyway

- it's so embarrassing watching a classmate with the most ugly, useless, atrocious quirk you've ever witnessed poke fun at Deku

- like oh my GOSH dude they get humbled QUICK after you mention that you'd rather be quirkless

- like atp that ain't a quirk that's a disability 💀—not to be mean, but to make a point that Deku is just as capable of becoming a hero as anyone else

- going to school dances with Deku would be a lot more enjoyable if it weren't for those meddling whispers about you two. he often gets pushed to the sidelines 'cause you get swarmed by your friends and bombarded with questions :(

- but in the end, you came with him and mattered the most to him.

- he gets so nervous when he's around you, help him, he can't even look at you

- not in offense or anything. you make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he can't help but feel enveloped by your presence

- you're this beautiful ray of light and he's kinda just..the shadow that follows after

"Izuku...Izuku did I do something wrong?"

"What? N-No! Of course not!"

"Then why aren't you looking at me?"

"Because you're—you're really pretty..."

"Pfft. You're really pretty too."

- Deku doesn't really initiate anything, thinking it'd be too lame or uncomfortable for you :( and if he does, he'll hesitate and drawback any ideas aforethought

- he follows you like a little puppy, always at your disposal

- he knows NOTHING about dating, only the note of going to amusements parks and sharing a sweet treat

- his confidence dwindles :( maybe he could learn a thing or two from you? <3

- when i tell you he was absolutley shocked when you confessed to him. his immediate reaction was playing it off as a joke

Wh..What? Oh...very funny, y/n...Huh..? YOU'RE SERIOUSOWUEIDEGHD!?!?

- he ALWAYS questions your feelings towards him—why me of all others? but i'm just a regular boy and you're..you? (gorgeous, pretty, beautiful, super cool, whole hearted, sweet...)

- and you can reassure everytime—because you're you and i like you!! a one of a kind.

- Deku doesn't have much to give to you, but he does have a big heart and alotta love

- maybe he is a loser, but he's your loser, and you wouldn't have him any other way

#w.midizu #izuku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x y/n #bnha x reader #deku x you #izuku x you #mha x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #deku headcanons #izuku midoriya #deku #deku fluff

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evvyyypeters-fics · 4 months ago

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Forbidden Fruit

William ‘Spike’ Pratt x f!reader

Word count: 5k+

Warnings: smut, pnv, period sex, Spike is a munch, porn w/ plot (sort of), absolutely feral shit, filthy, toe-curling bloody sex with the slutty bad-boy vampire himself, cringe, very specific characterization of Y/N, possible OOC Spike? (idk it's kind of hard to write a British accent lowkey), lots of banter, only like two uses of Y/N, mentions of Xander Harris, idk what else to add--that's it ig. It's some down-bad aah shi ok?

Author's note: My first fic in a whilleeee, hyperfixations always get me motivated. I’m back for now, but only to rant about my latest obsession. I'm actually surprised there was no period sex in BTVS. I mean for a pretty progressive y2k show about sweaty vampire romance and killing and there's not even an implication of periods let alone period sex? Not even a little quip or comment? Either that was too taboo even for BTVS or the writers weren't creative enough to think outside the box. (Either way, I come to serve the people).

It’s already been three days since Spike had that muzzle installed in his head. He refuses to stop complaining about it, and I don’t entirely blame the guy. Technically speaking, for a vampire, being physically modified to prevent the most natural of their instincts is like being forcefully castrated like some wild animal. Sure, it might be for the better and greater good, but it’s still sure to cause some discomfort and distress to said subject. Especially if they are a malicious, murdering monster and not a horny puppy. Though, when it comes to Spike, two things can be true at once.

Having to hand-feed the bound Spike with a mug of blood decorated with a straw was not on my list of things to do this month, that was for sure. But spending time with Spike turned out not to be all that terrible after all. If I just ignore his whining about being hungry because Giles and Buffy only allow him to eat a cup full of animal blood every day, he becomes quite the personality to be around. Specifically when he’s threatening what he’ll do when he eventually gets the chip out of his head and comes back to murder us all in cold blood in that casual, suave British tone that he makes sound so serious. But I know that he’s just bark and no bite now. The Scoobies agreed to keep pathetic Spike around for now since he has some information on the strange men who have been popping up around demon-hunting-related rendezvous, which of course cursed me with the duty of watching and taking care of him while they were off and living in their separate worlds. Separate from mine at least, as I practically lived at Giles’s house now to make sure the new pet dog didn’t get loose from his leash.

Today would have been just like any other day had I not conveniently gotten my period around the time I began babysitting the blood-sucking fiend. A few more days and I may have been relinquished of my duties from the bloodsucker, but alas, I would just have to hope that vampire senses were also a misconception, just like sleeping in a coffin during the day.

“Leavin’ you all alone again with the big bad, eh pet?” He croons, an all too familiar sly smile on his face as I enter the bathroom and pull up a chair a few feet away from him. He jokingly lunges forward and reaches his hands out, trying to scare me. But I barely jump before the chains holding them tight to the clawfoot tub hold him back.

“Funny,” I reply sarcastically, bemused by his behavior. “Are you going to do this all night? Or shall I ask Giles if I can chloroform you for a few hours just so I can get you out of my hair for once?” Crossing my arms as I sit back in the highly uncomfortable chair.

“Well, if you’re looking to shut me up, I have a few ideas on how to…remedy the issue.” Devious as always.

“And that would be?” I question, subtly quirking my brow.

He scoffs and flops back dramatically into the tub, rolling his eyes. “Well, what do you think, love?” He turns his gaze back to me, seemingly a little annoyed I couldn’t pick up on his non-obvious signals.

I continue sitting silently in the chair, my face scrunching into a more scrutinizing look as he stares me down, waiting for me to figure it out and answer. “What?” I ask offendedly as he scrutinizes me with his eyes.

“Blood you nitwit! I’m bloody starvin’ here!” He sighs exasperatedly, a slight growl in the back of his tone. “No pun intended—” His face drops softer as he quickly chimes, adding as he raises one finger in a dramatized gesture.

“You look fine to me.” I mock him, flickering a smile. “I mean, besides looking a little pale, but that’s just your regular Tuesday, now isn’t it?” He grits his teeth and turns his head, acting as if he wanted to strangle me with the way his hands flexed.

“Besides, we ran out. Xander was asked to pick some more up from the butcher’s earlier, and he probably won’t be back until way later like the others.” I added, though not kindly. “Seems you’re always hungry and sucked your own supply dry. You’re lucky any of us even bother to feed you.”

“Well, I am your hostage, love. Not a torture victim.” His annoyance is almost as amusing as his failed attempts to intimidate me now that he can’t actually hurt me.

“I mean, you always could be. That is if you don’t start talking.” I shrugged.

“I told you guys, I’m not talkin’ until I’m ensured that the chip will be removed.” He leans his head back against the edge of the tub defeatedly.

“Well you know that’s not happening any time soon, so you might as speak up now before we change our minds and kill you for it. I’m sure Buffy would love to do the honors.” I smirk at him, and I can see the flash of fear in his eyes as he foolishly tries to hide it behind his indifferent and sarcastic demeanor. “Though, at the end of the day, we might not need you after all. So, might as well make yourself useful.”

He groans with a slight growl in defiance, rolling his head against the edge of the tub before sighing exasperatedly. Finally convinced, he turns his head back to me and nods in my direction.

“Al’right, I’ll talk. But I want somethin’ to eat first.” A hidden grin appears on his face as if he’s caught me in some sort of loophole.

“I just told you we don’t have anything right now. You’ll have to wait until Xander gets back.”

“Well that’s not entirely true, now is it, love?” He says, a strange puppy-dog-eyed gleam in his look.

“What are you even talking about? I just told you we don’t have any blood left. It’s not like you can bite me or anything, you little chip-thing-a-ma-bobery will give you a nuclear headache.”

“That’s not what I meant, love.” He smirks at my innocence.

Oh.

I go still and silent when the realization hits, my confused and slightly offended expression drops and I stare at him blankly. He looks back at me with another sly smile on his face, enjoying my flustered reaction and waiting for me to respond to the inappropriate request.

“I was hoping the whole wolf-smell thing was another written exaggeration.” I finally spoke out, breaking the moment of silence that was a little suffocating to me.

“You hope or you wish?” He asks, raising a curious brow back at me, still beaming with that stupid smirk.

“Does it matter?” I ask rhetorically, aggravated and annoyed with him now.

“Not to me.” He shakes his head and purses his lips. Liar, of course, he said it to piss me off. Trying to convince me that I wanted him to know as if it wasn’t the farthest from the truth. But a part of me was somewhat grossly keen on the idea. But only faintly.

“Well, seems you’re just going to keep starving until Xander gets back. I can wait as long as we need for you to either talk now or be patient. And by that point, Buffy and the gang should be back in time to hear what you have to say too.” I put my foot down, smiling a silent proud grin as he gives me a look that mimics if I had just stuck my shoe in his mouth.

He rolls over in the tub defeatedly again, and I take the time of his moping to grab a magazine and flip through it. Making sure that I turn over each page with an annoying crinkle so that he knows my presence is still there, even as he attempts to nap, which most likely is just his attempt at pretending to sleep so that I’ll consider not breaking the silence with the annoying slice of loud paper wringing through the not-so-cozy acoustic bathroom. Which of course didn’t work on me.

For some reason, it began to feel like the Scoobies had been gone forever, and it was still dark outside. I kept checking the clock every few minutes even though it had felt like an hour each time. Normally when I babysat Spike the time seemed to go by quite quickly. It must be the subtly charged silence as I keep praying the minutes start passing quicker. Not even the books and magazines were helping it drive by. At the same time, I realized that my cramps were starting to worsen and I wanted to cry. Partially from the pain, but mainly because today felt like the worst day. The timing is so perfect it’s painful. Having to watch Spike the neutered dog while everyone is away, getting my period a few hours earlier, the worsening cramps, the hours seemingly taking forever to pass. Maybe it’s another demon who's playing tricks on me to drive me crazy with my worst nightmares. I’m sure something like that exists.

Spike hears the soft hitch of my pained breath as I clutch my abdomen, cupping my angry uterus lashing out at me. I try to keep the book in my hand steady and pretend I’m not in an infuriating amount of pain, focusing my eyes away from Spike as he turns in my direction.

“You alright there, pet?” He asks in a tender, concerned tone. But as I raise my eyes to him, I catch the shit-eating grin on his face that’s just dying to tell me ‘I told you so’.

“Yes, I’m fine actually. No thanks to you. I don’t need any of your help.” I grit my teeth to keep my voice from wobbling and revealing the absolute pain clawing at my insides.

“You sure? You seem to be strugglin’ a bit. You know, I heard that—”

“Just shut up, Spike! I know what you’re trying to do.” I hiss at him, stopping him before he could finish the sentence. I could feel the burn of my cheeks a little as they flushed.

“And what is it exactly that I’m tryin’ to do, love?” He asks, a faux offensive tone as he sits up a little higher and leans against the tub.

“Don’t play coy with me, Spike.”

“Your pouty face is so cute, Y/N. Do you know that?”

“Stop trying to be charming. It’s not working.” I slide away the magazine and cross my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the burning pain still coursing through my lower body.

“Oh, it isn’t? Well, my bad then. Excuse me for sayin’ anything.” He says sarcastically and annoyed, defeated again, giving up as he turns over once more and sinks deeper into the tub.

“Good.”

“Fine, then.” He pouts.

“Fine.”

I nod, pepping myself to refrain from talking with him anymore about this. Moving my focus to the boiling pain that is becoming harder to ignore. I think of every remedy I can to relieve the pain without having to get up because I have a feeling if I tried, I would keel right over. And then Spike would take his most glorious opportunity to run away, and I couldn’t risk that. So I sat in a longer and drawn-out silence than before trying to persevere through the pain.

My gaze flickers to Spike occasionally without thought, catching glimpses from the back of his radioactive blonde hair before dropping once more to the book in front of me. As waves of pain crashed through me I start to wonder if it would truly be that bad to take up on his offer. I mean, he says he will talk if he has some food, and Xander obviously won’t be here for a while. Alongside the rest of everyone else, so if I indulged him, it’s not like anyone would catch us. And say he didn’t give the information up, well I’d still benefit, and we’d probably kill him anyway. It’s a fully ensured mutually beneficial deal, well, swinging towards one way more than the other—but the schematics of it all doesn’t really matter. Not will the sharp throb of abdominal pain making my thoughts stutter and my brain swirl.

Frustrated, I throw the book to the floor and stand up, raising myself above Spike.

“Alright,” I state sternly. “You say you’ll talk if you have something to eat?” I question him–more like interrogate.

He turns his head to me, slightly startled by my jumping up, and possibly the fact that I seem to be agreeing to his terms. He doesn’t have that shit-eating-want-to-punch-him-in-the-face-bastard-smirk on his face, and that makes for something.

“Just a snack is al’right.” He says eloquently, shrugging. “Then I’ll tell you all you want to know. ‘Swear on my grave, love.” He peers up at me through his brow bone, his eyes latching onto mine with their dark depths. Something in that look makes me fold, it seems so genuine and raw.

“Oh well that’s promising,” I scoff sarcastically.

Nerves swim in my stomach as I become flustered with the realization of what I’ve just agreed to. I stand there for a moment before him, nearing close to the edge of the tub.

“You just going to stand there, pet? Y’know, if you unchained me I could help you a little—” He offers, a small grin hidden on his face as he snaps me out of my trance.

“Yeah, that’s not happening. We’re doing this my way.” I scold him as I start to unbutton my jeans. Spike catches my hands with his gaze as soon as they pop open the metal button and his eyes flash. I try to pretend that his gaze isn’t burning through me as I begin to shimmy them down to my ankles, but it’s no use.

“Are you just going to keep staring?” I ask, gritting my teeth a bit to hide the shyness, despite my obvious flushed cheeks.

“Well, what else am I suppose’ to do, love? Not watch the show? Besides, there are more embarrassing things that—”

“That’s enough from you.” I stop him mid-sentence, pressing my index finger to his lips and he smiles quietly against it. God, he’s just thoroughly enjoying this isn’t he? I’d regret to admit it’s turning me on. Especially with that look in his eyes, watching me like I’m the best thing he’s seen in weeks. Which technically speaking, could be true.

It was difficult to find positioning given the small space of the tub that he was totally overtaking.I was starting to regret not taking off the cuffs for him, but I knew (hoped) it would be better in the long wrong. Who knows, maybe that’s what he wanted me to do all along. Though, would it have mattered at this point? My mind was too far stretched to care even if he did, but I was too preoccupied with the look on his pale face to bother removing them anyway.

Positioning my bare, bleeding core over his mouth, his eyes are locked onto it hungrily. Something in his gaze made it unclear if he was entranced by the blood or my body, and regardless it was making my skin feel slightly hot. His lips drained of color from his forced diet, parted readily as I hovered, his tongue practically lolling as he begged silently for me to lean closer. Cautiously, I tempted him. Lowering myself closer towards his lips, it was a warm and inviting feeling, surprisingly gentler than I expected from him. Soft, experimental kitten licks as he explores the fleshy fat of my labia majora, wiping away any mess as he circled closer to my engorged clit. My whole body felt like it was pulsing, I could only watch him from below me with blown, wide eyes. Skin flushed and rosy from the sensation of his tongue darting out and licking stripes, as if savoring the taste. Seems he likes playing with his food after all. I found myself subconsciously pressing closer into his mouth and I only notice when he lets out a low moan in response, his lips pursing to press a kiss to my clit, making sure to catch my eyes as he sucks on it gently. A gentle popping sound rings as he removes his lips and licks a fat stripe with his tongue across my entrance, blood lingering across it. His lips were already stained from drool and arousal, mixed with the faint hue of blood.

I always thought vampires were disgusting, evil creatures, I couldn’t imagine how blood could be enjoyable. Even for a vampire. Especially when it came to Spike and Angel. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, which is why it’s already so confusing for me as to why I’d agree to him like this. But seeing the look of my blood covering his mouth, and the expression painted on his face of pure bliss. I understand a little more now.

Spike grins against me for a moment when I shudder after he flicks his tongue on my clit aggressively, becoming a little more bold.

“I thought you were going to eat my blood, not mess around.” I accuse him, trying to keep my voice steady and stern as before, but it still cracked anyway.

“I’m just enjoying the moment, love. You agreed because you want to feel good too, isn’t that right, pet?” He asks cheekily, his voice vibrating against me and I almost fall over from the trembling that shocks my knees, finding balance in gripping my hands in his gelled hair. Wait, did he say ‘too’?

“N-No more talking,” I say breathily and Spike beams once more, even more amused than before as he goes back to his ministrations.

He doesn’t seem to mind as I claw into his scalp, messing up his meticulously done hair. If anything he seems to enjoy it as he laps faster into my cunt, sucking out any of the blood that leaks forth, dribbling down his chin. My legs start to feel sticky as the blood starts to dry down them, which prompts Spike to lick stripes up my thighs to wipe it away, savoring every single drop as if he couldn’t possibly waste it.

I can feel the waves of pleasure reach higher inside of me as he focuses on my clit every few moments before plunging his tongue into me, twisting it and moving it in ways I didn’t know were even possible, and making me feel in ways I hadn’t even imagined. I couldn’t help the progressive yelp of moans that slipped past my lips, melting into the pleasure. I hadn’t even noticed that the cramps had almost completely subsided from how quickly I had gotten caught up. My hands went from gripping his hair painfully tight to massaging his scalp, and he purred just like a cat about it. The vibrations of his voice and breath against me brushed just right, pushing me closer to the edge. He looked even more like a puppy, being helpless bound, chained, and all, trying so hard to please me and get his fill.

“S-Shit…” I gasped quietly, my eyes squeezing shut. I could just feel the cocky grin on his face. But when I open my eyes to look, his expression is anything but. He looks almost dazed, mindlessly focused on lapping and kissing me clean of blood, utterly lost in the taste of me. His eyes were practically glittering as he stared up at me, his gaze unbreaking. Sweet blood mixed with arousal that made his skin tingle warmly. It was driving him mad, he looked more starved than he had before. As if he had been holding back how badly he wanted it, or maybe as soon as he had a taste he was overcome with the full extent of his hunger.

The look alone was getting me closer but mixed with the quick flicks and broad stripes of his tongue working closer, harder, faster against me. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I clasped a hand over my mouth as I cried out a little louder, my hips stuttering as they shook against his face, a gush of arousal I hadn’t known I had in me came out and he relished it.

He didn’t stop, continuing to slurp away, a little more intensely now. Overstimulating me with a purpose. I squealed, gripping tighter onto his blonde hair, now a mess. I don’t know how I kept my balance with the way my legs shook as wave of orgasm after orgasm crashed into me before he finally gave up, slowing down with gentle licks and kisses around my clit and upper thighs. I was heaving and on the brink of breathlessness, my throat becoming sore from the cries I rang out.

He leans his head back farther to gauge my expression better, darting his tongue to the corners of his bloodied lips that he licks away. “That better?” He asks, still being cheeky. I just nod silently, basically speechless.

“Good.” He tilts his head. “You should have told me sooner how delicious your blood is,”

“I hadn’t realized ‘til now,” I respond in a breathless tone.

“Still catty after all that, eh love?” The idiot smirks. Though, I couldn’t hate him for it. He was looking exceptionally prettier than usual. I chalked it up to the hormones coursing through me, still blissed from the consecutive orgasms.

“So…did the pain stop…love?” He asks, slightly shy. Which was a little surprising. Spike, a vampire who attempted to suck me dry of period blood, getting nervous over asking me about my cramps? Or maybe he wasn’t shy. There was something tender about his expression.

I shake my head. A lie. But one couldn’t hurt. Technically speaking, the pain had stopped, or at least numbed to a dull ache, but I still ached over something else.

“I see…” He responds his voice a low drawl that sent a shiver down my spine. “What shall we do about that?” He asks rhetorically, thinking. Something about the way he says it makes me think he’s already caught onto my lie but doesn’t want to call me out. However, it could just be my guilty conscious making things up.

“Aren’t you full though?” I ask, my lame attempt at segueing smoothly.

“Could it be you’re needin’ something else, love?” He asks, cracking that same grin again I had been waiting for, dragging his lips over my thighs as he places a tender kiss. His stark gaze continued to stare deeper into mine, not allowing me to break away from it. His tone is clear with innuendo.

I finally break free of his eyes, glancing away nervously, not knowing how to respond to him without sending pathetic.

“Well, if we’re going to do that, you’re unfortunately going to have to unchain me, love.” My eyes quickly snap to him.

“Absolutely not. You know I’m not doing that.” I say sternly.

“You might not have a choice.” He says, pulling at the chains that bound his hands close together and prevented me from getting anywhere close to him comfortably and I sighed to myself. Having to decide between giving up or risking unchaining him for a while. Weighing the pros and cons for a moment, I conclude that if he tried to escape it wouldn’t matter, but from the visible strain in his pants that I noticed, I recognized that he likely wouldn’t try. Regardless, I still didn’t trust him when I began to unshackle him.

He flexes his wrists for a moment, rubbing at the chaff marks. Before I can say anything he pulls at my waist and drags me into the tub, keeping me from hurting during the fall. I gasped before I landed and when I turn my head I catch a new stupid, cheesy smile on his face. He doesn’t speak or make any taunting remark, instead, he presses a tender kiss to my lips and I meet the mingling taste of cigarettes mixed with what I assumed was my own blood and arousal in his mouth. The soft, playful kisses turned into something more hungry and we were quickly meeting each other at a desperate pace. He was practically eating my face as I kissed him, and I returned the same energy. Allowing myself to let go and lean into his touch, turning myself and splaying my hands over his chest, my hips hovering over his as his hands explore up from my waist to my back. The hands running up and down the hot flesh trail their way into the base of my hair, cradling my head closer. I had underestimated the lack of breath vampires had when I had to fight to pull back to gasp for air between kisses.

We mutually grind ourselves together as the kisses become passionate, my hips roll against the thankfully black fabric of his pants (though I’m sure he wouldn’t care to begin with), and his buck up and grind against me in return. The bare friction of my core against the coarse fabric of his pants became a mix of pain and pleasure that left me searching for more. Impatience took over me, and Spike latched his kisses onto my neck and jaw as I reached back and freed him from his briefs. His hands were too busy squeezing my breasts and flesh to help me, holding me close.

Wasting no time, I sink onto him, my cunt swallowing him whole with a mutual sigh between us. My breath hitches in my throat again as I feel the full stretch, reaching to my cervix with a gentle kiss of his tip. Our chests heave against each other rapidly, my breasts pressing against his chest and rubbing against my shirt with their hardened peaks, sensitive to the softest graze. I lift my head from his shoulder to kiss him again, catching a glimpse of his dazed expression. He looked even more drunk on arousal than he had earlier and I questioned if that was even possible. I didn’t spend time staring, holding a hand to his cheek to pull him into another fiery kiss as I began to grind my hips. He groans into my mouth, choked moans leaving his mouth gaping for me to slip my tongue in. He responds and our tongues battle as he wraps his arms around my waist, his hips gradually bucking up into me without abandon.

It only takes a few minutes before we’re both completely worked up and he bullies my cervix, his tip aggressively hitting all the way back with each thrust. His arms held me in place to keep me from running as if I would even want to or could with the way that my head was completely numb. Zero thoughts running through my brain other than the intense pleasure coursing through every nerve in my body that was painfully active. He lets out multiple erotic sounds from deep in his chest, especially so when we break from kissing occasionally so we can nibble on each other. I pull at his earlobe while his tongue slides over my neck, desperately wanting to bite me for sure. Despite the clear loss of his inhibitions, he doesn’t attempt it.

The blood that continues to leak from my cervix only acts as extra lube, and causes a mess on both of our thighs, leaking down from his cock and splattering with each slap of our skin. The smell of blood and sex begins to linger in the air, even more so with the bathroom door closed. The sounds coming from us were filthy and if I weren’t lost in lust, it’d be embarrassing. But for the moment, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard, music to my ears. I was feral, and it seems that so was he.

I wasn’t even fully aware of what was happening until I clawed into his shoulders, my hands slipping from the back of his hair as a new orgasm crashed over me. I don’t even remember when our shirts fell to the floor, but I had wasted no time clawing up his back apparently as the skin was almost scratched raw. Sweat glittered on our skin, shining from the bright white light in the bathroom. He hadn’t stopped at the clear cry of my orgasm, continuing to buck up into me madly, reaching his own high. I finished once more, this time he followed pursuit, feeling the warmth of seed flowing into me. His thrusts pausing in a staccato pattern. Post-bliss buzzes through us and I lean my head into his shoulder as I find my breath once more. I don’t want to move, feeling too limp to attempt to get off him.

Though, I quickly change my mind when I hear the familiar sound of the front door opening. My body jolts out of its daze and I quickly fling myself off of Spike, throwing him back his clothes.

“Shit!” I hiss, half-hazardly pulling my clothes back on, my pad still attached to my underwear as I slide them up. During the quick minute, we were lucky no one came in, and I take the extra 30 seconds to make sure I don’t look too disheveled before I step out of the bathroom. Hoping that I can distract everyone from checking on Spike before he can put his clothes back on the way they were. As well as fix the mess of his hair I had made.

Everyone seems to be distracted and discussing something when I step out of the bathroom and gently close the door behind me, guarding it a moment before stepping forward when everyone turns their head to my presence.

“Y/N!” Xander chimes with a stupid friendly smile. “How’d it go with fangless? He bore the shit out of you again?” He asks, taunting me a little.

I nod, smiling and trying to act normal. But it feels as if they can already tell something is off. “Yeah, definitely! Man, how I hate that guy!”

There’s a moment of awkward silence between everyone as we pause, unsure of how to deal with the clear tension in the room.

“So, I’m guessing you guys were fighting and that’s why you look like that.” Anya points out bluntly.

I can feel my cheeks burn a little as I realize why everyone is looking at me so confused, trying to keep my face from turning too red.

“Yeah. That’s what happened. Don’t worry, I took care of him. I think he might actually be willing to talk now.”

“I’m sure you did,” Buffy added with slight suspicion in her tone. “Make sure to talk to him then if he’s ready.” She nods, changing the topic as she goes back to talking about whatever it was they were discussing before that I had no interest in at the moment.

As soon as Buffy says something I notice a flash of held laughter on everyone’s faces, even if they do know, nobody seems to care too much. Though, I can feel the judgment, only a little. But at this point, I don’t have the energy to care.

Taglsit (you can be added or removed at any point. If you used to be on my taglist and don’t see your username, let me know so I can update it. Same goes for if you want to be removed):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @americanwh0rerstory @xrag-dollx @lacucarachapisser @alittleobsessedbitch @n0tonlin3

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jellofish-plant · 6 months ago

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Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader Headcanons

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader

Master List

Warnings:

Mentions of Jason’s past trauma (his death and resurrection are lightly referenced).

Gotham’s usual grit and danger.

Light angst mixed with fluff.

Summary: A collection of headcanons exploring what it’s like to be in a relationship with Jason Todd. From quiet moments of vulnerability to his fierce protectiveness, these glimpses show the many layers of the man behind the Red Hood.

Author’s Note: Hi, lovely readers! 🖤 Thank you for visiting my blog and checking out this new piece. I love diving into Jason’s character and imagining how he’d express love and loyalty in a relationship, and I hope you enjoy reading these headcanons as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Feel free to like, reblog, or leave a comment—I’d love to hear your thoughts.

1. Protective but Respectful

Jason has an almost instinctive need to protect you, especially given his traumatic past. However, he’s not overbearing. He respects your independence and knows you can handle yourself.

That said, if he thinks you’re in danger, he won’t hesitate to show up unannounced, armed to the teeth, just in case.

2. Affectionate in His Own Way

Jason isn’t the most openly affectionate person in public, but he shows his love through small, meaningful gestures: leaving notes in your favorite book, making sure your favorite snacks are stocked, or holding your hand when no one’s watching.

In private, though? He’s a cuddler. He loves having you close, whether it’s holding you while you’re watching a movie or burying his face in your neck after a long night.

3. Intellectual Connection

Jason is incredibly well-read thanks to his love of literature from his time with Bruce. He loves discussing books with you, sharing his favorites, and hearing your thoughts on them.

He secretly adores it when you recommend a book to him, especially if it’s something outside his usual genres.

4. Humor and Wit

Jason has a sharp wit and loves to make you laugh, even if his humor is a little dark sometimes. He’s quick with sarcastic remarks and loves when you can match his banter.

If you’re ever feeling down, he’ll try to lighten the mood with ridiculous antics—like showing up in his Red Hood gear but with a goofy apron over it, claiming he’s your personal “hero-chef.”

5. Shared Quiet Moments

Some of Jason’s favorite moments are the quiet ones, where you’re both just existing in each other’s company. Whether you’re reading on the couch while he cleans his weapons or you’re cooking together, those moments ground him.

He often falls asleep on your shoulder or with his head in your lap during these quiet times. It’s one of the few ways he truly relaxes.

6. Fiercely Loyal

Jason’s loyalty to you is unwavering. Once he’s let you into his heart, you’re family, and he’ll do anything to protect and support you.

He also expects the same loyalty in return. Trust is crucial to him, and if you’re honest and open with him, he’ll cherish you all the more.

7. Struggles with Vulnerability

Because of his past, Jason struggles to open up about his emotions. He doesn’t want to burden you with his trauma or his fears, but over time, he learns to trust you enough to share those parts of himself.

When he does open up, he appreciates how patient and understanding you are. Your support means everything to him.

8. Playful Teasing

Jason loves to tease you, especially if it makes you laugh. He’ll playfully steal your snacks, mimic your quirks, or challenge you to silly bets (which he’ll let you win most of the time).

If you manage to catch him off guard or tease him back, he’s secretly impressed and enjoys the back-and-forth.

9. Intense Protectiveness in Battle

If you ever find yourself in danger while he’s in his Red Hood persona, Jason is relentless. He’ll fight with everything he has to keep you safe.

However, if you’re capable of holding your own in a fight, he’s the first to cheer you on (while subtly watching your back). He’s proud of your strength and resilience.

10. Love Through Actions

Jason isn’t great with words when it comes to expressing his feelings, but he shows his love through his actions. Whether it’s fixing something around the house, bringing you your favorite coffee, or checking in with you after a long day, he always finds ways to make you feel cared for.

He has a habit of leaving small gifts for you—like a flower he found on patrol or a rare book he thought you’d love.

11. Dealing with His Darkness

Jason has dark moments where his anger and guilt resurface, but you’re his anchor. Just your presence helps calm him, reminding him that he’s not alone.

He deeply values how you don’t try to “fix” him but instead accept him for who he is, scars and all.

12. Adventurous Dates

Jason isn’t one for traditional dates. Instead, he takes you on thrilling adventures—riding through Gotham on his motorcycle, exploring abandoned buildings, or stargazing on rooftops.

Despite his love for adventure, he’s also happy to spend a quiet night in with takeout and a movie, especially if it means being close to you.

13. The Family Factor

Jason is hesitant to introduce you to the Batfamily at first, but once he does, he’s fiercely proud to have you by his side.

You quickly become the peacekeeper between Jason and his siblings, often mediating playful (or not-so-playful) arguments between him and Dick or Tim.

Alfred adores you, and Bruce is quietly relieved to see Jason happy again, even if he won’t admit it out loud.

#Jason Todd x Reader #Red Hood x Reader #Jason Todd Headcanons #Batfamily #Gotham City #Fluff with a Dash of Angst

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rootedinrevisions · 9 months ago

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Attention

SUMMARY: Amidst the chaos of storm fronts and unpredictable skies, your playful bratty antics spark a fiery dynamic between you and Tyler, who knows just how to tame your spirited nature. But as passion ignites and boundaries blur, a day of teasing leads to an unforgettable night at a hotel, where he reveals a different side of the southern gentleman you’ve come to adore.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was meant to be a short drabble like yesterday's Kinktober Post (my goal is for them to be at or under 1k words). But as I was writing this one it kind of just took off and I kept going and now here we are at almost 6k words! There's also just something about Tyler and the way he would smirk whenever Kate gave him any kind of sass in the movie that screamed brat tamer to me. So I hope you all enjoy this!

PROMPT: "I'm really not in the mood for you to tease me today."

KINK: Brat / Brat Tamer

WARNINGS: Teasing. 18+ SMUT. (Spanking. Unprotected Sex. P in V Sex.) Aftercare (because we love a man who takes care of his partner after.)

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 @saucy-sassy-sparkly I @alipap3 I @dudinhastuff

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The day had been a whirlwind, literally and figuratively. Storm after storm popped up on the radar, each one stealing Tyler’s attention. Tyler sat behind the wheel of his truck, his eyes fixed on the screen displaying swirling wind patterns and the ominous hook echo of a forming tornado. His fingers tapped against the keyboard of his laptop, occasionally flicking to the handheld radio on the dash as he communicated with the rest of the team who were following behind.

You, on the other hand, were sitting in the passenger seat of his truck, idly watching him as he clicked through the radar images.

It wasn’t unusual for him to get this absorbed in his work. In fact, it was one of the things you admired most about him—his drive, his passion for what he did.

But today, you were feeling a little left out. Maybe it was that normally you had his attention while you were driving to a storm. Normally he’d hold your hand or have his hand on your thigh as he drove. Or maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t looked at you in over an hour, but a small part of you craved his attention.

Leaning back in your seat, you crossed your arms and let out a quiet huff, eyes narrowing as you stared at him.

Nothing. He didn’t even blink, fully engrossed in tracking the storm. You knew better than to expect him to drop everything just because you wanted some attention, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun.

“Think we’re almost done chasing storms for the day?” you asked, knowing full well what his answer would be but fishing for a little attention nonetheless.

Tyler barely looked up from the screen. “We’ve got three more cells popping up, so it’s looking like it’s gonna be a long night,” he said, his voice steady.

You frowned, crossing your arms and huffing just loud enough for him to hear. “Bet you’d marry the tornadoes if you could.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

Bingo. A reaction, even if it was small.

You smirked and leaned in a bit closer, tapping your fingers against the console between you and him. “I can see why you like them. They’re unpredictable, dramatic, always showing off when they don’t need to...”

He didn’t respond, just turned back to the radar, a smirk still playing on his lips. The lack of attention stung a little, but mostly, it ignited the brat in you.

Ignoring you was one of his favorite tactics when you were leaning into your brat personality, but it was your least favorite. You could feel the frustration bubbling up inside you, but it only fueled your determination to push him a little further.

“They’ve got everything you love, don’t they?” You quirked a brow, turning in your seat to face him more fully. “Reckless, impossible to control, full of attitude, and always causing trouble…”

Tyler’s lips twitched as if he was fighting off a smile, but he remained focused on the road. "You describing the tornadoes or something else?" he muttered, his tone teasing.

You shift in your seat, uncrossing and recrossing your legs with a huff, making sure he heard you. You make sure as you do this that your tight denim shorts ride up just a little bit showing more of your thighs. You then reach up and adjust the white tank top you’re wearing, adjusting your bra ever slightly to push your boobs up ever so slightly.

Tyler finally shifted his gaze from the storm to you, his eyes narrowing in that way that let you know he knew exactly what you were doing.

His voice was low, almost daring you to push further as he said. "Tornadoes are unpredictable, sure. But if you know how to handle them, if you can figure out what makes them tick...”

He let the words trail off, and you felt the tension rise again, this time not because of the storm outside. You gave him a slow smile, but your pulse quickened.

“Do you know to handle them?” You teased, though your voice wavered just enough to betray the heat simmering between you.

Tyler’s gaze locked onto yours, and the air between you shifted, heavy with unspoken understanding. “Darlin', I’m really not in the mood for you to tease me today.”

The directness of his words caught you off guard, and you blinked in surprise. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a weight to it that told you he wasn’t messing around. He glanced back at the radar, clearly still tense from the day’s events, and you could see the stress etched in the lines of his face.

But instead of backing down, your frustration only deepened. You leaned forward in your seat, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “Yeah? Well, I’m really not in the mood for being ignored,” you shot back, your voice laced with that bratty edge you knew would get a reaction.

Tyler let out a slow breath, his hands pausing over the keyboard for a moment before he turned his head to look at you fully. His eyes narrowed slightly, and that stern look—the one that sent a shiver of both excitement and challenge through you—was back. “There are a lot of storms happening right now. You really wanna compete with a tornado for my attention?”

You held his gaze, unyielding. “Maybe,” you said, shrugging with feigned indifference. “I think I could give them a run for their money.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension hung in the air, heavy and charged like the storm outside. Tyler leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours, but he didn’t rise to your bait just yet.

Instead, he shifted his focus back to the radar, the smirk on his face barely noticeable but definitely there. He was doing it again—ignoring you on purpose. And it was driving you mad.

You let out another exaggerated sigh, leaning closer to him, but he kept his eyes between the radar screens and the roads in front of him.

“Oh, come on,” you said, your voice playful but with a hint of challenge. “What’s more important? A tornado or me?”

Tyler didn’t even flinch. “Right now? The tornado.”

That was it. That smug, calm tone of his always got under your skin in the most thrilling way. You shifted in your seat, biting your lip as you considered your next move. You could stop here, but where was the fun in that? No, you were going to push him just a little further.

You waited for your next move until the next stop where Tyler pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a small mom and pop type gas station. The rest of the team hurried inside to use the bathroom and grab some drinks and snacks.

Meanwhile you and Tyler lingered in the truck for a few minutes. You leaned over the center console, your voice low and teasing as you whispered, “Maybe I should just find something else to entertain myself if you’re so busy.”

Finally, Tyler turned his head to look at you, his eyes darkening with a mixture of warning and amusement. He gave you a long, steady look, the kind that always made your pulse race, before speaking in that slow, Southern drawl of his. “I’d think real carefully about that, sweetheart.”

You smirked, unfazed by his warning. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Tyler’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but the sharpness in his gaze remained. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping so low that it sent a shiver down your spine. “Because if you keep pushing, you’re not gonna like what happens next.”

You could tell by the way his eyes lingered on you that he was reaching his breaking point, and it only made you want to push further.

You straightened up, flashing him a defiant grin. “What, you think you can handle me?” The challenge was unmistakable in your voice, and you watched his reaction closely, waiting to see if you’d finally get what you wanted.

Tyler’s eyes darkened, and in one smooth, deliberate motion, he leaned in close—so close that you could feel the warmth of his body, the faint smell of his cologne mixing with the rain-soaked air. His lips barely brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Darlin’, I tame tornadoes. You don’t think I can tame you?”

The way his voice rumbled against your skin sent a jolt of excitement through you, but you swallowed down the reaction, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you tilted your chin up defiantly, pretending his words hadn’t rattled you, even though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Is that so?” you shot back, your voice breathy, daring him to make good on his promise.

Tyler pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with that same stern intensity. He didn’t speak for a moment, just let the weight of his gaze hang between you, thick with unspoken meaning. Then, in a voice that was all command, he said, “You better start acting like the good girl I know you are. Or you won’t be getting any of my attention for the rest of the night.”

His words hung in the air, and your heart skipped a beat. You knew that look. He was serious now. The playful banter had shifted into something more intense, and you could feel the shift in the air between you. It was a warning—one you knew better than to ignore.

But still, the brat in you wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Guess we’ll see if you can keep that promise,” you quipped, your voice full of playful defiance as you met his gaze head-on.

Tyler raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, you’ll see, alright,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. He gave you one last lingering look before reaching for the door handle and exiting the truck

As you watched him make his way into the gas station, looking hotter than should be legal in just a backwards baseball cap, a button down shirt, some Wrangler jeans, and a pair of cowboy boots, you knew you had crossed a line. The line. He was in full brat tamer mode now, you had his full attention now, and that meant you were in trouble.

* * * * *

The storm had finally passed, leaving behind soaked streets and the distant rumble of thunder as Tyler pulled into the motel parking lot around nine o’clock later that night. The quiet hum of the engine faded, replaced by the sound of rainwater trickling off the roof.

You glanced over at Tyler, but his face was unreadable, all traces of the playful banter from earlier wiped clean. He parked the vehicle, his jaw clenched as he cut the engine.

You were still trying to gauge his mood when Tyler opened his door and stepped out into the cool night air, rain droplets catching the faint glow of the streetlights. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed the keys and walked around the front of the truck.

He opened your door and waited for you to get out. He reached into the backseat and grabbed both of your bags, throwing them over his shoulder. Then without saying a word he motioned for you to follow. A thrill of anticipation coursed through you.

When you reached the room, Tyler unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing for you to enter first. The door clicked shut behind you, and the sudden quiet of the room felt stifling. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your chest as you stood there, unsure of what was about to happen next.

Tyler took his time, tossing the keys onto the table by the door before slowly turning to face you. His expression was calm, but his eyes—those sharp, stormy eyes—told a different story. He was still every bit in control, but there was a spark of something dangerous beneath the surface. And you were the one who had lit the fuse.

“You’ve been testing me all day,” he said, his voice low, steady. He took a slow step toward you, closing the space between you in a way that made your breath catch. “And now, you’ve got all of my attention.”

You met his gaze, swallowing the nervous flutter in your stomach. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? His full, undivided attention. But standing here now, under the weight of his stare, you realized just how serious he was.

“I told you,” he continued, his voice dropping lower as he came even closer, “if you kept pushing, you weren’t gonna like the outcome.”

You smirked, still holding on to that last shred of defiance. “Maybe I’m still not convinced.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into a knowing smile. He was right in front of you now, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, the scent of rain and earth still clinging to his clothes.

“Well,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine, “you’re about to be.”

Before you could respond, Tyler closed the distance, his hand sliding around the back of your neck as he pulled you in. His hand then moved to your hair where he tightened his grip and pulled your head back slightly.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. His kiss was hard, commanding, and you could feel the pent-up frustration from earlier in the way his lips moved against yours.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, heart racing as his fingers lingered in your hair. His gaze locked onto yours, and there was no mistaking the seriousness in his voice when he spoke next.

“You’ve got two choices now, darlin’,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “You can behave and I’ll give you the attention you’ve been beggin’ for all day, or…” His thumb brushed along your jaw, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can keep being a brat, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

A thrill shot through you at his words, the heat between you palpable as you weighed your options. But the brat in you wasn’t ready to give in so easily. You bit your lip, eyes gleaming with challenge as you tilted your head slightly, daring him.

“What if I like regretting it?” you quipped, your voice laced with that same teasing defiance that had gotten you into this situation in the first place.

Tyler’s eyes darkened, and for a brief moment, you could see the flicker of amusement there, quickly replaced by something far more dangerous. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice thick with Southern charm, “you really don’t know what you’re askin’ for, do you?”

And with that, he took a step back, his hand dropping from your neck as he moved over to the bed, sitting down at the edge. He leaned back casually, his hands resting on his thighs as he looked at you with a calm, almost predatory gaze.

“Come here,” he commanded, his voice soft but firm, leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated for a moment, that last flicker of defiance warring with the butterflies in your stomach. But you knew the game was over. Tyler had won, and now it was time to face the consequences.

Slowly, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached him. When you reached the edge of the bed, Tyler reached out, grabbing your waist. His hands moved to the button of your jean shorts, popping it open before he hooked his fingers into the top of your shorts and pushed them down your legs.

He then reached for your wrist, pulling you down across his lap. His grip was firm, but there was no mistaking the tenderness beneath it.

“Now,” he murmured, “we’re gonna start with getting rid of that little attitude of yours.” His voice was low, filled with that unmistakable authority that always made your stomach flip. You felt one of his hands move to your back, holding you down against his thighs, and you knew exactly what was coming next.

"You’ve been a handful today, haven’t you?” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

“I wouldn’t have to be a handful if you’d given me a little attention today,” you shot back, though your voice was quieter now, that bravado fading.

Tyler chuckled, low and deep, the sound vibrating through you as his hand moved to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Oh, you’ve got my attention now, darlin’,” he said softly. “So how many do you think you should get for running that pretty mouth of yours?”

“Two.”

He chuckled again. “Two? You really think two is enough for all the attitude you gave me today, baby?”

Suddenly, without warning, you feel the sharp, sudden sting of Tyler’s hand coming down on your ass. The impact sends a jolt through you, heat rushing to your skin, but before you can process the sensation, another smack follows on the other side.

After several smacks, you stopped keeping track after seven or eight, his hand lingers on your flushed skin, his fingers brushing lightly over the spots where his hand had made contact. The tenderness makes you shiver, and you let out a small whimper.

He hadn’t been rough—Tyler never was—but he made sure his point was clear. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, his firm control slowly giving way to a softer touch as he released you from his lap.

Without saying a word, he gently pulled you to straddle him, his hands guiding you to settle on his thighs. The change in position felt intimate, almost grounding, as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath you, and the weight of the moment shifted from tension to something deeper, something more comforting.

Tyler’s hands moved in soothing patterns up and down your spine, his touch slow and deliberate. His fingers grazed the small of your back, the motion calming, as if he was silently asking you if you were okay. You leaned into him, resting your forehead against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering trace of the storm outside.

“You alright, darlin’?” His voice was softer now, barely a whisper, laced with concern and affection.

You nodded, your breath still catching in your throat, but not from discomfort. It was the intensity of it all—the push and pull between you, the way he could shift from firm to gentle in an instant—that had you feeling unsteady, yet safe. Tyler had a way of doing that, of reminding you that even in your brattiest moments, you were always safe with him.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up with his fingers so your eyes met his. There was no trace of the stern look he'd given you earlier, no hint of the control he’d exerted when he made you bend to his will. Instead, his gaze was warm, full of care.

“You pushed me today,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your jawline, “but I’m not going anywhere. I just need to make sure you’re good before we go any further.”

Your breath hitched at the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t just a question of your physical comfort—Tyler was checking in with your heart, your mind, making sure you were completely with him in this moment. It was one of the things you loved about him most, the way he balanced his strength with such tenderness.

You offered him a small smile, your hands sliding up his chest to rest against his shoulders. “I’m good,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady.

He nodded, satisfied, his hands resting on your waist as he pulled you closer once more, his lips brushing against the side of your neck in a kiss so gentle it made your skin tingle.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, the words a quiet reassurance. His hands continued their slow, calming path along your back, grounding you in the safety of his embrace. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, making you feel secure.

Tyler stayed like that for a long moment, just holding you, letting the tension melt away in the quiet. His thumb traced idle circles on your lower back, a quiet reminder that no matter how far you pushed, no matter how much fire you brought, he would always be there to catch you.

It was the kind of attention you had been craving all day. Sex with Tyler was great. You loved being with him in that way. He was by far the best partner you’d ever had. But it was this kind of affection, full of love and care, that you had missed while the storms had his attention.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was a soft rumble, still laced with that familiar, protective edge. “You ready for more?” His question was a gentle nudge, letting you know that he was still in control but giving you space to choose.

You nodded again, feeling the heat rising between you once more, but this time it came with the unspoken promise of safety and care in every touch.

Tyler’s hands guided you to the bed, his grip both firm and gentle as he positioned you exactly how he wanted. The air between you felt thick with tension, charged with the anticipation of what was coming next. You could hear your own pulse in your ears as you lay on your back, Tyler standing over you with that same intense gaze that sent shivers through you.

Your heart raced as he climbed onto the bed, hovering over you with one knee pressed into the mattress and the other still on the floor, effectively trapping you beneath him. Tyler’s fingers traced along the curve of your thigh, sending electricity through your skin as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

“You wanted my attention, darlin’. Now you’ve got it.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, sending a thrill down your spine as his hand slid higher, teasing the hem of your shirt.

You couldn’t resist. Despite the tension, despite the way he commanded every ounce of your focus, that last bit of brattiness bubbled up again.

“About time,” you muttered, eyes flicking up to meet his with just enough sass to provoke him further.

Tyler’s eyes darkened, his lips curling into a smirk as he pulled back, shaking his head slightly. “Still got that mouth on you, huh?”

Before you could respond, he leaned down again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all-consuming. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The world outside, the storms, the teasing—all of it faded as Tyler poured every bit of the attention you'd been begging for into that kiss.

When he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing was heavy, matching your own.

"You’ve been testing me all day," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "Now, sweetheart, you're gonna learn that I don’t mind giving you what you ask for—but it comes with consequences."

With that, Tyler’s hands slid up your body, his touch sending waves of heat through you. His fingers paused at the bottom of your tank top, his eyes meeting yours, waiting for the confirmation he needed.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. You could feel the tension mounting, your body responding to the way his hands moved with both authority and tenderness. He was right—you’d pushed him, teased him, and now you were at the mercy of the man who was more than capable of taming the most dangerous storms. Taming you, however, was something entirely different.

Tyler took his time, every touch deliberate as he undressed you, leaving no inch of your skin untouched by his hands. The slow build of anticipation was almost unbearable, and by the time his lips found yours again, you were desperate for the contact.

“You’re gonna be good for me now, aren’t you?” Tyler murmured against your lips, his hand cupping your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “No more sass, no more pushing.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as you nodded again, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. “I’ll be good,” you whispered, breathless.

Tyler’s smirk softened into something more tender, though his grip on you remained just as firm, his touch as commanding as ever. "That’s what I like to hear," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Good girls get rewarded."

Without saying a word, he stood up, his movements deliberate but unhurried, giving you time to take in the shift in the air. You followed him with your eyes, feeling your pulse quicken as he reached for the hem of his flannel shirt, fingers slipping under the fabric.

With one smooth motion, he pulled the flannel off over his head and tossed it onto a nearby chair. The muscles in his shoulders flexed as he moved, and your gaze lingered on the defined lines of his chest, the way his skin gleamed in the soft light filtering through the hotel curtains. Every inch of him seemed to radiate confidence, strength—qualities you’d been drawn to from the moment you met him.

Your mouth went dry as his hands moved to his belt, unfastening the buckle with an almost lazy precision. The soft click of metal filled the room, each sound amplifying the rising anticipation in your chest. He tugged the belt free and let it drop to the floor with a soft thud, his gaze never leaving yours, as if he was fully aware of the effect his every movement had on you.

Then came his jeans—he unbuttoned them, the zipper coming down slowly, teasingly. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the slow reveal making your skin tingle with anticipation. Tyler’s fingers hooked into the waistband of his jeans, and he slid them down his hips, letting them pool at his feet before stepping out of them.

Your heart was pounding now, each layer of clothing he removed making the room feel smaller, more charged. He stood before you in nothing but his boxer briefs, and even then, he didn’t rush. Tyler’s eyes were dark, locked on yours, and the energy between you both felt electric.

You swallowed hard as his thumbs slipped beneath the band of his underwear, slowly peeling them off. The fabric slipped down his legs, revealing the rest of him, his body sculpted and strong. Your gaze trailed over every inch of him, heat pooling low in your stomach, the tension between you like a wire pulled tight.

Tyler straightened, his eyes still fixed on yours, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze settle over you like a weight. He was giving you a moment to drink him in, to take in every part of him, just as he’d done with you before. And the way he stood there—confident, steady—made your pulse race even faster.

He took a step toward you, the air between you thick with the anticipation of what was coming next, but he didn’t rush. Tyler was never in a hurry when it came to you.

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breathing, as he made his way on to the bed again. One hand slid behind your back as he unclasped your bra. He slowly removed it from you before you felt his warm lips wrap around one of your nipples, while his calloused fingers pinched the other.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a soft moan leaving your lips. The hand that had been pinching your nipple then slid down your stomach to between your thighs. You felt him run his fingers along the lace covering your center.

You tried to roll your hips down against his fingers, desperate for more of his touch. Tyler’s lips curved into a smirk as he pulled away from a kiss to look down at you.

“Need something, baby?”

You tried to grind down against his hand again, but this time he pulled away, leaving you with nothing but the musty air of the motel.

“Tyler!” You almost whined at the loss of his touch.

“What is it baby? What do you need?”

“You!”

Tyler chuckled and leaned down, his lips moving to your neck as he started gently biting at the spot below your left ear that he knew drove you insane.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Want you between my legs.”

Tyler’s lips curved into a grin as he moved his leg higher up on the bed, spreading your legs. He pressed one of his knees right up against your center, pressing the lace of your underwear that you still had on against your clit.

This wasn’t what you meant and he knew it. But you ground down against his leg a few times, trying to get some kind–any kind of friction that you could.

“Ty, please,” you breathed out when you realized it wasn’t helping. “Need you.”

“Was that so hard to say, baby?”

“Yes.”

Tyler chuckled again before he positioned himself between your thighs. He wrapped his hand around his dick pumping it a few times before he put the tip against your entrance. He slowly slid into you.

The feeling was overwhelming for a moment. This. This was what you had been waiting all day for. You lead out a loud moan as your eyes fluttered close as he slowly stretched your walls as he pushed further and further into you.

Once he was all the way in, he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to him. Then he started to move. His hips pulling out slightly before pushing back in. Your hands moved to his arms and then his back, your fingers digging into his skin.

Tyler began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, your hips started to move, meeting each of his thrusts. The musty motel room was filled with the sound of your soft moans and his deep grunts as both of you became lost in the moment.

“Come on, baby. Let it go for me.” Tyler breathed out as he started thrusting faster and deeper into you.

You moaned his name as your back arched off of the sheets as your orgasm hit. Your walls clenched around him and you felt Tyler groan as something that sounded like a string of swear words left his mouth. He then stilled inside you a moment later as you felt him fill you with his release.

The room was enveloped in a warm silence, the air heavy with the aftermath of your passion. You lay side by side on the bed, hearts still racing as you both came down from the heights of your releases. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, intertwined and blissfully spent.

Tyler shifted slightly, a soft rustle of sheets breaking the quiet as he reached for a damp cloth. With careful, gentle hands, he began to clean you up, his touch tender and attentive. You could feel the warmth of his body beside you, a soothing presence that eased any remnants of tension. There was something profoundly intimate about the way he cared for you, each stroke of the cloth both practical and affectionate, reminding you of the connection you shared beyond just the physical.

Once satisfied, he set the cloth aside and padded quietly to the small fridge across the room, his movements fluid and relaxed. You watched him, a small smile tugging at your lips as he rummaged through its contents. He emerged moments later with a bottle of water, the coolness of it contrasting against the warmth radiating from your skin.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and comforting as he handed you the bottle. “You should stay hydrated, especially after all that.” There was a playful glint in his eyes, a mixture of mischief and affection, as he leaned back against the headboard, propping himself up on one elbow.

You took a sip, the refreshing liquid quenching your thirst, and the sight of him—bare, relaxed, and utterly himself—made your heart swell. Once you set the bottle down, Tyler slid back down the bed, shifting closer to you.

“Come here,” he murmured, opening his arms invitingly. You didn’t hesitate, rolling into him and snuggling against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight, as if he never wanted to let go.

The warmth of his body enveloped you, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him—like fresh air and a hint of cologne, grounding and comforting all at once. Tyler’s fingers began to brush gently through your hair, the rhythm soothing as he held you close.

“Was that enough attention for you?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your forehead as he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. The teasing tone was laced with genuine affection, and you could hear the hint of a smile in his voice.

You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, your heart fluttering at the sight of him—the way his eyes sparkled with a playful challenge, but also the warmth that radiated from him. “For now,” you replied playfully, smirking slightly. “But you know I could always use more.”

Tyler chuckled, the sound rich and deep, reverberating through your shared warmth. “Well, I’ll make a note of that,” he said, his voice playful yet serious. “I’m always ready to give you the attention you need, darlin’. Just promise me you won’t be too much of a brat next time.”

You grinned, feeling the warmth of his affection envelop you, grateful for this moment of intimacy. It was in these quiet seconds, nestled against him, that you felt the strongest bond between you both—the balance of playful teasing and heartfelt connection that defined your relationship.

As you lay there together, the world outside fading into nothingness, you knew you had found your home in his arms.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Smut

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scary-grace · 7 months ago

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(secret) santa, baby - part 12 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi

part xii (opening presents)

“What?” Spinner asks anxiously. “Do you think it’s too much or something?”

“Um – no.” You’re definitely lying. You can barely see Spinner around the enormous box he’s carrying. You’re not sure if he can see anything, either. “I mean, it’s the last Secret Santa gift of the year. Go big or go home, right?”

“Yeah,” Spinner agrees. He sounds relieved. “And after what happened – she deserves something extra nice, don’t you think?”

“Definitely.”

You weren’t sure how Spinner would react to the news that Aiba and her boyfriend have broken up – or rather, that Aiba dumped him when she found out about the kiss. You know people who’d have been happy to find out that the person they’d liked from afar was finally single. But Spinner wasn’t happy. He looked so unhappy when he found out that Twice elbowed him and said he’d never seen anybody be that upset over good news.

Spinner stared at him like he was crazy. It’s not good news, he said. She’s really sad. Why would I be happy about her being sad?

Spinner’s a good guy, and you’re pretty sure the giant gift he’s carrying is something he bought before the mistletoe-day disaster. When you look around the ballroom where the party’s being held, you see a lot of giant gifts, enough that going all-out with the last gift must be a tradition or something. It’s a tradition, and you missed the memo. Your last gift for Tomura is small enough to fit in your purse.

It was hard to find, and you’re pretty sure you outed yourself as Tomura’s Secret Santa to Spinner in the process of figuring out what “video games” meant on Tomura’s list. Tomura apparently has a thing for retro consoles, and retro consoles only play old games. Spinner mentioned a game Tomura’s been half-assedly searching for since last year, and you decided to find it. It took a lot of time spent scrolling on Ebay and picking through thrift store discount bins, but you finally found it, and you even found an old console to test it on to make sure it worked. You were really excited to give it to him until you got here and saw what everybody else did.

But it’s too late to change anything now. You’re here with your tiny gift, and Tomura’s going to think you didn’t try at all. If he’s even here. “Do you know if Tomura’s going to be here?”

“Last I heard, yeah,” Spinner says. “He changes his mind last-minute about stuff, though. I can text him if you want?”

“I have his number,” you say. “I can do it.”

You can, but you won’t. You know Tomura hates parties, and you don’t want to put his maybe liking you to the test against how much he hates getting dressed up and going out. It’s what kept you from asking him yourself, even though the two of you have been texting more than two people who see each other every day at work really should. The only person who brought up the party was him, when he asked if you were going. You said yes, and then he asked why. There’s going to be free food, you said. And I want to meet my Secret Santa.

As far as you can tell, most people have at least some idea of who their Secret Santa is, but you don’t have a clue. Your Secret Santa’s never written a note to go with any of their gifts, and nothing about the gift-wrapping style – or lack thereof, with the first few gifts – has given them away. The only thing you know is that they haven’t been following your hyper-specific list to the letter. While everything they’ve gotten you has been on the list, it’s all been an upgrade from the versions you asked for.

So they’re generous and bad at wrapping gifts. That could describe half the office. You’d like to know who it is, and there’s free food, so you’re here. And if you might have dressed up a little more than you usually would for an office holiday party on the off chance that Tomura makes an appearance, you’re going to keep that to yourself. Nobody has to know. And you can have fun at the party whether or not he’s here.

It is a really nice party – probably the nicest one you’ve ever been to. The decorating committee went berserk, to the point where there are multiple live Christmas trees on each wall and food tables on either end of the ballroom, each stocked with its own chocolate fountain and champagne tower. There’s music, which Yamada apparently arranged for but isn’t actually performing. Yamada’s in a good mood. When you run into him while trying to grab a glass of champagne, he grins at you. “Next year. Acapella. Are you in?”

“Ask me next year,” you say. “Once the holiday spirit’s worn off.”

Yamada cracks up at that, snags two glasses of champagne, and speeds off through the crowd. You finally manage to separate one for yourself and get clear of the table. Half a glass of champagne later, you’re ready to mingle. Time to see if participating in the office’s holiday traditions as a way to make friends actually worked.

It feels like it did. People say hi to you, and when you stop to talk to them, it doesn’t feel awkward at all. You’re willing to admit that some of it might be because you’ve all been drinking a little bit, but at the same time, you’ve gone to office parties where people were drunker than this and still silent as the grave. Some of your coworkers have already found out who their Secret Santas are, and some of them are carrying gifts that look even more over-the-top unwrapped than they did when they were covered in festive wrapping paper. Maybe it’s better if Tomura doesn’t show up. You can find a bigger gift and leave it on his desk next week, and no one will have to know that you messed up.

You cross paths with Tomura’s friends here. They’re all dressed up, probably more than anyone else at the party, although it looks more like they’re here for a costume party than a Christmas party. “Like it? It’s an Enji’s credit card special,” Twice says, tugging at the lapel of his purple suit. “He really wanted Dabi to come home for Christmas this year.”

“Did you?” you ask Dabi.

“Yeah, but I brought everybody with me,” Dabi says. Everybody. Even – “Shigaraki, too. He hates this shit, but he never misses a chance to stick it to somebody else’s shitty dad.”

“It was fun this year,” Magne says. “Fuyumi made us our own stockings and everything. That thing was nicer than any of my actual socks.”

“It sounds fun,” you say.

“Could have been worse,” Dabi says. He glances at you. “What did you do?”

You didn’t, really, which is the other reason you’re here – Christmas alone in your apartment was fun or at least peaceful the first few years, but lately it’s been feeling lonely. “Not too much. I just slept in and then came here.”

Tomura’s friends exchange glances. “Next year you’ll hang with us,” Twice announces. “You can still sleep in. We always show up late anyway.”

“You don’t have to invite me,” you say at once. You must have sounded a lot more pathetic than you meant to. “And Twice, you probably shouldn’t invite me to Dabi’s house –”

“First, it’s not my house,” Dabi says. “Second, I invite whoever I want. The more of my friends I bring, the more uncomfortable I make my jackass of a father. As long as you don’t hit on my sister –”

“Come on, that was one time,” Twice protests.

“Yeah, one time too many –”

You sidle sideways out of the conversation while they’re still debating exactly how many times one of Dabi’s friends have made a pass at his siblings. Dabi probably didn’t mean the invitation. You won’t count on it. But it’s nice that they’re thinking about it tonight. Hearing it makes you feel a little better, even if it’ll evaporate well before next Christmas.

The party ebbs and flows around you. Sometimes there are people dancing, but other times, the music quiets enough to let people talk. There are fewer and fewer unopened gifts floating around. You see Spinner still toting his gift for Aiba, which means that Aiba’s either not here or he just can’t see her around the box. The latter seems more likely to you. She’s really tiny. No matter where you look, there’s no sign of Tomura.

You do find Aiba, though, when you stop by the chocolate fountain. You can’t tell if she’s trying to hide. “Hi,” you say, and she looks up. “He’s not here, if that’s what you’re worried about. I haven’t seen him.”

“He said he wouldn’t come to it,” Aiba says. She looks like she didn’t sleep well last night, but her outfit’s on point. “I’m not worried about him. I’m just not very – fun right now. I only came to it because I wanted to meet my Secret Santa.”

“Really?”

“I thought the Secret Santa was going to be ruined because of – him. But then I found out it wasn’t him,” Aiba says. You nod. “And that makes it – nicer, I think. All the gifts I got were perfect, and none of it had anything to do with him. So there’s still one part of my Christmas that’s nice. I want to say thank you.”

Spinner had better have a game plan. “They haven’t come to talk to me yet, though,” Aiba says. She frowns. “Do you think they’re even here?”

“I know they’re here,” you say. “If you stay here, I can go find them and tell them to come over.”

Aiba nods. “Thank you,” she says. “And thank you. For the other day. That was nice, too.”

“No problem,” you say. “Just stay there.”

Courtesy of the giant present, Spinner’s really easy to find. You give him specific directions to where Aiba’s standing, tell him to take it easy, and wish him luck. As you watch him go, you find yourself wondering what’s in the box. Maybe you should have asked. It would have given you a better idea about the kind of thing you should have gotten for Tomura.

“Hey.”

That’s Tomura’s voice. You turn and find him standing behind you, a haphazardly wrapped present in one hand. You feel a temporary surge of relief at the sight. He got something small, too. At least you aren’t alone in totally missing the boat. But then you take a look at the rest of him, and the relief evaporates into something you can only describe as a kind of awestruck surprise. Tomura cleans up nice. Really nice.

Like the rest of his friends, he’s dressed up. Unlike the rest of them, he went pretty standard with it – black suit and tie, although he’s got a red cape around his shoulders. It should be incongruous, but he makes it work. He’s done something to his hair. Brushed it, maybe. Either way, it looks good. You can’t help but stare.

But even though he looks great – he has to know he looks great, right? – he doesn’t look quite comfortable. Maybe because you’re staring at him, and you haven’t said a word. “You look really nice,” you say, and a faint flush comes up in his cheeks. “I didn’t know if you were coming. I know this isn’t really your thing.”

“It’s what you’re doing,” Tomura says, and your face turns red, too. “I want to meet my Secret Santa.”

That’s you. You and your stupid gift that’s too small. “Right,” you say. You fumble in your purse and pull it out, then offer it to him. At least you did a decent job wrapping it. “It was me. I’m your Secret Santa. Here.”

Tomura takes the gift, then holds out the one he’s carrying to you. You did a decent job wrapping it; he probably needs both hands to get it open. “The wrapping on this looks nice,” you say nonsensically while he picks at the tape on yours. “You don’t have to open mine right now. You probably want to give this to the person you were Secret Santa for.”

“I just did.”

It takes way too long for you to figure that one out. “Wait, it was you?”

“You didn’t guess?” Tomura looks almost affronted. “I figured out you were mine days ago.”

“How? Was it my handwriting on the notes?”

“No,” Tomura says. He gives you a weird look. “I wrote on my list that I hate the cold, but I don’t tell anybody that. The only way you would have known is if you got my list.”

“Oh.” You would have thought the thing that gave you away would be bigger than that – like getting too familiar in your notes, slipping up and using his given name and not going back to his surname when you realized your mistake. “Okay.”

“You really didn’t know it was me?” Tomura’s stopped trying to open your gift for the sole purpose of staring at you. “I thought Dabi gave me away. When he was talking about how shitty I am at wrapping gifts.”

You vaguely remember a joke Dabi made. You really shouldn’t have had so much champagne. “Sorry. I should have thought about it a little more.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Tomura says. It’s quiet for a second. “A bad surprise?”

“No,” you say at once. “A good surprise. But – you could have just told me it was you. Then you wouldn’t have had to come to the party.”

“This is what you’re doing.”

“I know, but we could have done something else. Something you wouldn’t hate as much.”

“I don’t hate it as much as last year,” Tomura says. He nods at the gift. “Are you going to open that or what?”

“Yes,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Don’t say thank-you when you don’t know what it is,” Tomura says. “Just – open it.”

You don’t have any idea of what it could be. You know Tomura’s gone through everything on your list already. His wrapping job is easier to get through than yours. You peel back the paper and untie the ribbons and find yourself holding a hat.

It looks sort of like your hat. The one you gave him. But you found that hat on sale somewhere, ages ago, and this one is a lot nicer. Yours is just knitted, but this one has a soft lining, and the fabric on the outside feels like it might be water-resistant. It also has a goofy little pompom on it, which yours definitely doesn’t have. This isn’t anything you’d have bought for yourself. But you like it a lot.

You look up, ready to thank Tomura, and find him staring down at your gift, unwrapped in his hand. “You didn’t leave a note,” he says. “I like the notes.”

You’d facepalm if you weren’t holding the hat. “I thought I would just say what I would have said in the note to you. Face to face.”

He looks up. You’ve never seen that look on his face before. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve seen that look on anybody’s face – wary, expectant, maybe surprised, maybe hopeful. You should have planned what you were going to say a little better. Before you can say anything, though, Tomura speaks up. “How did you know about this game? I’ve been looking for it. Where did you even find it?”

“I found it on Ebay,” you say. “It wouldn’t have shipped in time, so I picked it up in person. I made sure to test it. It works. And as far as finding out about it – I asked Spinner about the kind of games you liked. I wanted to get it right.”

“I half-assed my list. Why would you try that hard?”

“I just – I don’t know,” you say. “I know Toga kind of bullied you into doing this. I wanted you to get something nice out of it. Sad Christmas might make more sense to you – and me, sometimes – but I thought it would be nice for you to have a happy one.”

That was a dumb thing to say. Tomura hasn’t told you a lot about his background – you’ve really only gotten close recently – but what you know isn’t good. It’s dumb of you to think that one video game and a handful of other gifts could rewrite any of that. You avert your eyes in a hurry. “Thank you for the hat. I didn’t mean to make you go off-list.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Tomura says. “I just thought you needed a new one. Since I’m keeping yours.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You are?”

“If you weren’t lying when you said it looked okay,” Tomura says. His hand brushes against your jaw, then applies pressure, turning you back to face him. He looks almost frustrated, but his face is flushed in a way you recognize. “And if you like me.”

“Do you like me?” you ask without thinking, and Tomura kisses you.

You’ve been regretting not giving him a real kiss under the mistletoe at work, but now you think it’s for the best that you didn’t. You haven’t had very many good first kisses, and you want a chance to savor this one. You wrap one arm around Tomura’s waist and pull him a little closer, and even though he startles, he keeps kissing you. He’s not hesitant, so you aren’t, either. There’s no way you’re going to be the first one to pull away.

When you do separate, it’s at the same time, and for what you’re pretty sure is the same reason. The music’s kicked back up. “Is that the stupid Grinch song?” Tomura asks, and you nod. He’s ever so slightly out of breath. He looks kind of flustered, but not nearly as much as you want him to. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“I mean, I could always sing All I Want For Christmas Is You again –” You see the face Tomura’s making. “I’m kidding. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care,” Tomura says. He unwraps your hand from around his waist, then keeps holding it as he leads you towards the doors. “It doesn’t matter, if you’re coming with me.”

The wind hits you in a sharp blast as soon as you’re outside, and you pull your new hat on one-handed. “Maybe somewhere warm?”

Tomura pulls on your hand, and when you turn towards him, he kisses you again. Now that you’ve got both your hands free and you’re not in the middle of a crowd, you can kiss him how you want to – one arm around his waist, your other hand gathering up a few strands of his hair. Tomura’s breath catches, and a moment later, so does yours, and although it takes a while for you to separate again, you’re both out of breath when you do.

Tomura doesn’t go far. His arms are tight around you, and when he answers a question you’ve almost forgotten, you can feel his breath against your skin. “I’m warm enough.”

the end

<- part xi

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #secret santa au #sorry I got this one up so late everybody!#I just really wanted to do a good job on the last chapter

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twostepstyless · 7 months ago

Text

Elves Wanted

Main Masterlist

SFW

Author’s Note: Y/N and Harry are drama students from two separate drama schools just looking to make some extra money over the Christmas period. Colleagues to friends to lovers ig? No major warnings I don’t think, maybe a tiny little chat about Christmas being a hard time of year.

This is my first piece of writing in a looooong long time, so please be gentle

As always, likes, reblogs and feedback of any variety is encouraged and always appreciated - G x

Word Count: 7.7K+

It was the middle of November when Y/N saw it. The poster looked threatening. A large font, emboldened and in scary looking shade of red. The paper had gone a bit wrinkly as if it had been clutched tightly in a hand full of piles of the same advert printed over and over again. A contact email was printed multiple times along the bottom on tear-off tabs of paper, the fact that only one tab containing the address was missing added to the overall unappealing look of the advertisement that Y/N found on the ‘Opportunities’ board in the reception of her drama school. It looked threating compared to the opportunity it was offering.

ELVES WANTED was printed at the top of the sheet followed by a short, bulleted list of qualifications:

Must have an enthusiastic and friendly personality

No experience necessary

No maximum height limit!!!

Great pay for festive season!

DBS checks will be carried out.

Illustrations of holly leaves and berries bordered the A4 advert and severe looking underlines on the next steps asking for a headshot and CV to be forwarded to the recruiter’s email attached to the tear-off slips. A mall elf. Santa’s little helper. Y/N didn’t think it was the worst gig she could have in the world. Another thing to add to her CV she supposed. She realises she’s trying to convince herself into doing it and she was of the mindset if you had to convince yourself something is a good idea, it probably isn’t. But the Christmas holidays were looming and her student loan never in a million years could stretch towards Christmas presents and the zero hours contract she had a greasy spoon café down the road from her flat was certainly not helping either. She was desperate for consistent income to see her through Christmas. So, with a sigh, she ripped off the email information.

***

Across the city, Harry was stood in front of an advert on the ‘Opportunities’ board in the reception area of his drama school. Harry frowned, then leaned in closer to get a better look. He read the poster twice, then a third time, and despite his better judgment, he felt a strange pull. There was something ridiculous about it, something he couldn’t quite shake. The idea of becoming an elf at Santa’s Grotto in a shopping centre, a 6-foot (on a good day at least) elf at that, on the surface, was completely mental. But then again, he thought back to the acting gig he had over Christmas last year and thought anything would be better than that. Plus, he loved Christmas really, and getting to spread a bit of joy can only be a positive thing. He rubbed his temple as though to clear his thoughts, still staring at the flyer. ‘Great pay’, the poster said. That was tempting. What the hell? He could be an elf for a month. Maybe there was something strange and fun about playing a cheerful holiday character—something a little whimsical and different from his usual typecast as a tortured soul or brooding romantic lead. Harry's lips quirked into a smile. “I can totally do this,” he muttered to himself, snapping a photo of the requirements and ripping off the contact email and shoving it into his pocket.

***

Y/N trudged back to her flat after leaving uni, fell into her bed and fished out her laptop to send her email to the elf recruiter. She attached her most recent headshot and newly updated CV and sent it off to the email address she clung onto. As her laptop screen faded to black, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the screen. She didn’t look happy. She looked knackered actually, with heavy dark circles around her eyes. The past few months had been a lot. Exhausting, frustrating, and filled with self-doubt. She’d just finished a semester of intense Stanislavski system classes which were emotionally, physically and psychologically taxing when she was applying them to the acting pieces she was performing. She longed for a break, for something to remind her why she had fallen in love with performing and acting in the first place. Maybe this odd elf job would do that—maybe she could rediscover some joy in performing, even if it was just a month or so of prancing around in stripy tights and painted on rosy cheeks.

Y/N sighed and shook her head, but a small smile crept onto her lips. Why not? she thought again, maybe she could learn to appreciate Christmas again.

***

Winter had truly set in the next week when Y/N arrived at the shopping centre’s service entrance. The wind nipped at her face, the only bit of her not covered up by woolly or fleece fabric. Despite the cold, there was a gentle hum of festive energy beginning to spark. She had her phone open directing her to the disused unit nearest the newly built grotto which they had turned into a dressing room and break room for all the actors who were going to be working there over the holidays. She had to agree there would be something distinctly unmagical about a child seeing the elf that had shown them to Santa, or the big man himself, walking through the mall with a backpack over their costume to catch the tube home.

This was it—the first day of her “elf job,” as ridiculous as it seemed. She still wasn’t entirely sure what she’d gotten herself into. At least Noelle seemed nice enough as a manager when they’d spoken over zoom after Y/N applied. (Y/N still wasn’t sure if that was her actual name or that Noelle just loved Christmas that much, she’d given it to herself, she wouldn’t be shocked if it was the latter) And hey, it wasn’t like there was anything else on her schedule at the moment, classes having broken up for an extended Christmas break this week to allow the students to pick up winter acting gigs.

The smell of cinnamon and something distinctly chocolatey wafted through the air as she hurried through the shopping centre, the disused unit between the small Boots (the big boots was on the second floor) and Clarks shoe shop was her end goal with a note to show up at 8:30 to be assigned her costume, meet their Santa and the other elves and to be talked through what their role was and what do before the kids started arriving to meet Saint Nick at 10:30 A.M.

She was first there. Not a shock, she’s notoriously early to everything. Just Noelle in the space, ticking Y/N’s name off the list attached to her clipboard and urging her to pull up a chair until the rest of her colleagues arrived. Tubs of celebrations and heroes cracked open on the tables for the employees to pick at if they were on break.

Y/N quickly snagged a Malteser one from the red tub knowing those were her favourite but always the first to run out in a box of Celebrations. As she rammed the chocolate into her mouth a deep, slow voice called out.

“Hey! Are y’here for the elf job too?”

Y/N looked up. A boy—no, a man—was walking toward her, a friendly smile on his face. He was tall, like worthy of stating in your dating profile tall, with chocolatey, perfectly tousled hair like he’d just ran his fingers through it and it fell perfectly. His cheeks were also flushed from the cold, and there was an energy about him, an air of confidence that could potentially approach cockiness, but not in a dickhead way, a way that made Y/N feel suddenly self-conscious. She straightened up, trying to look more confident.

“Uh, yeah.” Fuck, she still had the half-chewed Malteser sweet in her mouth, she swallowed it harshly. “I am, yeah,” she said, his voice coming out a little awkwardly.

The man laughed lightly, as if sensing her discomfort, and stuck out his hand. “M’Harry. S’my first day, too. So, we’re in the same boat.”

Y/N hesitated for a second before shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and his-Harry’s eyes sparkled with a kind of warmth that she wasn’t used to.

“Harry,” she said. “Yeah, I figured I wasn’t the only one.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “Have y’seen the costumes?” he asked with a grin. “Noelle was pulling the rail out as I came in,” he nodded towards the rail now in Y/N’s peripheral, “and not that I’m biased towards the fact me n’you are here first… but I think we’re going to look the best.”

Y/N snorted, suddenly picturing the pair of them in the green and red get up she could see swinging around on hangers that Harry pointed out. “Yeah, right. I’m not sure there is a looking the best in those but I’ll try not to look too much like a walking, talking Christmas tree.”

Harry laughed again, his voice light and carefree. “You could be a very stylish Christmas tree. And if not, I’m sure the kiddies will love you anyway. I mean, it’s hard t’look serious in tha’.”

Y/N had to agree. She could see tiny bells on the tips of the curly toed shoes and around the base of the pointy hat that were jingling in an absurdly cheerful way as Noelle pulled the rail up towards the congregating elves, more of whom had arrived in the time she had been speaking to Harry not that she noticed them arrive.

“I’m guessing you’ve done this before?” she asked.

“Nope,” Harry replied with a shrug, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “But I’m an actor, so literally trained in fake it til I make it.” She glanced at him knowingly. “I’m sure you can, too.”

There was something about the way he said it, so effortlessly, as if being an actor was the most natural thing in the world. Y/N felt a pang of recognition. She was the same way, always pretending like she had her shit together when, in reality, she felt like she hanging by a thread the vast majority of the time.

“You’re an actor, too?” she asked, as Harry pulled a twirl out the box of heroes and snaffled it down just as quickly.

“Yeah,” he said round the mouthful of chocolate, “Where d’you go?”

“Oh, I’m at RADA,” she said with a sheepish smile, as though it were no big deal. “How about you?”

“The Conservatoire,” Harry replied in a similar tone. “It’s… kind of intense there. Everyone’s obsessed with Shakespeare n’like fuckin’ Laurence Olivier,” he chuckled. His voice tinged with self-deprecation. “Which is fine, and y’know same but sometimes it feels like m’in an endless cycle of waiting. Auditions, classes, workshops, more auditions…” He trailed off, realizing he was rambling. “Though suppose you’re the same at RADA,” He finished.

Y/N’s eyes softened a little. “I get that. Sometimes it feels like I’m auditioning for my own bloody life instead of actually living it, and the constant seriousness can really knock the wind out of it and make you forget why you started acting in the first place.” She leaned back against her chair, crossing her arms.

“At least this elf job is different. It’s kind of nice to do just… do something fun, you know?” Harry suggested.

Y/N nodded, a little surprised by the ease in which he found the bright side. There was a grounded quality to him that she hadn’t expected, especially when he said he attended the conservatoire. He didn’t seem to be caught up in the competitive, high-strung nature of their shared world, or if he did, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it. Maybe it was his willingness to embrace something as silly as playing an elf that made him stand out to her.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “I think I’m just overthinking it. Like, this is the first thing I’ve gotten in a minute that’s actually paying me, and I’m being weird about it. Plus, I’ve got the perfect excuse to wear a fun outfit for a month,” she giggled, hoping to match his blasé attitude.

Harry smiled back, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “Exactly!”

Before their conversation could go any further, Noelle, decked out in an obscene Christmas jumper with glittery yarn and flashing lights stood at the front of the now full room.

“Hiya chookies! Welcome to your first day as Santa’s helpers!” she said brightly in her bubbly Welsh accent, clapping her hands together. “I’ve spoken to you all before but just to reintroduce I’m Noelle and I’ll be your manager for the duration of this job! You’ll be working alongside our Santa Claus, Arthur, bringing the magic to life for all the little ones we’ll have coming to visit right up until the 24th of December. You’ll mostly be working in pairs which I can split you up into- or I see most of you have split into little groups already so that will do just lovely too!”

At the mention of already being in pairs, Harry and Y/N’s eyes flickered up to each other’s with a small smile from Y/N and a wink from Harry that made Y/N’s stomach swoop as he mouthed ‘partner’ at her.

Noelle continued, “so we’ll get you costumed and your elf’s name assigned to you, then we’ve got a few little training things to get through before we kick off the festive season with our first visitors at 10:30!”

***

The rest of the morning was a blur of final costume adjustments, training videos about handling children, and learning the ropes of the “Santa meet-and-greet” routine. Introduce, smile, take the kid to Santa, reassure any nervous little ones, pass out candy canes til you’re blue in the face, and sprinkle as much magic and joy in there as possible as they went. As 10:30 approached, Harry found himself standing next to Y/N at the edge of Santa’s grotto ready for the first batch of children to arrive.

Through the noise of the shopping centre, chatter and the beep of checkouts and the rush of activity, Harry caught Y/N’s eye and offered her a dazzling smile. “Well Sugarplum,” he said, now referring to Y/N as her Elf name, as was required in their training, his voice low enough for only her to hear, “here we go. Let’s see if we can make some Christmas magic without completely embarrassing ourselves.”

Y/N laughed softly, knocking her hip against his playfully. “You’ll do great. Just remember to smile like you mean it and even if we’re pretending that it’s the most magical moment of your life.”

Harry rolled his eyes but found himself smiling anyway. “I’ll try my best. Elf-ing is harder than it looks I reckon.”

As the first family approached the line, Y/N leaned closer to him, her voice playful. “Ready to bring some joy to the world, Jingles?”

“After you, my jolly little elf,” Harry said with a smile, feeling something spark between them that he couldn’t quite name, their shoes jingling as they bounced forwards to greet their first family.

***

The first shift was chaotic.

Y/N had been bracing herself for the madness of it all, but nothing quite prepared her for the relentless pace of the Santa meet-and-greet. From the moment they arrived at the grotto and workshop themed area, complete with twinkling lights, piles of fake presents, an enormous, fluffy teddy bear in the corner and nutcrackers as tall as Harry, it was clear that the role of an elf was not as simple as it seemed.

The instructions from Noelle had been brief—"Smile, be enthusiastic, don't get in Santa's way, and make sure every child gets their gift!"—but in practice, it felt like a never-ending whirlwind. The line of eager little children accompanied by parents and carers lapped around the grotto and down the hallways of the mall and the air buzzed with the excited chatter of families, the high-pitched giggles of toddlers, and the occasional wail of a child whose feet hurt from waiting or was a little scared of the man with the round belly and red suit.

Y/N was feeling the initial confidence boost Harry gave her, waver. The green tunic was a tad itchy, the makeup to paint her cheeks rosy was 100% going to cause her a spotty breakout and the pointy shoes, which she’d thought would be a fun novelty, now felt like they were cutting off the circulation to her toes. She was supposed to be cheerful and welcoming, but every time she smiled, it felt a little forced. And then there was the jingle. The tiny bells attached to the hem of her outfit, hat and tips of her curly shoes made every step a clinking reminder that she was no longer the serious actor she aspired to be. No, now she was an elf, and that meant every footstep seemed to ring with the joyful spirit of Christmas.

"Alright, Sugarplum!" Harry’s voice cut through the noise as he slid into place next to her. "You’re doing great! Just keep smiling!" His eyes twinkled with mischief, and Y/N couldn’t help but return his grin, even if it was more of a grimace.

“I’m not sure I’m pulling off the ‘joyful, Christmas spirit’ look,” she muttered, glancing at Harry. “I think the kids can tell I'm not really feeling it.”

“Oh, please,” he teased, adjusting his own costume, he had managed to twist one of the legs of his red tights around his leg as he peeled them up when he got changed and seemed completely unbothered by it. “You look like you just stepped off of an elf runway. Like we are North Pole Fashion Week right here. Autumn/Winter 2024’s finest!”

He was, in fact, a burst of holiday cheer. His costume fit well, minus the small problem with his tights. His movements were smooth and confident, and he had this way of leaning into his role that made it seem effortless. Every time a child came up to him, he greeted them with enthusiasm, making silly faces to the young ones who couldn’t talk yet, or twirling around to make them squeal and giggle.

Y/N, on the other hand, had already almost fell onto the nutcracker when a child approached her from behind.

***

"Hey, Elves!" a little girl said in a high-pitched voice, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She was maybe seven years old, with a haughty expression on her face that both Harry and Y/N couldn’t help but find hilarious. "I want a unicorn for Christmas."

“Uh, okay, a unicorn,” Y/N repeated, trying to channel the enthusiasm Noelle had instructed them to have. “Is that, like, a stuffed unicorn or an actual unicorn?”

The little girl stared at her blankly. “A real one. With wings.” As if that was obvious, Y/N thought.

Y/N blinked. “Oh… right. Well, I think we’ll need to ask Santa if he can make that happen. Santa has magical powers, you know, isn’t that right Jingles?” she gestured to Harry, desperately wanting to involve him in this conversation to get it over with quicker.

“That’s absolutely right Sugarplum, but I’m not sure the unicorn’s gonna make it through customs...” Harry trailed off

The girl raised an eyebrow. “I don’t care about that. I want a unicorn. With wings.”

“Understood.” Harry nodded seriously. “I’ll put in the request to Santa’s workshop immediately.” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at Harry so turned away to get her giggles out as she organised the piles of gifts for the kids as the little girl continued on.

She gave a dramatic sniff before turning to her adult and questioning, “mummy why does that elf have all those on him?”

“All what, princess?” The little girl’s mother barely took her eyes off her phone while responding to her.

“All those drawings,” she pointed her sticky looking hand to Harry while her mother finally looked up and over with distaste to see Harry’s lower arm exposed from where the fluffy cuffs on his tunic had ridden up, exposing the inky swirls that littered his arm.

“I got these in prison,” Harry said to the child, seriously.

“HARRY,” Y/N shouts whipping her head round from the reorganised piles of presents and a series of giggles.

“Um, its Jingles to you, Miss Sugarplum,” he responded to Y/N with a sly look in his eye before turning back to the little girl, “I broke a lot of elf and safety rules,” he nodded with a sad sort of soft smile as the girl and her mother moved farther up the queue and away from Harry and Y’N’s section.

“You’re going to get sacked,” Y/N laughed.

“Nah, no chance, I don’t reckon there’s any understudies for elves, I’m just trying to brighten the place up, they say Christmas cheer is spread through laughter,” Harry said reaching for one of the candy canes they had in a bowl to give out to customers.

“No one says that” Y/N responded.

“Wel, I did just then,” Harry smirked before shoving his newly unwrapped candy cane between his lips.

***

Y/N found herself laughing more, letting go of the relentless pressure she usually placed on herself. She still had moments of doubt, but they were becoming less frequent. And more often than not, Harry was there, laughing with her, encouraging her to embrace the more sparkly, joyful side of things.

By the end of the week, both Harry and Y/N were beginning to look forward to their shifts—not just for the pay check, but because of the time spent with each other. Their friendship was growing, deepening in those small moments of shared joy. They spent their breaks together, sharing their lunches and swapping stories about their schools, about their aspirations, about everything and nothing.

“I jus’ couldn’t face doing panto again this Christmas for some work experience, last year I ended up in a production of Cinderella at holiday park in the arse end of nowhere and let me just tell you never again,” Harry said round mouthfuls of the Subway sandwich he’d ran to go pick them up on their joint lunch break.

“You didn’t?!” Y/N gasped dramatically, putting her own sandwich down.

“I did.”

“Oh no you didn’t,” Y/N refuted.

“What y’on about? I did, I played Buttons.”

“Oh no you didn’t!” Y/N teased.

“Oh no you didn- OH ha ha, very funny,” Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “But yeah I had to stay in a static caravan for the length of the run, and not one of those nice, posh static caravans with the deck and did y’know some of them have actual baths in ‘em too? It was a shit one, that smelt of damp and sand from the beach and had a scorch mark on the carpet from the fan radiator someone had put on upside down, the thing probably would’ve looked better if it had gone up in flames.”

***

It was the week before Christmas, when the shopping centre was at its peak. Crowds of shoppers were everywhere. Pushing, jostling, and frantically checking their lists. Santa’s grotto had gotten busier and busier and December went on, and Harry and Y/N were in the thick of it, dodging around children, parents, and cameras, keeping up the relentless pace of their elf duties.

They were stationed in the photo line, dishing out candy canes left, right and centre to anyone who didn’t already have one clutched in their hands. The music overhead had transitioned from classic carols to the more upbeat, catchy tunes—"Jingle Bell Rock," "Last Christmas," and, of course what’s Christmas without a little bit of Mariah.

“Honestly, feels like Christmas exploded all over this place,” Harry muttered to Y/N as a child skipped past them, jingling her own set of bells in her hair. He adjusted his own costume and shot a glance around at the sea of red and green. “I love Christmas but even I’m starting to feel a little less Santa n’a little more Scrooge.”

Y/N’s grin was infectious. “I know, right? But I think I’m starting to really love it rather than seeing this as a quick, easy wage every week. It feels like a big Christmas party every day and really is starting to put me in the mood for the 25th.”

Harry snorted. “You’re a better elf than I’ll ever be then. I’m about two seconds from snapping the candy canes and calling it a day.”

Y/N chuckled, her eyes glinting mischievously. “You could do that. But you’d be the elf who shows up on the ‘Naughty List,’ and frankly, I don’t think you want that reputation,” Y/N shrugged playfully.

“Well, there’s always next year,” Harry replied with a wink.

As the hours passed, the atmosphere only intensified. The mall was bursting with excited chatter, laughter, and the occasional tantrum from an upset child. Harry was starting to feel the weight of it all—the constant smiling, the relentless energy. He glanced over at Y/N, who seemed unaffected by it all. She was laughing, her face flushed from the warmth of the crowd, her energy infectious, but Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something—something more than the seemingly newly discovered holiday cheer that seemed to shine out of her pores like the lights round the Christmas trees. There was a depth to her that he couldn’t quite place. A vulnerability that was hidden beneath her new, bright exterior. He had seen it before, right at the start of their run—brief moments when her eyes grew a little distant or when she would zone out during a particularly quiet lull. She seemed melancholic a lot of the time at the beginning but the closer they got to Christmas her personality seemed to do a switch to the most utterly joyful person you could ever come across. Harry didn’t buy it, not completely anyway.

After another round of photos, a break finally arrived. It wasn’t much—only fifteen minutes—but it was enough for them to run off to their break room to rest their jingled feet. Harry slumped down in his seat, taking a long, deep breath of the slightly cooler air of their break room. He caught sight of Y/N across the room, filling up a glass of water each for them from the cooler.

"Hey," Harry said, his voice a bit quieter now. “Y’alright?”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide and a little startled by the question. She blinked a couple of times, as if trying to shake off some thought she’d been lost in.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied quickly, offering a bright smile. “I’m just… y’know. Trying t’make the most of the break.” She gestured vaguely around; the room was empty bar the pair of them.

“Right,” Harry said, but there was something in her tone that didn’t quite match the smile she was giving him. He knew her well enough by now to see that something was off. It was slight, subtle even, but it was there.

He took a deep breath, feeling that the awkwardness of the moment would pass if he just said it. “Look, Y/N... I don’t want to make you uncomfortable n’just tell me t’fuck off if I’m overstepping or anything… but I feel like there’s more going on with you than you’re letting on.”

She froze for a moment before placing the now full glass of water in front of Harry. Her eyes shifted to the floor, her expression briefly faltering before she met his gaze again.

“You’re talking about the personality transplant I’ve had in the last few days, aren’t you?” she asked with a small laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Harry shook his head. “No. I mean… yes. But not just that.” He pulled the chair next to him round to an angle so they would be basically facing each other eye to eye as he encouraged her to take a seat. Lowering his voice slightly. “I know m’not the best at reading people, but I can tell y’hiding something. You’re not as… I don’t know… there’s something not quite right about the smile you’re painting on, right?”

Y/N’s smile faltered, and she glanced away. “I’m fine, Harry. I promise.”

But Harry didn’t buy it. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something in her voice, a tone as if she was trying to convince herself of the fact and not just him, that made him feel that she wasn’t fine.

“Y/N, m’not trying to make you talk about anything you’re not ready to share,” Harry said gently. “But… you can’t just bury everything under the elf costume and the smiles. It’s okay to not be okay sometimes,” he said with a soft smile as he nudged his knee against her own.

The room was silent. Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, clearly battling with something. Harry held his breath, waiting. Finally, she sighed deeply, as if the weight of it all had become too much to carry any longer.

“I didn’t want to bring it up, s’a bit of a mood killer at this time of year,” she said quietly, her voice thick with something Harry couldn’t quite place. “But... I guess I’m just tired. Not physically—well, kind of. But emotionally. I don’t know… I’ve been pretending a lot this year.”

Harry watched her, his brow furrowing. "Pretending?"

Y/N let out a shaky breath and nodded. “My family... my dad... this time of year is always hard for me. Christmas is supposed to be happy, right? But it just... reminds me of everything I’ve lost. Things that don’t work out. People who move on.” She paused, her voice trembling just slightly. “I didn’t want to let it affect my job here. I didn’t want to ruin the fun, or the magic… and I guess it’s been a lot.”

Harry felt a pang of sympathy for her. The words hung in the air like fragile glass, and he could see how much it had cost her to admit it. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, he just nodded, understanding. “I get it,” he said eventually. “Y’don’t have to keep pretending, though. Not round me anyway.”

She gave him a small, relieved smile, but there was still sadness behind her eyes. “Thanks, Harry,” she whispered, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “I think I just needed someone to hear it. Even if it’s just for a second. I’m just… knackered,” she sighed.

Harry leant closer, offering gentle smile his hand reaching down to squeeze her knee. “Anytime. You know that.”

For the last few moments of their break, they just sat there, sipping on their water and cooling down for a bit, the noise of the shopping centre drifting in from the distance. Harry didn’t push her to say more, but they both knew something had shifted between them in that moment. Y/N wasn’t just his elf colleague anymore. She was a person with a past, with scars, with feelings. And Harry wanted to be there for her, even if it meant just offering an ear if she needed it.

And maybe she just needed to know that someone was there to listen, even someone she met working at Santa’s Grotto.

The break ended with the sound of a loud cheer coming from the main concourse of the shopping centre, where a new group of children had gathered to see Santa. Y/N downed the rest of her water and gave her cheeks a few quick pats to wake herself up, as if the moment of vulnerability had never happened, and smiled at Harry.

“Ready for round two?” she asked, her voice lighter than before.

Harry nodded. “Let’s do this Sugarplum.” And for the first time in a long while, Harry realized that sometimes, just being real with someone else was the greatest gift of all.

***

The day before Christmas was a blur of lights, music, and the constant hum of holiday energy. For such a manic day, it was a slow one. Harry had stopped counting the hours long ago of his shifts long ago; it was just a matter of getting through the day, but with Y/N by his side, it felt bearable. Their friendship had become a steady constant, something Harry looked forward to in the midst of the holiday madness. They spent their breaks together, talked about everything and nothing, and found little ways to make each other laugh.

But today felt different. There was a quiet tension in the air between them, an unspoken awareness that lingered longer than usual. It was approaching midday on Christmas Eve, the final shift before the big day. The mall was packed, the halls full of families rushing to get those last-minute photos with Santa, children buzzing with excitement. Harry and Y/N had just finished their break and were back on as Jingles and Sugarplum, standing in front of the grotto. They had gotten good at this��good at smiling until their cheeks hurt, good at posing for photos, good at handing out candy canes like it was second nature. But today, something felt… off. Something wasn’t quite as simple as it had been before.

“Last day,” Y/N said, adjusting her costume, the bells twinkling and punctuating her sentence, her tone almost too casual as she looked around at the busy area. “Can y’believe it’s finally Christmas Eve?”

Harry shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “It kind of feels like we’ve been doing this forever, doesn’t it? Like, time doesn’t even work anymore.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, her eyes scanning the crowd. Then, turning back to Harry, her gaze lingered a moment too long. “You know, I’ve actually really enjoyed this. Not the work, obviously, but… the time we’ve spent together. It’s been…” She hesitated, glancing down at her costume before meeting his eyes again. “Nice. A break from my usual, I guess.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t say it directly, but there was something in her voice that made him wonder if she felt the same way he did.

“I get that,” he said, his voice a little quieter than before. “It’s kind of hard to explain, but I feel like we’ve gotten into this rhythm. You know what I mean?”

She smiled, that familiar, easy smile that made him feel like he was the only one in the room. “Exactly. We’ve somehow survived this madness, and now it’s almost over.”

As they stood there, exchanging glances with the busy families waiting in line, Harry couldn’t help but feel a sense of… finality. He had been dreading the end of this gig, not because he didn’t want to go back to the conservatoire and his classes after break but because he didn’t want to not see Y/N every day. The idea of her becoming just another friendly face in the crowd of his life was akin to one of Shakespeare’s tragedies to him, he didn’t want that at all.

“You’re right,” he said slowly, “I don’t want it to be over. This... thing we’ve got going on, I mean.”

Y/N paused, her eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion. “What do you mean, ‘this thing’?”

Fuck, Harry thought as looked down at his hands, suddenly feeling self-conscious, a rarity for him. Maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe he was just imagining that there was something between them. But the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the way they laughed together, the way he felt this inexplicable pull towards her.

“This thing where it’s easy to talk t’you. Where we don’t have to pretend with each other,” he said carefully, his heart pounding a little harder in his chest. “Where… I don’t know… I feel like I can be myself at least.”

She blinked, processing his words. Her expression was unreadable for a moment, but then her lips curled into a slow, thoughtful smile. “I know what you mean,” she said softly. “It’s like… we don’t have to be perfect all the time, right? Like, we can just… be. Together.”

The way she said the word “together” sent a small shiver down Harry’s spine. He could feel the air between them shift, and suddenly, he wasn’t sure if it was just the holiday magic, or something more. Something deeper.

He took a deep breath, stepping a little closer to her. “Y/N, I—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a loud wail from a child pierced the air, cutting through the moment like a knife. The child, no older than six, was tugging at her mother’s sleeve, refusing to get anywhere near the front door of the grotto where on the other side she’d meet Santa. Her voice was a screech of fear almost, desperate to leave.

Harry and Y/N immediately snapped back into their roles, the brief, intimate moment forgotten in an instant. It was as though the world had snapped back into its chaotic rhythm. Harry plastered on his best elf smile and turned to the mother, ready to jump back into character.

“Everything okay here?” he asked, though his mind was still racing with the things he had almost said to Y/N.

Y/N, ever the professional, was immediately by Harry’s side, kneeling down to the little girls height. “Hey there sweetness, I’m Sugarplum and this is my pal Jingles,” she said in a gentle, soothing voice nodding to Harry who waved at the shy little girl. “Y’know, Santa’s not so bad. Look, we’re elves and have worked with the big man for forever, and we think he’s pretty cool, isn’t that right Jingles?”

The little girl sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve of her little red coat, before glancing up at Y/N and Harry with watery eyes. “Really?”

“Absolutely!” Harry said with a wink, before he too knelt down to the girls’ level, his voice bright and reassuring. “Santa’s just a big teddy bear. In fact he gave me this,” Harry pulled a candy cane from his pocket with a flourish, “t’give to you before we go in and see him!”

The girl seemed to hesitate for a moment, before nodding slowly reaching out to wrap her fingers around the candy cane Harry held out to her, “Okay…”

As the little girl settled, Harry couldn’t help but glance over at Y/N. She had a way with the kids who were a little scared or nervous, a warmth that made him admire her even more. She always knew exactly what to say, always had the right level of energy to make them feel better. It was something he’d noticed before, but today, it felt like a piece of the larger picture. When the little girl finally took a seat on the stool next to Santa’s chair and was yapping away listing off things she wanted for Christmas as well as things she thinks he should give her baby brother, Harry and Y/N exchanged a smile at a job well done.

As the rest of the day wore on, the mall’s energy peaked and then began to mellow. The final families arrived, children almost vibrating with excitement at Santa’s imminent arrival, parents frantically snapping photos. In the quiet moments between families, Harry found himself stealing glances at Y/N. She was still the same—cheerful, warm, effortlessly glowing—but there was a new layer between them now, an unspoken understanding.

Finally, as the evening came to a close, the last group of families having exited with their pictures in hand. Santa waving a big goodbye to any straggler groups citing that he had a long night ahead of him and had to go see Mrs Claus before he set off on his journey around the world. Harry and Y/N were left alone in the grotto, it was just the two of them now, standing in the glow of the Christmas lights, the last traces of holiday music playing softly in the background.

Y/N turned to Harry, her eyes locking with his. “I guess this is it,” she said softly, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, his heart beating just a little faster. “It’s weird. I kind of thought it would feel like a relief when it was over, but… now it’s here, it feels… wrong, somehow.”

Y/N smiled softly, stepping a little closer to him. “It’s not over, Harry. It’s just… different now.”

He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hope so.”

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, they both leaned in, just inches apart. The air between them was charged, the magic of Christmas, the long month and a half of working side by side, and the undeniable pull they felt toward each other all converging in that one perfect instant.

Before Harry could think too much about it, Y/N closed the small gap, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft, tentative, but filled with something deeper—something neither of them could deny any longer.

The moment held, timeless and sweet, as they finally gave in to the feelings that had been building between them, and as they pulled back, breathing in the shared warmth of the kiss, it was clear to both of them: this was only the beginning.

“D’you think we can go get changed now? I never want to see or feel another pair of fucking tights anywhere near my legs for a long, long time,” Harry said as Y/N burst into fitful giggles her face slumping against his shoulder as she laughed

***

They had swapped numbers early on in their job, Harry’s suggestion since they were paired together in case one of the two were to be poorly or running late but had never used those numbers. As much as Harry’s fingers twitched to do so.

They separated outside the mall after their kiss, both rushing off to get to their families to spend Christmas Day with them. Christmas morning came with a quiet calm. Y/N had expected to wake up feeling exhausted, her muscles sore from the constant running around, the endless hours of standing in character, smiling for the camera, but instead, she woke up in her bedroom at her Mum’s house… on edge. Like something had shifted, and now the world around her seemed to have rearranged itself, in ways she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for.

She also woke up to a text and her heart took off running.

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄 : Merry Christmas Sugarplum!! Hope your day is as magic as you are xx

Fucking hell, he sent kisses, KISSES… Should she send kisses back, never mind the kisses she needs to type the actual text first.

Y/N: and a merry christmas to you jingles. have a lovely day with your family Harry xx

He sent two kisses so she sent two kisses, that seemed a safe bet.

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄: When are you back in the city? Xxx

THREE KISSES!

Y/N: i’m back on the 28th, you? :) xxx

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄: Crazy, me too! I’m going to hope you don’t have New Years plans yet and wanted to ask if you wanted to do something with me? Ring in the new year together? Xxx

A second text came in before Y/N even managed to process what the first one had said.

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄: Plus I’m not going to lie, going from seeing you and spending all day every day with you to not seeing you at all today is shit and I’ve decided I hate it xxx

Y/N: yes!!! let’s do it, i didn’t have any plans anyway so absolutely want to spend it with you xxx

Y/N: p.s i hate it too :( xxx

***

They had met outside the tube station, a warm embrace on the pavement as a greeting as they began their walk to find a spot on Primrose Hill for the night, filling each other in on what they had been up to on Christmas Day and the days since. They had both booked a few auditions for the first few weeks of January and Y/N had decided she was changing her life in the New Year and had done a massive clear out and deep clean of her flat. And Harry? Well, he’d came home from his Mum’s with a pet cat in tow, one his Mum had recently been fostering and Harry fell in love within the space of a few hours. He’d called her Jingles.

They found a spot on Primrose Hill, both of them unpacking the bags they had brought with them. A picnic blanket each they layered on top of each other to shield their bums from the cold ground. A flask of soup and a flask of tea to keep them warm as well as some snacks and tinned cocktails to see them through the night to the bells. Harry also had a half-sized bottle of champagne tucked in his bag for them to pop at midnight.

They spent their evening wrapped up in each other in their own little bubble getting to know one another more than they already did and as Midnight came and fireworks began to pop and sizzle in the sky and people around them waved glittering sparklers around and the nearest church bells rang signifying a new hour and a new year Harry kissed Y/N again, this time with more certainty, feeling the warmth of his embrace, the joy of being with someone who understood her completely. For the first time, in what felt like forever, Y/N realized she didn’t need anything else.

They had everything right here and they thought that was pretty magical.

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry imagines #harry imagine #one direction fanfiction

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

Text

Just say the word (Max Verstappen)

A secret relationship is hard enough to deal with when you don't have people constantly shipping your boyfriend with someone else

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first time I'm writing athlete!reader, so I thought about the sports I know better and swimming seemed fitting for what I wanted!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: secret relationship

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"You're alone today, Y/N?", one of the other girls, Ella, asked as you retrieved your waterproof workout plan sheet from the folder.

"I'm going away tomorrow and I won't be back until Monday morning, so I squeezed in my Saturday session now; Carol is coaching with the younger group today later", you explained the fact that you were at the pool without your coach.

At first, swimming was an after school activity since your parents worked long hours and they needed you to be occupied and somewhere with someone looking after you, but as you grew older, your passion for the activity became more serious. Combined with your natural skill and hard work - and, truth be told, a dust of luck from deep pocket sponsors - you were able to become a full time swimmer. Tokyo 2020 Olympics was the proudest moment of your career as you stepped on the podium next to two of the people you looked up to the most, wondering if you were ever going to stand in the top step and hear your national anthem play. Baby steps - Carol told you immediately - this is already a huge achievement, Y/N!

"Do you want to stretch together?", Ella wondered, throwing a foam roller for you to catch once you nodded and getting one for herself.

"Where are you off to this weekend?", she asked curiously. You were playing a risky game, you knew that much, going away only on weekends and travelling to countries where, coincidentally, the Formula One Grand Prix was being held.

Luckily for you, no one seemed to make the connection as the last two years you managed to keep your relationship a secret. You first met Max in a sponsor party at the beggining of your professional career when you needed to up your earnings as the costs of travelling to competitions was getting higher and heavier on your savings. It fell through, but other sponsors came your way and you and Max started hanging out after it. The Dutch driver was funny and charming and after winning your first Olympic medal, you felt unstoppable and confessed your feelings for him. When he admitted he felt the same for you, you went from there on. At first, the decision to keep it secret was both strategic, as Max didn't want you to miss out on any sponsorships or teams backing you because you were in a relationship with him, and personal as he didn't want the world's prying eyes on your relationship.

Two years later, you felt like there had never been a right time to do it so things stayed the way they were, and most of the time, you didn't mind it.

"Austria", you kept the city to yourself as you worked on your hips as they were still tight from yesterday.

"Didn't you go there last year?", she quirked an eyebrow.

"Last year, I had more of a city break weekend, this time around I'm going for a nature approach, you know? No phones, no Internet, digital detox and all of that", you offered, doubling up the excuse so she wouldn't expect to see and Instagram stories or posts from your weekend away.

"Sounds nice! It can really get in your head when you're too long on them - I have a timer on my phone because otherwise I won't even notice the amount of time I spend on social media", she smiled before silently asking if she could take the foam rollers back to their box.

Getting yourself on the water and used to the temperature, you started with your usual warm up routine before following the plan you stuck to the platform.

On some days, the session felt quick, before you knew, the other athletes were already stretching and getting prepped for their own session. Today, it seemed like it would never end, as you looked at the clock and only fifteen minutes had gone by since the last time you checked it. At least your times were improving, you thought, drinking some water before going back to practice your butterfly stroke as dictated by the workout sheet.

It was already evening time when you sat down on your bedroom floor, packing everything you had laid out to take on your trip with you when your phone rang.

"Hey, liefje", Max said as his face showed up on your screen, "how was your day?".

"Good. Had training in the morning, then a physio session because my hips kept hurting, and I found some time to buy a replacement for my moisturiser before I came home to have dinner and pack", you showed him the suitcase, "and you? The car seems good, a nice gap to the others as well", you mused.

"The same old Friday, really. Woke up, came to the track, a little debrief with Alice and then we headed to the track. Only tomorrow will tell, but I'm confident on the pole", he smiled, "can't wait to have you here with me and see your gorgeous face up close".

"You can see it now", you ridiculed as you rested your chin on your phone and looked into the camera so Max could have an interesting angle of your features, "beautiful, am I right?", you joked.

"The most beautiful", he complimented, "are you nearly done packing?", he wondered.

"Yes, just my charger and a few other last minute things left - I'll put them in my backpack tomorrow morning", you reasoned.

"You better get to sleep, your flight is early", your boyfriend encouraged, "I really need it - a proper shower first and then I'll go to bed", you assured, "I love you, Max, see you tomorrow", you blew him a kiss.

"I love you too, gorgeous! Text me updates from your flight, okay?", he smiled, smooching his lips for you to see before you ended the videocall.

The shower helped you unwind for the night, a little list on your kitchen counter to remember you of the last minute things as you turned off the lights and got back to your bedroom, your bed waiting for you so you could sleep a decent amount of hours.

Sitting on the waiting area of the airport, you placed your backpack on your legs and rested your elbows there, grabbing your phone to scroll through social media.

Ella was right, people did spend too much time on these. Everyone around you seemed to be on their phone or tablet devices.

A photo of your boyfriend showed up in your explore page, a fan page showing his walking back to the garage after FP1 and Alice was trailing right beside him.

Scrolling through the carrousel of pictures, you found a small video of them laughing together about something. The comments under it were the same as usual.

No one can convince me they're not together!😌 (to be read as I know I'm delulu)

If they're not, I'll volunteer to show them how good they would be for eachother! 🫣

Such a power couple 😮‍💨🥵

When they finally knock some sense into eachother's head and realise they're meant to be together, I'm claiming them as my parents! 🥹

No matter how many times you saw it, it never got easier. For all everyone knew, Max was single, so they weren't acting as a disregard of you. They didn't knew a regard of you to begin with. So they took interest in his love life and hoped he was in a relationship with some of the women he interacted with. Max usually didn't let many of them start to begin with, but Alice worked for the team, he could only get so far away and be distanced from her.

Max wouldn't cheat on you, you knew that. But the comments made you wonder. Would he be better off with someone else? Someone who could follow him anywhere?

The thoughts often plagued your mind, and they hadn't yet turned to the your other insecurities, so you had to be thankful for that.

Boarding on the plane, you played some music on your earbuds as you fished out your kindle to continue reading the book you started at the beggining of the week.

The buzz was installed on track as you found your spot in the stands just in time to see the marshalls tidying up whatever was left on the concrete so qualifying could start without a hitch.

This was usually how you did it. On Saturday, you would watch qualifying from the stands, waiting a little in the fan zone before Max whisked you into the hospitality with Gianpiero's help. On Sunday, you either stayed on the stands and repeated the same procedure or you arrived early to the track and stayed in his driver's room so to not lift any suspicions. You had been invited to watch a few races with the Paddock Club pass with some of the other Olympic athletes, but it hadn't happened in a while.

To anyone, you were a regular fan. You had your RedBull cap on and sunglasses, and you had never been recognised in one of the races, so you felt calm. The tricky bit of keeping your relationship hidden from the public eye was going to be later, for now, you could just wait and appreciate the fast laps.

"I'm sorry, you're Y/N Y/L/N, right?", a girl in a Ferrari cap called your name. Crap.

"Hi, I am", you smiled, "I'm sorry to ambush you like this - I am a big fan and you're a big inspiration to me. I also swim", she reasoned as she fumbled with her phone, "do you mind if my father takes a picture of us?", she politely asked.

"That's okay, yes", you smiled, taking off your sunglasses briefly as the older man snapped a picture before he shook your hand, "she won't shut up about your achievements! Did you tell Ms. Y/L/N that you're going to be in the qualifiers for Paris?".

"It's Y/N, please", you requested, "That's fantastic, congratulations! I hope it all works out for you and I'll see you around there!", you hugged her quickly before she thanked you and found their seats.

She seemed nice enough and it wasn't like you were a public figure, at least to the general public anyway really, so between all of the people who could've spotted you, she was fine.

"C'mon Max!", you yelled as he and Charles seemed to be separated by a few tenths of a second, cheering loudly when the times were set and your boyfriend got the pole position.

The timing was perfect as Max took a little longer than expected on his interviews, fans scattering to the fanzone and track experiences while you spotted Max's engineer, walking with him when no one seemed to be paying attention to it.

"I'll tell Max you're already here", he smiled before he closed the door of the driver's room.

It always felt a little odd. Like you were doing something forbidden and illegal by being there.

"Yes, we'll meet in a bit", Max told whoever was in the corridor after he opened the door, closing it back when you jumped on him, legs wrapping around his waist, "hey, pole sitter", you smirked, nuzzling your face on his neck and kissing the soft skin.

"Hello, liefje", he mumbled against your skin before you pulled away, "kiss?", you asked for his lips to settle on yours for a bit, filling up on eachother's presence.

"No one saw you come here?", he asked. You shook your head, "everybody was paying attention to other things, the only people I encountered already know so we're safe", you stated.

Max noticed the change of tone, but you wouldn't have time to properly discuss it so he let it slide for now, telling you instead about the session and how the car felt, as well as the dinner plans her had for you since the room service menu was "so varied we could make our own little buffet".

You stayed in the room while he had the debrief, leaving together when you made sure no one would see you two.

"Room service called back, they said they'll bring the food in ten minutes", Max said as you got out of the bathroom, dressed in pyjamas and fresh out of the shower, "That's good, I'm starving", you smiled as you sat down.

Max always received the food at the door to ensure no prying eyes would see something he didn't want, along with other precautions like packing up all your things in case someone from housekeeping enjoyed the gossip and took the rumours somewhere else.

"I know something is bothering you", Max began you had taken a piece of chicken to your much, "I noticed it when we were in my room, and even now there's something", he nudged your arm.

Chewing and swallowing afterwards, you moved the broccoli around your plate, gathering your thoughts before speaking up, "do you know people ship you and Alice?", you spoke up.

"Don't change the subject, darl - is that it?", Max tried to understand.

"People seem to think you'd make a great couple, like, they have your whole relationship panned out. Everyone thinks she's very pretty - and I agree with them -, and that you two have chemistry and that it would be nice for you to be with her - looks exchanged and all sorts of ideas", you mumbled.

"Liefje, I'd never do that to you, I don't interact with her that way", Max replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone - and they know who that person is, so really it's just a matter of putting two and two together!", you let a tear fall down your cheek.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much and bringing you such sadness", Max cupped your cheek, thumb wiping the tears that followed suit and looking into your eyes.

"I can ask the team to issue or statement - or we can go public. I don't care what we do as long as you feel better about it", he comforted.

"Do you want to go public?", you asked, afraid of the answer.

"Y/N, my love, being secret was just to protect you, for your good. If going public is the solution for this, I'm the first one to walk into the paddock tomorrow with you, holding hands and everything", he moved his hands to cradle your own.

"You mean that? It's just, I don't want people to assume you're single and throw themselves at you - or throw someone at you! I know Alice won't do it, but other people might and I'm tired of having to lie to people about where I'm going and saying no to dates they try to set up and why I gave a RedBull rain jacket on my car", you chuckled at the last one, remembering your coach's reaction when she saw it, "Since when do you follow F1?", Carol questioned.

"We'll do it tomorrow if you want, or whenever you feel ready, Y/N. I'll be by your side, always", he smiled kissing your lips lovingly.

"I don't have any paddock wag outfits with me", you giggled, "have to make a good impression".

"Please, you could go in these pyjamas and you'd still be the prettiest woman there", he pulled you to sit on his lap as you finished your dinner.

The next morning, people couldn't believe their eyes as Max walked hand in hand with a young woman, the pair of them talking about something between them as they giggled.

A few were unsure of it was really you while others asked their colleagues to please repeat your name, googling you quickly and finding out your achievements.

Soon enough, pictures flowed social media with the paddock's new power couple, gossip Instagram pages having a field day and it wasn't even lunch time.

"This is news", Daniel said as he spotted Max. He had been one of the few people outside of the team who knew about you two, you having made him swear that he would never tell anyone, and if by chance he did let something slip, you trusted him to make a joke out of it and for people to assume he was just teasing Max indeed.

"You won't have to keep it to yourself anymore, Danny", you said as you hugged his side quickly.

"That's good, actually, I think that's what has been keeping me from being focused in racing, it's a real relief, Y/N", he stated and for two seconds, you felt bad for putting such pressure on him, "I'm just kidding! C'mon, you know what I'm like", he gave you a big smile, "now, I have to go, will pop by to see you though!", Daniel said as he waved while he carried on to his team's garage.

Your interactions with Daniel and the team spurred curiosity as the media started thinking and hypothesizing that maybe your relationship was as new as they thought it was. As it turns out, once again, Max Verstappen knew how to keep private aspects away from the media.

For now, they would try to dig more and find out how the Olympic medalist swimmer stole the heart of the Formula One driver.

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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wooahoe · 3 months ago

Text

i gave my all, i held on tight, but love can’t live on borrowed time

i still wonder, i still wait, would you answer, would you stay?

since when did things go wrong?; kim mingyu x reader — or, five times it wasn’t meant to be + one time it was

dory’s notes: happy mingyu day 🤍 have some angst also these are NOT the same timeline okay i just had like a dozen different fic ideas and uhm i couldn’t pick one so. here :P

i really really love these songs but it’s not available anywhere else but here :( tbh the entire playlist inspired this fic PLEASE LISTEN TO IT GAWD I LOVE THIS PLAYLIST.

cw: unbetaed, lack of y/n, they/them pronouns used, reader is described as smaller than gyu but also WHO TF IS BIGGER THAN HIM, ANGST ANGST ANGST, fluff if you like. really really squint, swearing, hurt/comfort at the end, implied soulmate au in one of them, implied mingyu death, implied reader death, attempts were made at magical realism, unrequited love, breakups, crying, literally just a sad sad fic i’m so sorry i’m literally incapable of writing fluff atp

wc: 1.5k

🎧 saranghey❕dory’s playlist — @maestro-net

—

a quiet fade, a slow embrace. (1)

you don’t think you can do this.

how are you supposed to live without someone who was supposed to be your everything when everything reminds you of him?

you can’t sleep in the middle of the bed anymore. it feels wrong.

you’re so used to cooking for two that you’re forced to buy more tupperware to accommodate the surplus of food.

you’re so used to paying for two that it surprises you how cheap it is to pay for one.

it’s hard, to relearn to live for one instead of two.

but not impossible.

because you get used to the silence. it becomes comforting, instead of taunting. you get used to eating alone, instead of it being a looming reminder of your ex. you get used to being alone without being lonely.

still. you wish it could have worked out between the two of you.

—

secrets we’re scared to speak. (2)

if someone asked kim mingyu why he was so obsessed with a person who didn’t love him back, he’d respond that you did.

just not in the way that he wanted you to.

he could recite all of your quirks, down to the most unnoticeable things they’d think he was crazy. he could list your favorite things by heart: foods, boba order, books, games, tv shows, all of it. he could tell them all of the reasons why you’d captured his heart, and most importantly, he could tell them why he’d never tell you any of this.

they don’t love me like that.

and so they’d look over at you, happily chatting with seungkwan about something. and they’d see the look on mingyu’s face, and how soft his expression turned when he looked at you, and how it didn’t sit quite right with them.

and they’d realize that it’s because it’s sad.

his expression is so full of love. he looks at you so sweetly, so earnestly, so adoring that they just know that he’s astronomically down bad for you.

but it’s also forlorn. wistful. it’s heartbroken, for some reason.

and so they ask him why.

and he’d respond that you don’t see him that way, that you only see him as a friend, and that really, he’s okay with it. you still love him, just not in the traditional sense, and what’s so wrong with that?

and once they leave, and mingyu is winding down from a busy day, he’s left alone with his thoughts. and god, does it hurt.

because what’s wrong is that you’re his everything.

but he’s not yours.

—

and wonder if it’s you, or if i’m the ghost. (3)

“you have to move on.”

you turn to jihoon, eyes filled with tears. his words are sharp, but you know that he comes from a place of love, because his eyes are glossing over as he speaks.

“ji, i can’t.”

“you have to. you know i’m right.” he pauses, wondering if he should speak the words sitting on his tongue.

(un)fortunately, you say them for him.

“don’t you fucking dare say that he’d want me to.”

your tone was broken before, but now it’s as if the glass shards have their edges pointed towards jihoon, poised to hurt him while simultaneously cutting into you.

and he knows this. because he knew mingyu, and he knew how damn much his best friend meant to you.

he says your name gently.

“i won’t.” he squeezes your knee gently. “but you know it’s true.”

“how?” he has to catch himself from flinching, because your voice is so broken that it hurts to listen to. “how, jihoon? god, we were supposed to get fucking married and now he’s gone.”

“i see him everywhere. i think i see him in crowds, which is impossible but there’s still a part of me that thinks he’s still here. i listen to music and i can’t stop thinking about him. i can’t even pass by a fucking coffee shop without crying. i can’t let go. how the hell am i supposed to?”

he was is the love of my life, you want to say. i can’t let go because part of me acts like he’s still here.

“i don’t know,” he whispers, and you think your heart breaks a little more.

but he’d want you to be happy, he wants to say, and he doesn’t have to. because you already know.

“do you ever get mad at him? that he left?”

jihoon sighs.

“i know i shouldn’t.”

“but you do.”

he nods, and you pull your legs closer to your chest.

he doesn’t have to ask if you feel the same. he already knows.

—

shadows cast by me and you. (4)

ring. ring, ring.

you answer your phone.

“여보세요?”

“hey. it’s me.”

“hi, gyu.”

“so. uh. i really enjoyed this past month.” you smile.

“i’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”

“damn, not even a ‘me too’?”

you snort.

“yes, gyu, i enjoyed it too. but i know that that’s not the reason why you called me.” he sighs, and he sounds genuinely frustrated. it makes you laugh, and he groans into the phone.

“i hate you.”

“says the man who proposed that we date for a month, only to call me saying that he regrets it.”

you can practically hear his frown.

“no. i didn’t regret it.”

you pause.

“oh.”

“but—don’t say anything! let me finish.”

“fine.” you grin.

“would it make you mad if i said that i liked us better as friends?”

you let out a relieved oh thank god and mingyu lets out the breath that he’s been holding in.

“so you agree?”

you laugh.

“yeah. i mean, i’m kinda sad that we didn’t work out like that, but i kinda like us better as friends, too.”

mingyu lets out a frustrated sigh.

“i really wanted us to work out.”

“we do, gyu, just not like that.”

“yeah.” you hear the dejection in his voice, and it makes you laugh.

“stop laughing at my misery!”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. here, let’s go get boba. 난 사줄게.”

“you better.”

—

i keep holding onto something that’s already gone. (5)

mingyu looks over at his shadow.

it looks lonely.

he brushes the thought away.

but he knows, secretly, in the back corners of his mind that creep out to rack his psyche with guilt, that he can’t keep ignoring the loss of you.

beautiful, breathtaking, wonderful you.

it’s not that you’re everywhere he goes. no, it’s that everywhere he goes is a reminder of where you aren’t.

you aren’t by his side when he wakes up in the morning. you aren’t there to laugh at soonyoung’s terrible jokes, you aren’t there to remind him to drink his water and take his supplements, you aren’t there to cheer him up when he’s feeling down. you aren’t there to see your shadows, together, dancing on the wall as the last dregs of daylight filter in through the blinds.

and he can’t hug you when you’ve had a bad day anymore. he can’t kiss your forehead when you’re sick, he can’t make you breakfast in the morning, he can’t drive you to work when you’re running late, he can’t try and convince you to skip work and stay in with him anymore.

you aren’t with him anymore, and that’s what breaks him.

and you won’t ever be there, to be woken up by your children at ungodly hours of the morning. you won’t get the chance to be walked down the aisle. he won’t get the chance to show the world how much he loves you, he won’t be able to slow dance with you, even when his back hurts and your hair grays.

he won’t get the chance to grow old with you.

his shadow is lonely without yours beside it.

—

if i stay, will you still love me the same? (+1)

his expression is desperate. and his eyes are so, so terrified that you wonder what kind of monster you are to have nearly broken this boy.

how does he manage to look so small?

“i’m not leaving you. not ever. i promise you, kim mingyu.”

his tear-filled eyes spill over, and you gather as much of him as you can, wrapping your arms around his broad torso.

“god, don’t you ever scare me like that again. please.” his voice is a jumble of whispered sobs and a heart that is so, so close to shattering. he leans his forehead against yours, and you realize that you can never come this close to breaking his heart ever again. because he’s so, so vulnerable around you, and his muscles only do so much to protect his heart.

“i won’t,” you whisper. “i will never, ever leave you, mingyu.”

it’s his turn to wrap his arms around your smaller frame, and your strong persona crumbles around him.

but it’s okay, because the two of you will always be there to catch the other.

—

a/n: 김민규씨! 생신 축하해요 🥳 오늘 행복한 하루 보내고 맛있는 음식 먹어요 🤍

taglist: @sousydive @dreamingofpcy @junplusone @mary1618rosie-blog @iris65 — wanna join my taglist?

#maestro-net #wooahoe writes❕#🎧 saranghey! — dory’s playlist #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you #mingyu x you #kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #happy mingyu day 🤍#우아우아우아호🤍

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onepiecestarry · 10 months ago

Text

Katsuki Bakugo Fluff Oneshot

I've had this bouncing around in my brain for a few days and just needed to get it down :) This is lowk based off of my life so I apologize since its a niche situation. But enjoy some Bk fluff and lmk if you want another part to this!

Katsuki x Reader

2.3k words

Most days you wake up, go to class, study, and train late into the night. You are a busy person, with many priorities, but this didn’t stop you from making many friends. You got particularly close to Mina and Sero, and along with that the rest of the bakusquad- besides Bakugo himself of course. You had tried many times to befriend him but to no avail. You decided to give up since you were already a part of his friend group.

You tried your best to make time for your friends but most weeks you wouldn’t join the nightly hangouts. On any days off you went home to help your mom, only Mina truly knew why you were never in the dorms.

“Alright class, today we are-” Aizawa started his long speech about your new upcoming project. You start to zone out, but quickly focus again to get the project details, jotting down any important notes you might need.

“I am going to randomly assign partners for this, please do not ask to change because there will be no exceptions this time.” Mr. Aizawa says in his regular monotone voice.

He starts to list off the groups and eventually says your name. “Y/n and Bakugo”

“Not that fucking nerd!!” Bakugo yells slamming his fist onto his desk.

“Shut it Bakugo,” Mr. Aizawa says activating his quirk on the rowdy student.

The rest of the day went by normally, you finished classes and began packing your stuff to study and train.

Around 1 am you get a text.

Bakugo

“Where are you dipshit”

Y/n

“Training, why?”

Bakugo

“Tf you training so late for, gts”

Y/n

“Dude leave me alone, what do you want”

Bakugo

“Friday at 11 am common room”

Y/n

“The project?”

He likes the message and the conversation ends. You look at the time and realize you should be going to bed soon, you do a few more reps before heading back to the dorm.

It's a cool night, as you walk a chill runs up your spine from the cold. You shake it off and continue to your dorms. As quietly as you can, you open the door and make your way to your room. You fall asleep to the crickets and cicadas chirping outside your window.

The week goes by quickly as the weekend approaches. You completely forgot about having Friday off, but Mina reminded you on Thursday to text your mom to remind her.

What everyone in the class doesn’t know is that your mom moved with you when you came abroad to study at UA. She and your little sister rent a small house not too far from campus. Your step-father refused to move with them, so on any days you have off you go home to watch your 2-year-old sister while your mom works. The only person who knows about this arrangement is your best friend Mina. She covers for you whenever you are there.

You wake up to the loud beeping of your alarm, as you look at it to shut it off it displays “4:30 am”. You groan and move to get up. Your mom starts work at 6 on the days you have off so you have to get to the house early so your sister isn’t home alone.

You grab your prepacked bag and school backpack and start your walk home. The sunrise is barely a sliver when you get there.

As you take care of your sister throughout the day, coloring, watching movies, and playing dress-up, it doesn’t matter what you do as long as she’s happy. Once you put her down for her nap, you throw yourself onto the couch half asleep. Then your phone starts going off over and over. You grumble something about a group chat and open your phone to see it’s Bakugo.

Bakugo

“Where are you dipshit”

“If you aren’t here in the next 3 minutes I’m blowing your ass up in your dorm”

“Why aren’t you in your dorm”

“ANSWER ME”

Bakugo has requested your location.

“Oh boy” You mumble to yourself

Y/n

“Chill dude, I’m sorry I forgot we were supposed to work on the project today, can we do it Monday?”

Bakugo

“NO, dumbass it's fucking due Monday”

“Where are you, answer the fucking phone now”

Y/n

“I can’t answer the phone rn”

Bakugo

“Well then SEND ME UR FUCKING LOCATION”

Y/n

“Will u chill tf out if I do?”

Bakugo likes the message.

Y/n started sharing their location with Bakugo

You huff and turn your phone off falling asleep on the couch. Not long after you wake up to three aggressive knocks on your front door. Knowing Bakugo you jump up to stop him from knocking more and waking your sister.

“Chill tf out, I’m right here,” You say as you open the door. Bakugo pushes past you walking into your house and turning to look at you.

“You are so fucking useless, we were supposed to have this project done today! I fucking should’ve done it myself” He says with his fingers on the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I’m sorry but Aizawa would know if you pulled that shit AGAIN”

“YOU FUCKING RATTED-”

You slam your palm on his mouth as he begins to yell. Shock is written across his face when he suddenly pushes you off him.

“What the fuck” He spits at you.

“You have to be fucking quiet dipshit” You whisper.

“Why wou-” He gets interrupted by your sister crying and running to you.

You pick her up gently and start to soothe her from her startling wake call as you glare daggers at Bakugo. He stands there in complete shock, this time not hiding it at all. You nod your head in the direction of your dining table and say, “Go set up there, we can work on it now.”

He doesn’t say a word while he gets his stuff out and sets up. You put your sister down to start making some lunch for her.

“Did you eat?” You ask not looking at him.

“What?” He asks snapping back to reality.

“Did you eat lunch?”

“Oh um no”

“Ok,” You say, silently making another serving more.

As you continue to cook and Bakugo silently sits there trying to think of what to say, he blurts out.

“So, who’s the father?”

You turn around from the stove and stare at him blankly for a second processing what he asked, then you see how serious his face is. You burst out laughing- “BAHAHAHA, WAIT,” you say wiping a tear forming in your eye from laughter. Bakugo glares at you to stop laughing. After you take a second to compose yourself you answer, “Bakugo, meet my sister, y/s/n.” You say as y/s/n goes up to Bakugo and hugs him. He has a horrified look on his face realizing what he just asked you.

He tries to jump away and get her off unsuccessfully. He accepts his fate and allows her to hug his leg.

The next few hours went by awkwardly, you served lunch and while your sister was busy eating you spent your time working on the project, allowing Bakugo to have a break and eat too. But as soon as your sister was done you were up and taking care of her again.

Hours go by and you realize you have to figure out dinner.

“Fuck” You whisper so your sister can’t hear. “What do you want for dinner Bakugo?” You ask from your sister’s makeshift playroom in the living room.

“I don’t know, don’t care.”

You look at him exasperated as you sigh and ask your sister.

“PIZZA!!!” Your sister says excitedly. You pick her up and gently whisper how you can’t afford to order pizza right now, and how you can make her something at home. She begins to sulk and goes back to her toys. You get up walk to the table and look at Bakugo to ask again.

“Wha-” You begin.

“I already ordered it.” He says not looking up from his notes.

“What?” You ask baffled.

“The pizza, I already ordered it.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, seriously.”

“It's fine. She said she wanted pizza.”

“Okay, how much was it so I can pay you back.” You ask getting your wallet out.

“No.” He says not sparing you a look.

“What?” You ask again.

“I said no. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, okay, well thank you.”

Once the pizza arrives you all sit down to eat, but once again you don’t eat so you can work on the project. As you sit at your laptop across from Bakugo eating his pizza, your laptop suddenly shuts.

“Wha- What the fuck man?!” You half-yell at Bakugo.

“You haven’t eaten all day, so eat the pizza and then I’ll watch your sister so you can work.”

“But-”

“No. I said what I said.” He stares at you, silently telling you that you won’t win any argument with him.

He kept true to his word, he took care of your sister while you worked efficiently on your project. Around 11:30 you come back to reality and close your laptop, realizing that you should have put your sister to bed long ago. You walk into the living room to see Bakugo and y/s/n on the couch watching her favorite movie, Totoro. Y/s/n being asleep on Bakugo you decide to sit on the other side of him and continue the movie.

“Everything is done, we just need to make the slides and practice.” You whisper.

“Alright cool, that should be easy.” He says continuing to watch the movie.

You look over and admire how calm he is. His arm wrapped around your sister, her head in his lap fast asleep. You had to admit, he was great with kids. While you were working he was playing dress up with her, you managed to snap a few photos of him with a tiara on before he noticed. He was so sweet and gentle with her all day, the opposite of his regular personality. He didn't call her a brat even once, not even one time?!?

He notices you staring and looks over, “What?” He says annoyed.

“Nothing,” You say silent for a few seconds, “Just- thank you for today.”

He lets out a scoff, showing you he was listening.

“Is this where you disappear every night?” He asks.

“What? Oh. no, I actually do train every night since I’m here on the weekends. I usually get up at 4:30 and either stay here or go back at 2 am.” You answer.

“You do this only on two and a half hours of sleep?” He asks with confusion and shock hinting in his voice.

“Yeah, I don’t have much of a choice. No one else can watch her.”

The conversation fades as you both focus back on the movie. Eventually leading to you falling asleep on him as well.

Bakugo sits there on your couch, with your sister asleep in his lap and you asleep on his shoulder. He quietly watches the movie until your mom returns from work. She opens the door and hears the T.V. on, so she goes to the living room to check and she sees all of you there. Bakugo’s head swings at the noise and sees her.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t know y/n had her boyfriend over!” She says quietly moving to sit on the adjacent couch.

“Oh- um, I’m not-” He starts.

“Here let me move her to bed, they both sleep like rocks don’t worry.” She says with a wink, picking up your sister and taking her to her bed. She returns to see Bakugo hasn’t moved with you still asleep on him.

“How long have you been here? I’m so sorry for any trouble they’ve caused.” Your mom laughs.

“I got here around noon. Me and y/n were supposed to work on a school project but she forgot so I came over to work on it.” He starts

“Oh! I’m so sorry about that dear.”

“It's okay.”

“So how long have you two been together?” She asks excitedly.

“We aren’t dating,” Bakugo says quietly still trying to not wake you up.

“Really? Huh, I swear I’ve heard y/n talk about you before.” A light shade of pink finds its way to Bakugo’s cheeks.

“Well, thank you for helping take care of my girls, I really appreciate it. You should stay here tonight, it's too late for you to go back to school. Y/n’s room is there and there are blankets in the closet.” Your mom says getting up to go to bed. “And thank you again Katsuki Bakugo.” She finally says before disappearing into her room.

Bakugo tightens up at the sound of his full name, knowing well that means y/n has talked about him enough for her mom to know who he is.

He decides to stay on the couch, not wanting to disturb your peace. He pulls a blanket on the both of you and shuts his eyes. He thinks about all the times he couldn’t spot you at parties or hangouts. Or how you would vanish off the face of the earth on weekends. It all made sense now, you were working yourself to the bone to take care of your family.

Bakugo always had a soft spot for you, which is why everyone would always make you ask him to hang out with them, even if you weren’t going to be there. He never knew why he was murder-y with you but it scared him so he pushed you away even more. Hence you trying to be friends with him but ‘failing’.

But now he’s here, lying on your couch with you on top of him asleep, coming to the realization that maybe his soft spot for you isn’t all that bad.

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fluff-n-cookies · 1 year ago

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Randomly off the bat Dabi, Shigaraki and Spinner (separately) With a quirkless girlfriend Who has an Ex that wants to get back with her, BUT……. The ex turns that “HE BROKE UP WITH HER” because she “had no quirk” and that she was “useless to him”

(Those are the quotes she says to them while telling them the short version of the story) Dabi, Shigaraki, Spinner, deals with the situation themselves.

(I love those boys😍 and I thought it be a good idea story for you, so go crazy and have fun with it😅)

Okay, girlie, while I love the fact that you're sharing this stuff with me, I don't think you read this. the yellow paragraph. I hope you send this request to some other writers, @honeybubblebeeeeee is one of my personal favs. I do however like the idea of a reader having no quirk and being abandoned because of it, so I'll put a platonic spin on it.

AND I ALSO DON"T WRITE FOR SPINNER SORRY!!!

Reader was abandoned by their family after being born to a quirk marriage meant to provide children with strong quirks only for their first child to have no quirk. not wanting their reputation destroyed they abandoned our dear reader at 5 leaving her in an orphanage and a note to near come find them less they wanted a bounty on their head. (reader is now 16)

Dabi likes children, he likes how they have this innocent aura, he likes that they, hopefully, have not gone through the horrors he has. Hopefully. On the other hand, he hates quirk marriages, he hates hero's, in fact, I'd even say he hates fathers in general.

To tell Dabi that your relationship with your father or your mother is bad is to get them at the top of his hit list, VIP shit. Endeavor is just a couple seconds behind them.

but what hurts him more, what hurts him the most is if you actually believe them, if you push yourself through hand to hand combat, sniping, and other such practices not for the sake of improving yourself but to prove to them (not that they care) that you are not useless.

Oh how it pains him, to wake up in the dead of night to see your tear stricken face as you berate a poor punching bag to death on the roof. The wind is cool as you swing, and swing again. It's as if you dance for the stars of the night and the stars alone with not a thought for the trees or the mountains. Only ever the stars.

The sting hurts, the impact of thinly wrapped fists against a leathery wall, but that anger that drains with it is enough to make the pain worth it, is it not?

That anger you feel, is an anger that Touya knows all too well. The type of anger that makes one want to yell of the heavens, yell that they are not a sinner despite being imprisoned in hell. He’ll watch as you swing with fury, fury of not being enough, fury of being thrown away like trash.

one man's trash is another's treasure though, right?

In that case, you're Touya's most darling treasure. Oh the urge to hold you close and tell you everything's going to be okay, as he pets your head, whispering promises of vengeance on your behalf. To give you a reason to smile.

Oh, it's strong.

Oh, the blood he's shed for you.

he won't say anything, if you see him get you water after you nearly faint from mental and physical exhaustion, no you didn't. if you saw him undo the bandages on your arms from training and replace them with new fresh ones, you're delusional. If you saw him stalking your family's socials and calling someone to leak their crimes, shhh, don't tell.

----

"I mean, yeah, you kinda are."

Was his genuine first thought.

I mean, what do you want him to say? that your quirk doesn't determine your worth, like what?

and darling, when I say correct him, I mean correct him, please correct him. Please look dead into his eyes and say "I'm not useless!". for when I say it will escalate, trust me it will Escalate.

this boy has never had a true friend, and on top of that, he was teased as a child for, well being him. So the moment he gets a friend, his heart will swell, for once he feels cherished, and my poor boy, he doesn't show it correctly.

he's just so happy to finally have someone to talk to and joke around with, but doesn't realize just yet what is a joke and what is not. so he'll keep pushing it, it supposedly is an "inside joke" so he'll keep doing it.

So please correct him! tell him that it hurts, and tell him lightly to not risk breaking his heart.

Because he wants to make you happy, he can't stand the fact that you go quiet whenever he calls you quirkless, and that you're progressively distancing yourself more and more. And believe me when I say, it's painful for the both of you.

Please be his friend, and please let him make you happy correctly, you are just so perfect, we can't have such a perfect thing so sad now can we?

---

yeah, done admist some weird shit, and did I mention that I'm a horrible writer?

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verdemoth · 7 months ago

Text

The second of my FLondon PCs, Knoll! For a reintroduction: Knoll's Kind Of a vigilante but it's mostly incidental. They're not much of a fighter, their tools of choice are dyes and written word. And they're not selflessly motivated; their greatest drive is the furthering of their research into the Neathbow, and it is of little concern to them whether the impact of their actions is over-all positive or negative.

They are a very private and self-serving individual, but they're not entirely without care. The most important person in their life is their partner Josef van Eloheim (oc of a friend off-site) who they love very dearly. They're also allies/kind-of-maybe actually friends with Mel, having connected via acquaintanceship with Josef and forming an agreement to trade information to their mutual benefit.

Knoll's a bit more of a static character than Mel, because they're kind of just vibing? They've yet to encounter any serious setbacks that would push them towards a dramatic shift. But they Have grown; they're a little less paranoid about allowing select people to know them, a little more willing to show their care a little more openly and genuinely.

Readmore below has transcripts of the text in this image

Text Transcripts:

In the top right are some quick details. In the style of other Fallen London characters, Knoll's epithet is 'the Ink-Steeped Analyst' or alternatively 'the Saturated Correspondent'. Knoll's pronouns are they/them, they're around 23-25 years old, and they're 6 feet 1 inch tall. Their residence isn't listed, their profession is 'rogue scientist, poet & pamphleteer'. They don't have a 'closest to' faction as they hold few loyalties.

Below this are some notable player attributes. Of the main attributes, Knoll has high Watchful and Persuasive but low Dangerous. Of the quirks, they have high Ruthless, Daring, and Subtle, but low Melancholy, Austere, and Magnanimous.

Paired with the main illustrations are these notes: "Dresses to control perception. Violant to highlight certain features and leave an intended impression. Irrigo to be difficult to comprehend, and fade from the minds of onlookers. Different outfits target different situations. This one s their 'streetwear'."

"Intentionally disorienting use of irrigo embroidery. It's difficult to perceive their actions when you can hardly remember you're looking at someone."

In the top left are these notes about the colours they use: "The main subjects of Knoll's scientific fixation are the impossible colours known collectively as the Neathbow, and the effects these materials produce in humans through exposure. In particular, the following two are their greatest passion, their work which they have and would devote everything to:"

"Irrigo. The unremembered colour. The light of absence. Over time, it soaks into you. (That's a bad thing)"

"Violant. The invasive hue of necessary but troublesome connections. Indelibly lingers in memory. A Correspondent's tool of the trade, in the form of ink."

Paired with the examples of their masks are these notes: "Body language and tilt of mask convey expression (exaggerated in art for clarity). They have various masks styled after various species, each with different patterns of irrigo, violant, or both."

The last notes are by the illustrations of the sigils on their arms: "Knoll's arms are inscribed with six sigils of the esoteric, cosmic language known as the Correspondence. They have no recollection of how or when they acquired these. They figure they were perhaps the slightest bit 'blackout irradiated' at the time."

There are loose translations of possible meanings of the sigils next to each:

"to arrive at a much-awaited conclusion, but long bereft of its circumstance"

"the perfervid reverberances of that which once was quelled and will not be again"

"an awareness that ripples obscure indiscriminately"

"the revelation that uncertainty is itself an answer"

"a process for recasting forms anew from fragmentary glass"

"possibility unbound, at an unresolved cost"

#fallen london #fallen london oc #image #alt text #described #my art #my characters #char: knoll #curse of knoll is to always be tagged with:#eyestrain cw #but man are those neons fun to work with!!!#knoll my beloved :] they're truly just out here living their best life. unbothered and flourishing #having a silly fun time and skating right past any potential substantial consequence. as of yet

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ask-the-prose · 1 year ago

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Writing Mental Health With Compassion

I've gotten a few questions regarding depicting characters with mental health challenges and conditions and I wanted to expand a little more on how to depict these characters with compassion for the real communities represented by these characters.

A little about this guide: this is, as always, coming from a place of love and respect for the writing community and the groups affected by this topic at large. I'm also not coming at this from the outside, I have certain mental illnesses that affect my daily life. With that, I'll say that my perspective may be biased, and as with all writing advice, you should think critically about what is being told to you and how.

So let's get started!

Research

I'm sure we're all tired of hearing the phrase "do your research," but unfortunately it is incredibly important advice. I have a guide that touches on how to do research here, if you need a place to get started.

When researching a mental health condition that we do not experience, we need to do so critically, and most importantly, compassionately. While your characters are not people, they are assigned traits that real people do have, and so your depiction of these traits can have an impact on people who face these conditions themselves.

I've found that reddit is a decent resource for finding threads of people talking about their personal experiences with certain illnesses. For example, bipolar disorder has several subreddits that have very open and candid discussions about bipolar, how it impacts lives, and small things that people who don't have bipolar don't tend to think about.

It's important to note that these spaces are not for you. They are spaces for people to talk about their experiences in a place without judgment or fear or stigma. These are not places for people to give out writing advice. Do NOT flood subreddits for people seeking support with questions that may make others feel like an object to be studied. It's not cool or fair to them for writers to enter their space and start asking questions when they're focused on getting support. Be courteous of the people around you.

Diagnosis

I have the belief that for most stories, a diagnosis for your characters is unnecessary. I have a few reasons for thinking this way.

Firstly, mental health diagnoses are important for treatment, but they're also a giant sign written across your medical documents that says, “I'm crazy!” Doctors may try to remain unbiased when they see mental health diagnoses, but anybody with a diagnosis can say that doctors rarely succeed. This translates to a lot of people never getting diagnoses, never seeking treatment, or refusing to talk about their diagnosis if they do have one.

Secondly, I've seen posts discuss “therapy speak” in fiction, and this is one of those instances where a diagnosis and extensive research may make you vulnerable to it. People don't tend to discuss their diagnoses freely and they certainly don't tend to attribute their behaviors as symptoms.

Finally, this puts you, the writer, into a position where you treat your characters less like people and story devices and more like a list of symptoms and behavioral quirks. First and foremost, your characters serve your story. If they don't feel like people then your characters may fall flat. When it comes to mental illness in characters, the people aspect is the most important part. Mentally ill people are people, not symptoms.

Those are my top three reasons for believing that most characters will never need a specific diagnosis. You will likely never need to depict the difference between bipolar and borderline because the story itself does not need that distinction or to reveal a diagnosis at all. I feel that having a diagnosis in mind for a character has more pitfalls than advantages.

How does treatment work?

Treating mental health conditions may appear in your story. There are a number of ways treatments affect daily life and understanding the levels of care and what those levels treat will help you depict the appropriate settings for your characters.

The levels of care range from minimally restrictive and minimal care to intensive in-patient care in a secure hospital setting.

Regular or semi-regular therapy is considered outpatient care. This is generally the least restrictive. Your characters may or may not also take medications, in which case they may also see a psychiatrist to prescribe those medications. There is a difference between therapists, psychiatrists, and psychologists. Therapists do not prescribe medications, psychiatrists prescribe medications after an evaluation, and psychologists will (sometimes) do both. (I'm US, so this may work differently depending where you are. You should always research the specific setting of your story.) Generally, a person with a mental illness or mental health condition will see both an outpatient therapist and an outpatient psychiatrist for their general continuing care.

Therapists will see their patients anywhere from once in a while as-needed to twice weekly. Psychiatrists will see new patients every few weeks until they report stabilizing results, and then they will move to maintenance check-ins every 90-ish days.

If the patient reports severe symptoms, or worsening symptoms, they will be moved up to more intensive care, also known as IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program). This is usually a group-therapy setting for between 3-7 hours per day between 3-5 days a week. The group-therapy is led by a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC) or Licensed Professional Social Worker (LPSW). Groups are structured sessions with multiple patients teaching coping mechanisms and focusing on treatment adjustment. IOP’s tend to expect patients to see their own outpatient psychiatrist, but I've encountered programs that have their own in-house psychiatrists.

If the patient still worsens, or is otherwise needing more intensive care, they'll move up to PHP (Partial Hospitalization Program). This can look different per facility, but I've seen them to be more intensive in hours and content than IOP. They also usually have in-house psychiatrists doing diagnostic psychological evaluations. It's very possible for characters with “mild” symptoms to go long periods of time, even most of their lives, without having had a diagnosis. PHP’s tend to need a diagnosis so that they can address specific concerns and help educate the patient on their condition and how it may manifest.

Next step up is residential care. Residential care is a boarding hospital setting. Patients live in the hospital and focus entirely on treatment. Individual programs may differ in what's allowed in, how much contact the patients are allowed to have, and what the treatment focus is. Residential programs are often utilized for addiction recovery. Good residential programs will care about the basis for the addiction, such as underlying mental health issues that the patient may be self-medicating for. Your character may come away with a diagnosis, or they may not. Residential programs aren't exclusively for addictions though, and can be useful for severe behavioral concerns in teenagers or any number of other concerns a patient may have that manifest chronically but do not require intensive inpatient restriction.

Inpatient hospital stays are the highest level of care, and this tends to be what people are talking about when they tell jokes about “grippy socks.” These programs are inside the hospital and patients are highly restricted on what they can and cannot have, they cannot leave unless approved by the hospital staff (the hospital's psychiatrist tends to have the final say), and contact with the outside world is highly regulated. During the days, there are group therapy sessions and activities structured very carefully to maintain routine. Staff will regulate patient hygiene, food and sleep routines, and alone time.

Inpatient hospital programs are controversial among people with mental illness and mental health concerns. I find that they have use, but they are also not an easy or first step to take when dealing with a mental health condition. Patients are not allowed sharp objects, metal objects, shoelaces, cutlery, and pens or pencils. Visitors are not allowed to bring these items in, staff are not allowed these items either. This is for the safety of the patients. Typically, if someone is involuntarily admitted into the inpatient hospital program, it is due to an authority (the hospital staff) deeming the patient as a danger to themselves or others. Whether they came in of their own will (voluntary) or not does not matter in how the program operates. Everyone is treated the same. If someone is an active danger to themselves, then they may be on 24-hour suicide watch. They are not allowed to have any time alone. No, not even for the bathroom, or while sleeping, or during group sessions.

Inpatient Hospital Programs

This is a place of high curiosity for those who have never been admitted into inpatient care, so I'd like to explain a little more in detail how these programs work, why they're controversial, but how they can be useful in certain situations. I do have personal experience in this area, but as always, your mileage may vary.

When admitting, hospital staff are the final say. Not the police. The police hold some sway, but most often, if someone is brought in by the police, they are likely to be admitted. They are only involuntarily admitted when the situation demands: the staff have determined the person to be an imminent danger to themselves or others. This is obviously subjective, and can easily be abused. A good program with decent staff will do everything they can to convince the patient to admit voluntarily if they feel it is necessary, but ultimately if the patient declines and the staff don't feel they can make the clinical argument that admittance is necessary, the patient is free to leave. It should be noted that doctors and clinicians have to worry about possibly losing their licenses to practice. They don't want to fuck around with involuntary admittance if they don't have to, and they don't want potentially dangerous people to walk away.

Once admitted, the patient will have to remove their clothing and put on a set of hospital scrubs. These are mostly made of paper, and most often do not have pockets, but I have seen sets that do have pockets (very handy, tbh). They are not allowed to take anything into the hospital wing except disability-required devices such as glasses, hearing aids, mobility aids, etc. Most programs will require removing piercings, but not all of them, in my experience.

The nurses will also do a physical examination, where they will make note of any open wounds, major scars, tattoos, and other skin abrasions that may be relevant.

The patient will then be led to their bed, where they will receive any approved clothing items from outside, a copy of their patient rights, and a copy of the floor code of conduct and rules, a schedule, and any other administrative information necessary for the program to run efficiently and legally.

Group sessions include group-therapy, activities, coping skills, anger management, anxiety management, and for some reason, karaoke. There is a lot of coloring involved, but only with crayons. A good program will focus heavily on skills and therapeutic activities. Bad programs will phone it in and focus on karaoke and activities. Most hospitals will have a chaplain, and some will include a religious group session. I've never attended these, so I can't speak for them.

Unspoken rules are the hidden pieces of the inpatient programs that patients tend to find out during their first visit. There is no leaving the program until the doctor agrees to it. The doctor will only agree to it if they deem you ready to leave, and you are only ready to leave if you have been compliant to treatment and have seen positive results in the most dangerous symptoms (homicidal or suicidal ideations). Noncompliance can look like: refusing your prescribed medications (which you have the right to do at any time for any reason. That does not mean that there won't be consequences. This is a particularly controversial point.), refusing to attend groups (chapel is not included in this point, but that doesn't mean it's actually discounted. Another controversial point.), violent or disruptive outbursts such as yelling or throwing things, and refusing to sleep or eat at the approved and appointed times. All of this may sound like the hospital is restricting your rights beyond reason, but I've seen the use, and I've seen the abuse. Medications are sometimes necessary, and often patients seriously prefer having medication. Groups are important to a person's treatment, and refusing to go can be a sign of noncompliance or worsening symptoms. If someone is too depressed or anxious to go to group, then they're probably not ready to leave the hospital where the structure is gone and they must self-regulate their treatment. Violent or disruptive outbursts tend to be a sign of worsening symptoms in general, but even the best of us lose our tempers from time to time when put into a highly stressful situation like an inpatient hospital stay. The hospital is supposed to be a place of healing, for many it is. But for many more, it is a place of systematic abuse and restriction.

Discharge processes can be long and arduous and INCREDIBLY stressful for the patient. Oftentimes, they won't know their discharge date until the day of, or perhaps the day before. Though the date can change at any time. The discharge process requires the supervising psychiatrist to meet with the treatment team and then the patient to determine if the patient had progressed enough to be safely discharged. Discharge also requires a set outpatient plan in place, such as a therapy appointment within a week, a psychiatrist visit, or admittance into a lower level of care. This is where social workers are involved. Patients are not allowed access to cell phones or the internet. They cannot make their own appointments with their outpatient care providers without a phone number and phone access. Some floors will have phone access for this reason, others will insist the social worker arrange appointments and discharge plans. Social workers are often incredibly overworked, with several patients on their caseload.

The patient cannot be discharged until the social worker has coordinated the discharge plan to the doctor's approval. Most often, unfortunately, the patient rarely receives regular communication regarding the progress of their discharge. I've been discharged with as much as a day's notice to two hours notice.

Part 2 Coming Soon

This guide got longer than expected! Out of respect for my followers dashboard, I will be cutting it here and adding a Part 2 later on.

If you find that there are more specific questions you'd like answered, or topics you'd like covered, send an ask or reply to this post with what you'd like to see in Part 2.

– Indy

#writing advice #writing tips #writing resources #writeblr #amwriting #asktheprose #ask the prose #writing mental health #mental health #writing with compassion #writing mental illness #writing compassionately

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