#also I've tried the no screens in the bedroom thing

[questioningdragons]

I have had issues with sleep for years (I seem to recall typing up a rant on that subject here six or seven years ago). This is not the first time I have had a strong emotionally adverse reaction to just trying to lie down in my bed at bedtime. But getting a wave of anxiety race through me whenever I try to go to bed without being completely dead tired is not acceptable. But I don't know what to do to fix it.

Like, I guess my best bet is to leave the room when I get anxious in an attempt to break the association? Keep trying to work on the sleep hygiene things I've always struggled with?

[shockercoco]

Necessary Revenge

Art Donaldson x reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, sub!art, dirty talk, handjob, overstimulation

Word count - 2111

a/n - yeah this is definitely on the list of the dirtiest things i've written. by popular request, here's part 2 to Cheer Up, but it can also be read by itself. Also tysm for all the love on Cheer Up. Sorry this took so long, and I hope you enjoy :)

You hated it when Art teased you, which is exactly why he does it. All you want is a loving boyfriend who listens to you and does what you say, is that too much to ask? Apparently so.

Obviously, the only reasonable solution is to seek revenge. Unfortunately for Art, after being denied an orgasm earlier after a rough day, that’s exactly what you plan to do. Well, maybe not unfortunate since this is most likely what he wants. 

You were trying to study and watch playbacks of matches on your laptop to better your skills, but since you’re no longer in the mood, you decide you might as well close it.

After cleaning up your area, you head into the bedroom to see Art leaning against the headboard on his phone, his back propped by pillows. The television is on but on low volume, he always needed some type of background noise. Art glances up from his phone once he notices you walk in and can’t help the smirk that grows on his face. As soon as he looks back down, you shoot him a glare.

“Back for more?” Art asks.

Just you wait.

“Not exactly,” you tell him as you climb next to him on the bed, using the sweetest tone possible. You get yourself situated against the headboard with him, making sure you’re comfortable – you plan on being here a while. “What are you doing?” 

“Just texting Patrick, he’s complaining about the match he just lost and how he needs to find a way to improve.”

“Well, he always was a sore loser,” you say. Art hums and nods in agreement as he continues to text his best friend. He doesn’t make a move to continue the conversation, so you decide to begin your revenge plan.

You turn your attention to the tv hanging on the wall as you place your hand on Art’s thigh. He must be too into his phone since he doesn’t notice, so you continue to raise your hand higher along the fabric of his sweatpants.

Art’s body tenses as he feels your hand move up his body, his fingers frozen above the keyboard on his phone. You notice the questioning glance he gives you from the corner of your eye, but you continue to play innocent as you keep your attention forward.

You wait for Art’s focus to go back to his phone before drifting your hand even higher and stopping right over his crotch. You don’t hide the smile that starts to grow on your face as you feel his cock slowly starting to harden over your touch. Art’s breathing begins to shallow out as he tries to maintain his focus and keep his mind straight. Well, that is until you give his crotch a firm squeeze causing him to let out a small moan and his eyes to flutter.

“What are you doing?” he asks you, his voice low.

“What do you mean? I just want to spend some time with you,” you answer in a casual tone, but Art can see right through your facade. He can feel his heartbeat getting faster. You finally turn your head towards him to notice his blue eyes not slightly widened as he stares back at you. You notice the way his chest slowly rises and falls in anticipation as his grip tightens around his phone. “Is something wrong?”

He gulps. “N-No, just a question.”

“I’m pretty sure Patrick is waiting for you to text him back,” you say, nodding towards his screen. 

Art continues to stare for a few more seconds before nodding and looking back at his phone, but you don’t take your eyes off of him. You let your hand hover above him as you wait for him to send a few more messages out before beginning to palm him through his sweatpants.

Art bites his lip as he lets a whimper. His cock is at full attention now as your hand continues to move. The grip he has on his phone is faltering, his hands starting to tremble and his face completely flushed. When his hands fall into his lap along with his phone, you stop and raise your eyebrows.

“Pick it back up and continue texting him,” you command, your tone firm. His phone is vibrating non-stop from Patrick’s pettiness.

“Baby-.”

“I said continue,” you tell him. 

A look of desperation flashes across his face before he lifts his phone back up and responds to the messages. Your hand starts back up again, and Art lets out a noise, sounding like he wants to start crying. 

He’s falling apart with just a touch of your hand.

Art is starting to get annoyed at Patrick’s texts and wishes they would just stop so he could enjoy himself. He knows you’re not too pleased right now, but he doesn’t care. It just feels too good.

You lean your head into his neck for you to kiss just below his ear, his favorite spot and his weakness. “What’s wrong? You were so cocky earlier, where’s that same energy?”

A shiver runs through Art’s body at the feeling of your breath on his neck. He lets out another whine as he closes his eyes for a second before opening them back up. He’s looking at his phone, but given the fact that his head is starting to feel empty, he can’t really make out the words on the screen.

“You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” you taunt as you press down harder on Art’s crotch, causing him to buck up into your hand. 

You pull away from his neck to get a good look at his face, which now has a distant look on it. His mouth is ajar as he looks back at you. You tilt your head, waiting for him to respond to you, but all he does is whimper and pant. He’s a complete mess.

You bring him into a kiss by grabbing the back of his neck, which he happily gives in to. The kiss is filled with nothing but need – more on his end than yours. Art drops his phone on the bed next to him so he can grab your waist, pulling you even closer to him. He whimpers into your mouth as you give his hair a quick put firm tug.

He plunges his tongue into your mouth, needing even more from you. You allow it for a moment before pulling back just a little to wrap your lips around his tongue. Art lets his eyes roll into his head at the feeling of you sucking his tongue. He feels his climax coming quickly from the combined pleasure, and you can tell by the fact of him squirming under your touch more and more.

“You’re not going to cum without my permission are you?” you ask after pulling away from his mouth.

Art feels his eyes become heavy as his forehead pressed against yours. “No.”

“Good boy,” you smile, and that brings Art even closer to the edge. He removes his hand from your waist to grab a hold of the cover beneath him.

“Can I cum?” he pleads as he throws his head back against the headboard, your hand still on the back of his neck.

“Not yet.”

“Baby please,”he pleads again, his breathing speeding up.

“No,” you tell him, wanting to torture him.

“Baby I can’t. I-I can’t,” he stutters, his eyes squeezed shut and his brows furrowed.

“That’s too bad,” you tell him. You feel his hips stutter under your touch making it known that he’s about to cum anyways. You already knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer. 

Art lets out a cry as his orgasm floods through his body and shoots out of him. A wet patch begins to appear through his sweatpants as you keep on pressing against him. He continues to roll his hips into your hand as he rides his orgasm out, a string of gasps falling out of his mouth.

“Oh no,” you fake pout, “Looks like you didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry, I tried,” he pants as he opens, looking down at the stain on his pants before making eye contact with you. A look of embarrassment falls on his face.

He’s so cute.

You move your hand away from him. “What a shame,” you shake your head in fake disappointment. There’s a moment of silence before you say, “pull your pants down.”

“What?” Art asks, confused. He thought you were done, but he was so wrong.

“You heard me,” you say in a plain tone. 

Art hesitates before shimmying his pants down his legs to his knees, along with his underwear. You look down to see a mess of his cum covering his shaft, and as you take a look at his underwear, you see some sticking to the fabric. His cock is red and starting to soften, but that’s going to change.

Art gives you a look of realization as he lifts his head from the headboard once it registers in his mind what you’re about to do. “Please don’t.”

You ignore his request as you wrap your hand around his shaft. He jumps at the feeling of your cold hand around him, still sensitive from his orgasm. You stare into his eyes as you begin moving your hand up and down. Art lets out a pathetic whine as his body jerks, trying to escape your touch, but it doesn’t work.

“You know, you’re just so easy,” you tease.

“Baby, please-,” Art cuts himself off with a whimper, his hips starting to writhe against the cover.

“Please what? You should be thankful that I’m doing this, unlike how you denied me my orgasm earlier,” you tell him. “I’m letting you cum as many times as you want.”

“Oh my god,” he says as he drops his head. His voice strangled as his second orgasm unexpectedly arrives. You watch as his cum lands on your hands and the bottom of his white shirt. 

A sticky and wet sound echoes through the room as your hand speeds up around him. Art’s mouth falls open as his breathing picks up once again. He looks at you, silently begging, but you ignore him once again. You remove the hand from behind his neck and place it on one of his legs to help keep his body still.

“Say you’re sorry,” you tell him as you run your thumb over his tip a few times..

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, his grip on the cover tightening. He feels like his hands might be stuck in fists by the time this is over.

You pretend to think in your head before saying, “I don’t think you mean it.”

His voice is high and whiny as he throws his head back once again and says, “I am. I promise.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you shrug. “Make me believe it.”

Art begins to rethink his choices and starts to regret messing with you. “I’m so, so, so sorry, baby. I swear. It was wrong of me to do that to you.”

“Hmm.”

“Baby.”

You smirk at his desperation. “I forgive you.”

“Oh, no, I think I’m going to cum again,” he cries, his eyes rolling back once again as his body tenses.

“Go ahead,” you tell him.

Art’s third orgasm hits him harder than his previous two. He trembles as his back arches away from the headboard while watered down cum spurts out of him. Drool spills out the side of his mouth as you continue the motions of your hand.

He uses a hand and reaches down to pull yours away from his cock, but you slap it away. Art gasps as he continues to twitch in your hand, feeling like he can’t stop as cum flows out of him. You finally move your hand away, but his cock continues to spasm with your touch.

Wanting to torture him one last time, you lean down to wrap your mouth him, sucking and cleaning. Art’s body jerks as he curls forward and grabs your head. You laugh as you pull away.

You lean back against the headboard, pulling his head into the side of your neck to help him calm down. His breath tickles you as he tries to slow his heart down. You glance down at his spent cock with a smile as you gently rub his back.

After a long moment of silence, Art’s phone vibrates from its place on the bed beside him.

You shake your head as you ask, “Are you going to answer that?”

“Patrick can fucking wait,” he breathes out.

like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[tasteracha]

the cat that got the cream.

a/n: well. i did it. also, i can't believe this is the first time i've written a daddy kink???? that's crazy. anyways. warnings: reader has a pussy, daddy!kink, minho calls reader kitten. SMUT - MINORS DNI. <1k.

you knew minho was working; he had told you he would be occupied for the rest of the night with an apology and a kiss to your forehead, but you were horny and he has never denied you before. you pad into the bedroom, the only thing keeping you from being completely naked is his white button up shirt that you had been wearing all day.

“daddy,” you tug at the bottom of the shirt, rolling the material between your fingers.

“daddy’s busy, kitten,” he looks away from his computer screen for a moment and your face is reflected in his glasses. you look a little pitiful, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you give him your widest-eyed stare.

“i don’t want to disturb you, i just…” you trail off, taking a step closer to him. “need you.” 

“you can play with yourself for a bit, can’t you?” he asks, taking one of your hands in his and dragging his thumb against your skin. he returns his attention to the screen and lets go of your hand, and your body sways towards him with the lack of touch. 

“i tried,” you pout, but it goes unnoticed by him. “can’t do it without you.” 

“fuck,” he sucks in air through his teeth, glancing between you and his computer a few times. “alright, come here.” 

he stands and your entire body sings, ready for him to drag you to bed and have his way for you, but you’re stopped short when he takes his pants off and settles back into his desk chair. he pulls you by the arm and settles you into his lap, both of your legs straddling his thigh with his arms around you. 

no, not around you. reaching past you so that he could keep typing away at his computer. 

“what?” you turn your head towards his, leaning in to whisper your lips against his, but he pulls back. 

“i said i was busy,” he tuts, pushing your head back gently until your chin was tucked away against his neck. “get yourself off, kitten. i need to get my work done.”

you flush so hard you feel lightheaded - he wants you to get yourself off on his thigh while he works? you should feel offended but instead a rush of thrill sparks up your spine and your hips move on their own accord. your bare pussy slides against his thigh, the wetness from you collecting with every twitch of your body, and it feels good. 

the sound of your breathing pairs with the clacking of his fingers against the keyboard. you push past the embarrassment of him letting you use his body like this as he ignores you completely, as if you were truly one of his cats begging for his attention. you lean into it fully, bracing your hands against his chest as you roll your hips back and forth, back and forth, gasping when your clit brushes directly against his skin. 

“fuck, daddy,” you moan out to deaf ears, unable to keep the words from spilling out of your mouth. “feels so- so good.” 

you’re not close yet, but the feeling is so good that it doesn’t matter whether you come or not. you drift into the pleasure, your body moving on its own as you bury your head in the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. you don’t realize how long you’ve been going at it until you start sweating, your muscles settling into soreness as you start to slow down. 

you also don’t notice that the sound of typing has stopped, but you feel the hands that grip at your waist as if they were molten hot, the pads of minho’s fingers searing into you like a brand. he tugs at you sharply, your pussy digging into his thigh in a way that makes your entire body jerk. he pulls you back and jerks you forward again, riding you against his thigh like you were a toy. 

“that’s it,” he whispers into your ear, keeping his pase fast and brutal. “you’re doing so good for me kitten.”

the praise filters through your head even though you truly weren’t doing anything, and as you come your vision whites out and the noise in your ears turns gray and staticky. when you come back to yourself you’re still on his lap, nestled into his body perfectly. 

“thank you, min,” you mumble, nuzzling him with your head and closing your tired eyes. 

“of course, kitten,” are the last words you hear, drifting off with a satisfied smile on your face, looking like a cat that just got the sweetest cream.

[chlorinecake]

sunghoon.

= 𝓙𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 ── P.SH 💬

in which your long distance bf craves your contact...

pairing. ⌂ needy boyfriend sunghoon x f. reader ⌂ contains. mostly suggestive content but with tons of explicit implications, flirting, a bit of fluff, somewhat perv!hoon, long distance relationship au (sawie) ⌂ word count. 1160 🖱 ⑅ path to bookshelf ◍

❝ Incoming Call from Sunghoon ❄️ ❞

Your laptop screen read spontaneously.

Ahh, yes… the love of my life among many other luxuries, you smiled within yourself, just as you pressed the green ‘answer’ icon.

Though, it had been roughly thirty minutes since then, with the clock on your computer screen now displaying an oddly habitual series of digits...

2:57am

You and your boyfriend's conversation started off strong with wholesome pleasantries and heartwarming exchanges as usual…

But as the hour grew wearier, the topics on the table became more and more raunchy by the minute… not that you were complaining, that is…

And neither was he…

It had literally been over a week since Sunghoon last saw you in the flesh… since he last got to feel you in his arms or taste you on his tongue…

And so, FaceTiming had become a great method for you two to stay in touch on a more personal level whenever he was away for work.

Click.

You got up from your bed to make sure that your bedroom door was locked, but also to make sure that Sunghoon knew you were wearing his favorite pair of plaid pajama pants...

The one's he had sent as an “X-mas in July” gift...

“Your ass looks good in those,” he started from behind the screen, folding his toned pale arms over the pillow he laid on.

“Just wait til you see what's hiding underneath,” you returned seductively, adding the word “tomorrow” at the end to which Sunghoon sighed.

“Right, because I've already been waiting forever and a day to relieve my sexual tension this week… another day to the prison sentence wouldn’t hurt…”

“Awww,” you pouted facetiously at him, “I thought you liked it whenever I teased you.…”

“In-person, sure. That’s when I can handle it, but online? Pfft,” he says, running an impatient hand through his hair.

“Fine… let’s play a game to take your mind off of things—”

“I bet I can guess what color panties you’re wearing right now…”

“Sunghoon!?” You exclaimed with shock, making your boyfriend smirk shamelessly at your adorable reaction, “and do you expect some sort of reward if you guess correctly?”

“After three tries, yes,” he nodded, clearing his throat slightly before proceeding with his series of guesses.

“Hmm,” he began, “are they that one lacy black pair you have with the bows on the side?”

“No,” you answered while laughing, “and just guess a color, not a specific pair…”

“Alright alright… hmm,” he hummed in thought, looking above as if an answer would fall from the sky.

“White?”

“Guess again,” your voice sang playfully this time, “you have one chance left now…”

“Shit, okay… I have a suggestion then…”

“Uh oh, plot twist,” you said, making him chuckle slightly, “go on…”

“How about you just show me your panties and then I’ll tell you what color they are?”

“Gosh, you really know a way to a woman’s heart, don’t you Hoon?” You asked rhetorically, ‘tsking’ at his fraudulent suggestion.

“Of course I do… taking a guess here, but you’re supposed to start between her legs, right?”

You shook your head at your boyfriends words, letting an exaggerated sigh escape your lips… “Even if that were true, it’s not like it’d benefit you right now, anyways…”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because you’re behind a screen,” you began matter-of-factly, “miles and miles away with only your right hand and some amateur porn to keep you company…”

“But I have you, too, princess,” he smiled, adjusting himself on the mattress so he could get closer to the camera, “unless you’re thinking about leaving me already…”

“Please, I would never,” you say in an almost offended tone, “that would be child neglect…”

“Oh, so you’re my mommy now?”

You gave him the best side-eye you could muster, making him chuckle at how you cute you looked in your oversized glasses…

“If you’re into that, sure,” you finally answered.

“Well then your baby wants to see his mommy’s tits,” he replied almost instantly, innocently nuzzling his chin into his pillow, “and without the bra this time, thanks…”

“I’m not showing your sick ass shit,” you returned while laughing, throwing up a few ‘L signs’ with your fingers as he chuckled at your rejection, showcasing his pearly fangs.

Letting himself calm down from laughing, he cleared his throat before speaking again, “My next guess is white, then…”

“But you already guessed white earlier?”

“And I’m guessing it again,” he repeated, making you quirk a suspicious brow at him.

“If you’re trying to imply that I creamed my pants, you’re wrong.”

“Oh my God, ____,” he sighs dramatically, adjusting his laying position on his bed once more, “can you just tell me that I’m right so we can fuck already?”

“Oh, so you waited all this time to tell me that sex was supposed to be the reward?!”

“Well, yea, I figured it was obvious,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Damn, Hoon… when you put it like that, it makes me think my body’s all you want…”

“You know that’s not all I want, baby,” he corrected, licking his lips while stretching out the tiredness in his back, “I just don’t like being in the position to beg for it, y’know?”

“Welcome to my world…” you said.

“Thanks for having me,” he smiled back, rubbing his eyes as a frustrated groan left his mouth.

“What’s the problem now, you big baby?”

He hid his face in his pillow before speaking, “I’m horny and youuuu are not helping…”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s attempt to fault you for his frustration, “I wouldn’t be much help to you anyways given the distance…”

He abruptly lifted his head from the pillow to flash you a dumbfounded look, “Babe… why’re you acting like e-sex doesn’t exist?”

“Because it’s literally 3 am and I trust that you can be patient til I can see you properly,” you clarified, adding yet another “tomorrow” at the end of your sentence.

And all Sunghoon could bring himself to do at this point was pout, hiding his face in the pillow once again which made you giggle at his sulking.

“Babyyyy…. C’monnn, you can wait for me, can’t you?” You asked in a sickeningly sweet tone, tilting your head at him in a cooing manner.

“I’m literally two seconds from slapping my dick against the screen because of your face right now,” he confessed shamelessly, making you burst into a fit of laughter.

“You’re so out of pocket for saying that,” you giggle, covering your face slightly to hide how flustered you appeared.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said, a giggle still present in your throat as you tried regathering your emotions.

“Continue, continue…” you whisper with a warm smile on your face now, looking like a split image of the crying emoji in this moment.

“Thank you,” he scoffed with feigned offense, “but yes… I can wait til tomorrow… just for you, angel…”

tysm for reading this quick lil fic ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Beauty in Innocence

Fred Weasley x reader

Requested by: @amathilofgondor

Request gist: Fred Weasley dating an adorable and innocent reader but he craves to destroy her in bed. He doesn't know how to present the idea of rough sex since they have only just started getting sexual.

A/N: Thanks for the request! For this fic, I didn't know whether you wanted the reader to be a virgin or not so I went for she’s not a virgin but still pretty innocent to things like different kinks and any sex that isn't vanilla. I also went down the route of the reader wanting Fred to teach her what he likes, that sort of thing. Also, in this fic the wizarding community have televisions and electronic devices. I've mentioned a pornographic video which will be in apostrophes.

T/W: Fred is a bit of a sex pest, brief mention of a Daddy kink, Fred maybe being a bit dark and dirty, attempted groping?, intense pornographic videos? (mentions of BDSM, pinching and spanking), Fred kinda uses her innocence to talk dirty (not like an insult but a bit mocking), nicknames, rough sex, mentions of corruption, unprotected sex, no aftercare (not a ‘Fred being mean’ thing)

Fred's girlfriend. The girl who surprised all of Fred’s friends when they first met her.

Fred was a dirty devil. He always had a crude joke or quip. At bars and clubs, he was always the first one to chat up any girl he saw. Poor George suffered the most (even giving him a silencing charm after having to hear a girl call him ‘Daddy’ through the walls of their shared flat).

And then there was you. Fred’s dirty quips had your cheeks red with blush. His dirty jokes had you squirming as if you'd never heard such a lewd joke before. Like an angel whose ears had never heard the likes of Fred Weasley.

Don't get me wrong, Fred’s friends and family adored the sweet girl on Fred’s arm just as much as he did. But Fred more than adored you.

He desired you.

The way you were so innocent drove him mad. The way you'd bat your eyelashes when he made a dirty remark, like a confused baby deer. He even loved how innocent you were during movie nights. He was driving himself mad.

A part of him felt guilty for wanting more. He didn't want you to think it was because you weren't enough. The truth was, Fred is insatiable. Even the tiniest moan from your lips had him as hard as stone. He kept thinking about your first time together. It was the opposite of what Fred was used to. It was…sweet. Filled with soft kisses and a loving embrace while he slowly pushed into you. As much as he loved those tender moments, he craved to hold you down and fuck that pussy that got so wet for him. He needed to hear those needy sounds you'd make.

He’d run out of patience. Everytime he tried to approach the conversations, he’d freeze up. One idea he had was when you were both cuddling on the sofa. His hands slowly moved from your waist. His lips brushed along the skin of your neck, his hand stroking your inner thigh. Your soft whines and squirms made him think that you weren't ready for what he wanted to do to you, causing his hands to slowly retreat.

Little did he know that you were curious about his blatantly obvious attempt at a conversation and wandering hands. You'd heard things from his friends about how sexually active he seemed to be prior to you and it made you curious about the sort of things that he was into. You wanted him to be the one to teach you, to show you this world of sexual depravity that he knew so well. Maybe it was a primal nagging in your head or just the desire for him to be happy in every aspect of your relationship.

Fred’s last ditch attempt to express his desires included the one thing he knew best: pornography. With his laptop in hand, he approached you in the bedroom.

“Hey love, I want to show you something, see what you think”

He put the laptop in front of you, showing a black screen. But when he pressed play, it was far beyond anything you ever expected him to show you.

‘The woman in the video was tied down to a bed, her arms to the headboard and her legs spread. With the woman blindfolded and naked, another pair of hands appeared from off screen. The hands pinched and slapped the woman's inner thigh, getting closer and closer to her twitching pussy’.

Fred kept his eyes on your reaction, watching how your cheeks got darker and your breathing got heavier, only things that he would notice within seconds. He figured that if he couldn't tell you what he wanted, he’d show you.

‘The hand’s trailed higher, spanking the woman's clit, making her jolt and yelp’.

Fred heard the breath you sucked in, his hopes rising that you'll enjoy it.

‘A man came into frame, getting between the womens open thighs. Teasing his tip through her folds, he thrusted his cock into the hilt. His hips were like pistons, not stopping for a second. No matter how much the woman moaned and squirmed, he kept fucking her now dripping hole’.

You looked up at Fred. At first, he was worried you’d ask him to turn it off or tell him that it looked too rough and harmful. But he swore he heard angels sing when that normally innocent, sweet voice asked the most heavenly words he’d ever heard.

“Can we try something like that?”

Fred’s grin practically doubled in size, his arms snaked around your waist. He kissed the shell of your ear before whispering softly.

“My sweet girl wants me to do something so dirty to her?”

The needy “Yes” you replied with made his heart beat faster. This was confirmation to take you like he needed, to ravage you, to break you down and rebuild you with little pieces of himself woven in. He closed the laptop and moved it to the nightstand before laying you down. He crawled up your body, stalking like a predator. His hands trailed up your outer thighs, pushing your nightie up to your abdomen.

His thumb found the seat of your underwear, smearing the wet patch that had formed.

“And here I thought my girl was innocent. You liked watching that dirty video, baby? Your wet little cunt seemed to enjoy it.”

Every slight buck of your hips, every whimper, every moan. He absorbed it all, watching with beady eyes as if he'd never see something so beautiful again.

Your pouty voice caught him off guard.

“Please Freddie, more”

And who was he to deny?

Ripping your underwear down your legs, he pushed your thighs open. All that restraint, all that time of treating you like a porcelain doll, was gone for a minute, leaving pure need and lust. He stared at your open pussy like an animal who had finally found the source of a delectable scent. He had to stop himself from salivating at such a perfect sight.

His hands moved to pull his cock out, leaving you with a mental message to keep your thighs open for him. He lined his cock up and stopped for a moment, looking up at you. It was like his demeanour shifted for a split second.

“If you need me to stop pretty girl, just tell me”

You gave him a usual sweet smile and a nod, finding it heartwarming that he was still a sweetheart even in such an intimate moment.

He slowly pushed in, bottoming out and taking a minute to bask in your warmth surrounding him. When his hips started moving, he set a pace that you weren't used to. It was faster, his hips slapping against yours. The band in your stomach felt like it was tightening faster than usual.

“How can such a sweet girl be so dirty? Maybe i've corrupted you, angel”

His dirty words were new to your ears, but they caused you to clench around him. They only drove you closer and closer to a feeling you didn't know you craved so much. His hand came down to rub your clit in messy circles, and that's all it took.

Your moans filled the room and your walls pulsated around him, cumming harder than you had before. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, staving off his own orgasm. Your body trembled beneath him, arms reaching for his comfort, which he gave without a second thought.

Fred wasn't going to last much longer, so he pulled out and used his hand, stroking himself at the same pace he had fucked you. Spurts of his cum painted your stomach until he was spent. He laid himself down next to you after wiping your stomach clean, the both of you trying to catch your breath. He stroked your arm, keeping his eyes on your face for any signs of discomfort. You turned to lay on your side, snuggling into him.

“Can we do that again soon, Freddie?”

His corrupted angel was full of surprises.

[forhappysake]

Fluffy Surprise

Author's Note: Not proofread and the first fic I've written in like six months so read if you dareeee

Summary: Reader decides to give Spencer a present when he returns to their new home.

Warnings: People with cat allergies, beware! (?) Fluff ofc.

You moved into the new house two weeks ago.  Technically, you moved all your stuff into the new house two weeks ago. In boxes. Lots and lots of heavy boxes.

Spencer had come up with a system, labeling each box with the room it would go into at the new house. You had worked together to pack everything, label each box, and unload the boxes into your new home. 

And it seemed like the moment he set the last box down and you were ready to start setting the place up, his phone rang. 

Spencer had been gone for one week. 

The case was halfway across the country, somewhere in Santa Fe. You couldn’t exactly be mad at him for being gone, but unpacking and trying to organize everything without his input was a nightmare. You were finishing the last box in your shared bedroom, carefully placing his clothes on wooden hangers and organizing them in the closet, when your phone rang. 

Spencer’s name lit up the screen. You answered quickly. 

“Hi, Spence,” you said, plopping down on the freshly made bed.

You could tell how tired he was from the long pause he took before responding. “Hey, honey. How’s the unpacking?” he asked with a small sigh. 

You frowned to yourself, worried about how tired he sounded. “Oh, it’s alright. I’d like you to look through all the rooms when you get home, just to make sure everything is where it should be.” You let out a soft laugh, “I also had a hard time hanging up all the pictures and paintings without you, so we may have to straighten some of them up when you get back.” 

Another pause followed, though this time you could envision him nodding to himself. “We can do that,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to do it all by yourself. I promise I’ll find a way to make it up to you.” 

You rolled your eyes. “It was fine, Spencer. Besides, I’m pretty sure chasing a serial killer or something gives you an excuse.” 

He sighed on the other end of the line. “That’s what I wanted to talk about. We caught the unsub this evening. I’m hoping to be home late this evening, but it probably won’t be until after you go to bed.”

You smiled, content with the thought of him coming home to your freshly decorated home. “Oh, I’ll be staying up. I want to see your reaction to the place.”

“Alright,” he said, clearly too tired to urge you to go to bed instead with a list of facts about the health benefits of a good night’s sleep. 

You sighed. “As much as I'd love to stay and chat, I’ve got about fifteen more boxes to go.” 

“I understand. I should probably get some work done, too. Files, reports, you know how it is,” his voice was barely a whisper now, the exhaustion beginning to get the better of him. 

“Don’t work too hard, Spence,” you cautioned. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. I love you.”

“I won’t. I love you too,” he answered. The end of his line promptly went dead.

You looked around the bedroom, discarding your phone on the bed. You couldn’t help but wonder if there was something you could do to make Spencer’s return home a bit more special. 

You sat up and leaned over, furrowing your brow and resting your head in the palm of your hand as you tried to think of things Spencer liked. Of course, Spencer liked a lot of things. He liked sweet coffee, puzzles, and a classic novel in some foreign language you couldn’t comprehend. 

None of those things were overly special, in your mind. As you sat and wracked your brain, a thought finally came to you. 

One month ago, walking by a local cat cafe, Spencer spotted the most beautiful calico. She had fluffy hair, one black ear, one orange. Her little paws were white and she was so well mannered. Spencer and yourself had gone in immediately and he had spent your time inside doting on the calico, whose name, you learned, was Calypso. 

You bolted up from the bed and out into the living room, finding your purse sitting among the unpacked boxes. You shot out to the car, and without a second thought, drove the ten minutes to the cat cafe. 

You said a silent prayer that the cat was still available as you pulled into a parking space across the street. As if on cue, you looked up to see the same cat lounging lazily in the window sill, green eyes poised on you. 

The adoption process was quick, quicker than you anticipated. Fifty dollars later, you were on the road with Calypso in the passenger seat, sitting demurely in the carrier the shelter had provided you with to take her home in. 

On the way home you had to stop at PetSmart to pick up a litter box, a few toys, and a scratching post with the hope that your new furry friend would not decimate your new furniture. Calypso remained in the carrier, watching quietly from the shopping cart as you agonized over which treats to get. 

Soon enough, you were on your way home. The moment you walked through the front door, you set the carrier down and allowed Calypso to wander free. She was tentative at first, gently sniffing the floor and getting the feel for her new surroundings. However, after ten minutes, she perched herself on the kitchen counter, looking quite like the queen of her own castle. 

You took this chance to open her new toys and scatter them about the house, as well as find a secluded corner for her litterbox.

For the rest of the day, the cat watched you unpack boxes. Beady green eyes noting your movements until you disappeared from her sight. Occasionally, if you left the room for too long, you would turn to find that she had followed you. In these moments, you would stop to offer her a gentle petting and giggle as she flopped down on the floor, furry belly up to the sky. 

It was six hours after his phone call that Spencer arrived at home. 

2:19 a.m. was the time on your watch when you heard the lock turn and rose to greet him at the door. Calypso, seated in the corner of the room on a side table, perked her ears up at the new noise coming from the entrance. 

Spencer locked the door behind him and turned to face you, reaching out and pulling you in for a long hug. 

You rubbed your hands up and down his back. “Are you happy to be home?” you asked, your voice muffled by his shoulder. 

“You have no idea,” he said. He pulled away only to examine the living room. Spencer nodded in approval. “It looks really good in here. You did a great job.”

You smiled warmly, nerves settling in your stomach as you realized he’d not yet noticed the cat in the corner of the room, who was still watching him with suspicious eyes. 

“Spencer, I have to tell you something,” you said, wanting to explain yourself for doing something as impulsive as adopting a cat while he was away. 

His face suddenly became very serious. “What is it? Did something happen while I was gone? Are you alright?” 

The questions came quickly and you shook your head to reassure him. “No, Spencer, it’s nothing bad. Here, come look.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him forward until the two of you were standing behind your couch in the middle of the living room. 

“Look around,” you said. 

Spencer’s tired eyes traversed the room. You watched as they landed on paintings, the television, the clock, and nearly everything but the cat who sat entirely still in the corner. 

“I don’t understand,” he said, brow furrowed. “Did you make some major change I don’t know about? If you did, I’m sure that it’s f-”

At that moment Calypso jumped off the side table. The soft thump that accompanied her landing on the floor was enough to stop Spencer in his tracks. Finally, you watched as the feline caught his eye. 

“You didn’t,” Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper. His reaction wasn’t telling you much, and you were afraid that he was not pleased. 

You started trying to explain yourself. “Well, I knew that you had a long week. I wanted to do something special. I know how much you enjoyed spending time with her at the cafe and now that we have the space I figured…”

You trailed off. In the time you had spoken, Calypso had crossed the room, climbed the couch, and began butting her head up against Spencer’s hand. Panic was setting in. Why wasn’t he reacting? 

Just when you were about to push him to say something, you looked up to see a large grin plastered on his face. Spencer gently wrapped his arms around the cat and picked her up, holding her close and petting in between her ears. 

“This is the most thoughtful present ever. I love her,” he said. His excitement reminded you of a little child and pulled at your heartstrings in a way that could have made you cry. 

You sighed in relief. “I’m so glad.” 

With Calypso still draped over one arm, Spencer reached out for you, pulling you to his side. He planted a soft kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you so much. I love her. I love you,” he said, smile still evident on his face. 

“I love you too,” you said, turning to face Calypso, who looked all too content to be wrapped up in Spencer’s arms. 

“I think she’s trying to steal my man,” you joked, nudging Spencer on the side. 

Spencer laughed. “I don’t think you have to worry too much about that. My heart has room for two lovely ladies.”

[inmyloveworld]

through the storm (jake "hangman" seresin x reader

word count: ~0.7k

synposis: hangman's partner has gone mia, and he's prepared to tally whatever's weighing them down.

warnings: vague allusions to depression?

a/n: this is very barely proofread or edited. i haven't had any writing inspo and lost the singular request i got months ago, but i've also been going THROUGH IT. so this is yet another result of my self-indulgence (where hangman is taking the reins!) enjoy :D

Grey skies weren't common in California. The bright sunlight always broke between the clouds cresting overhead. Today, though, the thicket of white above turned the world monochromatic. Jake sighed as he drove, knowing it would only hinder his efforts.

He pulled into the quaint cul-de-sac and parked. One hand swept up the few bags cluttering the passenger seat floor while the other fumbled for his keys and phone. A last ditch effort was made to check his notifications, another soft sigh leaving him as only your picture filled the screen.

Jake swiftly exited his truck. His feet felt light as air trailing the way to your front door. The key you'd given him lifted to unlock it, and was promptly tossed onto the small console table.

"Babe?" he tried calling. The warm timbre of his voice rumbled down the hallway. It muffled against your shut bedroom door, not creaked open as it normally was.

The aviator stopped off in the kitchen to settle the bags and refrigerate the few items that needed it. His heavy footsteps groaned into the hardwood floors, continuing to alert you of his presence. You did nothing to warn him of your own. Jake's frown grew in further realization.

He lifted a wavering hand to the doorknob. Privacy was a value of yours, he knew; part of the reason you had insisted to keep your own place until your rental agreement was to expire. But he also knew when that same valued privacy was a cover for your hyper-independence.

Jake settled on one last warning call, a soft rapping of his knuckles against the wood. "Babe, I'm coming in now."

A thought froze him: he had no idea what he was walking into. He had seen his partner in all kinds of vocal states, overexcitement and fury and even deep despair. The sudden quiet terrified him. How could he soothe a numbness, a void?

He would have to learn on the fly, as it was. No way in hell was he going to let you down now.

Another breath and Jake crossed the threshold of your room. Fern eyes flitted over the dark space to observe its state. The curtains were drawn closed, blocking out the little amount of light the clouds permitted. Everything was in its right place and tidied away, as if you'd spent hours decluttering to try and do the same with your mind.

The only thing in disarray was your queen bed, where you laid in a comforter strewn lump in the center of the mattress. Your breaths were silent, yet rose the bedding up enough to settle the worst of Jake's fears. He shut the door behind him as to not shock you any more than he intended to. Every step he took toward you was careful, still uncertain whether you were aware of him.

Sinking down onto the bed was a gamble Jake took hesitantly. Your face was still hidden beneath the blue fabric, your hair fanning out in messy strands. "Darlin'?" His voice was barely above a hum, but it was enough. You slowly peeked your eyes above the comforter to meet his. Jake greeted you with an award-winning smile, one that always turned your insides to putty. "I've been looking all over for you, darlin'. Really know how to run your cowboy ragged."

Tears lined your eyes at his words, guilt flooding you. "I'm sorry," you croaked. Jake's face immediately fell.

He leaned down to lay at your side, facing you and reaching up to cup your cheeks. "No, no, baby; don't you apologize, okay?" It ached his heart to see you feeling so small. Your vibrancy changed the colors of his life for the better. At present, they were all muddled and shirked away from your own view. Even if Jake couldn't bring those hues back to you himself, he would do everything he could for you while you awaited their return.

Jake thumbed away the few tears that started to roll down your cheeks. "C'mere," he cooed with an arm outstretched. You shuffled towards him in your mess of blankets for him to slide beneath. One arm snaked around your torso, drowning in one of his old tees, while the other cradled your head to his chest.

"There we are," he hummed as your bodies settled into one another. Jake pressed a kiss to your forehead as he felt the damp spots soak into his shirt. "I've got ya now, darlin'. I'll always hold you through the storms." After all, they were much easier to weather together than alone.

🏷️: @avengersfan25, @roosterforme

[bingwriterxo]

first time

pairing: vada cavell x reader

summary: in which you and vada have your first time together

warnings: smut (character is 18+), 18+ (minors DNI), fingering

word count: 2200+

author's note: here she is: awkward, rambling vada. also (slight spoilers but...) [insert booksmart scene here]

"Mom?" you called out mid-yawn as you made your way downstairs, rubbing your eyes to try to wake yourself up more after the late-afternoon nap you had taken. When you were met with silence, you tried the other parent. "Dad?" Again, no response.

You shrugged as you walked into the kitchen, and your eyes narrowed as you caught sight of a piece of paper laying on the counter. You picked it up and read it over quickly, excitement surging through your veins.

Work trip this weekend. See you Sunday night. 

- Mom & Dad

vada can come over :)

The last part was scribbled on like an after-thought, and you knew your dad had written it. 

You dropped the paper onto the counter and pulled your phone from the pocket of your hoodie, immediately dialing your girlfriend's number. Leaning back against the counter, you waited for her to pick up. 

"Hey." Her voice was groggy, like she had also just woken up.

"Were you sleeping?" you asked. 

She hummed. "Yeah. Figured you were asleep when you didn't answer my texts so I thought I'd nap, too." You heard some shuffling on the other end and then Vada yawned. "What's up?"

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to stop yourself from grinning. "My mom and dad are gone for the weekend. They said you could come over. I've got the house to myself, so..."

"Movie marathon!" she shouted excitedly. You listened as she scrambled out of her bed, hopping around her bedroom in search for things to pack in her duffle bag. "I'll leave in, like, ten. Put something good on the TV!" You could hear her smiling through the phone.

"Okay, see you soon. Love you." 

She squealed. "Love you!"

* * *

The movie playing on the television was boring you half out of your mind. You had chosen a random one that you knew Vada had been wanting to watch with you, and you had tried to focus on it for the first half-hour, but something kept distracting you. Well, something aside from your girlfriend's nonstop rambling. 

"I used to have the biggest crush on Blake Lively as a kid, you know," Vada said, her eyes trained on the screen. Her hand was digging in the bowl of popcorn that was resting between the two of you, and you giggled as she shoved some of the snack into her mouth. "But, man, is Anna Kendrick hot," she mumbled around the food. "I mean, obviously I know she's hot, 'cause, like, I'm not blind, but something about her in this movie just hits different."

You weren't ignoring her, per se, but you definitely weren't fully listening, instead choosing to stare at your girlfriend's side profile as she munched on the popcorn and talked with her mouth full--a habit of hers that you had hated at first but now couldn't help find somewhat endearing (as long as you weren't looking at her face-on). 

"And, well, Blake Lively is Blake Lively, and who doesn't have a crush on her?" Vada continued. If you had been paying attention to the movie on the screen, you were almost sure you wouldn't have been able to hear any of it over the girl's talking, anyway, so it was better that you weren't watching, right?

When she realized she hadn't heard from you in a few minutes, she glanced your way, and you smiled softly. She offered you a confused grin. "Are you not watching?"

You hummed and turned back to the television. "No, no. I am," you lied. You could feel her eyes on you, and you knew that if you looked at her, she'd be giving you that damn lovestruck look she always had on her face when she was around you, the one that made you weak in the knees and had your heart beating rapidly.

"Y/N," she said, calling your attention back to her. You had been correct--she was staring at you with a half-smile, like she didn't even realize her lips were upturned, and soft eyes, 

"Yes?"

Her eyes flitted down to your lips quickly, then back to your eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

You giggled. "You don't have to ask, Vads. We're dating."

She shrugged, hiding in her shoulders for a moment. "I know," she said, voice shy and slightly embarrassed. "But I just wanna make sure every time. Because, like, what if one day I don't ask, and you don't want a kiss, and then--"

You pressed your lips to hers, effectively silencing her, and sighed when she kissed back eagerly. You reached down, pushed the empty popcorn bowl to the floor, and then easily maneuvered onto Vada's lap. She grinned against you, hands flying to your waist. 

"I always like when you're on top when we make out," she began, "because I like the weight." She paused, eyes wide. "I'm not, like, saying you're heavy or anything, not that that would be a problem if you were, obviously, but it's like a weighted blanket! You know, like how they can help anxiety and--"

"Vada," you said softly, eyes flickering between her own. 

She gulped, and her fingers twitched against your sweatshirt. "Yeah?"

"Could you just kiss me?"

She bit her lip. "Yeah. That I can definitely do." 

Vada stretched her neck up, and you leaned down. You met in the middle, lips moving feverishly against each other. Your arms were wrapped around her shoulders, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck, while her hands slipped beneath the hem of your sweatshirt, her skin warm on yours. 

Her tongue swiped over your bottom lip at the same time as her fingers rose upward, the tips of her thumbs beneath your breasts. She pulled away quickly. "Are you not..." She moved her hands up a little more, feeling nothing except skin. "You're not wearing a bra."

You shook your head. "Nope." You grinned. "Is that a problem?"

"Definitely not," she breathed out, pulling you back into a bruising kiss. You groaned at the feeling, and she took it as an invitation, her tongue smoothing over your own. Vada's touch rose higher until she was palming your breasts softly, and you hummed against her.

After a moment, you nipped at her bottom lip and pulled away, your breathing heavy as you stared at her. Her pupils were blown, her lips were swollen, and you gulped before reaching down and pulling your sweatshirt off. Her eyes widened at the sight.

"Woah," she said as though she had never seen you topless before. You rolled your eyes with a smile because she had the same reaction every time the two of you did this, and then you leaned back in.

She seemed to still against you, and you reached down, urging her hands to keep moving. She took the hint, her thumbs beginning to circle your nipples, and you whined, your hips bucking up before you could stop them. 

Vada pulled away and dropped her head to your chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your sternum until she reached your breasts. She took one of your nipples into her mouth, and you threw your head back, a soft moan slipping from your lips. Her tongue ran along the bud while her lips sucked on it.

"Fuck, baby," you groaned, arching your back to push yourself into her touch more. 

Her hands dropped to your waist, though her mouth didn't stop, and she played with the hem of your shorts. "Do you wanna...?" she asked when she pulled back, staring up at you, her fingers dipping. 

"Yes," you said quickly, nodding to emphasize your agreement. "Yes, please."

Vada grinned, circled her arms around your waist, and then carefully laid you down on the couch, resting between your legs. Her mouth was quickly on your chest again as one of her hands slipped beneath your shorts, her finger running over your clothed slit. You squeaked in delight, hips canting up. 

"I can feel you through your underwear," Vada said. "You're really wet."

You nodded shyly, glancing away. "Yeah, well..."

She frowned and reached up, her free hand resting on your cheek and making you look at her again. "It's not bad. It's good. Really good, actually." She grinned, and you couldn't help your own smile. "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I have no idea what I'm doing, really. Well, I kind of do, since, you know, I also have a vagina, but, like, I've obviously never had sex with anyone else, so I don't know if I'll do it right, and I want your first time to be good."

"Vads, baby," you cooed. "It'll be great if it's with you."

"Okay, okay," she said. She leaned up and kissed you again, her hand slipping beneath your panties. You both groaned, you at the feeling and her at the feeling of you. She rubbed your clit experimentally and you moaned.

"Shit," you cursed. "Yeah, that's--that's good."

Vada started circling it softly, and you couldn't help your whimpering. She was careful, a little too careful, but you weren't going to rush her, especially since it felt amazing.

"You can..." You gasped as she sped up a little. "Yeah, I was gonna say--"

"That's good, then?" she asked. Her eyes were on you, watching all of your reactions, trying to make sure she was doing the right thing.

"Very," was your short response. 

"Can I...well, should I...go in?"

"Yeah," you murmured. "Yeah, okay."

Her hand pushed down just a little bit farther, and then--

Oh.

You gasped at the feeling. Vada glanced up. "Is that...okay? Or was it better earlier? Or--"

You gulped and looked down at her, offering her a half-hearted smile. "Babe...I--I don't think that's the hole you were going for..." you whispered, trying not to embarrass her. Her eyes widened, and a blush immediately painted over her face. She pulled out and then pulled away, even though you reached out for her, trying to bring her back in. 

"Oh my god, oh my god. I am so sorry," she rushed out. "I just...I didn't even realize that I had gone down that far, and I just went for it, and--oh my god, I am so sorry, baby."

You grabbed at her shirt, pulled her toward you again until she was hovering above you. "It's okay, Vads," you promised. She was fidgety, clearly anxious, and you reached up, cupping her cheek. "Baby, I swear, it's okay."

She bit her lip. "I just fucked up our first time having sex. Oh my god, it's our first time having sex and I just...I just put my finger--"

You giggled a little. "It's okay. I'm fine; we're fine." You leaned up and kissed her gently. "Do you wanna try again?"

Vada looked at you hesitantly. "Can I?" she asked. "I kind of feel like I need to try to redeem myself and get my finger in the right place. Because, I swear, I know where it's supposed to go. I promise."

"Vada, please try again," you said, the pleading in your voice clear as day. "I really want you to."

She nodded. "Okay." She leaned down and pressed her lips to yours, a little rough in her nerves. You didn't mind, accepting the kiss happily. 

Her fingers started to roam down your body again, and you inhaled sharply at the feel of her slipping beneath your panties again. Her fingers started at your clit, rubbing quick circles, and you moaned into her, her mouth catching the sound. 

"Okay," she said, determined. "This time I got it." Her finger slipped downward, and you felt her pressing against your entrance. "That's right, right?"

"Yes," you said. "Yes, baby. Please, just--"

She pushed her finger into you and you groaned, back arching. "God, you're tight, baby. Feels so good."

"Fuck," you mumbled as she started thrusting. She curled her finger whenever she was fully inside, and it wasn't hard for her to find the rough spot of your walls. "Shit, shit, Vads."

She grinned and dipped down to your neck, lips hot against your skin. You could feel her kissing and nipping and sucking, but you could only pay attention to the fact that she was in you. 

"You can," you started breathlessly, "you can add another one." 

Vada hummed into your neck and slipped a second finger in you. You gasped at the stretch, hands flying to grip her hair. Her thumb reached up to play with your clit, and she quickened her pace. You were rolling your hips against her, whimpering.

"You're so pretty," she said, voice muffled. "So good, baby."

The praise pushed you to the edge. "Vads, I'm gonna cum," you whined. She thrusted into you hard once, and then again, and then you were cumming around her fingers.  At the same moment your orgasm washed through you, her teeth nipped at your pulse point, and you shivered, fingers tightening in her hair and a moan of her name falling from your lips.

She pulled out of you gently, grinning smugly as she did, and you watched as she brought her fingers to her mouth, licking them curiously. Her eyes widened. "Okay," she said decidedly. "Next time, I'm going down on you."

You chuckled and bit your lip. "You think there's gonna be a next time?" you teased.

Vada frowned. "I thought I redeemed myself pretty well," she huffed. 

"I dunno. We might have to do it again...just to check."

She grinned. "Not a problem with me." And then her lips were on yours again and her hand was sliding down your front. 

[babyangelsky]

Peat's acting is stupendous and it's hurting my feelings

I need to talk about the bedroom scene and the fight that preceded it because it felt like I was having a mirror held up to me and looking at my younger self and in doing, so I've come to love Tongrak as a character even more than I did before.

I talked about the expressions already but I just cannot get past this one. Rak's eyes are so dead and he looks so tired in a way that I understand so deeply. He knows what's about to happen. He screened Prin's call earlier precisely in hopes of avoiding it but she showed up anyway.

I do have to acknowledge that a lot of my interpretation and feelings about him and these scenes are very much a product of my own experiences, but believe me when I tell you that having a family as fucked as his and having to deal with relatives like this drains you. You fight back because you have to, not because you want to. You don't go seeking the bullshit but somehow it always seems to arrive at your door.

I know exactly how he must be feeling because I've felt it. Because I've fought back and made sure my mask was firmly in place for as long as I needed it to only to break the second I could turn my face away.

I'm impressed that Rak didn't run from Mut and that he didn't start crying on the way to his bedroom. That powerwalk he did instead though? I know it all too well.

To Rak's mind, Mut has already witnessed far more than Rak ever intended for him to. That fight was nasty. It poked at so many wounds, touched on so many painful, intimate things about Rak's family and about him. Prin wanted to hurt and humiliate him and she succeeded.

I can confidently say that if someone I cared about witnessed that happening to me, the last thing I would want is to break down in front of them on top of it, so I completely understand why Rak's first instinct was to put distance between him and Mut. You know the breakdown is coming and the only thing you want is to have it in private.

I know people feel some kind of way about Rak's refusal to let Mut into his bedroom and essentially shutting him out but Mook tells us in episode 4 that no one is allowed in Rak's bedroom. This isn't just about Mut. Everything we have learned and seen of Rak so far tells us that he's a person who needs a safe place to hide. A place where he can close the door and know he won't be intruded upon.

Sure, it's his house and ideally he would have the freedom to break down wherever he wants to inside of it but given that Mook comes and goes pretty freely, he doesn't really have that luxury by his standards. There's always a chance she'll walk in. And he certainly doesn't have it now that he's no longer living alone.

So he goes to hide in his bedroom so he can process and feel what he needs to.

And when Mut comes after him, this happens. Mut pushed at that boundary out of genuine care and concern and he's not wrong for that. I've been on his side of this equation too and the impulse to help in whatever way you can is impossible to resist, even if all you can offer is a meal.

But I also understand Rak. God do I understand him. That need to be alone, demanding to be left in peace, lashing out when someone won't despite it being with good intentions. When you've been pushed to your limit and you know a breakdown is coming and that there will be shrapnel when it does, the very last thing you want is for the people you care about to get hit with it.

Like @bird-inacage said in their post, Tongrak is a caged animal at this point. He's feeling vulnerable and defensive and he lashes out. He doesn't want to, he tries to stop it, but it ends up happening anyway.

And he regrets it. He does. The way I see it, he couldn't bring himself to knock on Mut's door both because he'd exhausted all his nerve in the fight with Prin and because a part of him was probably worried that he'd be rejected if he did. When you lash out, especially when you don't mean to, there's always a worry that you've done irreparable damage to your relationship with whoever was on the receiving end and that you won't ever be forgiven.

Sometimes it really is something as simple as a sticky note that brings you to tears and has you sobbing into your dinner in the middle of the night.

The note and the meal are proof that Tongrak hasn't been rejected, that he's still cared for despite the way he reacted after the fight and the things that he said. We know that Mut wasn't going to reject him but Rak needed to know that as well.

And now that they had their moment in the dressing room and the issue of the money has been talked about, we're paving a way forward for Rak to be able to express what he feels without using it as a defense mechanism. He still will, and he will hurt me many more times before we're done, but we're making progress.

[mikaleialt]

Caught in 4k

Bada Lee x Youtuber!Reader

Synopsis: A famous youtuber who uploads dance covers and sometimes even her own choreographies is actually Bada Lee's girlfriend?!!— or — you suddenly got exposed during a livestream, now people knew of you and Bada's relationship

Cw: nothing just fluff

After your youtube channel reached the 5 million subscribers milestone, you decided to do the most requested content of your viewers which is a livestream.

They wanted you to do a livestream where you perform some dance covers and teach some of your latest choreographies. Of course to make it more fun and interactive you decided to add some Q and A segments, to be more interactive.

You started youtube way back, but before your contents used to be just a simple vlog about your everyday life, but soon shifts into posting some dance covers and sometimes even posting some of your own choreographies. Your old viewers are already aware of your talent in dancing and are so happy that you finally gained confidence to showcase your talent.

You still do some vlogs here and there, but most of your content now is about dance.

Now in the present, you are standing in your bedroom, the camera setup is facing one of your bedroom wall that serves as your background, while your monitor is next to it, where you read the live chats and manage the whole stream.

The title screen "live starts in 5..." is the only thing your viewers are seeing at the moment as you do some warm ups first. You stare at the viewer count that reads there are almost 15k people waiting on your live.

Once you feel that you are all set, you removed the title screen and waved at the camera.

"Hello everybody!" You did your intro and started doing small talks with your viewers as your chat feed floods with more people, telling you how excited they are.

"Your top looks familiar" you saw the comment passes by your screen which made you realize that the shirt you're wearing is one of Bada's shirt, and not just any shirt. It was the same shirt she wore on her first dance battle with Redy on swf 2.

You tried to ignore the comment and continue reading a few more before your viewers started begging you to teach one of your latest dance choreography, which you did.

You stand at the center of the screen once again and looked at the camera before looking back at the monitor.

"Ok ok, we'll start with the 'dance lessons', you guys wanted" you said as you prepare the first song you'll dance to.

"Oh before I start, just a quick announcement, I am not a dance teacher, nor do I have any experience teaching dance. This is literally my first time teaching, so thank you for being my guinea pigs for this experiment" you joked before starting teaching the choreo to your viewers.

Coincidentally, the first song is 16 shots, which made the person who commented earlier appear again as you read the comments in-between teaching your choreo.

"The song and the shirt really makes me feel like I've seen it already somewhere before" the comment said. To which you ignored once again.

You feel a slight blush, it's really all just a coincidence, you're not really thinking of anything when you decided to take Bada's shirt on her closet to wear for the livestream, and it's also a coincidence that you made a choreo to the 16 shots a few days ago.

Your livestream goes on for a bit over 30 minutes now and you are currently taking a break mid-stream and just chatting with your viewers.

One question after another you answer your viewer when a particular question pops up.

"You dance so well, are you taking any dance class?" You read the question out loud and the question seems to catch the viewers attention as they flood the chat feed once again with comments about how they are also curious about it.

"Honestly, I was self taught, in terms of dancing that is. But a few months ago, I joined this dance academy just for the fun of it. I just wanna improve my skills more, you know what I mean." You answered, but your answer just sparked more questions.

"What dance academy?" Is the only thing that you can read from the chat feed. You contemplate whether you should tell them or not. And after tons of viewers begged for your answer and a chat dono appears, sending you 500 dollars with a message "please tell us", you finally give in.

"It was at JustJerk" you said and immediately viewers went wild. Some even commenting "maybe it's time to enroll for a dance class too" or "no wonder your style seems familiar". But another question pops up and it caught everyone's attention.

"Do you see Bada Lee on JustJerk?" The chat read. And every viewer saw it so you can't ignore this one.

"Yeah, sometimes..." you said, and it was a lie. You always saw Bada there, no scratch that, you are always with Bada there. How can you not see her everytime you go there, she is your girlfriend, you always go to the academy together.

"OMG YOU SHOULD COVER BADA'S CHOREO FOR SHIRT" a comment pops up again and the chat once again goes wild.

"Fine, fine... wait give me a minute I'm trying to remember the step again" you search up the dance cover and watch the video before learning the choreography once more.

Meanwhile, Bada had just arrived at your apartment and was looking for you, when she heard Shirt by Sza plays over and over again coming from your shared bedroom.

Slowly, Bada creeps in and peaked by the door to see what's going on and saw your livestream setup. You are too focused on your live that you didn't even noticed her leaning by the door frame, watching you.

"...ok I think I got it" You said as you ready yourself before playing the song once again and you start moving to the beat.

Bada is in awe once she realized you are dancing to her choreo, and to Shirt even. Her jaw drops as you execute all the moves perfectly, but boy it doesn't stop there.

"...Damn, you ain't deserve~" the music subsides for a bit, you twirl around before the beats drop ones again as you move your hips to the beat before looking up the camera and hitting the beat once again.

Bada squeals as you finish dancing, she can't get over at how sexy you look earlier. You turn your head to the door as you see your girlfriend kneeling on the ground.

"Oh my god, when did you arrived?" You said, your viewers were curious on who were you talking to as they flood your chat feed once more with questions.

"Wait I moment... I know that voice" the same person who commented earlier appears again.

Bada runs up to you, and hugs you tightly, planting tons of kisses on your face. "You look so sexy just now" your girlfriend gushes over you.

"I KNEW IT! THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING" the chat feed was bombarded with surprised emotes and messages like "holy shit, they are dating?!!!!".

You face the camera shyly as Bada breaks off from you and hugs you from behind as she hides her reddened face on the crook of you neck.

"Uhmmm yeah so... I think this is where I will end my stream" you chuckled lightly as Bada cowers in embarassment behind you, now realizing that your relationship was revealed to more than 35k people right now.

"This is not really what I planned when I first decided to do the livestream but yeah, I hope you had fun dancing with me... and yeah me and Bada are dating... anyway that would be all byeeee!" You quickly cut the cameras and ended the live.

A/n: and that is all for this story, thank you all for choosing this. I hoped you liked it. Sorry for any grammatical errors.

Requests are open

[gremlinmodetweeker]

I've been roused seeing CatTac stuff. Horangi and König coming home late and hearing you scream. Not realizing you got jump scared from watching something on your phone/TV. What do, gimme the goods!! Respectfully 💖

Okay so this is where things get hairy, no pun intended. I'm telling you now that the guys go haywire. It also nearly blows their cover...

After a long day, you're ready to kick up your feet and relax. Your cats are back in your bedroom, snuggled together and napping on your pillow. You make sure they were all comfy before you walk out to the living room and decide to watch a good horror movie.

When a scream rips through the apartment, König and Horangi are up like a shot. Little do you know, they immediately shift into their human forms. König is about to thunder out into the apartment when Horangi grabs his shoulder. Horangi sniffs the air and tells König to do the same.

"Nobody's here," Horangi whispers to König.

König takes a sniff and nods back, "She might be hurt out there! We need to go!"

"But what about-"

"The more we wait the worse it'll be!" König whispers back harshly and lunges into action.

The two charge into the living room, thunderous footsteps accompanying them as they made their way down the hall. The moment they come into the living room König immediately drops down into cat form. Horangi, tailing behind him, follows suit and hurries over to König's side.

"False alarm," König meows to Horangi as Owner jumps to her feet.

"What the fuck!?" you yell as you scramble to your feet.

Horangi looks up onto the big screen. It's... It's a horror movie. It's just a horror movie. He glares at König.

"König you're fat, but you're not that fat are you?" you mutter as you walk over to the kitties.

König gives out an irritated mew as you scoop him up in your arms with a scowl.

"I... Okay, I thought I heard people running in my apartment," you mutter as you bury your face in his belly, "and now I'm talking to my cats? I think I need to call the doctor tomorrow..."

You turn off the tv and slink back to bed with a grumble, spooking at every tiny noise and flinching at every movement in the corner of your eye. You nearly dropkick Horangi when he tries to bat at you from under your bed. When you finally lie down in bed, you drift off to sleep pretty quickly. The adrenaline of the day finally hit in hard.

When Horangi and König are sure that you're asleep, they curl around opposite sides of your head in their cat forms.

"You stupid idiot," Horangi hisses, "you nearly got us busted!"

"You heard her scream!" König yowls back.

"Yeah, but you ran in there as a human," Horangi growls as he licks your temple, "what were you thinking?"

"Well, if she was getting attacked-"

"Nobody was there!!! We could've gone and checked it out as cats," Horangi huffs before nipping your temple. You swat him in your sleep and he hisses.

König nuzzles into your ear and sighs. He picks his head up to look at his best friend and lover.

"We need to tell her," he says sadly, "it's not fair to her."

Horangi folds his ears back, but he nods solemnly.

"Soon," he promises, "soon. But not tomorrow. She's giving us the fish patties tomorrow."

König swishes his tail irritably but nods in agreement, "Fish patties first, then we tell her."

"Whatever you say big guy," Horangi rolls his eyes and nuzzles back into your side.

They enjoy the silence and peace together, soaking in your warm scent as they slowly give in to sleep.

König raises his head one final time, "Is she even into polyamory? How are we gonna convince her to try a threesome with us?"

"König," Horangi growls, "go the fuck to sleep."

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - All's Quiet on the BL Front

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

May 2024 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Godday (Sat YT) ep 3 of 12 - I love how were getting a solid depiction of two queers just genuinely enjoying sex with each other. That’s actually rare in BL. In this case, it manages to also be weirdly adorable and cute.

Dee is such a tease. I guess Y likes a brat? 

LOOK at those bedroom eyes!

Linguistics corner: when these two are being serious, sweet, or flirty with each other they use rao/nai which is kind of old fashioned and charming and not common in BL. They move pretty seamlessly into gu/mueng and back depending on the style of convo, tho. It's FUN to hear them talk.

Let the fake relationship commence!

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 4 of 12 eps - I HAVE THOUGHTS. I'm really enjoying the sinister backbone of this show. I hope they have the courage of their convictions in that regard and lean into a kind of sexy evil revenge narrative. It was a pleasure to watch the break up and I do not want a redemption arc for Ming or a romance for us. Fuck 'em, let’s just ride a revenge train, okay Joe baby?

That’s said, I totally sniffled at the ending scene where Ming (for two years!) has been paying penance cooking for two and waiting alone. Excellent pathos. Now, I understand how they're gonna make this a full 12 eps. And I’m excited about it. Carry on!

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 7 of 16 - I wasn't a fan of Winny & Satang in My School President but I'm loving them in this. The thing with Q, Toey, and Chain had me hooting with laughter. I think I’m finally just easing into the relaxed absurdity of this show. The key is not to expect anything from it. Just them being tiny gay idiots.

Two Worlds (iQIYI) ep 10 fin - Someday I’d like to really enjoy a MaxNat show, but today was not that day. (I feel like ever since Between Us I’ve been generally disenchanted with established OG pairs and what they’re bringing to the table. Perhaps that’s a discussion for another day. Cherry Magic excepted, of course.) 

OK, so this final episode, they sure tried to fit a lot in. But that made the pacing better for me. So I kinda liked this weird cliff notes resolution to the story.

In conclusion:

MaxNat do a credible job with a messy script about parallel worlds, gangsters, and strange diseases cured by forest fruits. It sounds confusing because it is. The chemistry is excellent the side pair is entirely forgotten about, and one could drive a Tardis through the plot holes. Still, I found it modestly enjoyable if not at all rewatchable. 7/10 

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 6 of 12 - I do love how bold and brash Moo is. He’s truly a great character, such an utter outgoing sunshine puppy focused on his pursuit of his older boy. I'm charmed by his utter harmlessness. They gave us a sweet coming out scene, and an awesome supportive mom. Frankly GMMTV has a good track record with moms. (With a few noted exceptions, of course.)

That said, I do keep forgetting this is a GMMTV offering. It just doesn't FEEL GMMTV. Just me?

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ????) ep 1 of 10 - Starts tomorrow, will report on sitch next week. LeeFrank are back - not unlike the undead. But how do we feel about it? Unsure given their track record.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - I like it. I like our sulky 2nd lead. He’s pouty, adorable, brash, and adding some much-needed tension to this narrative. The blurring lines between show within a show is a lot of fun. Probably the best I've seen done in BL so far.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - I like that we got backstory, but we also sort of already knew it. So this ep felt a bit like filler. They are wonderful when they’re on screen together but when they aren't it's a bit dull. I hope we just get them together for the next 4 eps. But this is Japan, so I doubt it.

Blossom Campus (Korea Thurs Gaga & iQIYI) ep 1 of 6 - The image resolution on this show (via Iqiyi ) is terrible. Meanwhile, awkward crush. Jock nerd pairing. Dorky. Maybe a bit too much awkward/dorky for me? I'm not sold on this one.

Meanwhile the ordering then not eating or drinking of food continues. Very upsetting.

Boys Be Brave (Korea Viki) eps 5-8fin - This show was just never sure what it wanted to be. Slacker sunshine KiSub moves in with nerd JinWoo, mostly because he knows JinWoo likes him but won't confess and that's never happened to him before. It reminded me of some earlier KBLs like Behind Cut, yes is had bones but not much flesh, so it only just hung together and progressed through not very much plot in a jerking rattling fashion like an animated skeleton. All the story and chemistry was with the side couple and none of the screen time. That just annoyed me. What did this BL want to BE? Who tf knows. I, for one, don’t care, and resolve to think no more on it. 6/10 

Blue Boys (Korea Sat YouTube) - This ended at 4 eps on a cliffhanger. Since this is a very small studio I don’t have a lot of faith in there being a part two. But they have bundled both this BL, and the GL, bingable chunks on YT. So if you want to binge it, it’s there. Just be aware that it ends on a cliffhanger.

My thoughts?

Promising reunion romances full of class and coming out struggles but I grade with what we got, not on expectations, and you know I HATE a cliffhanger. So yeah, it HAD promise but as of now it gets a 4/10 - fatally flawed. I reserve the right to change my mind if they amend for damages.

It's airing but...

You Made My Day (Thai YT) ep 1 of 5 - mini series staring the I Will Knock You couple Tar & Bom, started but I couldn't find it. I also didn't try very hard.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

A Balloon's Landing (Taiwan movie) trailer - A frustrated Hong Kong writer, Tian Yu, meets a Taipei street gangster, Xiang (Fandy Fan from HIStory2: Crossing the Line), and the two of them embark on a journey to find the Bay of Vanishing Whales. Along the way, they discover unexpected twists and turns and close bonds, which brings out the message that "there is always someone like you in this world who is waiting for you. This released to cinemas in Taiwan, no word on international release.

In case you missed it

A really really thorough and fascinating article on 2 Moons 2 and what happened.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

May Releases

VBL (Taiwan) is releasing 4 'Special Episode' epilogues to their 4 2023 shows every Friday this month on Gagaoolala, Viki & Viu. Not sure on search terms or how to find these. (Or, frankly, if we need them.)

5/10 – You Are Mine

5/17 – VIP Only

5/24 – Stay By My Side

5/31 – Anti Reset

5/25 The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer - HoTae & DongHee are back but unfortunately not in a cinema near me. Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names. I love them. I NEED TO SEE THIS.

5/28 My Biker 2 (Thai movie YT?) - trailer

5/30 Knock Knock Boys (Thai Thurs WeTV) - I'm hoping I can get it elsewhere since my WeTV account is inactive, but I do love Best and I'm interested in seeing him in a new pairing. That said, I'm not wild about Seng... so I won't be too cut up if I can't get hold of this. More here.

5/31 The Time of Huannan (Taiwan movie) - May not be BL

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I'm a sucker for this king of casual claiming. (Only Boo)

It me! (Wandee Goodday)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @sunflower-positiiivity @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

[aristia-pjoheadcanons]

hi✨adore your thoughts and headcanons to the moon and back with how detailed and in character they are. dark!percy has always been incredibly alluring and fascinating, so I was wondering about your presentation/analysis of him. if you're comfortable (if not, it's totally okay and just ignore it!), could you write percy and child of any "dark" like hades, or hecate, nyx (or whoever) god, who understands how scary and tough it can be when you and your powers are so destructive, and they help him to kinda adjust to this side of him and understand that he isn't a bad person for that (cause this guy already has a lot of self hatred). maybe kinda chaotic dumbass enemies to lovers? sfw or nswf - whatever works for you. sorry for this ramble! just so many thoughts about him...

hope you have a good time of a day🤟

DARK!Percy headcanons

authors note: Can I just say, I've been WAITING for a question like this. More Dark Percy headcanons everyone!! plss!!

warnings: mentions of abuse & neglect, suicidal and intrusive thoughts, impulsive thoughts, mentions of eating disorder, chaotic family life, Gabe Ugliano...

okay, this is a mixture of headcanons of his CHILDHOOD but also an ANALYSIS of DARK PERCY.

cigarette burns from Gabe. Not just because Gabe did it, some of Gabes older friends (a long time ago, before the lightning theaf book) told Percy to come closer and burnt it into his forearm. Gabes eyes turned into shock but then he poked a tongue in his cheek and scoffed in laughter, giving Percy a judgemental look - *its a classic look, the type of look you give someone when you're looking down on them.

Percy would be so angry at Gabe, sometimes he would snap and tell him to shut up because Gabe would watch TV late in the night and fall asleep with the TV on until morning. At some point, Percy opened the door and screamed on the top of his lungs to shut the fuck up, slamming the door, sleep deprived and exhausted, locking the bedroom door bc he was scared Gabe would do something - and sobbed loudly. He was just a kid, but he already learnt how to fight. Sally tried to give reassurance but Percy wouldnt open the door. The incident was deemed "nightmares" on Percy's part, and Sally let him sleep in her bed.

Sally and Gabe never shared a bed. Gabe snores, sometimes even has nightmares, other time she would bother Sally about a new babyboy they could have, as if Percy wasn't good enough to be his son.

One time Sally asked Percy if he ever wanted siblings. the truth is, yes, but with Gabe Ugliano? no way. fuck no. He said no in a really moody and almost bitchy way, and walked out of the house and went to school.

Percy had the habit of keeping his shoulders scrunched up when he slept. He still does, but he doesn't understand why his body tenses up when he sleeps - Gabe isn't there anymore.

He also had the habit of lowering his head, shoulders and hunching when he walked - but once he met Annabeth over the summer he kept his back more straight - and never hanged his head when he walked. He noticed and felt more relief.

When people asked what he was doing for the summer, weight was lifted off his shoulders when he said SUMMER CAMP - finally he had something to do during summer! Every kid in school went somewhere nice, now even Percy does. He felt like he could finally share a bit of the same intrests as everyone else. He could actually tell people about his summer.

You know when the teacher forces everyone to tell a little bit about their summer - now finally percy could say confidendtly he did somethign fun instead of making something up.

struggles with anger, but understand it got so bad he broke his own first laptop 3.5months of having it - he broke the screen in half with his bare hands. He regretted it so much and hid it but his Sally found out.

Regrettfully, this made Percy believe he would always ruin/sabotage things for himself, and that he doesn't deserve nice things. Letting his mother buy his clothes, never aksing for new clothes... whats the point?

Besides, Gabe was stingy with his money. Gabe even refused to buy shampoo which is stupid cause its cheap asf - but Gabe wanted the feeling of control.

the dynamic of the family and house changed. The living room was Gabes, not Sally and Percy's spot. Gabe even took Percy's side of the couch and his spot at the dining table. Percy stubbornly refused to move, but Gabe is scary and big for his size so he did it to be civil for his mother. He felt like he lost something that day.

When Gabe was out late, Percy would lock the door and put the chain on. Gabe would unlock the door and try to get inside, but the chain stopped him. Gabed huffed in frustration and Sally had to get up and open the door - which burned Percys heart because he realized that nothing could keep Gabe out.

Percy would generally be a very bitter person to be around, people would shy away from him and sometimes stop talking when he tried to join in.

self image, self-confidence and self respect was low. But actually scratch that, his self respect was high. he put boundaries down pretty fast with other people because he knew everything that gabe did was no, and everything that sally did was yes. but at some point he disliked Sallys touch just slightly bit, because he knew Gabe had held her hand earlier.

he would talk to sally for hours on the couch, but as soon as the door clicked opened he walked to his room and closed the door. He didnt want to be near gabe. but then gabe started to trash his room, and percy was basically forced to sit in the living room.

he felt like he was playing "family" or pretending everything was okay, as if Gabe wasn't neglectful, but he felt sick.

At some point Percy's anxiety and stress because to normalized within himself that he nowadays cant tell what anxiety even is - and he would sometimes even say hes never had anxiety, because its basically been with him from such a young age, he cant tell the difference.

pretending to be "family" was even worse walking around the mall with sally and gabe. gabe was just this big giant slob of goo that would follow everywhere, and gabe would even huff and puff shamelessly if they were taking too long. gabe even got angry if sally found something nice for herself, he was possesive.

started taking only an apple with him to lunch, 1. he thought he was fat. 2. gabe wouldnt buy anything he liked and they had to stick with the basics. 3.his lunch was embarrassing even though everyone ate cafeteria food.

he got so happy the first time he could bring something "normal" to eat or if he got money to buy lunch, his reason being that he could finally "blend in" insteading standing out as a "freak".

he has a burn mark on the backside of his ankle, near his achillies, burn himself bc of Gabe.

hates it if someone traces the cigarette scars on his arm, even hates it if Annabeth does it - he still struggles with his self image and probably wont like that part of himself until he grows old and gray.

one time he vented to someone about his childhood and they stopped talking to him. never spoke ever since, was afraid that someone would use it against him. hasn't even told his mom or sally half of the things Gabe said or did to him/behind his back.

one time gabe pissed on the clothes percy was wearing but blaimed it on percy. ofc his mother believed percy but it was still shameful for percy.

in second book of sea of monsters, a kid asked if percy let his mother buy his clothes - actually stopped letting his mother buy clothes for him after that.

he would naturally adopt people that were outcasts and be a friend - because people were rarely there for him when he needed it.

needs validation, but couldnt get it from school. his friends would praise him but he could barely accept those compliments because at the end of the day he was still a loser too.

his mother would be his studdy buddy, and tried to help percy with homework - but still found everything hard.

gabe got angry with percy would "dirtying everything" but Gabes the only reason why his mom has to clean daily.

Dark Percy would definitely develop from a young age, but it became a lot more present behind the scene of the books.

he desires comofort, safety and a space where he can be himself without having to walk on his toes around the place.

Honestly, NSFW

He suppresses his moans because he was used to being quiet when he was around Gabe.

He has jacked off quietly, watched any videos quietly, no sound and even with headphones get sscared that someone might hear.

One time he stayed up late bc of whatever reasons and his stepfather Gabe yelled "GO TO BED", the next morning Gabe complained about how loud Percy was when Percy was away at school (this was early middle school, school wasnt that far away). And his mother Sally defended him and said she believes that Percy goes to bed when he should/when she tells him to, this made Percy feel bad so he went to bed on time every since, or at least tried too. If he ever stayed up, he learn how to breathe quietly too.

The feeling of shame for touching yourself, feeling pleasure, and arousal was strongly in him from a certain age - Gabe's influence for even trying to be HAPPY or LAUGHING with his mother made him feel shame for any good feeling sexual or not.

[hollandorks]

fright

battinson! bruce wayne x gn! reader

summary: in the midst of investigating a drug that kills people with their own fear, Bruce is drugged.

**not affiliated with middle of the night**

a/n: I'm back with something new, finally! I've been wanting to write this for a while, just for fun, because the battinson brain rot still hasn't gone away in over a year. Hopefully I'll be doing more oneshots from here on out! I tried to make this reader as gender neutral as possible but if I slipped up anywhere let me know so I can fix it!

word count: 7081

The abandoned subway station is cold and damp but comfortingly familiar. 

Alfred had simply waved you downstairs to get started on your work while Bruce was out on patrol. That was one thing about constantly being around a vigilante–it turned you into a night owl, the changes almost imperceptible until you can no longer fall asleep on your own before two in the morning, even in the comfort of your own apartment. Sometimes you aren’t sure if it was because you’re used to working late on your nights working with Bruce…

Or if you couldn’t fall asleep until you knew Gotham’s vigilante was home safe again after another night. 

So since you’re a night owl these days, you’ve taken to doing your work in the darkest parts of the night, comfortable with commuting after dark. Though Alfred and Bruce both insisted on you keeping a guest room in Wayne Tower when you work late, as neither of them are comfortable with you walking Gotham alone at night. Sometimes the city’s resident vigilante watches over you, but for those other times–those other times you stay in the drafty room set aside for you, one floor below Bruce’s bedroom. 

You aren’t sure you’re supposed to know where Bruce’s bedroom is, exactly. But unbeknownst to the man himself, you’ve helped Alfred twice now haul his huge frame to bed when he’d passed out from either exhaustion or severe injuries. And as it was, it never came up in conversation that you had seen his bedroom, the space just as cluttered as the subway station belowground was. 

You wouldn’t admit, either, that may or may not have snooped. His bedroom was neat, but organized in a way only his mind seemed to understand, the same as where he kept everything Batman-related. The bedroom closet was full of dark colors and clothes that were at least a decade old, and a full row of the black work boots he preferred to wear with his armor, some scuffed and torn beyond recognition, a couple of pairs almost new. 

It isn’t a secret, exactly, but you knew Bruce well enough by now to know he probably wouldn’t like that you’d seen his bedroom without permission. 

It’s his bedroom you think of now as you sit down to work at your designated desk in the abandoned station. The space was less lived in that the basement around you. Did Bruce prefer the bats for company? Or was the tower above too full of ghosts for him to face? Either way, he spends more of his time downstairs than up. There’s even a ratty secondhand couch shoved to one side where he seems to do most of his sleeping. You’ve seen him crash there more times than you could count. 

You stretch already-cold fingers and boot up the multiple computer screens that have become yours even though you only own the laptop. 

You’ve been working with him for a few months now, the connection pure chance, as most things in your life were. Your move to Gotham, your skill with computers, your meeting with a kevlar-covered vigilante. It was all chance, a force you believe in almost as much as you believe in gravity. 

It had been a beautiful night that night, which really should have been your first clue that it was all going to hell. You were taking a simple walk to clear your head after a long day at work. You’d hated the corporate job you were working at, which was, ironically enough, at Wayne Enterprises. 

That night was the first time you were acquainted with Gotham’s dark, violent underbelly. It was also the first time you met the man you’d thought was simply an urban legend–the Batman, a shadow turned savior at the moment you thought it would all be over. 

He’d disappeared as your thanks rose to your lips, swallowed up by the night before you could utter the words. 

The second time you met Batman was by chance, too. You’d gotten some information on a crime and, well, you had done the not-so-smart thing and used your computer skills to follow the lead. 

Batman had followed the same lead through different methods. 

Showing up at the same place at first led him to suspect you, but once you’d pulled out your laptop and proven how you’d gotten the information by using Gotham’s surveillance cameras to track the assholes down, he was curious. He wanted you to show him exactly how you’d done it. He’d revealed his curious mind to you that night, and that was the first piece of him you developed a crush on. 

The sharp jawline didn’t hurt, either. 

You smile to yourself as your fingers work over the keyboard to the computer in front of you. These days, he has you scouring surveillance cameras, police scanners, and internet forums for leads on cases. You also have your not-so-legal hacking skills to accomplish those things. And that’s in between the research you do on current cases. Not to mention the extra work you do behind his back to keep Batman’s identity from ever getting out–not that he needs to know that, not yet. It’s mostly deleting everything you can get your hands on that discusses his possible identity, whether it’s really far off base or a little too close to home.

It’s a lot of work, but you love it. You’d barely given it a thought when Bruce–before you’d known his identity–had asked you to help him. You’d said yes before the question had been fully finished. 

Tonight, Bruce is staking out the seedier parts of Gotham trying to track down a new drug. At least, you think it’s a new drug. Several people have turned up dead, their features marred by their own hands, with something unknown in their bloodstreams. The medical examiner said it seemed as if they had all been…frightened to death, the levels of cortisol and adrenaline in their blood sky high. 

Right now you have your computers working in the background to monitor police chatter, any hints from the dark web, and anything else you can think of to track down the source of the drug. While the program works to search for keywords and phrases on one of your three monitors, the other two screens are split between all of the ME reports and the information on each victim and real-time video feeds from every camera in the city you can get your hands on. 

Bruce doesn’t know that you’re trying to watch his back while working the case. 

You worry about him, even though he’s probably the most capable person you’ve ever met. 

The third time you’d met him he’d shown up at your apartment bleeding everywhere. He hadn’t even known he was bleeding everywhere. He’d gotten into a fight while tracking you down to get you to use your skills on another case and simply ignored his injuries in favor of keeping his goal. 

Luckily, a few days earlier you’d sliced your finger open while cooking and had some of the weird liquid bandaid stuff you’d been using. There’d been a ghost of a smile on Bruce’s face when you’d run and gotten it for him. He’d thanked you softly, and then gone back to being all-business as you worked on the gash on his arm. As you’d bandaged the cut, he told you about the case he was working, and how your computer skills would really help him out. 

He started turning up more frequently after that, asking for help on cases. Until the day he’d asked if you wanted a permanent position helping him–paid and everything. 

And now here you were, in his innermost circle, allowed to know everything about him. At least, as much of everything as he let anyone know. 

Your computer pings right as Bruce grunts over the comms. It’s another thing he might not know about, your nightly tuning in to the comms as he goes out. Not that you aren’t allowed, but it’s something you won’t admit to unless directly questioned. 

You sit up straight so fast it sends your desk chair rolling backwards. Fumbling for the edge of your desk to pull yourself forward, you frantically click through tabs to figure out where the alert was coming from. 

A connection. 

Your breath leaves in a rush as you scan the information. 

Then you’re scrambling back for the comms, flipping the mic on, and trying to string a coherent sentence together.

“I found a lead,” you finally manage. It sounds like he’s in the middle of a fight. Oops. You push on, knowing he can hear you even if he can’t respond. “They were all patients at Arkham Asylum at some point. And they all were treated by the same doctor, Jonathan Crane.” 

Bruce starts cursing. There’s a strange hissing noise over the comms. You lightly shake the computer, trying to figure out the source of the static. 

“I know,” he finally says. The hissing has stopped, but now there’s a new noise. A familiar noise. The sound of his motorcycle revving to life. 

“Wh–how?” you say, unsure how he found out before you did. 

There’s more cursing and the sound of the bike speeding up. 

“I’m–shit.” He coughs. “I’m on my way back. Tell Alfred to–” His breath stutters for a moment. “I don’t–” 

“Please tell me you haven’t been stabbed to death,” you say with more bravado than you feel. With one hand, you text Alfred to come downstairs with the first aid kit. 

But the comms have gone silent. Bruce is breathing heavily, the only way you know he’s still there.

“Where were you hit?” you ask. “What street? How bad is it?” 

No answer. Bruce makes a noise that raises every hair on your body. 

It sounds like he’s…afraid.

You scramble to pull up every feed you have and find out where he’s been so you could see what happened. 

In all your months knowing him, you’ve never heard Bruce make such a noise. You’ve never heard him afraid like that. Something about it raises every hair on the back of your neck. 

You search camera after camera on the streets of Gotham, looking for any sign of Bruce at the moment he said he was on his way back. You curse quietly to yourself, the sound of Bruce’s motorcycle engine through the comms filling the echoing space around you. 

Then–there. Grainy as all get out and the only angle is available from a building across the street. But it’s him–there’s no denying the hulking shadow that is the Batman. He’s helping someone, a woman who appears to be screaming though the video has no audio attached. She thrashes and hits at Bruce, seemingly hysterical. 

Then she goes utterly still. You realize that it was about this time where you flipped the comms on to listen. 

Someone steps out of the shadows of the alley in front of them and there’s a sudden small cloud of fog. 

Bruce darts away, hopping on his motorcycle as the figure moves fully into the light. He–because you can see now that it’s a man–looks down at the woman dead on the sidewalk. Then his face tilts upward and you see why Bruce said, I know. 

It was the doctor himself, the one who’d been treating all of the dead patients. 

Jonathan Crane. 

Even with the shitty quality, his face is a clear match for the identification photo linked to Arkham. 

You immediately save images of the video for Gordon to see. Here’s the proof you need–this and the Batman’s testimony of an attack surely are enough to at least get Crane investigated properly. 

Hopefully. 

The small printer starts to spit out the pictures as the roar of a familiar engine abruptly cuts off in the tunnels outside of the station. 

You straighten. 

“Bruce?” you call out uncertainly. Normally he comes tearing in, hopping the motorcycle up on the ramp to be worked on and showing off a bit as he does it, or parking haphazardly near his work tables so he can get straight back to work. In the months you’d known him, he’d never stopped outside of the station for any reason. 

Your heart is somewhere near your feet as you tentatively step forward. 

“Bruce?” you say again, this time much quieter. 

You’re suddenly yanked backwards off your feet as a gloved hand presses against your mouth. You squirm, panicked, trying to get away. You lament all the times you refused Bruce’s self defense lessons.

“Shh, be quiet,” a familiar voice says. 

You relax all at once. 

It’s Bruce. 

Even through his armor, you can feel his heart pounding rapidly. His breath comes in sharp gasps that he struggles to keep quiet. 

He lets you turn in his arms. His eyes are wild, panicked. 

“Where are you hurt?” you murmur quietly. Your eyes track over every inch of him. There’s no blood that you can see, but he’s still in his all-black armor and you’re both tucked in the shadows near the hangar door that opens into the tunnels. You probably wouldn’t be able to see the blood if there was any. 

Bruce is still panting like he’s been running. “They’re coming,” he whispers. You frown. You already checked all the cameras from his route home and the security cameras in the tunnel. He came in alone. 

There’s a quiet noise somewhere in the distance, probably just a bat going to bed for the day, but Bruce yanks you close against his chest and whirls with one fist raised. 

Now you’re afraid, too. Has someone followed him all this way and you missed it somehow? Has someone found his inner sanctum? Are you both in danger? 

Another noise startles you both. 

The elevator descending. 

Bruce’s eyes are wild beneath his mask. 

“It’s Alfred,” you whisper, but Bruce seems not to hear you. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he murmurs into your ear, dragging you along with him into the recessed shadows by the elevator. You stumble along, still tucked against his side, the feeling of his breath on your ear lingering and making you shiver. Even though you’re afraid, you feel safe. “We’ll get you help, I promise.” You’re not sure what you need help with, but you remain quiet. 

Bruce has always protected you, whether he knows it or not. 

He physically protects you, sure, watching your back as the Batman, keeping you safe in a city as turbulent as Gotham. But Bruce also has always looked out for your mental health, too. 

There have always been nights where things are just…bleak, whether or not for any particular reason. You withdraw into yourself during those times, much like Bruce himself does. Somehow he always, always knows how to draw you back out. Sometimes it’s a quiet joke, sometimes a request to help him with something, sometimes it’s only his quiet company as he sits and works next to you. 

So even now, as you fear every moving shadow, every noise, thinking someone might be coming after you…

Even now, you know you’ll be safe and protected with Bruce. 

It’s part of why you love him. 

Not that he’d ever know that. 

“Stay put,” Bruce says into your ear, making you shiver all over again. 

He pushes gently on your shoulders in a stay put motion and steps away on silent feet. Even now his grace surprises you, even after months of watching him, being around him. He is a wonder to behold, a massive shadow that becomes weightless in a single breath. It’s like he becomes incorporeal at will, turning into shadow and smoke before he strikes. 

The elevator gates rattle open and Bruce leaps. 

Alfred is on the ground, first aid kit scattering to all corners of the station with a clatter, in barely a blink.

“Bruce!” you half-shout, the instinct automatic. Your voice overlaps with Alfred’s, the echoes sending the bats into a frenzy overhead. 

Bruce goes utterly still, one fist raised like he’s going to hit Alfred. Alfred of all people. He flinches at the bats but his focus is on Alfred. 

Alfred is as calm as ever despite the figure looming threateningly over him. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. “Are you hurt?” 

“Alfred,” Bruce chokes out and the sound is agonized. He seems paralyzed. “I’m sorry, I was too slow–” 

The three of you don’t move. 

You approach slowly. “Bruce?” you say softly, like he’s a wild animal backed into a corner. Because that’s what he looks like–wild, feral, and most of all, scared. You think of the ME reports and have to bite your lip to distract yourself from the fear that brings. 

“You have to–you have to tie me up,” Bruce says, his arm trembling like he’s holding himself back. “He dosed me with–whatever it is.” His eyes dart around the space. 

You straighten as if shocked. “Dr. Crane did?” 

“Yes, he–” Bruce flinches and then refocuses on Alfred, still beneath him and as calm as ever as if it were an everyday experience. “Oh God. No, no, no. No. I’m sorry.” 

Then Bruce does something even more shocking. 

He sobs.

You startle as if a gunshot has gone off. 

You’ve never heard Bruce cry. You’ve never even really seen him sad. Angry, sure. And frustrated. Those seem to be his two main moods, other than generally quiet. The happiness is rare, but you’ve seen that too. 

But you’ve never, ever heard him cry. 

“Bruce?” you say again, uncertain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he groans. “I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry.” He scrambles away from Alfred. His eyes are still wild, darting every which way, his expression frantic under the mask. 

Your brain works quickly through all the evidence you’ve been digging into. 

“It’s making him afraid,” you tell Alfred as the older man gets unsteadily to his feet. Bruce whirls and throws a punch, but there’s nothing there. “Whatever he was dosed with, it’s making him afraid.” 

What you don’t tell Alfred is that this drug most likely scared the other victims to death. 

Your heart pounds with enough fear that you wonder briefly if you’ve been dosed too. 

“If he’s like this, he won’t react well to being tied up,” Alfred says, but he starts moving efficiently, pulling zip ties from Bruce’s belt as he fights invisible foes. 

In one swift movement, Alfred grabs Bruce’s wrist, kicks him in the back of one knee, and grabs the other wrist. 

You gape as he tightens Bruce’s hands behind his back even as he thrashes. 

“No!” Bruce shouts. “Let me go! I have to get there before it’s too late! No!” 

“How did you–?” You stare at Alfred with your mouth open slightly. Alfred is a man of many hidden talents, apparently. 

“We need to get him more secure,” Alfred says, still calm as ever. And maybe, with as long as he’s been around Bruce, this sort of thing is normal. You’ve only been around a few months–Alfred’s been around since the beginning. You wonder just how many times Bruce has gotten himself into messes like this. 

Alfred grunts as Bruce tries to get away. Apparently, Alfred’s strong, even with an old leg injury. You hold the man in high esteem but it just gets higher as you watch him. 

“Tell me what to do,” you say as you straighten your spine. Bruce needs you, and that’s all that matters. You need him to make it through the night–that’s your focus right now. 

“See if you can calm him down long enough for us to get him upstairs. His bed should be sturdy enough for us to tie him to.” Alfred grunts and manages to shove Bruce back to his knees as he rises. 

You quickly kneel in front of Bruce and take his face in your hands. “Bruce? It’s me. It’s okay. Alfred and I are okay.” 

Bruce’s eyes roll around without focus. His breathing is even worse now, each breath rasping out of his chest, his whole body heaving with it. 

You try to push the memory of the crime scene photos out of your mind. Bodies twisted with fear. People who were dosed with whatever this was who died scared out of their minds. 

You’re terrified for Bruce, but you push it away. 

“Bruce, please,” you say, softer now, fingers pressed tightly against his cheeks. You can feel the slight scrape of stubble on your palms. 

Bruce’s brilliant blue eyes finally meet yours. “No,” he says and the desperate word is like a bullet to your heart. His whole body strains towards you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t die.” 

“Bruce, I’m okay,” you say. Your hands fumble before gripping the mask and pulling it off. Bruce cringes away. “I’m okay, I’m not dying.” Your fingers card through his hair. Damp with sweat, it sticks up with the movement. Bruce leans into the touch, and his breathing seems to ease slightly. 

“Y/n,” he mumbles. His eyes close for a second. 

“Bruce, let’s get you upstairs,” Alfred says in a low voice. 

Somehow, the pair of you get him up, hands still tied behind his back, and into the elevator. Bruce keeps repeating his apologies, every sound from his lips pained and terrified. 

“Alfred we need to–to get the drug out of his system somehow, if we can. I don’t know what else to do.” You whisper the words because you’re worried about setting Bruce off even further. You hold tight to his armored elbow. 

“I can get an IV started once we get him settled, that might work.” Alfred furrows his brow. “Y/n…how bad is this drug? What have you found in your research?” 

You hesitate, staring up at Bruce for a moment. His arms jerk in their restraints, but there’s nowhere for him to go in the small space of the elevator. “I don’t know how many people were dosed with it and survived,” you finally admit. 

Alfred goes still and stares at you while absently wrangling Bruce back into the corner. “How many died?” 

“I don’t know. Five, I think. Three for sure. Bruce watched a woman die from it right before he got hit in the face with it.” You chew your lip. Your eyes fill with tears as you meet Bruce’s anguished blue eyes.

“Then we will do everything in our power to keep him alive,” Alfred swears. “After he’s secured, I’ll get the IV started first and then we’ll make sure to monitor his vitals. If it gets too bad…” 

“He won’t be happy if he has to go to the hospital,” you say, but part of you wants to insist that you take him anyway. 

“No!” Bruce shouts as the elevators open. 

You don’t know what he’s responding to, but suddenly he’s frantic again, whatever slight semblance of calm he had in the elevator abruptly gone. He aims a kick at the wall and somehow leverages his bound hands in front of him. 

Alfred curses and shoves Bruce against the same wall. He braces the younger man with his whole body but his bad leg trembles. 

“Go get the medical bag!” Alfred says. “We need to sedate him.” 

You pause. “But what if something reacts with the drug?” 

Alfred curses again. “There’s nothing else to do. We’ll give him as low a dose as we can and keep an eye on him. Go!” 

So you run. Your feet slip over dusty hardwood floors as you scramble as fast as you can for Alfred’s medical bag. The bag is full of everything Alfred might need in a Batman-related emergency in case Bruce couldn’t make it home or even upstairs. The first aid kit is for general injuries–this bag is for when things go to hell. 

It feels as if hours have passed in the short amount of time it took to grab the bag. When you reach the elevator again, Alfred and Bruce are gone. You can hear them in Bruce’s bedroom now and hurry towards them. 

“Get his other arm!” Alfred says as he handcuffs one of Bruce’s hands to his massive wood headboard. 

You scramble up on the bed and over Bruce to do as Alfred says. 

“Let me tie you up, Bruce,” you say gently even though you aren’t sure he can hear you. “Please,” you say as he fights your grip. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you, it’s nearly impossible to even get the handcuffs on his wrist, let alone connected to the other side of the headboard. 

“Alfred,” you say around a grunt. You’re fully straddling Bruce now but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s seeing things that aren’t there. It sounds like he’s having an asthma attack, he’s breathing so hard and wheezing so much. God, what if he stops breathing and passes out from his panic?

It takes several more minutes of you and Alfred both yanking on Bruce’s arm–because damn is he strong–before he’s finally, finally secured against the headboard. 

You immediately start taking off the armor on his arms as Alfred preps the IV. You sit on Bruce’s legs to stop his incessant kicking, murmuring soothing words to him the whole time. You and Alfred will both be covered in bruises tomorrow, but you don’t even notice any pain at the moment. 

Bruce freaks out when Alfred sticks the needle in his arm. He shouts wordlessly and thrashes so hard the bed moves away from the wall. You curse under your breath and get off of him. 

“Hold this arm as best you can,” Alfred says. 

“Who knew he could cause so much damage while handcuffed?” The joke comes out wobbly, though, your worry seeping through your words. Even leaning all of your body weight on Bruce, he still makes it nearly impossible for Alfred to get the IV in.

You both breathe a sigh of relief when it finally goes in. Alfred works quickly and efficiently, still the perfect picture of calm even though he must be freaking out as much as you are–if not more. 

After another minute, Bruce relaxes marginally. He stops trying to escape and settles back into the pillows, still awake and staring with wild eyes around the room. Every so often he jerks one of his restraints, as if testing them.

You blow out another breath. 

“I’m going to monitor his pulse and blood pressure,” Alfred says as he pulls the necessary things out of the giant medical bag. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him until the drug passes through his system.” 

You nod, staring down at Bruce, feeling utterly helpless. How are you supposed to fight someone’s own mind? There’s nothing you can do that isn’t being done already–and there’s still no guarantee Bruce will survive.

As quick as it comes, you shut the thought down. Bruce will make it through this, even if it kills you. 

You finish undoing his chest plates and set them to the side. You brush Bruce’s hair back from his face. 

“You’ll be okay,” you say solemnly. “You’re too stubborn to die, and Alfred and I are too stubborn to let you.” When you look up, Alfred is frowning at the blood pressure machine and the pulse oximeter on Bruce's finger. “What?” 

“Talk to him again,” is all he says. 

You raise an eyebrow but turn back to Bruce. “Who knew Alfred was so strong, huh?” you say, aiming for lightness, but the words seem to fall short. 

You reach out and smooth his wild, dark hair. 

Alfred’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “I think you calm him down, my dear.” 

It’s your turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever you talk or touch him, his pulse drops a little and his breathing gets easier.” Alfred gives you a knowing look. 

Alfred’s the only one who knows about your crush on Bruce. He’s told you, repeatedly, to admit your feelings, but you’re too scared. Bruce is so far out of your league it’s laughable. Just because he trusts you enough with his secret doesn’t mean he feels the same way you do. Bruce has so few friends–his only two are, in fact, you and Alfred–that you know he opened up simply because he could. Bruce needed a friend, a confidant, a partner. You were able to give him that. That’s all. 

You stare at Alfred then, resigned, climb up over Bruce to sit by his head. 

“How about a scalp massage?” you ask Bruce. “Because apparently it makes you feel calmer.” 

Alfred chuckles. “His mother used to do that. Rub his head to get him to sleep or to get him to calm down when he was upset.” The older man softens as he stares down at Bruce. 

Something inside you melts. You reach a slightly trembling hand out and run it over Bruce’s head. You feel for a moment like you’re taking advantage of him. You never get to touch him like this, to simply watch him, and you relish it. 

“Here,” Alfred says, handing out a small package. “For the black around his eyes.” 

You take a wipe with your free hand and gently rub at the makeup on Bruce’s face. Both of his arms jerk against the restraints at that first touch. He starts panting hard again. 

“The blood–” he says with a pained moan. “The blood–” 

“There’s no blood, Bruce,” you say. Each touch is careful, gentle. “Everyone’s alright.” 

But he keeps yanking at the restraints. His wrists underneath his long sleeve shirt are turning redder and redder with each movement. 

“I couldn’t save them,” Bruce says around a small sob. He stares at you but you don’t think he actually can see you. “It’s my fault. I couldn’t save them.” 

“Save who?” you ask with one final swipe of the wipe over his eyes. 

“My parents. Alfred.” A tear slips over his cheek. “You.” 

“Alfred and I are alive, Bruce,” you say as you sit back on your heels on the bed. You carefully reach over and tug each of his sleeves over his wrist underneath the handcuffs. 

But Bruce doesn’t hear. “Stop!” he shouts at an unseen foe. “Don’t hurt them!” 

His sleeves have ridden up again, exposing his wrists to the handcuffs. You can see a small bit of blood on the wrist closest to you. 

Alfred hands out a bandage. “This should help.” 

You each bandage a wrist even as Bruce continues struggling. His pleas fade to pained noises that rip your heart out each time. 

“We should give him more of the sedative,” Alfred says. He rubs a hand over his face tiredly. “Where are the autopsy records? Maybe I can find out what this drug contains and see if there’s anything we can safely give him.” 

“They’re all at my workstation downstairs.” 

“I’ll be right back,” Alfred says. He hurries off, his limp even more pronounced now. 

Bruce continues straining against the handcuffs. His face is red with effort, his chest still heaving, the veins on his neck sticking out. He brings his knees up and leverages himself so his back smashes against the headboard. It creaks and groans. 

Whatever Alfred gave him must not have been enough. He’s just as frantic as he was before. Except now he’s trying to break his wrists and the headboard at the same time. 

“Stop that,” you say calmly even as your heart pounds. You wouldn’t put it past Bruce to snap the entire thing trying to get free. You run your fingers through his hair again. He immediately settles somewhat, his tugs on the handcuffs slightly easier. 

You decide to use both hands and give him the promised scalp massage. The longer your fingers work through the tangles, the more he seems to relax. You glance at the small device on his finger. His heart rate is still too high, but it lowers slightly at your prolonged touch. It’ll have to be good enough, you decide. Anything to keep his heart from giving out. 

When you look back up, Bruce is staring into your eyes. 

“I thought–I couldn’t be afraid anymore,” he says quietly. He seems more lucid now. Maybe the dose wasn’t that strong. You silently pray to all the gods and entities that might listen that it’ll be over soon. “But seeing you die–” His breath catches in his chest. “I couldn’t save you.” 

“I’m here,” you say. You wish you could take his fear and pain away, but there’s nothing else you can do. “I didn’t die.” 

Bruce makes a noise in his throat that you can’t comprehend. “It’s my–worst nightmare.” His eyes close. He grimaces. 

You keep trying to sooth him with your fingers in his hair. “You’re hallucinating, Bruce,” you say. “I don’t know if you’re able to tell what’s real right now, but all the bad things? Those are hallucinations.” 

“You’re real,” he murmurs softly. His body is a lot more relaxed. 

“Yes,” you say. “I’m here. I’m real.” 

Alfred bursts back into the room, laptop tucked under his arms. “I think we can give him more.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” 

“No, but if this doesn’t work…He’ll need an ambulance.” 

“He seems a lot calmer,” you say. Bruce’s eyes are still closed but he hums. “I don’t think the dose was very strong. He probably took the guy by surprise.” 

Alfred injects something into the IV, and Bruce’s body goes slack after a few moments. Alfred checks his pulse and blood pressure for several quiet moments, watching each of them improve slightly minute by minute. 

“That should do it,” Alfred says. He brushes a hand over his salt and pepper beard. “You can go on to bed, my dear.” 

“No, I’ll–I’ll stay, keep an eye on him. You go.” You expect him to argue, but Alfred nods and leaves you alone with Bruce. 

Now that things are calm, all of your fear and adrenaline start to fade. Bruce isn’t completely out of the woods yet, but he’ll make it. You think.

You think back to the surveillance video you saw. Dr. Crane was likely experimenting on the woman who died when Bruce showed up–and used whatever drug he had leftover on him. So it was likely it hadn’t been a full dose, especially with the way he seemed to calm down some. 

It was lucky. Extremely lucky. You think about the way the force of chance, of luck, has worked in your life so far, and can’t discount this instance either. 

When Bruce wakes up, you’ll give him all of the evidence he needs to get Dr. Crane arrested. You’d call Gordon now, but it’s so late it’s early. It can all wait until you know for sure Bruce is going to be alright. 

Exhausted, you lean back against the pillows next to Bruce. You glance around and can’t help but laugh at the situation. Here you are, in the place you most want to be–in Bruce’s bed–in the least romantic way possible. You don’t even have permission to be here. Bruce will probably ask you to leave once he’s in his right mind again. 

You turn your head to watch Bruce sleep, your own eyes heavy. You want to undo the handcuffs, but you’re afraid he’ll wake up in a panic again. Better to leave them on just in case. 

Without meaning to, your breathing syncs with his. You watch his chest rise and fall and try to let the motion comfort you. You glance at the little device on his finger again and feel even better when you see that his heart rate has calmed significantly. It’s still a bit high, but it isn’t in dangerous territory anymore. 

You always knew being Batman was dangerous. You’ve seen him come back injured a thousand times. A couple of times he was half-dead. But something about this was worse. Maybe because it isn’t an actual injury–it’s his own mind fighting him. His worst nightmares come to life. Bruce is the strongest person you know and seeing him brought low is like…a physical blow. It was terrifying. Bruce had always seemed so…untouchable. Like a man who was never afraid. 

His fear is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever witnessed. 

Your eyes slip closed as you watch him breathe. His bed is startlingly comfortable. You half-expected Bruce with his martyr complex to sleep on a brick. But this bed…this bed is definitely the kind of bed a billionaire would own.

You wake with a jolt sometime later. 

Bruce is watching you. His breath catches and he lets out a long sigh. He closes his eyes and seems to gather himself. 

When his eyes open again a second later, they’re wet. 

“I thought you were dead.” His voice is rougher and lower than usual, like he’s been screaming. The sound of it scrapes over your skin like sandpaper. 

“I’m not,” you say, still struggling to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. The room is dim. You were pretty sure the lamps had both been on but now only one is lit–and you have a blanket over you now too. Alfred must have come in at some point. 

“I know, but–” He takes another deep breath. The handcuffs rattle as he shifts. “For a moment, I didn’t know if it was real.” 

“What did you see?” you ask slowly. You see the handcuff key sitting on the nightstand closest to you and grab it. 

Bruce shies away from you. “Don’t unlock me yet. I don’t–I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Bruce,” you say. You soften towards him. He’s scared again, but it’s different. You don’t know if it’s a leftover effect of the drug or if it's his propensity for self-flagellation, but he’s afraid of hurting you. “You won’t hurt me. You didn’t even hurt me when you were drugged. You protected me. Granted, it was from nothing, but…” You flash him a smile. He doesn’t return it. “Have you been awake long?” 

He ignores the joke and the question, eyes staring into the middle distance. “I saw…every variation possible of the people I love dying,” he finally says as you unlock the wrist closest to you. He groans quietly as he stretches the arm out. He must be in a lot of pain from having his arms lifted for so long, but he says nothing. “I saw myself killing you. Or I saw someone else hurting you because of me, to get to me. You kept getting hurt and I was always too late to stop it.” He’s breathing hard again. 

You can feel his breath on your face as you lean over him to unlock the other handcuff. 

He catches your wrist and keeps you close, staring up at you. His lashes are long and dark, his blue eyes bright as stars. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away, even in his disheveled state. You still aren’t used to the sight of him. 

“Y/n, do you hear what I’m saying?” he says, voice almost anguished. 

And your brain finally catches up. 

I saw…every variation possible of the people I love dying. I saw myself killing you. Or someone else hurting you because of me, to get to me. 

You suddenly can’t breathe. People I love. 

“Bruce–” All the other words get caught behind his name. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and yet again you aren’t sure what he’s sorry for. “But seeing all of that–I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you without knowing…all of it. The way I feel about you. How badly I–” He shakes his head and presses his lips together. 

You want to pinch yourself. You’re still asleep, right? There’s no way in any universe that Bruce Wayne feels for you like you do for him. 

But he’s including you in the list of people he loves.

You’ve been silent for too long, still hovering over Bruce. His eyes shift away, a wall coming down behind them as he shuts himself off. 

“I just…wanted you to know. That’s all. I won’t mention it again.” There’s a slight pink tint to his cheeks. “It’s okay if you don’t…feel that way about me.” 

“Bruce,” you say again, softer this time. You sit back a little. “I–I’m sorry.” He deflates a little, rubbing one wrist absently. He still isn’t looking at you. “I’m not really good with words, but I want you to know I feel the same way about you.” His gaze snaps to yours. You can feel heat creeping up your neck to settle in your cheeks. “I was so scared last night. I thought–all the other victims we knew about had died and–I couldn’t handle it if you died, too. You are…so important to me.” Your voice catches slightly. 

He reaches for you, calloused hands soft as the touch of a butterfly wing against your cheek. 

“Please tell me this isn’t the drug,” he says after a long moment. 

You grin. “It isn’t. It makes you scared, remember? Are you scared now?” 

He smiles back. The sight of it steals your breath. “I’m terrified.” But his smile only grows wider.

You lean down, very slightly, going slowly so he has time to change his mind. Because it still doesn’t feel real, doesn’t feel possible.

But Bruce stretches his neck up and closes the gap between you. His lips brush yours and you feel a relief so complete you want to melt into the bed. His other hand comes up to join the first and he cradles your face like you’re something valuable, something breakable, something to be cherished. 

As his lips move against yours, your entire body seems to say, Ah, I’ve been waiting for this. 

His mouth parts slightly, an invitation that you quickly take. His hands are still careful against your face, but one of yours fists around his shirt. 

When you pull away, you smile at each other. 

“As much as I want to stay here like this,” you murmur with another kiss pressed quickly to his mouth, “I think we should get Gordon to arrest Dr. Crane as soon as possible.” 

Bruce sighs but nods. “You’re right.” 

“I usually am.” 

He laughs. “And maybe after that’s done with…we can talk more.” 

You can’t help but kiss him again. “Of course. We can talk and kiss.” 

Needless to say, it takes a long time for you and Bruce to get up to contact Gordon. 

[peachesofteal]

Oh sweet, sweet Peach 🥺 I just blew through your Dead Disco writing in a matter of hours and holy fucking shit I think it might seriously be one of my favorite fic series I’ve ever read in my entire fucking life. I am completely, utterly, irredeemably in love with the way you’ve captured their dynamic—I just want to snuggle up in their little world and never leave. I adore the way you’ve written about Darling’s insecurities in such a realistic way because I know if I were in her situation I’d struggle with the same issues. And the way Simon steps up as a dom to take care of his loves both in and out of the bedroom… cue open weeping. He’s perfect. Johhny’s perfect. Darling’s perfect. So perfect I can hardly stand it. And your writing overall is so beautiful; you should be beyond proud of what you’ve created ❤️

One thing I’d love to see if you’re still writing for this series is for Simon and Johnny to figure out what is going on at work that is stressing Darling out so much (maybe a coworker or superior harassing her and threatening her job if she doesn’t give in) and they just ‘casually’ stop by to bring her lunch and catch the coworker in the act and go all overprotective 🤤 God I love me some overprotective Ghost and Johnny!

Anyways, thank you for sharing your creations! You seriously should be so proud ❤️ much much love!

Hi! Thank you so much, this was so incredibly sweet of you. I've loved living in their little world so for you to say you could curl up inside of it too makes me so incredibly happy. I love them so much, sharing them with others who also loves them just turns me into a pile of sap.

Additionally, I was so happy to write this little snippet that takes place after "On a Slow Night", so thank you for the inspiration. I got to dive into Darling's life a little bit and it was so fun.

Ghost x Soap x female reader Takes place after On a Slow Night This is CANON (weird I have to say this now but I dig it) for Dead Disco. Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Protective Simon and Johnny. Possessive Simon and Johnny. Darling doing darling things. Anxiety. Eating and food related issues.

It was well past five in the evening.

It was well past five in the evening, and you were still at work, eyes straining across two monitors, comparing lists and numbers across two screens, estimates and bids and evaluations all jumbled together.

A mess. You were staring at a mess, a mess that you hadn't even begun to unravel, a mess that you had to fix before even thinking about going home for the night, the realization of that fact settling like a stone in the pit of your stomach. It unsettles you, sending unease surging through your veins, making your skin crawl with anxiety.

This was your dream job. So why didn't it feel like a dream?

You knew that answer, of course. It was because your new boss, the promote-from-within, the monster that walked these halls, despised you. She regarded you the same way she regarded a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of her way too expensive heels, with disdain.

Johnny had tried, bless him, to encourage you to go over her head, to say something to her boss, even though you explained you couldn't.

"I'm just an assistant curator. I can't go over her head, her boss barely even knows my name yet." He had argued, tried to push, until Simon stomped his fight out.

"She can't violate the chain of command. You know that."

Besides, you weren't a snitch. You weren't going to behind her back, or above her head, just for her to retaliate against you later. Which she certainly would. You weren't willing to risk it. You were due to be promoted, and had been waiting. For over two years.

Your phone buzzes against the desk, the group chat lighting up your screen. It's the guys, with the usual questions; where are you, when will you be home, what do you want for dinner. It makes your heart ache, a little bit, makes your head spin, thinking about them at home without you, waiting. Standing by. Just as you do for them, all the time. You begin to type out a half hazard text, trying to explain how you're going to be late, again, when a shrill voice grates against your ears.

"Knock knock." She's standing prim and proper right in the doorway of your office, bony fingers folded around a stack of papers. Oh my fucking god, no way. "These need to be scanned and compiled along with your acquisition list from today." The pressure in your skull skyrockets and you fight the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Kelly, I've really got a lot on my plate. Is there a way I can-"

"Are you refusing?" Orange red lipsticked coated lips flex into a feline smile. A sinister smile. A smart one. Fuck.

"N-no. No, I wouldn't."

"Great. tonight then." She drops them in front of you with a thud, eyeing your taupe wool sweater with disgust.

"Okay, tonight." You slump forward in defeat. You wanted to go home. You wanted to curl up on the couch between the guys, and let run you a bath or give you a back rub. All of that... sounded a lot better than all of this.

I'm going to be really late now. You shoot off the text before putting your phone facedown and cradling your head in your hands.

How late? Johnny asks immediately and you grimace.

Have you eaten? Did you finish your lunch? You try not to wince at the direct line of questioning from Simon, who undoubtedly already knows his answer, based on how you were feeling this morning when they tried to feed you breakfast, and how busy you've been at work.

Don't know. Yes. Half of it. You fire back, ignoring the burn of the guilt from the lie, and then put it in your drawer. Less distractions means you'll get home sooner if you can focus and just get it done.

You don't mean to fall asleep at your desk. It's just, the heat kicks on, and the room warms to a very nice temperature, and your eyelids feel so heavy that you suddenly find yourself excusing it a little if you lay your head down for a minute.

It's a mistake. It's the worst mistake, and you know it, you feel the weight of your mistake sharply when there's a crone like voice shrieking near your ear and you're jerking up in a fright, eyes wide in panic.

"-eeping? While you're getting paid? When you're supposed to be working?" She's standing inside your office now, a foot from your desk, face twisted into a macabre mask of indignation.

"I'm sorry." You croak. "Didn't mean to." You palm finds your face and you rub, trying to get with it, and quickly, before she loses her mind. Your head is spinning, dizzy and clouded, and you curse yourself for not actually eating at least half your lunch like you said you did.

"And you think you'll be a curator next year? With this kind of lazy behavior." She scoffs, nose wrinkled, and shame licks against the skin of your jaw while you grind your teeth.

"Kelly, I'm sorry. I'm exhausted and-"

"I don't want to hear your stupid excuses. I should fire you, right now. Sleeping! On the-"

"What the fuck is going on here?" Everything inside you grinds to a halt at the sound of the deep, gritted Manchester accent. Oh, fuck.

Simon's standing just inside the office, Johnny next to him, holding a bag. It's got a Tupperware in it, you can see from here, still fogged up by the warm contents inside. They've brought you dinner. Your heart melts at the sight, and then swiftly hardens and drops like a stone when you realize 1. They're not allowed to be in here after hours and 2. Simon just cussed at your boss. When you don't say anything, still sitting there slack jawed, Johnny prompts you.

"Darling? Is everything alright?" You try to put a thought together, to answer, but Kelly beats you to it, turning on a dime, taking a few steps to where they lurk just inside your office.

"Who are you? You can't be in here after hours." She hisses, and while Johnny sneers at her before looking back to you, Simon's fist visibly clenches.

"Security let us in."

"They don't have the authority to do that, you can't be-" You stand, but the floor somewhat shifts beneath your feet, walls tilting, and your fingers grip the desk. It's enough for Johnny to disregard anything she's saying, pushing past where she stands with her hands on her hips to stand at your side, a steady hand on your elbow.

"Alright love?" The blue eyes search yours and you manage a nod.

"Jus' tired. A bit hungry." He looks back to Simon, who's watching you carefully, before he turns his irritated gaze back to Kelly.

"Did I hear you threatening to fire her?" His voice is cold. It's seeking, lethal, something sharp and refined that you've never heard. Johnny keeps his hand on you, thumb stroking soothing circles into your skin.

"She was asleep."

"Because ya've overworked her, you daft cunt." Johnny snaps, and her eyes widen in shock.

"How dare you! Who do you think you are?" She caws and Simon takes yet another step, this time close enough that she jerks backwards.

"She works outside her contracted hours all the time, and she doesn't complain. At your request." Simon cocks his head. "Sounds like a labor law violation, if ya ask me."

"Aye, it does." Johnny cheerfully agrees, warm palm sliding up and down your spine. Kelly looks between the three of you, something uncertain tugging at the corners of her eyes, before she's shaking her head in protest.

"She volunteers, she-"

"She's ours." Simon snarls it, and Kelly blanches. "And we're not going to allow whatever mistreatment is going on here to continue." Something warm simmers in your stomach, even though your mortified. Ours. She's ours. The words make boulder sized butterflies thrash in your stomach. You're probably going to need to find a new job, but this is kind of worth it. Kelly is sputtering at Simon, who's now standing with his arms crossed, glowering at her from the behind the mask, looking properly terrifying, while Johnny continues to rub your back, warm palm soothing you into a big yawn, one you fail to stifle. One they both see. He dismisses her, with one more promise of a phone call to the labor advisory, or worse, the board of directors. That threat alone is enough to shut her up, scaring her into pressing her back against the wall meekly, while Simon gives Johnny a subtle nod.

"We're leaving." Johnny declares, and Simon nods. He crosses the room to pull your bag from the back of your chair, while Johnny slides your laptop into it's sleeve and grabs your coffee cup. "C'mon darling, let's go home." He coaxes, and you let them lead you from the office, Johnny with a firm hand at your waist, Simon leading the way.

You don't look back at where Kelly stands in the hallway, gobsmacked and speechless.

[redr0sewrites]

Hi Rose! I hope you're still writing for Hazbin because I have a Vox request! I enjoyed your Vox fluff/comfort hcs from a while ago and it made me need more soft!Vox if that's something you're comfortable with writing. Specifically I've been going through a pretty major depressive episode lately (not in a dangerous way, just in the sense that something happened where I feel like I've failed one too many times and it's past the point where I can just pick myself up and try something new), so maybe something with Vox comforting the reader through that? I feel like he might be able to relate given that he's such a perfectionist and clearly doesn't handle rejection well, so I can see him having practical advice and guiding me through concrete solutions, but also I just want him to hug me and let me cry on his shoulder for a long time😭 Thank you!!! I appreciate your writing so much!

🥀A/n: i've had this in my inbox for a WHILE (sorryyyy <\3) so i hope ur feeling better now nonnie!!! i totally get the feeling, and i loved writing this request <33

🥀Cw: fluff, angst w comfort, negative self views, mental health themes

🥀Character(s): Vox x reader

your breath came out in hiccuping gasps as you struggled to maintain any sense of control. you sat hunched over on your bed, shaking uncontrollably as tears stream down your face. it had been another long day, and god, you just felt like a screw up. it seemed no matter how hard you tried, every day always left you with that same feeling of emptiness, just as it had been every other day for the past few months. you were so, so tired of everything, of getting no satisfaction from things you usually enjoyed, and of having to fight just to remain somewhat sane. it was truly and utterly exhausting. you lean back against the headboard, a soft thump accompanying your heads' collision with the sturdy wood. as your tears continue.

the slam of your bedroom door causes you to pause, and you flinch from the sudden illumination of your hunched figure.

"where were you? i called you twice, what-" Vox storms in, hands waving about, only for him to pause at the sight of you. his harsh tone only makes you cry harder, pulling your knees up to your chest.

"i'm- sorry, i-i turned my phone off-" you force out your words, fighting to keep yourself from bursting into tears again, but its no use. your shoulders shake in silent sobs as you cover your face with your hands, embarrassment overcoming you.

"oh, oh its okay, its fine-" Vox struggles with his words. for all of his blustering confidence in public, when it came to genuinely comforting someone, he was clueless.

"i'll be right back, i promise!" he practically shouts, racing out of the door. in the few seconds he's gone, you can't help but spiral deeper. why couldn't you just try harder, be better than this? you're so fucking stupid, god, of course he was angry at you. you don't hear Vox when he returns, and you jump when the mattress dips and a clawed hand begins gently rubbing your back. you sniffle softly, and the only sound in the room is your heavy sobs.

"shh, i brought you some water," Vox murmurs, voice uncharacteristically low. "did someone hurt you? because i swear, if someone even laid a finger in you im going to fucking-"

"no one hurt me, Vox," you swallow hard. "m fine, really, i just- its fine."

Vox is silent for a few more moments, and even though you can't see him as your face is still buried in your hands, you can practically feel his gaze on you.

"was it.. me? did i do something?"

this startles you, and you raise your head to look at him.

"w-what? no, of course not, 'm just- i had a long day, is all. i just feel so... stuck."

you blink at his screen, tears settling on your lashes. he stares back, studying you with a concerned gaze. he doesn't offer any words of encouragement, you know that's not his strong suit anyway. instead, he gently takes both of your hands in his, handing you the glass of water and slowly guiding it to your mouth. he watches as you take a sip before placing it on your night stand, before opening his arms and motioning for you to come closer. you happily oblige, melting into his side and wrapping your arms around his waist. he leans back against the headboard and you stay like that for a while, softly crying into his shoulder as he rubs your back and holds you steady. as your sobs begin to subside, you pull away to look at him again.

"i'm just so.. tired. tired of this, tired of feeling weak and overwhelmed. fuck, i just wish..." you trail off, melting back into his embrace again. Vox is silent for a few moments, contemplating what to say.

"i think your great, y'know that?"

"what..?"

"i think your great, wonderful, and so talented. you're the best partner i could ever ask for, and im so lucky to have you. you know that, right?"

"mhm..?" you hum questioningly, unsure of his objective.

"now, i know i'm not good at this sort of thing, and i know its tough, but i want you to know that, i'm, i'm here, y'know? and if you're ever, like, having a moment like this, you don't need to hide. i'm here, and i understand." Vox waves his hands as he talks, and you reposition to lean against his chest.

"i know, and its okay. 'm lucky to have you too," you mumble, and he chuckles lowly.

"is that so? you're going to give me a complex if you keep this up, baby."

"good. 'cause your the best."

"only for you."

you giggle at that, knowing that its true, and Vox smiles. he'd do anything for that sound, for your happiness. and, as you slowly drift off to sleep, you know that you'll be okay for that exact reason. you may not feel okay now, but you will, because he'll be right there beside you, on both good and bad days.

erm. hello hazbin hotel community. im slinking back like a toxic ex rn...... ANYWAYS !!! HOPE U ENJOYED !!!! its been a hot minute since i wrote for HH in general, esp for vox, so apologies if the characterization is ehhhh. PSLPSLSPSLSPSL SEND IN REQUESTS IVE BEEN DYING RECENTLY MY INBOX IS BONE DRY IT COULD BE FOR THE 2K EVENT OR JUST SOMETHING RANDOMMM (also especially some vox, lucifer, adam, or lute requests plspslsps)