#the mouse probably did dig it

[sweets3rial]

Blinded !

Kinktober Oct 9 !

re4!leon x mercenary!reader

summary: he can't see. all he can do is feel; feel her curves, the warmth of her skin, and her shuddering breaths against the shell of his ear

tags: TW!!: dubcon and mild non-con themes, enemies/lovers trope, bondage, blindfold, sub to dom leon, mentions of past relationship/memories, slight knifeplay, mentions of cuts and blood, re4 setting, yearning, doomed love, teasing, smut, the tiniest bit of fluff, rough sex, oral (f! receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, pussy slapping, cowgirl, creampie, etc.

word count: 5.2k

be sure to check out my kinktober masterlist to see what's coming up in the future ;D!

the reverberating sound of heels clacking surrounded him. slowly and slowly getting closer. his jaw clenched, and his nails were digging into his palm. he was denying his anxiety, his fear, there was no doubt that a woman was walking towards him but he was in a vulnerable state.

he couldn’t see her. a black cloth was placed around his eyes, and he could only see a faint image of her silhouette, but she was just a blur due to the room’s low light.

he struggled against his restraints with a low grunt. handcuffs, no doubt, ones way too tight for his wrists. the metal dug into his skin, making him feel even more restrained. the footsteps stopped before him, and the sudden realization felt like a heavy weight on his shoulders…he recognized that perfume.

you must’ve noticed his realization, and a small scoff left your lips.

“never thought I’d catch the Leon Kennedy like this,” you mocked, placing a hand on your hip as you stared down at him. a sense of pride swelled in your chest. finally, you are the one looking down on him and not the other way around.

“and i never thought we’d meet again, at least not like this,” a small grin appeared at the corner of his lips. he was trying to cover up the millions of thoughts running through his head. why now? why do you appear now of all times? where have you been? why hasn’t he heard from you in months?

a small, bemused scoff left your lips. you stepped forward, dragging your heel behind her. you leaned forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, which caused him to jump. you’re in control; he no longer has this hold over you like he has all these years. you’re triumphant. you win.

years of playing cat and mouse have always ended up one way or another: in bed or with painful scars — both physically and emotionally.

“did you miss me?” you whispered, loud enough so he could hear you but low enough to where no one else could. shivers ran down his spine, and he adjusted his posture, leaning forward so he was beside the shell of your ear. you were warm, and the smell radiating from the sweet spot on your neck was dragging him in, pulling him closer and closer to you without any restraint.

he was helpless, tied up, and blindfolded, but also because you were his weakness. he hated to admit it, but it was true. days and nights he’s spent contemplating leaving his job and giving up on his job to pursue a life with her.

but he knew it could never happen, and it probably won’t ever happen. at the end of the day, passionate nights mean nothing. when the morning comes around, you both have to face the daunting reality. you have duties. duties that drive them against each other more often than you are brought together.

“quit the act and tell me what you want,” he bellowed.

to her, this was no act. did you miss me, Leon? do you feel the same way i do? do you feel the anger? the guilt for being angry and the confusion?

you pursed your lips together, peeling away from him slowly and letting your fingertips drag down his shoulders. you stepped back.

“you know what i want, Leon,” your steps began to circle him. “give me the amber, and both of us can walk away peacefully,”

the sound of a knife being slid from its sheath slowly made its way to his ears. he turned his head, following you as you stepped behind him.

“you know i can’t do that,”

you stopped. directly behind him. then, the feeling of a cold blade was pressed to his neck. his body tensed up as he tried to lean away from the edge of the blade.

that’s when he felt your lips brush up against the shell of his ear, “i don’t want to hurt you,”

further, the knife dug into his skin. he clenched his teeth, keeping a small wince hidden. it stung, but it stung even more because it was her.

“too late for that, isn’t it?” he snapped, and he could feel your tense up as a response.

and it was just the response he wanted. he wanted you to feel that guilt, he wanted you to know how you make him feel.

the nights you’ve left him in a cold bed, alone and vulnerable. the promises you’ve broken. the meaningless words and the endless lies.

you stood up straight, and the knife left his neck, slicing his skin even deeper. a small, surprised wince left his lips as you stepped back.

your fingers found the back of his neck, your nails slowly creeping up into his hair. he fell weak. the feeling was so familiar to him, your fingers tugging at his blonde strands and your nails scratching at his scalp.

he was pathetic. his eyes fluttering shut and chills running through him. a low hum escaped his lips, his head tilting to the side as he both tried to shake you off and lean into you more.

that was the problem. you knew everything. not only his job, where he lived, his name, and life but also just what could make him fold. small and gentle kisses, soft scratches at his scalp, whispers in his ears, and your smile. your damn smile.

if he wasn’t blindfolded, he would probably be in a much worse state than he is now.

“Leon, Leon, Leon,” you sighed, almost disappointed. your fingers traveled back down his neck, hooking the collar of his navy blue t-shirt.

“what do you want me to say?” you waltzed back around him, now standing in front of him. with a heavy sigh, you dropped into a squat, crossing your arms over his lap and leaning your cheek against his thigh.

he was growing hot. god, he could only imagine the look on your face. those fake pouty lips and those sly eyes looking up at him with a pleading and pawing at him like a cat. more like a fox.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you scooted forward a bit more, your hands practically splayed over his crotch. “i’m sorry that i’ve hurt you, but i’ve changed, i promise,”

Leon’s teeth began to nip at his bottom lip, you know what you do to him, and continue to use that to his advantage. his breath hitched as your fingers came up to toy with the belt buckle of his pants.

“i’m a good girl now, i’ve always been your good girl,” you were messing with him; tugging at the strings of his heart and also at the hardening cock in his pants.

you could feel it, pulsing on the purchase of his thigh, filling up with blood with every small touch and sly word.

“that’s the problem with you, Leon,” your tone was quick to change. “you allow it. you allow me to hurt you, you allow me back into your life, you don’t even fight it,”

how can i? he thought. how can i when it’s you? you’re all i’ve wanted. you’re all i need. even if i wanted to turn you away, my heart won’t allow me.

you let your head fall into his lap. it’s so odd. even in a situation like this, you find yourself feeling comforted in Leon’s lap. even though he’s tied up and bleeding from a cut on his neck.

if it was just them in the comfort of his apartment, his hands would card through the locks of your hair and massage your scalp. you would nuzzle into his abdomen and he would chuckle as he buried his nose further into the daily newspaper.

why did things have to end up this way? why couldn’t you walk a different path? maybe in another universe, you and Leon weren’t rivals but rather friends or even lovers. touch

but this isn’t another universe. you were doomed from the moment you met.

“you’re right,” he admitted, “i can’t fight against you because even if i do,” he looked down at her. he could see you faintly through the black fabric of his blindfold, laying helplessly in his lap.

only if this was another one of those passionate nights.

“you’ll come crawling back into my lap anyways,”

an unamused scoff left your lips. he was right. even if he pushed you away, fought against you, and kicked you to the curb. you’d come crawling back, scratching at his door like a stray cat.

and he’d open the door and let you back in again.

and you could be gone for months maybe even years without any contact and he’d still sit on his porch, waiting for your return.

with a sigh, you took the tip of your knife and began to drag it in circles around the imprint of his cock. his femur muscles tensed up and his toes curled inside of his boots.

“you say you hate me and how revolted you feel when you think of me,” taking your thumb, you pressed down onto the tip of his cock, emitting a low groan from his parted lips.

“but i think you’re lying,” you began to draw circles with your finger at the tip of his dick. the friction from his jeans was only adding pleasure along with the pressure of your thumb.

you looked up at him from his lap, eyes wide at the way he was struggling to keep a straight face. his eyebrows were twitching, beads of sweat formed at his hairline and his chest was heaving up and down.

he was keeping his mouth shut, preventing any unwanted moans from slipping out; knowing that it would only feed your drive.

“when i cross your mind, is it really hate that you feel?” your thumb smoothed along his shaft moving closer and closer to the base.

“or does the thought of me make your heart rate peak and your dick swell?” he adjusted his lap, pushing his hips forward into your hand.

“stop,” he grumbled, biting down on his lip even harder. he didn’t want you to stop. he wanted you to take what was hers. he wanted to feel your plump lips wrap around the sticky tip of his cock.

he wanted to feel your warm mouth envelop his dick until tears brimmed in your eyes and you were struggling to breathe.

“tell me, Leon,” your tongue lolled out, kitty licking at his jean-clad cock. he wanted to grab you so bad; pin you down and rip off whatever garments you had on. but he was locked in place.

your saliva was slowly starting to seep through his jeans and his boxers. he could practically feel your tongue slowly licking up at the pre cum dripping from his swollen tip.

“what do you think of when i cross your mind?”

god. when he thinks of you he can’t help but feel the ache in his heart.

images of your prancing around his house in his clothes. your fit so much bigger, falling mid-thigh and draping off your shoulders. every time you reach up he catches a glimpse of your plump ass and the little panties you wear underneath.

he thinks of waking up next to you; you’re propped up on your elbow toying with strands of his blonde hair with your fingers. you’re still naked and you’re smiling down at him, welcoming him with a morning kiss.

he thinks of you spread out beneath him; your skin is wet and sticky with sweat. your fingers are curled in his sheets and you’re burying your head into his pillows — muffling the sweet moans of his name.

he thinks of holding you against him, rocking his hips into yours, and drawing out quiet and sleepy mewls from your plump lips.

then the image of you walking away crosses his mind. you look back at him once and then he doesn’t see you again.

but you’ll never know that. because he’ll never tell you.

and you know that. your question will always remain unanswered but that’s okay.

standing up from your position, you leaned forward until you were face to face. he was still breathing heavily, you could see his eyes moving about curiously from underneath his blindfold.

you reached up, swiping your thumb over his bottom lip. there was a small cut, now scabbed over but still very swollen and new. it was probably from when he fell after you hit him in the back of the head.

“i guess you’ll never answer me, huh?” you whispered, mostly to yourself but you knew that he heard. you grabbed his chin, tilting his head up slightly and he willingly followed your guide.

he was leaning towards you, blindly trying to find your lips. you couldn’t say no, leaning in closer you let your lips connect with his. a soft and slow kiss, one that is rarely shared between you two.

he needed you against him. you were too far. he needed to see you. he needed to touch you. he was deliberately twisting the chains of the handcuffs, hoping that the pressure would cause them to snap.

he was also tugging at the rope that kept his ankles tied to the legs of the chair. he needed to be set free.

not because he wanted to escape, but solely because he wanted to touch you. he could care less about whether you wanted the amber or not.

he knew what you wanted more. and that was him.

he leaned further up into your lips, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip swaying you to lean your head to the side and allow his tongue to push up against yours.

the iron taste on his lips was invading yours, his blood was warm and fresh, staining your lips like the sweet juice of a strawberry.

you moaned into his mouth, crawling into his lap with your knees on the lateral side of his thighs. he groaned at the sudden pressure of your hips on his. he ground his hips up into yours, desperate to feel any kind of friction.

your mouth dropped open into a shaky moan, and you began to grind your hips down to match his pace.

“fuck, you’re wearing that skirt aren’t you?” he groaned into your lips.

“your favorite,” you smirked. only if he could see you in it, just so he could tear it off of you anyway. that tight black skirt that hugged your curves so perfectly and the way your belt would hang loosely on your hips.

fuck, he could see it now. you bit down on his bottom lip, drawing out more blood from his cut. he winced, but it turned him on more than it hurt him. you were consuming him slowly, part of him will always be inside of you, whether it was the small drops of blood coming from his lips or the weight of him in your heart.

“are you wearing my favorite pair?” he asked breathlessly. he was trying to distract you, distract you from the fact his left foot was now free, and the chains of the handcuffs were slowly starting to lock. he just needs one more foot and for this damn chain to break, then he’ll finally be able to touch you.

it’s the one thing he wants the most.

you let out a small chuckle, “what do you think i’m using to blindfold you?”

fuck. so your bare pussy is rubbing up against the bulge in his pants, god. your lips moved from his, across his jaw, down his neck, and stopped at the cut you gave him earlier. you flattened your tongue over the dry blood dripping from his cut.

you nipped at the reopened cut with your teeth, causing him to falter. like a vampire, you sucked greedily at his neck, your hands running up and down his abdomen. he was helpless beneath you, and god, it was bad. he was praying for strength, praying you wouldn’t leave him like this, praying he’d get a taste of the sweetness dripping from your cunt.

finally, his right foot was free, and you were still unaware. he couldn’t help but smile a bit. you were so oblivious, driven by the lust running through your veins, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t as well.

then, snap!

he’s got you.

the sound of the chains breaking sounded through the room, and your breath hitched. at first, you thought it was something from behind the door, but you were mistaken. a strong arm wrapped around your waist and a hand gripped the back of your head.

one minute, you were seated in his lap, and the next, you were being slammed to the ground beneath you.

the air was knocked out of you, and your vision was a blur. it didn’t take you long to realize that Leon had escaped from his restraints. he was hovering above you, one hand keeping your wrists locked together above your head and the other holding your thighs apart.

you whined as your bare wet clit was exposed to the crisp, cold air. you arched up into him with great anticipation. he didn’t need to see to know the ways of your body. he didn’t need to see to know how to devour your sweet pussy or to suck at your pretty clit. he didn’t need to see to know how to fuck you dumb. all he needed was his hands and the cock pulsing in his pants.

“got you,” he heaved, hovering directly above your face.

you watched as the tip of his nose traveled from your chin down your neck, your sternum, your abdomen, all the way until he was in between your thighs. he kept a hold of your wrists, bringing them down from above your head so that they’re rested on your stomach. he was using muscle memory alone to map out where to be and what to do.

oh, how the tables have turned. now he’s in control.

he parted your quivering lips with his two fingers, using his thumb to lift the hood of your clit before his nose came to nudge at it gently. a small whine left your mouth, and your hips bucked up into his mouth.

“Leon,” your tone was both stern and pathetic at the same time. you didn’t know whether you wanted to order him around or beg him. he could feel how needy you were, dripping all over his fingers and legs quivering.

“you want to know what I think about, huh?” he asked, flattening his tongue over your slit and licking up to your clit. a deep moan left your mouth, and your back left the ground, arching into the air. “i think about you like this,”

his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking hard. you choked on your breath, your nails digging into your palms and the heel of your shoe digging into his back. his lips left your clit with a pop, “all spread out for me, quivering and struggling against my grip,” he continued.

his fingers teased the ring of muscle around your hole, and he could feel the way you were clenching around absolutely nothing. he spat onto your cunt, causing you to jump, that’s when he let his middle finger sink into your aching cunt.

a shiver ran through you, and your mouth dropped open into a gasp. your gummy walls clenched around him, sucking him in and begging for more. “i think about this pretty pussy,” he curled his finger upwards into that spongy spot that had you trembling.

“how tight it is, how wet it gets for me, how it tastes, and how it reacts to my touch,” his tongue flicked over your clit repeatedly as he sunk another finger into you.

“Leon!” you whined, digging your heel further into his back, and it hurt like hell.

“I think of your voice and how beautiful it is and how i yearn for you to say my name,” he was breathless now, focused completely on your pleasure and his. endless moans slipped past your lips; now you were completely enveloped by the pleasure and the passion, the lust and the heat.

wet squelches of your cunt sounded throughout the room, along with his heavy breaths and your moans. you were dripping on the floor beneath you, dripping all over his fingers and palms. it’s been so long since you were underneath him like this, and he was between your thighs.

it was your favorite sight. his hair was all messy, sticking to your inner thighs. even with your black panties tied around his blue eyes, but you knew you were staring at you. his cheeks were flushed red, and his eyebrows were turned upwards. this was pleasurable for him, too.

he loved nothing more than being suffocated by your plump thighs and sucking the sweet essence that dripped from your cunt.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” he breathed out. his fingers kept up at the same pace, curling up against your sweet spot repeatedly. it was driving you mad, every moan you let out and every breath you took in only made you dizzier and dizzier. every curl of his fingers and every flick of his tongue was driving you closer to the edge.

“i’m close,” you whined, writhing underneath him and clamping your legs around his head. he groaned into your clit, the vibration sending you off the edge. you clamped around his fingers, the muscles of your thighs spasming as you inhaled a sharp breath.

you came, and you came hard. stars danced behind your eyes, and your mind went blank. it was like a shock ran through you, all your muscles tensed and then relaxed. he gave your clit one last kiss, then another to your abdomen, then up, up, up until he reached your chin.

you could smell your cunt on his lips, and he gave you a taste by placing a wet kiss on your lips. a wet kiss that turned into a passionate and deep makeout, with tongue and clacking teeth. one hand was running up and down your side; he was making a mental image of your figure. that way, it’s forever permeated into his mind.

he was making a picture of you in his head: the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, the dips of your ribs, your plump breasts, and your stomach. your hands were tugging at the buckle of his belt; you were hungry and desperate.

you needed to feel him inside of you and the drag of his tip as he pounded in and out of you. his hand left your hip, and he reached to help you take his belt off. you let him do the work, focusing on exploring his body with your hands.

the rippling muscles of his back and shoulders, the warmth that radiated off his skin, the smell of his fading cologne, and the gunpowder on his clothes. his lips were so warm, tainted with the taste of your cunt.

it was so sloppy, so rushed. no words were needed to express the passion and the deep need for each other.

you helped him, taking your feet to push his pants down his hips. he groaned as he was finally able to free his cock, his tip was a deep red-purple, almost like a bruise. thick veins ran up the side, filled with warm blood. his balls, heavy and taut.

“Leon, hurry,” you were caught off guard when his hand suddenly came down and slapped at your clit, hard. you jumped, an unsolicited moan slipping past your swollen pink lips. he did it again and again, getting rougher each time.

“don’t,” slap! “fucking,” slap! “rush me!” SLAP!

“Leon!” you exclaimed.

you arched your back, feeling another orgasm inching closer. he grabbed the base of his cock again, bringing his tip down towards your clit. he slapped his heavy cock against your clit; it was so different this time because now you could feel the warmth of his pre-dripping onto you.

“fuck,” he cursed, pressing his tip into you, and as his tip stretched past that ring of muscle, you found yourself scratching down his arms and struggling to breathe. he was only feeding you his tip, thrusting it in, then out and in again. each time, it left you with a wet pop!

“look how patient you’re being,” he thrust in only a few more inches, teasing you but also himself. “see what you get when you’re patient,”

“fuck you,” you seethed, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping the collar of his shirt, you flipped the two of you over; now he was on his back, and you were on top. you sunk onto the rest of his length, the sudden intrusion caused both of you to gasp.

your hips stilled, taking time to adjust, and his hands came to grip your thighs with a vice grip. your toes curled inside your heels, your skirt now resting around your hips, and your shirt under your bust. one of your hands rested on his chest while the other gripped at his jaw.

“you just don’t ever shut up, do you?” you spat, slowly beginning to rock your hips. you would laugh if you could see the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head. you were so fucking tight, so warm and wet, but made perfectly for him.

one of his hands reached for your hip, guiding you up and down the length of his cock.

“you piss me off,” your voice grew weak towards the end as his tip brushed up against your cervix.

“says the one who’s taking my dick so greedily,” his hips snapped up into yours, giving you a taste of what he could give you, and it was good. a loud moan lolled off your tongue. your hips are faltering, and your hips are bucking. he let out a breathless chuckle, “can’t even ride me anymore, you that eager, baby?”

he planted his feet onto the ground, gripping your hips, and thrust up into you hard. you slapped your hand over your mouth, preventing any other moans from slipping out, but even that failed. every thrust was like a ball of fire erupting inside of you; heat surged through every vein of your body, and you could feel it simmering down in your core.

“fuck, Leon,” you cried out.

you were a complete mess, digging your nails into his chest and crying like a pathetic bitch. it was so good, the pulsing of his cock, the drags of his swollen tip, and the way he hit your g-spot repeatedly with no fail. he was making a complete mess out of you, and you were letting him.

his balls slapped up against your ass, wet and heavy, eliciting the most lewd sounds.

“take it, baby, take it,”

you collapsed on top of him, letting him cage you against him as he continued to thrust into you. you sobbed into the crook of his neck, your knees and legs completely sore. his eyebrows knitted together as he struggled to keep his composure.

a ring of your juices mixed formed around the base of his cock and stuck to the tuft of dark brown hair at his abdomen. wet plats! and squelches were heard all around you, and you were completely blind to the fact that anyone could hear you.

“oh my god, take it,” he breathed out. you were reaching your second orgasm quickly, soaking his shirt with tears of bliss and drool, and he could tell from the way your walls were clamping down on the girth of his cock that you were close.

“want it inside, please! cum inside me, please,” you begged. he shut you up by grabbing a chunk of your hair and slamming his lips onto yours. you continued to moan and cry on his lips, struggling to kiss him back.

your mouth dropped open into a gasp as the tightness in your abdomen snapped like a rubber band. your thighs clamped on either side of his hips, and your walls clenched. you cried out his name as you came all over his cock, and he let out a deep grunt as he buried himself deep inside of you.

his fingertips dug into your back as he emptied his load inside of you, hot seed flooding your canal. you shivered at the feeling, wanting to crawl away from the overstimulation, but you kept yourself held down. he rolled his hips up, fucking his thick load into you deeper and deeper.

you both let out a deep breath, relaxing into each other and soaking in the bliss. he ran his hand up and down your back soothingly. his other was massaging at your scalp, a silent apology for pulling your hair earlier.

you sat up on his lap, his half-hard cock still sheathed deep inside of you. taking your thumb, you slipped it under his blindfold to slowly reveal him to the light. he squinted against the bright light, blinking rapidly to adjust to his surroundings.

he looked up at you. your hair a mess, your clothes wrinkled and dirty. your lips were swollen, and you were out of breath. you swiped your thumb over his bottom lip again, ogling the deep cut you gave him, both on his lip and his neck.

“did it hurt?” you asked quietly, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

he hummed into your lips and shook his head, “it’s fine,”

you pulled away, swiping away the dust beneath his eye and on his cheekbone. there you were, his sweet girl. so caring, so gentle. he knows deep down inside you don’t want to hurt him. you could’ve easily tortured him to answer, stabbed him in his thigh, and pulled out his teeth until he was rendered helpless.

but instead, you use your libido and sex appeal, you kiss him gently and clean his dirty face. this was the true torture, knowing that moments like these only last for a short while before you have to go back to hating each other again.

you stood up from his lap, his cock leaving you with a pop. as you stood up, you continued to leer down at him.

he rested his head back against the concrete before resolving to stand up as well.

“you knew i didn’t have it, didn’t you?” he groaned, tucking his dick back into his pants. you smiled to yourself, tugging your skirt back down your hips and dusting off the dust on your clothes.

it was obvious he didn’t have the amber, it wasn’t in his gear or any of his pockets when you searched him. you knew he didn’t have it from the start. you just needed an excuse to get him underneath you or on top of you.

before he could zip up his pants, you threw something at him. his quick reflexes allowed him to catch it before it dropped. when he opened his fist, he couldn’t help but smile a bit. your crinkled panties.

“expect me when you get home, Kennedy,” you smirked back at him, “i’m coming to take back what’s mine,”

he’ll never know if you meant your panties … or him.

divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest)

a/n: i apologize, i scheduled for this to post at 10:59 PM and i was wondering like ummm why am i not getting any notifs...turns out i scheduled it to post at 01:59AM .... so sorry guy :3! but i hope you enjoy this one :D!

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[ameliathornromance]

“My darling lady,” the familiar rumble sent the stack of coins you had been very, very carefully stacking tumbling down.

You sighed, watching all your efforts slide down and away to become one with the ocean of coins surrounding you.

Standing from the ledge you sat on, you crossed your arms as your Dragon Boyfriend rounded the corner of the vaults and beamed at you. “I’ve brought you something.”

“Again?” You sighed, exasperated.

It’s not that you hated that your Dragon brought you things. It was wonderful and you appreciated every gift he got you, but the lengths he went to sometimes alarmed you.

One time, he came back with a jaw full of gems and jewels worthy only of Royalty and nobles. He’d brought them back just for you to look at, like a cat bringing in a mouse. While they were amazing and you appreciated them dearly… it wasn’t worth gaining your approval.

Although the gesture was nice, he also returned with injuries of his conquest. You could see it in the way he moved, gingerly setting himself down on the bed of gold, wincing slightly as he had adjusted himself to become more comfortable.

His whole under belly had been stained with blood, his wings had little cuts and bruises on them, even an arrow stuck out from under his jaw.

It worried you every time he flew out of the vault. You weren’t worth the trouble for all of these amazing things. All you needed was his love and company and yet he still insisted on bringing you all the riches in the world… as if he didn’t have enough of it already.

This time, clutched between his jaws, he held a small sack… that seemed to be wriggling.

“What’s with that face?” He asked you, gently placing the sack down with the greatest care. “You don’t want to see them?”

“’Them’?” You frowned. The way your Dragon said it made it sound like there was something living he’d brought you.

The Dragon gently nudged the sack towards you using his snout.

Wordlessly, you rushed over to the sack and undid it’s top. The cloth splayed out and revealed- “Kittens!”

All disapproval vanished from you the moment you laid eyes on the tiny balls of fluff that mewed and meowed at you. The three small cats clambered over the cloth and onto your lap.

Each one was a different colour, ginger, black and white. “How did you get these poor things? Don’t tell me you flew with them! They must’ve been terrified!” You pulled them up to your chest, desperately trying to hold onto the three of them.

A proud puff escaped the Dragons nostrils at your approval. He bent his head down towards you. “They were given to me by a Witch whose cat had just had them. She said she didn’t have the space to take care of them and thought you might like them.”

“And no one saw you, did they?” You gave him a warning look as the ginger kitten decided to climb around your neck, tiny claws digging into your skin.

“No, of course not darling.” He leaned down to you, allowing you to place your forehead against his snout. “the Witch lived far out from any kind of village, as Witches tend to do.”

After a moment, you broke apart from your Dragon boyfriend and looked down at the kittens in your arms. The black and white one squirmed in your grip, desperate for their freedom, while the ginger one had decided to make that his sleeping spot and now dozed lazily.

What had you done to deserve this? To receive all of these beautiful things? What made you so worthy? There were probably hundreds of more people in the world who needed this more than you did.

“… You really don’t have to keep bringing me these things, you know.” You said after a moment.

“But I want to,” your Dragon rested on his stomach, head laid down on top of the sea of gold as he watched you try and keep a hold of your gifts. “You are one of my greatest treasures and a treasure deserves treasure of it’s own.”

“Now you’re objectifying me.” You teased, the black kitten wriggling free of your grip, rushing over to a red ruby that sat on the edge of your seat and sniffed it with intrigue.

Your Dragon gave a huff, “that’s not what I meant.” He was silent for a moment as you finally let go of the white kitten who went to go and join her brother sniffing the gemstone.

“Do you not believe that you are a treasure?” He asked.

“Well it’s not like I’ve done anything worthy of being considered a treasure.” You said, bitterly. “Sacrifices to dragons aren’t even considered special if they’re being thrown away by their people.”

Silence fell over the pair of you again. The two kittens had now realised that they could see their own reflection in the gem – but not register that it was themselves reflected back – and had now become crablike as their fur puffed and they swiped at the gem.

“Do you think,” your Dragon growled, “that these animals are any less prized because they were brought here just like you were?”

You whipped your head around to face him. “Sorry?”

“I took them because a witch wanted to get rid of them and I brought them to you, who fell in love with them at first sight.” His amber eyes pierced through you, like he was desperate to try and get you to understand. “Have they done anything worthy to deserve your love?”

“Well, no, not necessarily-”

“So why do you believe that you are any less deserving of all these things?” The Dragon questioned. “Yes, even though you were brought to my vaults as a sacrifice, someone who wasn’t considered to be that special other than to be a meal… but have you done anything worthy of this other than being the object of my affections? Just like these kittens here?” He pointed a claw at the – in comparison – miniscule creatures.

You opened your mouth to protest, to find some kind of objection in his logic. But Dragons are wise old creatures, there was no faulting them when they had a point.

Face burning, you looked away from him earning a chuckle from the Dragon chuckled. “Nobody in this world should feel as though they are undeserving of everything. People may have told you that you aren’t, that you are nothing more than a means to appease me, but that isn’t true.” He rose his head and placed his jaw on your lap, angled so he looked up at you. “You deserve all this and more. I intend to give it all to you.”

You pursed your lips, “does this also mean that you’ll also be more careful when you fly out?”

“Of course, I always am. I want to make sure I come home to you.” The Dragon gave a dismissive snort, “darling, humans know better than to try and actually kill me. All those injuries before were just a result of a… misunderstanding.”

At that, you raised an eyebrow and returned your gaze to him.

Your Dragon boyfriend caved, “okay, perhaps not a misunderstanding, but it isn’t my fault that they wouldn’t give me all their finest clothes.”

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[gremlin-girly]

Double Crochet

Bob Reynolds x gn!reader

Not beta'd and I don't give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: just fluff, cuddling, mentions of a first kiss

Summary: After bumping into you at the store, you teach Bob how to crochet.

word count: 1.3k

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Bob Reynolds Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Pick Your Fic

Double knit. Chenille. Alpine.

Wool. Wool. Wool.

Too many choices, too many projects, too little time. You're stood staring at the wall of Wool trying to remember what you actually went to the store for. Was it wool? Probably not. You already had too much in your room at the tower that you were surprised you didn't have wool coming out of your ears. What started as an innocent hobby had become your hoard - a dragon's next of fluffy comfort you had yet to spin into something worthwhile.

How many granny squares did you need for a jumper? What about that pattern you started two months ago?

You grimace to yourself. No. You didn't need more.

...but then again.

Your fingers brush the baby-soft chenille thoughtfully. Something could be made from this. Easily. It's a beige - easily manipulated into an animal of some kind. Probably. Or there's an electric blue that could be a potential... thing.

"Hey, Y/N."

You almost launch the ball of wool you're holding at Bob out of fright. He had a nasty habit of appearing out of thin air, and you weren't sure if it was a by-product of the shadowy Void or his quiet mouse-like nature.

Mouse.

"Hey, Bob." You try to sound cheery but your brain is busy trying to remember if you have any patterns for mice plushies. "Wasn't expecting to bump into you here."

"I just wanted some snacks." He jingles his crisps in his hands and eyes the wool your cradling curiously. "You knit?"

"Oh, uh, no I crochet." You wiggle the wool between your hands. "I was meant to come in here for something else and got distracted."

"You crochet? That's so cool!" Bob's face lights up with the sweetest, infectious smile that has you melting to the floor like ice cream on a hot day. "What do you make? Could... Could you... show... me?"

His voice tapers with his usual shy, self-consciousness and you can't find it in your heart to tell him no.

"I don't have any pictures of my recent stuff." You half admit, not wanting to give away the fact you haven't picked up a hook in months. "But when we get back to the tower I can show you?"

"Sure!"

Having Bob look upon your creations felt strangely intimate. He handled each one like it was made of glass, cooing and gushing over your plushies and patterns on granny squares.

"They're so cute. How do you do it?" He looks impressed and intrigued behind his smile; it's genuine interest in your hobby and it makes you giddy.

"Um, well you can find patterns and tutorials online." You say, digging your toes into your rug and twisting your ankle shyly. You were a hair's breadth away from blushing and twirling your hair like a cartoon bunny.

"Could you teach me?" His blue eyes are irritatingly round sweet and you find yourself struggling to say no. You don't even want to think about the kicked-puppy look he would shoot you with if you turned him down.

Thus, you were resigned to nod your head and gulp out a: "Sure."

Bob is surprisingly quick to learn the basics. You sit close to him and run through basic stitches, demonstrating them and praising him when it finally clicks for him. It was worth every moment spent to see his tongue poke out in concentration when he follows your instructions and his face light up with joy when he successfully completed a stitch. Over the course of two days, you're practically joined at the hip, chatting and crocheting side by side but when a new mission demands a few days of your time you offer Bob free reign of your wool stash.

You help him pick out some patterns from your archive to help him practice and keep him busy while you're away and urge him to keep you updated on his progress and to ask any questions he might have. Not that any come - Bob almost ignores all of your texts and you can't help but feel a little affronted; like you'd done something wrong somehow.

Downtime during your mission is spent crocheting your plushie mouse. You'd decided when you started teaching Bob to crochet you would make it for him as a gift, doubly so now that you thought you'd upset him somehow.

The final touches were done minutes before the quinjet touched down on the roof and you were already speeding off and ignoring Bucky's summons for a debrief so you could find Bob, give him your gift and apologise for upsetting him somehow.

Entering through the doors and turning your first corner, you slam right into Bob, making your search rather short.

"Bob!"

"Y/N!"

You both go quiet, smiling sheepishly, and you see he's got his arms behind his back. You hold up your mouse plushie, feeling your cheeks grow warm and you can't quite meet his eyes.

"I made this for you. I'm sorry if I upset you recently, what ever I did I-"

"You didn't upset me!" He cuts you off, pulling a plushie of his own from behind his back. It's a little wonky, the eyes don't match up and there's a few holes from missed stitches but...

It's the cutest damn bunny you've ever seen.

"I was just focused on making you this... abomination." He chuckles slightly, holding the bunny in his hands like it's a cursed object and your heart has a pitter patter to rival an excited heavy metal drummer.

"I love him!" You squeal, making Bob look up.

"Really?"

"Yes!" You hold out your mouse to swap him for the bunny and Bob takes it with a grin, running his fingers over the soft wool.

"I'm going to call him Fred." You announce, holding the bunny comically high over your head like he was Simba.

"Fred?" Bob's nose scrunches in disbelief despite his smiling. "What should I call mine?"

"You can rename yours, if you want... I've been calling him Bob Junior for a while." You smile sheepishly as Bob blinks at you.

"Junior? After me?"

"Duh after you." You roll your eyes playfully but you chest feels tighter than before. "I was making him for you and it just kinda stuck."

Bob's cheeks are bright red now, and he brings the gift you made closer to his chest. "No that's... No, I like it too."

Later that night (after Bucky finally caught you and dragged you back for a debrief) whilst watching a movie in your room, you and Bob placed your double-crochet creations next to eachother on the bedside table.

"They look perfect together." You say cosying up under your comforter. Bob nods but says nothing so you continue unperturbed. "They look like they're holding hands too!"

You're pulled back suddenly into a firm chest and let out a small squeak. Bob immediately apologises when you look up and looks like he's about to combust on the spot.

"Sorry! I - erm..." He gives you a sheepish look. "They look like they're cuddling and I thought that we..."

He swallows thickly and his eyes flit around your room nervously. That pitter patter in your heart returns and you smile, sidling up closer to him instead. Bob stiffens then relaxes, letting his arm drape around you - even if he is still shaking like a chihuahua.

"If you wanted life to imitate art, you should have just said so." You tease softly, laying your head on the space inbetween his neck and shoulder.

That night marks the beginning of many more in his arms, sometimes crocheting, sometimes watching a movie, always chatting. What you and Bob have builds slowly, and whilst you ruin your first kiss by covering the eyes of your plushies, he doesn't seem to care. Your love took practice and even though it may be a little misshapen like Fred, it was still beautiful.

End

A/N: if you haven't seen this post, @buckyys-babydoll and I are trying to boost engagement across fics in the writing community. If you liked this fic, please reblog - you dont have to leave a comment. You can leave a reaction image, gif or emoji(s)!

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Taglist - add yourself here

@looking1016 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @peaches1958 @purplefluffycows @ryubyy @steviebbboi @leeemabean @brianochka

[vampyrixdarling]

please hear me OOOUUUTTTT ON JASON X READER X JOHN DOE (forsaken) 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭⁉️ they're literally my favourite rarepair n I js wanna wrap them up into a burrito lather them in butter and put them on the streets so the birds get them so badly bro

anyway.... dating and or cooking hcs please.... gulp;!!!

— 「𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑲𝑵𝑶𝑾 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑫𝑶 𝑻𝑶 𝑮𝑼𝒀𝑺 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑼𝑺 𝑰𝑵 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑶𝑵」

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST

Poly!Jason Voorhees, John Doe x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Blood, murder (described), deer murder (heavily implied), Jason lacks a shower, they are actually insane but they’re sweethearts, possessiveness/jealousy, swearing

Note: I actually.. like, forgot to specify that I didn’t write for killers!! But I tried for you! So sorry if this is out of character, my friends and I lowkey had to go on a deep dive to make this as accurate as possible. But after looking at their wikis I AM TOTALLY HEARING YOU OUT!!!

Word count: 2585

❝𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩? 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯!❞

DATING HEADCANONS

❥ At first, the two did try to kill you. It was on sight. But inevitably they would begin to fall for you, albeit the Spectre trying to interfere with their feelings.

⤷ Machete gripped tightly in his hand, Jason wouldn’t hesitate. He enjoyed the game of cat-and-mouse that you so easily entertained. Those desperate eyes, and those pleads for your life. With the voice of his late mother guiding him, he wasted no time in digging the blade deep into your neck. The blood drained out in a thick wave, and Jason would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t find at least a little satisfaction in that. You had it coming, after all. He didn’t think you were any different from any of his other victims. But one day, something changed. He didn’t know what. It felt so… unfamiliar. He felt conflicted. On one hand, his lust for blood was still very present and extremely difficult to control. On the other hand, you were so gentle and caring to your other survivors. It reminded him of the way he wished to be treated.

⤷ John Doe felt similarly about you. He didn’t care about you at all. You were just another survivor for him to torment and slaughter. But he couldn’t shake the vague reminder of his late wife whenever he saw you. Your smile, your gentle nature, your . It reminded him of Jane. He hated that. He really, really hated that. He had never thought he’d love another like he loved Jane, yet here you are. You two were different in many ways, but the similarities were still there. He wouldn’t stop killing you, not yet, but he would be a little more hesitant while doing so. He’d take in your terrified expression, the way you’d shake in fear, the corrupt code around you, damaging you more by the second. And for the first time since he got forsaken, he felt… an emotion he couldn’t quite describe. Sadness? Guilt? Irritation? He couldn’t tell. But underneath all of those lay a very familiar feeling in his cold chest.

❥ Jason and John Doe were pretty okay with each other prior to the polyamory. They didn’t have any big issues, though they did find it a bit odd in the beginning of the relationship, due to neither of them having experience. Jason didn’t even know it was a thing. But once you three got the hang of things, it was smooth from there.

❥ Considering they are both mute, communication is a little tough. But you three manage to make it work. Body language and grunts are all you can go off of, mostly. Jason could speak if he wanted to, it would just hurt a lot due to him not speaking since he was a child. He still has his heavy accent, so even if he did speak, you’d probably have trouble understanding him.

⤷ He also likes to write letters for you. His spelling, grammar and handwriting are a little terrible, but you can’t blame him. It’s the thought that counts, and they’re always decorated beautifully.

⤷ Like Jason, John Doe would also try to communicate in letters. He has one reliable arm, and he’d make good use of it. His handwriting isn’t too terrible. His spelling and grammar are good, you can understand him well. His favourite letters to write to you are those that describe how deeply he loves you.

❥ Jason stinks terribly. Sorry not sorry. He doesn’t actually have a fear of water, despite drowning, he just dislikes it. He hates large bodies of water, like pools or a lake. It doesn’t help that he actually cannot swim, and isn’t too fond of the idea of trying. He’s mildly okay with showers, he just doesn’t take them often. You and John occasionally have to make him. It’s a bit hard forcing a 6’5, 230 pound maniac into a shower, though.

❥ Surprisingly, these two are actually massive sweethearts. Discussing ideal dates, giving you handmade gifts, even just cuddling. They’d give you the world if they could.

⤷ Jason’s ideal date would just be enjoying nature with you. He’s always been surrounded by it, and he finds it quite peaceful. He would enjoy taking you two on long walks in the forest, sitting with you two by lakes holding your hands, maybe even having a picnic as well. Hell, John wouldn’t mind grilling. If it’s a campfire, you and Jason could make s’mores. He’s never tried any before, and he seems intrigued. He’ll even take you sightseeing.

⤷ John’s ideal date would be just a nice dinner at home. He’s a sucker for domestic intimacy. A fancy tablecloth decorating the table, plates, cups and cutlery arranged neatly, and lit candles. Whether they’re scented or unscented is entirely up to you. He doesn’t mind any kind of food, though he dislikes takeout. In this context, I’d say he prefers super fancy dishes, given that it’s a date. If none of you feel like cooking, he’d settle for spaghetti with sauce and maybe a few sides.

❥ Jason likes to give you woodcarvings he made himself. He’ll let you feed the animals of the forest. John would give you bouquets and love letters. Well, those are the tamest things the two can give you.

❥ John Doe is a sweetheart as well. He thinks you two are the loves of his life. He’s a devoted boyfriend, you wouldn’t be surprised if he worshipped the very ground you two walked on. He’s a fan of cuddling, despite the fact that it’s very hard for you three to do so. The one good thing about meeting in the forsaken dimension? He’s never going to forget you.

❥ The two like to work together to provide you with breakfast in bed. They’d even make coffee for the three of you, yours just how you like it— or your special kind of tea if you dislike coffee.

❥ Cuddling with you three is.. hard. John Doe can’t lay a hand on you (literally) without causing you unbearable pain. He wants to cuddle you, he does. He wants to know how it feels to hold your hands, cup your cheeks and kiss all over your face, run his hands through your hair… but he can’t. He will never be able to. You’ve both seen the damage it can do, and between the three of you, John would rather die than ever hurt you. He treats you like you’re extremely fragile. He isn’t wrong, though. He’s smart, he knows how strong he is. He understands how easy it would be for him to kill you. It wouldn’t even take much. And the thought of that alone makes him uneasy.

⤷ Instead, Jason would be in the middle when you three cuddle. Being touch starved, Jason is fine with this arrangement. With John on one side, and you on the other, you two are like a sandwich. A sandwich welcomed by Jason.

⤷ John is a blanket hog. Sorry not sorry.

❥ In rounds, your boyfriends would help you the best they could. Jason would tend to leave you for Last Man Standing, always sparing you. While you wait for the timer to end, you two would sit together in silence. You’d pick tiny flowers, smiling and offering them to him. That gesture alone would make Jason’s heart melt. He’s never been more thankful for his mothers approval of you. While he’s hunting for your fellow survivors, he’d subtly point you towards generators or supplies he found around the way. He’ll abandon you, gesturing for you to stay in a safe spot he found and not to look; to cover your ears if you heard any screaming. The last thing he wants is for his darling to see or hear any of it.

⤷ John Doe would do the same thing, but differently. He’d lead you like Jason would, but he’d be a bit more smart about it. He wouldn’t kill you, but he would give you a little chase, to make you two seem less suspicious. With how terrifying this man is, your screams are genuine, but inside you know John would never hurt you. He’d chase you towards the general direction of a generator, but not to it. He’d feel awful if you accidentally got yourself hurt in his trail, and he’d be sure to make it up to you next time he had the chance.

❥ John Doe and Jason can actually get really possessive. Don’t get me wrong; they trust you and know fully well that you won’t cheat on them, but they cannot help it. They love you to death and think you’re absolutely perfect, so who wouldn’t fall for you? You’d probably have to convince them not to slaughter the person, because they’re pretty close to doing so. They have their eyes on you at all times, like a predator to its prey. It’s their job to keep you safe, and they take it very, very seriously. They are not the kind of people to be fucked with, because it won’t end well for the person.

❥ Jason is not shy about murdering those around you. He’s a psychopathic serial killer, what would you expect? If someone looks at you the wrong way? Dead. If someone insults you or threatens you? A fate worse than death. If someone makes you uncomfortable? It’s on sight. Same could be said about Corrupted John Doe, neither of them play around. They aren’t scared to get a little bloody, it’s what they do.

❥ John Doe’s love language is Acts of Service. He loves being useful to you two. He cannot touch you, so serving you in other ways seems like the next best thing. He’d cook for you, clean for you, remind you to take your medication if you have any, listen to you rant or enthuse about whatever you desire, the list goes on. He’ll give you flowers— the ones he knows are your favourites because he memorized everything about you. Just pray they aren’t infected with the same corrupt code, or it’s going to hurt like hell.

⤷ Jason’s love language is also Acts of Service. He feels he’s obligated to be at your service at all times, since he’s your boyfriend. It’s the least he could do, after all. You and John love him unconditionally, and that alone is enough to keep Jason determined. He follows orders to a T. And even though you can’t see it, behind that mask is a smile that slips with every ounce of praise you give him. He’s gentle with you. Delicate. Him and John cannot communicate verbally, so they make up for it in their shared languages of Quality Time and Acts of Service.

❥ John Doe loves brushing your hair while Jason styles it. Assuming you have long hair, Jason’s go-to would be twintails. He’s very pleased with his work, despite how basic it was. His second favourite would be braiding it, with the voice of his mother guiding him. You and John would wonder how he did it so well.

❥ Jason rarely takes off his mask. Some could argue he never does. But he does it with you three. It’s an act of pure intimacy that leaves the slasher in a vulnerable state. Seeing his face without the mask would only happen when he’s fully comfortable, probably not for years. He’s deeply insecure about his deformed face, and the fact that he’s even taking it off in the first place just confirms how much he trusts the two of you. His fears of you two recoiling in disgust or fear quickly die out as you and John are fully accepting. You two don’t think he’s ugly or disgusting like the other kids did. You two love him regardless, and if he’d allow it, you’d kiss his face over and over again.

—————————————————————————

COOKING HEADCANONS:

❥ I can see both John Doe and Jason taking the lead when it comes to who cooks. On one hand, John Doe is an expert at grilling. On the other hand, Jason isn’t too terrible in the kitchen.

❥ John Doe can cook, though he needs assistance from time-to-time, due to his heavily corrupted arm. It weighs a ton, and it’s super inconvenient for him. So when he needs two hands, you and Jason are ready to lend a hand. Quite literally.

❥ John can cook a variety of things if he wanted to, from pancakes for you and Jason to deer meat Jason got straight from farms that he butchered himself. He can’t cook anything super fancy, but he does put in the effort.

⤷ If you’re craving burgers one day, Jason comes home bloody. Not an uncommon occurrence, though you’d scold him later for the trail of blood he’d leave on the floor. Jason does not know manners. He’d come home with meat so fresh the blood was still dripping.

⤷ John Doe cracks a smile and takes the bag from him without a word, grabbing a knife and making his way to your garage. Jason follows, not far behind. They work together when butchering, and John grills the meat. They’re the best burgers you’ve had.

❥ Jason really enjoys baking. It would be a nice activity for the two of you, and you’d surprise John with the desserts. What you’d make would vary. If it was a special occasion, you’d help him make either a cake or cupcakes. Cookies would be a frequent treat as well. On the topic of cookies, I think Jason would like peanut butter cookies. Maybe throw some chocolate chips in the dough, he doesn’t care. John Doe isn’t really picky, but he prefers pancakes. As to what kind? Any, as long as it isn’t too sweet.

❥ John could bake if he wanted to, and has helped Jason on a number of occasions, he just prefers to cook. Jason could cook a decent meal, but he tends to burn stuff sometimes. He’s pretty good at cooking over a fire, though. You three would make campfires occasionally. I think Jason would remember a few recipes from his mother.

❥ On the topic of John Doe, it’s canon that he’s an expert when it comes to grilling. I like to think he gives spices to Jason that he thinks will taste good in said meat. Jason would take his advice, eyeballing how much to add while he mixed it with his hand. John would have volunteered, especially since he doesn’t like how Jason doesn’t wear gloves (despite washing his hands), but he’d corrupt the food. Literally. So he sticks to grilling said meat.

❥ Jason washes the dishes, John cooks, and you help out with anything the two need. If Jason needs help? You’ll dry or rinse the dishes while he washes. If John needs help? You’ll pass him what he needs, stir for him, and do anything he needs that he can’t do with one hand. Speaking of, he’s actually not that bad at cracking an egg with one hand. But you refuse to let him, insisting on cracking it yourself so he doesn’t make a mess and waste a perfectly good egg.

❥ John Doe dislikes takeout. Jason is indifferent, but does prefer actual food.

❥ The two like to work together to provide you with breakfast in bed. They’d even make coffee for the three of you, yours just how you like it— or your special kind of tea if you dislike coffee. Bacon, eggs and pancakes are a common breakfast between you three. They’d eat with you as well.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Their Thief

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader x Jay Halstead

Jay and Mouse can't find their missing clothes until they realize they're sharing a bed with their thief @desimarie12

It started small. First Mouse couldn’t locate the new pack of socks he’d bought the week before. After going through the house twice he finally gave up. Either they’d turn up or he’d just buy another pack. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Then Jay couldn’t find his favorite Henley. Both men went over every inch of the house, even moving the washer out from the wall to ensure it hadn’t fallen when someone was doing a load. It seemed like the shirt had just fallen off the face of the earth the last time Jay had taken it off.

“Is Y/N missing any clothes?” Jay asked Mouse when the two of them were down in the tech room, listening to a wiretap on a suspect’s phone. Mouse shook his head “I asked her last night. She swears we just sit stuff down and forget where we put it” 

Jay laughed “She’s probably right, I mean the last time I saw my henley was when we were watching the movie and she walked in..” “Wearing that little black number she surprised us with” Mouse finished, a grin working its way onto his face when he remembered the night in question.  

Jay nodded “So she’s more than likely right, besides it hasn’t been anything else so not a big deal, right?”

“We do multiple loads of laundry a week! Why can I find a freaking shirt!” Jay cursed, digging through his dresser. Mouse walked into the room behind him, a chuckle falling from him “Well, I mean I personally like you better this way and I know Y/N does too”

Jay cut his eyes over his shoulder at him “Yeah well Voight isn’t gonna. I need a shirt man, help me find one” about that time you walked into the room carrying a basket of laundry on your hip. “Must I keep you two dressed?” you teased, tossing a shirt at Jay’s head then leaning over to press a kiss to Mouse’s lips.

Mouse grinned at Jay over your head “She does kind of keep us in line” Jay grabbed you by the belt loop and pulled you in for a kiss “Yeah I know. That’s why I told you we needed to let her have us both and not make her decide” you blushed remembering that awkward conversation. “We gotta get to work you two” you reminded them and they both groaned “Fine”

“Ok, I fucking give up. Either I’m losing my damn mind or we have a fucking thief stealing just our clothes” Mouse grumbled. He was going through his dresser, trying to find his star wars sleep pants. “What’s gone now?” Jay asked, walking into the bedroom to find his boyfriend’s dresser looking like a tornado hit it. “My sleep pants”

Jay nodded slowly “So the chances of you having seen my blue t-shirt?” Mouse froze in his tracks then rocked back on his heels. “The blue one with the v cut?” Jay nodded “The soft one that Y/N likes so much”

Mouse shook his head “We’ve been played Halstead” and stood up, walking over to your dresser. Normally the guys stayed out of it but this was extenuating circumstances. The first drawer he tried he found his missing socks and Jay’s henley. He held them up and Jay shook his head “She’s the thief” 

“I bet I know where my pants and your shirt are,” Mouse told him and headed out of the room, motioning for him to follow.

____________

You were curled up on the couch, watching a movie when Mouse walked into the room trailed by Jay. You smiled seeing them both “Hey loves” Mouse raised an eyebrow “Baby, do you currently have on any clothes that belong to you?”

 You moved the blanket that covered you and saw a smirk slip onto both their faces when they clocked their missing clothes. “Um, my underwear?” Mouse sat down next to you and pulled the waistband of the sleep pants out “Love, those are my boxers”

Jay started laughing and sat down on your other side “No Greg, the answer is no. Our girlfriend is a thief. A detective that’s a thief at that” you shrugged as they both scooted closer to you “At least I’m a cute thief?” Jay shook his head “Christ, how did I end up with you two?”

You turned to look at him and he grinned “I mean I love you baby” you nodded “That’s better and I love you too” you turned to lay against Mouse and put your lower half in Jay’s lap “I love you Greg” you told him and he grinned “I love you too you thief”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi! Have you seen the new Mickey Mouse Rebrushed trailer??? Twitter is goin crazy over it and how it’s related to twst 😭 just wanted to hear your thoughts on it

I did spot quite a few parallels with TWST from the Rebrushed trailer! I'm not familiar with Epic Mickey at all, so I'll just be commenting on what I noticed right away. You'll have to excuse my limited knowledge.

Firstly!! This design of Mickey is the exact same as the one we see in TWST. Most noticeable is his white face, which is a fleshy peach color in most modern iterations.

Mickey is reading Alice in Wonderland’s sequel, Through the Looking Glass. Of course, Twisted Wonderland has Wonderland in its title, and even opens with an Alice in Wonderland inspired dorm. Yuu and Mickey also connect via their dreams and through the mirror shared in their rooms.

The theme of dreams is very present and upfront here; Mickey wakes up from sleeping and then creeps to his mirror, which appears to be a portal into another world. Hmm... dreams, mirrors, and traveling to other worlds, now what does that remind you of? You'll also notice that Mickey's room is the exact same as Yuu's room in Ramshackle, right down to the "inverted" room that appears when Mickey passes through the mirror. Everything up until this point is very similar to what is depicted in the 1936 short, Thru the Mirror.

Next, Mickey spies on a wizard carefully using a magic paintbrush over what seems to be a diorama of a bunch of buildings on a plot of land. When the wizard leaves, Mickey fiddles with the paintbrush, causes a mess, and calls forth some kind of black ink monster with green light coming from within it. This seems to be a very close parallel to Overblots, particularly since the most recent OB has a signature neon green color. If we really are to connect Epic Mickey to TWST, this scene also seems to allude that Yuu, Mickey, and/or the "wizard" have parts to play in bringing these Overblots to life. And who do we know that is a powerful wizard that is aware of the corrupting power of blot and runs a large chunk of land... say, a campus? Crowley. This goes hand-in-hand with the theory that Crowley is intentionally allowing these OBs to happen or is even puppeteering his students into OBing.

I find this visual in particular to be very ominous; again, we have the colors that match a certain OB dragon fae but also the map itself reminds me of Twisted Wonderland's and the eerie visual of Malleus's thorns digging into Sage's Island and aiming to go way beyond it.

Anyway, the ink monster is temporarily contained while Mickey returns to his own world. We then get a montage of various Mickey media passing by, as well as a lot of imagery that would imply the passage of time (clocks, the date on the calendar changing, etc.). So... what? Is that implying not only parallel worlds, but also a time skip? Or maybe a time... loop? Like time loop theory???

The ink monster somehow eventually escapes and makes it to Mickey's world, with the blot dripping from the ceiling waking Mickey up from his sleep. It drags Mickey away into a hole drenched in ink. Kind of foreboding when you realize Yuu has also had prophetic dreams... Not of OBs, but of the events leading up to them. And being dragged away into an inky... opening? Like an... abyss? Like book 7, Ruler of the ABYSS?

That's how the trailer concludes!! Gotta say, there's definitely a lot of shared elements between this and TWST. If I recall correctly, Epic Mickey was a game that existed on the Wii waaay before TWST. It even has largely the same cinematic trailer (just with older graphics), so to me it feels like TWST probably took inspiration from Epic Mickey rather than the other way around. There are definitely too many parallels for it to be a coincidence. If that's the case, then we can probably pull some hints for what awaits us in the rest of book 7 from these cinematics. (This is a video comparing the two side-by-side if you think that might be of use!)

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As the trial date creeps closer, Bradley is having a harder time keeping himself from panicking. After you learn some interesting things about Bradley from an unlikely source, you do a little bit of digging. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, smut, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

You slept in until ten. You were sore. The good kind. The kind where you couldn't stop smiling. As you sat up in Bradley's bed and stretched, your eyes caught on your purple crown. There was a piece of paper hanging from it now. You reached for it and read the note he had left for you.

Princess,

I left my computer and the charger in the kitchen. I also plugged your phone in before I left. There are Skittles in the kitchen cabinet. Please text me when you get up. Noah asked if you're staying for dinner. Please stay for dinner. 

I love you.

My computer password is password1234

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Of course it is," you muttered, climbing out of bed and searching for something to wear. You made yourself some coffee with the vanilla creamer, and you spent the day filling out four job applications, eating Skittles, and attending a zoom lecture. You had done basically nothing strenuous, but by the time Bradley and Noah got back, you were yawning as you ran to see them. 

"Hello, boys," you said, kneeling to hug Noah. 

"Let's color dinosaurs," he told you, and you laughed as he led you to the table. 

"Don't I get a kiss or anything?" Bradley asked, unbuttoning his uniform shirt.

You looked at him and said, "You keep that on and I'll kiss you somewhere special later."

His hand paused on the buttons before doing them back up again. "Does that mean... you'd like me to have the uniform on later? Like after bedtime?"

You licked your lips and looked up at him, going for the most innocent look you could manage. "Please?"

Bradley grunted and kissed you a little rough. You tasted his tongue before pulling away from him. "I have dinosaurs to color," you informed him, dropping down onto the seat next to Noah. "And dinner is in the oven. I hope you like lasagna."

"You already know I'll eat anything you make," Bradley said, kissing you on the top of your head.

Noah tried to pronounce lasagna until you were barely holding in your laughter. "What's that?" he asked, handing you a pink crayon.

"It's kind of like spaghetti," you promised, coloring in a tyrannosaurus rex. "I already know you like spaghetti, so I'm just trying to expand your palate."

"Okay," he said with a shrug. "Can I have ants on logs?"

You knew he was going to ask, so you had already made them. When you took the container out of the refrigerator, Noah and Bradley had them polished off in a matter of minutes. "Your weekly grocery bill is probably more than mine is for the month."

"I don't doubt it, Princess," Bradley said, biting into the last carrot stick, still in that sinfully hot uniform. "Let's eat dinner, and then I'll clean up while you and Noah play."

"And then you'll take me home?" you asked cautiously looking up at him where he stood.

"Do you want me to?"

You didn't answer him. You just turned back toward the coloring book while he pulled dinner out of the oven. Did you want to leave? And go back to your tiny, lonely rental? No. You were still wearing Bradley's clothes, and you kind of wanted some more of your own stuff, but you didn't want to leave. Not really. You said nothing, and he didn't ask again. 

He did everything else to get dinner on the table. He plated the food, got drinks, and set the table. Then after everyone including Noah enjoyed the meal, he cleaned up. "You don't want help?" you asked, scooping Noah up in your arms. "Then we're going to watch some Mickey Mouse while we play with blocks."

"Sounds good," he said, putting some foil on the leftover. "Love you," he added casually as you took Noah into the other room. No, you did not want to leave.

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

Bradley was still wearing his uniform. He'd tried to change out of the shirt twice now, but both times you had stopped him. Noah was looking a little sleepy, and Bradley didn't know what you wanted to do. He wanted you to stay over again. He wanted you to stay over until he got through the court appearance on Wednesday and hopefully returned home with Noah, free and clear of Meredith. But honestly, he wanted you with him longer than that.

"Princess?" he asked softly, and you stood up from the pile of blocks that Noah was working on.

"Yes, Daddy?" you asked, standing right in front of him and smirking. If he was alone with you right now, that smirk would be gone in an instant. 

"I need an answer, Baby. You want me to drive you home before I put Noah in bed for the night?"

Your hands found his waist as you gazed up at him. "I want to stay here, but I don't want to distract you leading up to Wednesday."

"Stay," he sighed. "Stay. We can swing by your place and pick up some of your things and then come right back here, okay? Stay."

So that's exactly what the three of you did. Bradley stayed in the Bronco with Noah while you ran inside your place for a couple minutes, and you came out with your usual tote bag plus a backpack. 

"You don't mind if I keep using your computer, right?" you asked before you climbed back in the front seat.

"You can use anything at my place."

The smile you gave him in response had him thinking about asking you things he had no business asking you yet. He closed his eyes briefly before putting the Bronco in reverse and heading back to his house. When you reached for his hand in the dying light, he held yours. And when you asked to turn on the playlist you made for Noah, he fell even more in love with you. 

Noah was half asleep by the time Bradley carried him inside, and when he reemerged from his son's room, you had changed into your own clothes. Bradley kind of missed his oversized shirts on you.

"I have a fun idea, Daddy," you said, and he was practically salivating in response. "I'm going to teach you how to cook."

His brow furrowed and he gave you a look. "That doesn't sound fun at all."

Your laughter in response had him agreeing with you anyway, and you were immediately coaxing him into the kitchen. "We can use up all of your food, and tomorrow I can go grocery shopping for you if you want. I could drop you and Noah off in the morning and then use your car."

"Baby, it's not a car.... it's a Bronco. And you can use it if you promise to be very, very careful with her. You can't park next to the cart return. Actually, you can't really park by anything. No trees, no shrubs, no other cars. Nothing."

You were trying not to laugh, he could tell. "Sure, Daddy. No problem. Now let's start cooking."

He kissed you softly. "You gonna let me change out of my uniform yet?"

"Don't ask me stupid questions. Of course not. You look hot. Now go ahead and grab all of the ingredients for this recipe," you told him, handing him your phone. He sighed and skimmed a recipe for chicken stir fry.

"Princess, there's no way I'm going to be able to make this," he murmured.

"That's an order, Lieutenant Bradshaw!" you snapped, and Bradley was instantly looking at you. "Or I'll make you do fifty push ups!" 

"That's nothing, Baby. I'll do a hundred for you," he said with a smirk, but what he got in response was a slap on his ass. 

"Get to work," you told him, hopping up on the counter with a bag of Skittles and a no-nonsense look on your face.

"Oh, shit," he mumbled, reading through the recipe again.

"And that dinner better be edible, or I'm not going to suck your cock, Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am." He read the recipe a third time before he got the chicken out of the refrigerator. Bradley was starting to get a little nervous about Meredith, but you were certainly helping him keep his mind off of that. He got a cutting board and a knife ready along with some vegetables. 

"Don't forget the salt," you whispered, holding out a green Skittle and popping it in his mouth. 

"Thank you," he whispered back. And you kept offering him little hints here and there. You told him he was cutting the vegetables too small, and then you fed him a purple Skittle. You told him the oil needed to be hotter, and then you fed him a yellow one. You reminded him to keep moving the food around in the pan, and then you let him take a red Skittle from between your lips with his mouth.

"You're better at cooking than you think," you told him. "Noah won't have to keep eating boxed foods."

"That's really your goal here, isn't it?" he asked you, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead with his forearm.

"Of course. I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about him," you replied with a playful eye roll. "What's he supposed to eat when I'm not around?"

"Why would you not be around?" he asked cautiously. Then his mind started swarming with thoughts of Noah living with Meredith. 

He watched you chew on a Skittle before you softly said, "I'll be around." Your eyes dipped down his chest to his pins and buttons. You looked so young and sweet, and you reached for the knob to turn the burner off. "Don't want it to burn."

Bradley nodded and got a plate down. He carefully scooped some of the hot food onto the plate and handed it to you for inspection. "Give me a fork, Lieutenant," you commanded, and Bradley grabbed one from the drawer while you blew on the food. "I just ordered you a rice cooker and an apron from Amazon. The rice cooker will make your life easier, and you'll look cute in an apron that says Hot Daddy."

Bradley laughed as you raised the fork to your lips. "Thank you, but baby, I don't want you spending your money on me. You haven't even graduated yet."

"Just pretend like you never paid me to watch Noah, okay? I don't like that you ever did."

"Okay," he whispered, placing one hand on either side of you where you sat on the kitchen counter. He watched you take a bite of the chicken, and you moaned softly. Then you tried some of the vegetables before you fed him a bite.

"It's so good. And I barely helped you at all."

Bradley was actually impressed that he'd made something that tasted that nice. "So I have no excuse now but to make Noah a homemade dinner? Is that what you're saying?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," you said, smiling at him as he set the plate aside. "You know how to cook, Lieutenant. I'm so proud of you."

He leaned in and rubbed his nose against yours before kissing you. "Do you still want me to do push ups for you?"

"Kind of," you replied, kissing his mustache. "Just because it would be sexy." 

Bradley did fifty push ups while you stood in front of him and counted them off, and he looked up at your legs and your denim shorts the whole time. 

"Damn, Daddy," you groaned as he hopped up when he was done like it was nothing. "My boyfriend is so strong!" He didn't even have time to respond before you were unzipping his pants and slipping your hand inside. 

When you knelt in front of him, he said, "You weren't kidding about sucking my cock, huh?"

"Not at all," you whispered looking up at him. Your lips were glossy again. Whatever you grabbed from your house, it must have included your lip stuff. God, he loved the way you looked. He loved the way you felt. He loved your tongue, licking the bead of his precum away as you stroked him with your hands.

"You're really fucking good at this," he moaned as you wrapped your lips around him and sucked gently. He stroked your cheek as you took him a little deeper, swirling your tongue as he throbbed. "Goddamn it." The slow, deliberate drag of your lips along his length was enough to make him buck gently.

You moaned around him before pulling him free, and then Bradley was treated to you sucking on his balls until he was panting. "Baby," he whined, his cock resting on your face. You weren't going to let him go any faster. He couldn't decide if fast or slow was what he wanted, so he left you in charge. 

And he was not disappointed when you licked him from balls to tip and said, "I want you to cum on my face."

He ran his knuckles along your cheek and chin. "You're so gorgeous, Princess. I'd love to paint you up and make you even prettier."

"Daddy," you whined before taking him so deep he saw stars. You bobbed along his length, gagging as you tried to take all of him. Your hand was cupping his balls and your saliva was dripping onto the floor as you gagged again. You looked up at him with watery eyes, and this time when he stroked your cheek, he could feel himself.

"So good," Bradley growled. "God, you're the best."

You sucked and bobbed until he was sure he was going to lose his mind, and then he withdrew with a snap of his hips. He stroked himself twice, whispered, "I'm about to cum," and then he watched you flinch and giggle as ribbons of white landed on your cheeks and lips. His cum hit your nose, and then you opened your mouth for him.

"Fuck," he grunted, pumping every last bit onto your beautiful features, and then he was between your lips again as you licked him clean.

"Baby, don't move," he begged, scrambling to find his phone. "Will you let me take a picture?"

"Yes," you said with a laugh, licking him from your lips. "You can add it to your dirty photo album. Remember the passcode?"

"I sure do," he grunted, snapping a few pictures of you kneeling on his kitchen floor with his cum on your face. And then he was kneeling too and kissing you and telling you he loved you. 

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

You slept better in Bradley's arms than you ever did at home. He told you once you were curled up in his bed with him that he was getting nervous about the custody hearing. You tried to be encouraging. "There's no way anyone would let someone take Noah away from you. You're his only parent as far as he's concerned. He only knows love from you, Bradley."

"And you," he said softly. Warmth filled your heart as he added, "Noah knows that you love him. He lights up around you, and he's just as comfortable with you as he is with me. You're the best thing that ever happened to us."

You were supposed to be the one comforting him. But you ended up dozing off in his arms filled with hope instead. The next morning, he let you drive his Bronco "as a test" on the way to Noah's daycare. You had offered to keep Noah with you for the day instead, but Bradley insisted you spend your time finishing your school projects. 

"Okay," Bradley said as you parked in the daycare lot. "I'm fine with you driving the Bronco around. Do you remember the rules about parking lots?"

"Oh my god," you mumbled. "You're really not going to get Noah out and move along with your day until I answer correctly, are you?"

"No." His face looked serious as you laughed and promised you wouldn't park next to the cart return, another car or any sort of living plant.

"That's my Princess," he crooned, running Noah inside once you'd said goodbye to him. Then you dropped Bradley off at work, but this time, you crawled across the seat to straddle his lap for a moment.

"I love you," he whispered as you combed your fingers through his hair and kissed him. 

"I love you too, Daddy. I'll pick you up here at five," you promised, pressing your forehead to his. "And then I'll cuddle you all night, and you won't be worried about tomorrow at all. I can see on your face that you're thinking about Meredith. But think about Noah instead."

He wrapped his arms around you and sighed. "I'm always thinking about Noah. And you. And us." He kissed you one last time, and you let him climb out. "I love you, Princess."

You waved to him on the sidewalk, and then Jake joined him, and you waved to both of them. Then you stuck your head out the window and called out, "Can't wait to have you again later, Bradley! Oh, hi, Jake."

Then you started the engine again as your boyfriend laughed while Jake walked away. If you could at least make him laugh today, maybe that would make dealing with tomorrow a little easier. But it was hard not to think about what he and Noah might be up against. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it. Instead you drove to the grocery store with Bradley's credit card tucked inside your wallet.

You got all the staples, including your coffee creamer and everything you would need to make a big batch of ants on logs. Then you picked out some things you could teach Bradley how to make along with everything Noah liked. And you spent over two hundred dollars. Bradley had assured you that you could get whatever you thought they all needed and put it on his credit card. 

You were skimming the receipt as you pushed your cart to the Bronco. "Yikes," you muttered, loading bag after bag into the back, extra careful not to bump his precious vehicle with the cart. Then you closed it up and took the cart to the return. 

Just as you were digging his key out of your pocket, you looked up. You made eye contact with Meredith. She was standing there, right next to the Bronco.

"What do you want?" you asked. Your voice sounded strong, and you realized you were not even slightly intimidated by this woman when Noah wasn't with you. What could she really do to you in the middle of a parking lot at nearly ten in the morning?

She looked angry, eyeing you up and down and glancing at the Bronco. "I can't believe he lets you drive that. It's worth a fortune," she said, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder and scowling. 

The car key was digging into your clenched fist, but you didn't close the distance to her. "Let me rephrase my question: What the fuck do you want, Meredith?"

"Such a filthy mouth on you. And you're spending time with my child," she said casually. "Lovely."

"Are you following me?"

She rolled her eyes, and you hated her so much. You supposed you could see how she was physically attractive, but you only felt the desire to kick her. 

"I'm not following you. I'm about to go grocery shopping. This is the store I always come to. But I wouldn't mind chatting a bit. I'd be more than happy to use your potty mouth and the fact that you're sleeping with Bradley against him in court."

You laughed out loud. "Well, you'd have to actually show up first. Are you going to be there tomorrow? Or run and hide at the last minute again?"

Her scowl was back. "You have a lot of questions, huh? Well, so do I. Is all that life insurance money still in an account for Noah? Or did you spread your legs open wide enough to get Bradley to pay for your little nursing degree?"

You gasped out loud. You would never do that. You loved Noah and Bradley. And now you were afraid you'd just walked into a trap. Meredith was looking at you from ten feet away like it was a showdown. One that she intended to win, because she brought the correct ammunition when you clearly had not. 

"I guess the money is still there then," she said, starting to look more satisfied. "You know he'll never commit to you, right? He was always afraid of commitment."

"Yet you're the one who abandoned her child," you said softly, but not without conviction. 

She took a step closer to you, venom in her voice. "I didn't want to be held down, but things change."

"Do you even want him? Or are you just trying to get back at Bradley?" you asked, unable to stop yourself. "Because Noah deserves a family who loves him. You left them. But Bradley loves him. Bradley would do anything for him."

Her voice was like steel. "And I deserve a lot more than what I'm getting." She spun on her heel and started to charge away.

"What does that mean?!" you called after her. But she didn't stop or turn back. "Meredith!" You got nothing but the back of her blonde hair, and then she was in her BMW and driving away.

"What the hell?" you muttered to yourself, hands shaking as you put the key in the ignition and started the Bronco. You had to sit for a minute until you were calm enough to drive. Thank goodness you hadn't kept Noah with you today. Thank goodness you'd been alone. And at least Bradley didn't have to deal with this either. 

Oh, he was going to be so upset when you told him later. He'd be mad you didn't interrupt him at work this instant, but you weren't going to do that. You needed to get back to his house right away and get on his computer. Carefully, you put the Bronco in drive. Apparently this thing was worth a fortune. Bradley had a nice house, and he probably paid a pretty penny for Noah's fancy daycare. He told you to spend his money on whatever you wanted at the grocery store. But there was some sort of life insurance money, too? What was going on here?

Your brain was swimming, or maybe drowning as you parked in Bradley's driveway and forced yourself to carry in the groceries and put all of the food away before you locked the front door behind you and turned his computer on. You entered his ridiculous password which you were definitely going to have to make him change, and you started your search. 

Hours went by, and you subsided on only coffee. Then you checked the time on your phone. It was almost five o'clock. You were going to be late to pick them up, and now you had more questions than answers as you ran back out to the Bronco.

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

Okay, Meredith. Okay. Daddy will see you in the courtroom. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 24

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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[notdotspot]

Dc x DP The Batman

Masterpost

Danny has been through a lot in the past few days. Before this, he was having the nice, normal life of a broke college student in Gotham. Minus the weird feeling of being watched, though, he thinks that could boil down to trauma and paranoia. Now, he knows that no good deed goes unpunished.

All he wanted to do was stop a robbery. The man had a gun and looked crazy enough to pull the trigger on a young teen girl. Like the sucker he is, Danny went ghost to scare the guy off, but this is Gotham. The man grabbed the girl and threatened her with the gun. Hostage situation. That was the exact moment Danny realized he had never fought a mortal. Sure, there were run-ins with his parents and the GIW but an evasive maneuver or two and he was out of sight. They could never beat his speed or agility, even equipped with anti-ghost weaponry. This, however, is an entirely new situation that even Pandora’s training could not have prepared him for. One wrong move on his part, and he could turn a light ghost zap into a fatal strike. But again, in case it was forgotten, this is Gotham. While Danny is having an internal dilemma, the feeble-looking young woman elbows the man in the jaw and digs the taser she had been hiding into her attacker’s stomach. 

After his moment of shock, Danny shoots into action, kicking the gun away and punching the man. He turns to check on the girl, but she is already running down the street. Looking back at the attacker, Danny realizes he may have used a little too much force. The man is lying on the dirty Gotham sidewalk, unconscious, with an obvious bruise forming on his face. That is when a motorcycle screeches to a halt in front of him. A muscular man in leather and a red helmet shuts off the bike and stomps towards Danny. Is this one of the famed protectors of Gotham?

“Did you do that?” The bulky man points to the unconscious man at his feet. For the second time today, Danny makes a horrible realization. He, an unknown evil-looking creature, is standing over a beaten and bruised body in the middle of one of the most notorious crime cities in the country, and whoever this is, thinks Danny is a villain of some sort. Great. 

So he takes off. What else is a ghost to do in a compromising situation? The more the pursuit goes on, the more Danny leans into his ghost powers. He missed being about to fly through a city so openly. He is not worried about the vigilante chasing him. No antighost weapons exist in Gotham. This is just a fun game of cat and mouse. Danny will only be caught if he wants to, which is fortunate since he has a paper due tonight and should wrap up this little chase. 

Danny shook him easily, but his curiosity got the best of him when he overheard the man’s phone call. That is how he landed himself in a ghost mystery that probably falls under his royal duties anyway, with a vigilante and a hot guy who dreams about him. Shit. The third terrible realization of the day: Phantom looks fourteen, so there is no flirting in his ghost form. 

After his call with Frostbite, he has a plan for both curing the Red Hood and removing the tainted ectoplasm from this realm. Even though he had wished for more of a break from ghostly activity on this, he is grateful to have something more intellectually stimulating than his physics class. Seriously, he was doing these calculations in middle school. At least the engineering for an ectoplasmic purifier will put up more of a challenge. Fourth terrible realization of the day, Danny still has a paper due. 

✩✩✩

Meeting Batman might be the worst thing Danny has ever had to face. He has heard the stories and seen the bat on rooftops before, but coming face to face with him is terrifying. With his plan made and rough sketches of the purifier ready, he found Red Hood in the middle of his nightly patrol. Now, three days after their first meeting, the bats are meeting Phantom. Hood opens the door to the unmarked building for him motioning him to walk in. 

Danny is greeted by a small boy in a colorful costume, a blonde girl in a purple suit, a taller guy in red with an R emblem, and a tall man in full black. 

“Hello, everyone.” He waves awkwardly at the small crowd. “Oh, hey, Tim!” He waves more enthusiastically. The girl giggles as the attention of the room turns toward the suited man. 

“Was I not supposed to know that? It is not your fault. I can recognize people’s soul signatures.”

“Phantom,” a deep voice rings. 

Danny’s spine goes rigid as he turns back to Batman. 

“I am sorry. I know secret identities are important. I did not mean to.”

“It is okay. It is not like our secret identities could be hidden for long. Knowing your ability, crossing one of us on the street would reveal us. You are going to be using the Batcave for the project as well, so you were bound to find out.” 

“But, Batman,” the smallest in the room speaks, “how do we know he is trustworthy enough?”

“I have a feeling he would have harmed already if he wanted to. Am I right?”

“Yes. Right. One hundred percent right. Not that I would cause anyone harm. I try to avoid meddling in mortal realms. This is a special case. That ectoplasm does not belong here, and its presence has resulted in obvious harm. It is my duty to solve these issues even if it is my vacation.” 

“Yelp.” Red Hood pushes himself from the wall he is leaning against. “Names Jason.”

“You know I am Tim but dressed like this, I am Red Robin.”

The girl comes up to him, thrusting a hand in his direction.

“I am Spoiler. My name is Stephanie. Steph works too,” she says smiling as she shakes his hand. 

The youngest turns to Batman.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.” The boy sharply puts a hand out, shaking Danny’s with a deadly grip.

“Robin.” 

“And your name,” the girl, Steph, says smiling.

“Damian Wayne. Heir to the Demon Head,” he states. Batman steps forward, placing a gloved hand on Damian’s cape-covered shoulder. 

“Bruce Wayne. I trust that our identities are safe in your hands.”

“Of course.” Danny musters his most serious expression and tone, even if he thinks it may look silly coming from a fourteen-year-old-looking ghost boy. “I would never do anything to harm you or your family. I know the dangers that can come from a reveal like that.”

“Let us get to work, shall we? Red Robin, Spoiler, and Robin you are will me in the Batman mobile. Phantom you can ride with Red Hood.”

“I do not need it. Thank you, though.”

“Okay. Then follow him to the cave. We have much to do.” 

-------

taking a little break after this chapter to get ahead on writing and establish a schedule

sorry not sorry about the slight cliffhanger

Thanks for reading!

[justcallmesakira]

"Only mine, you are tonight"

Summary: Sitting on his lap in a luxurious room with a comfy velvet couch exceapt with his teeth digging on to your skin like an apple

Fyodor x reader

Warnings: sort of nsfw (nothing smutish happens) , suggestive, hickeys, biting, no pronouns, fyodor gets turned on by reader

Genre: suggestive *very*

"Until blood drips, just like the sugery sweet from an apples skin~"

"fyodor?" you softly call out your lovers name from the frame of the door waiting for an answer. "yes, my love. Come in" he answers back.

You walk towards his sitting position where he was peeling, the smooth red peels slowly coming off to the silver linen plate.

"sit on my lap, my little mouse" his voice carries a hint of command as it soothes your ears. His lap is all ready for you, the black pant he wears perfectly suites his thin legs.

A sweat drips down your jaw feeling nervous to do something so intimate, its rare to see him so attracting and physical.

Your steps make a clacking noise on the clean tiles of the floor. The room has a somewhat red light to it, glowing red tulips stuck beneath the glass floor.

Truly an ethereal feeling but what deeply excites you the most is placing your each of your thighs beside his, making his legs stuck between your legs.

You could feel this red lit room fill up woth tension, your breathe internally screaming for some type of touch.

"What is it my dear, do you need something?" his teasing voice only makes you stutter more. Fyodor takes a bit out of the crimson red apple and keeps the fruit on the table, turning his attention to yours.

He only smiles, a scary yet so very handsome look in his eyes. His nail bitten fingers slowly reach for your chin, pulling you closer to his face before pushing the piece of the fruit into your mouth which you had to chew on

"Swallow" he commands and you oblige, slowly munching on the sweet fruit.

As you did, you could feel cold hands grab your wrist and pull them towards him, the man's breathe hovering over the nape of your skin.

His tongue glazed your neck, a simple lock turning into a love bite making you yelp. "fedya..." you moan out his name, needy.

Your words fall on his ears making him grin and only indulging in placing more bruises in other parts of your neck, turning them red.

"Do you not enjoy this, my little mouse?" he asks as you could only feel your weight loosening on his lap which gives him more access to you collarbone.

Again you remain silent, you whimpering only turning him on to place more hickeys on your collarbone, who knew what was going on in his mind?

And by the end of this lovely heated session, your neck would probably be filled with red like a new grown apple tree

a/n: I can't believe I am writing this,

tags: @little-miss-chaoss @velvetyvoyage @biscuits-tragic-diner @terururuko @inojuuy

[trixter-god]

Classical Conditioning

Paring: Bruce Wayne x Logan Howllet

Summery: Logan and Bruce play a game of cat and mouse or is Bat and Wolverine?

Warning/tags: smut, 18+, one shot, mlm, gay, old man yaoi, cursing/profanity, jealousy, crack ship, self indulgent, oral (male receiving), I gave Bruce normal friends

Chapters: 1/1 (completed)

Words: 4572

An: Merry Christmas and happy holidays you filthy animals. Everyone thank MCR for keeping me up long to finish this lmao.

How did he even end up in this situation? That question had become a staple in Logan's everyday life as of late. It certainly didn’t help that he somehow found a home in the worst city on the east coast. Gotham city for all its mysteries and ever rising crime rates was at its core just some shitty new jersey city. Yet only this one kept Logan coming back like he was out of cigar’s needing a nicotine fix. He’d normally blame his old age for making him circle back to old haunts wondering if anything he remembered stayed the same but he’d also be stupid to admit he was sticking around for merely nostalgic reasons. He could still hear Scott’s laugh ringing in his ears thinking about the call he made what felt like forever ago telling Scott he was staying in this hellhole for a bit longer than originally planned only to find increasingly dumber excuses to not head back upstate. No he was here because he somehow found someone who understood him before they even said two words to each other. Someone that he could relate to without having to hide the darker parts of himself. A fact that still made Logan uncomfortable if he thought too hard about it but luckily his thoughts don’t normally linger. Plus he hasn’t made a run for it yet so he assumed this was going well. Logan would never say it out loud because it would make him sound like one of Rouge’s shitty romance novels but he was stuck in Gotham because of a man. A paranoid, stubborn, hypocritical, annoyingly charming, and very pretty man.

Which is why Logan was now sitting at the bar of some overpacked, overpriced club he swore he wasn’t gonna be at. With a dark whisky in one hand and his other digging into the meat of his thigh so as not to leave dents in the dark wood in front of him. The deep crease in his brow and the almost permanent frown on his lips gave out the obvious signs he didn’t want to be here. Though that didn’t stop the occasional drunk girl who was dared by her equally drunk friends to talk to him. Thankfully they were easily shooed away with a raised eyebrow or a firm no to their advances. Not like he wouldn’t be interested if it was any other night he just had a very specific itch he needed to scratch that only could only be done by the only other person in this room who probably had every exit mapped out in his head just in case. He was just about to ask for a new drink when that fucking addictive smell hits him again. Leather, citrus, pine, something else that Logan didn’t know but made the crease in his brow deepen. Sharp brown eyes cut through the crowd of drunks to the vip lounge where sat the reason why Logan was sitting in a hard ass barstool in increasingly uncomfortable jeans.

Bruce Wayne.

Orphan, playboy, millionaire, pain in his ass, and dressed like the fucking Holster store mannequin he was. Sleeves rolled to the elbow accentuating his arms in that dark blue practically see through button down which was unbutton to an outrageous degree. Bruce’s synthetic second skin worked overtime to cover up the miles of scarred and torn flesh that only Logan had memorized like the back of his own hands. Giving anyone with a pair of eyes the view of his tone physique. All tucked into those fucking pants.

Where the fuck did those even come from? Logan wasn’t one for keeping close attention to someone’s fashion choices but he would have definitely remembered tearing those in two. black slacks made from some expensive fabric just tight enough to accentuate what Bruce woke up at unholy hours of the morning to train for. If the place wasn't packed in like sardines Logan would have dragged Gotham’s sworn protector by his perfectly disheveled hair back home to that obnoxiously big bed of his. Finally get to sink his canines into that teasing smell that has been following him the whole night. Just a hint of that disgusting concoction of scents it was over. Logan was hot wired to it like the good hunting dog he was and he wasn’t leaving without his prey. Yet why did it feel like he was the one being hunted?

Bruce was barely listening to whatever the story was being told to the table. He’s been barely participating since that pissed off Canadian took a seat at the bar. Giving a nod or a laugh when it was appropriate but studying the way Logan’s shoulders would tighten when the air vent perfectly positioned above his head would turn on in ten minute cycles knowing with that enhanced sense of smell that Lo possesses could pick him out even in a room full of sweat and alcohol. Bruce normally hated the feeling of being quietly tracked but it was different when he was asking for it. That rush of adrenaline he’d been normally numb too thanks to his nightly escapades now crawled over his skin. The bat did have a reputation of killing the mood. He just wasn't aware how much it had bleed into his personal life. That was probably why Bruce has gotten increasingly attracted to danger over the years and what's more dangerous than willingly being stalked by an apex predator.

It was a simple case of classical conditioning, something that Bruce found increasingly more entertaining even if it was an accident. Who would have known Logan's mutant genes made him more susceptible to being easily persuaded by just a bit of cologne. Now Bruce knows he isn’t absolutely innocent that his instinctually inclined friend seemed to want to jump his bones the moment he got even a single inkling that Bruce was gonna touch that bottle that sat in the back of his bathroom cabinet let alone wear it out anywhere. Sure it was “brucie’s” signature scent and maybe it's the only strong cologne he wears in general but he did have no intention of turning Logan into a Pavlo’s dog experiment. Happy accidents and all that.

A hard glare was shot his way after only five minutes of Logan pretending he wasn’t sitting roughly 13.65 feet away. Not that Bruce cared all that much, Logan can stew at the bar for as long as he wants. He doesn't assume that that will be much longer, coinciding Logan's right hand having been firmly drugged into the thigh of his well-worn jeans for an hour now. Not to mention that prominent vein just peeking out of the collar of his flannel. Wonder how long it would take before Bruce finally got to see it pop.

Now Bruce did ask if he wanted to come out with him tonight. Maybe finally meet the few people he considers his normal friends but no. Logan said he was quite content staying home watching tv and loosely keeping an eye on the kids while Batman was off duty for the evening. Which Bruce was fine with even if he did intentionally rummage in the “what happens in boring school stays in boarding school” section of his closet. Squeezing his now built frame into pants that used to be baggy on him. Getting an ego boost that he could in fact still fit in them yet increasingly more humbled as he struggled to button them for longer than he’d say aloud.

Bruce’s calculated thoughts were broken up by a soft hand against his chest bringing him back to the party he was supposed to be participating in. The semimonthly gathering of his old college friends. Michael, Ben, both his college roommate at Gotham Academy for the five months of pre-med he took before realizing there was no fun in being his father. Michael’s wife Michelle who hasn’t looked up from her phone since they arrived, and Nicole, an old fling of his, highly intelligent woman, sat pressed against his side batting her heavy lidded eyes at him innocently as if her stiletto nails hadn't been not so subtly tracing any portion of his exposed skin all night. He gave a smile that wasn’t meant for her catching the sudden hard scrape of a bar stool from the other side of the room.

Logan can’t tell what’s pissing him off more, the shitty DJ that doesn’t believe in too much base, the cheap ass whiskey he was forcing down that was more bite than burn or the way those famous steel blue eyes catch his glare just long enough to tell him what he already knows. He’s being played like a goddamn fiddle. Actually it was probably that pretty little blonde who’d been hanging off HIS billion dollar baby the whole night. Sitting so close she was practically in Bruce’s lap.

The blonde makes a bold move which makes the glass in Logan’s hand threaten to crack under his grip. Her hand slipped down the front of that deep navy button up, ghosting over the very open front of Bruce’s shirt to get a feel of what Logan’s knows first hand is well trained muscle. Logan bites back the growl that wanted to crawl out of his throat when Bruce— no not Bruce. Brucie cracked a shit eating grin at the bold blonde. Well truly it was a gentle charming smile but Logan knew fucking better.

He should’ve been embarrassed of how fast he succumbed, It was probably a new record honestly, if his brain wasn’t busy imagining the way he wanted to become front page news for Vale’s gossip blog. He could see the headlines now. “Bruce Wayne bent over in front of the crowd” maybe she’d make some shitty pun that he’d have no choice but send it to Wade, that's if that loud mouth wouldn’t already be blowing up his phone with those fucking emoticons that somehow mean something suggestive. Why did he even mention that walking ball of cocaine and cancer? He’s not even here and yet the mere thought killed his very small buzz. Logan rubbing his face before downing the rest of his whisky hoping it would keep him satisfied for now. He had a point to prove. A point he didn’t know but peeled himself out of his favorite recliner to follow Gotham’s Prince downtown to some shit club anyway. Logan gave his head a shake before getting back up, keeping his back to temptation to go sneak a smoke outside.

Bruce gave a pout watching Logan head out the front and not towards him. Looks like Wolverine is finally getting used to his tricks. Bruce noted that for next time already thinking of the needed adjustments.

“What’s wrong Bruce? Is Michael boring you as bad as he is me?” Ben’s voice cut through his thoughts making his pout turn into an awkward smile. Bruce couldn’t even think of an excuse before Michael’s heavy old Gotham accent butted in.

“Oh piss off benny boy, everyone loves my stories.”

“They love your stories all right. Everyone at this table knows that after you took that fist to the face Kevin had to pull you out.” Ben crossed his arms leaning back into his chair. His signature smirk landed on his lips.

“Tomatoes, tomatoes. So I took the first hit. It doesn't matter who actually finished the guy off, we all won.” Micheal tried to wave Ben’s comments off.

“If I remember correctly we all got detention for a month.” Bruce finally found his footing picking up his barely touched glass of champagne. Giving the glass a small swirl in his fingers just keeping busy. “Not to mention you got a concussion.”

“Yeah, but we won. Which reminds me of another story.” Micheal retells some story about his football years. Snapping at the young waitress who was checking another table. Earning him a solid hit in the shoulder by his wife, Michelle, making Ben let out a snort.

“Eyes in the back of her head.” came a much softer voice to his left. Nicole made her quiet presence known with a hand on this thigh looking out in the direction Logan disappeared from. She rested her chin in her hand giving him a knowing glance.

“Who’s the cowboy?” She asked, amused.

Bruce gives her his best shifty eyed confused expression as he made sure no one else was listening. Luckily Ben was too focused on correcting everything that’s coming out of Micheal’s mouth and Michael is just trying to yell over him that they don’t notice. Michell never looked up from her phone.

“What?” Bruce breathed out pretending to be flustered in confusion.

She only narrows her eyes looking him up and down. The woman used to be an analyst; she could smell tension before she knew there was tension. Dangerous skill to have so close to you, one he had even closer at one point in the past. He Should have known better than to date a physiatrist but you live and you learn.

Nichole drums her well kept nails on the top of the table. “Oh please, you’ve been pining all night.” She lowered her voice taking a long sip of her martini.

“He’s a good catch, how’d you get him?”

Bruce chuckled, his eyes couldn’t help but drift over to Logan’s now empty seat at the bar. How did he do it? Bruce remembers how it started, a rather intense argument over something he couldn’t remember that turned into an event that The Hall of Justice had seen before. Yes, those tapes were deleted and yes, it did end up happening again. Far too many times until it evolved into whatever it was now. Too serious to be a fling yet they were far too old to be boyfriends. Maybe partners was the correct word even if it made Bruce feel very old. He didn’t like to linger on a title and Logan ever cared to name it.

“Just picked him up one day, haven’t let him go yet.” He shrugged at the blonde. “I have a problem with picking up strays.” That earned him a small chuckle even though he was serious.

“I understand that.” Nicole tipped her glass to him and he in turn did the same. The soft clink seemed to echo between them.

・・・・・

The night air in Gotham was always cold. Something Logan found oddly comforting about the city. The end of his cigar bloomed in the darkness of the alley as the music from the club thumped quietly through the wall behind his head. He rolled his shoulders back hearing a rare pop from his spine. The tension in his neck released, making a string of repetitive words tumble out of his mouth on instinct. “I'm too old for this.”

He debates with himself again, that urge to leave, another to just throw his patience out the window. Logan watched the smoke disappear from his lips into the dark night around him as the sound of rusty hinges echoed in alleyways. His nose twitched. Leather, citrus, and pine. A dangerous combination and yet he didn’t make a single effort to leave. The sound of expertly polished shoes echoed in the small alley until that smell turned into heat by his side. Logan picked up his head to look over at his… at Bruce. Bruce didn’t return the gesture instead staring off at the door he just snuck out from. How he managed to get away from a crowd without worry was something only he could pull off. The tension was softer than it was inside.

“Does this mean i win?” His voice was rougher than intended as he talked around the cigar on his lips. Logan mentally thanked the cold for that as he took one last puff before snuffing out his cigar against that palm of his hand. That burn was welcomed as the action made the heat beside him scoff. “Got something to say princess or you just gonna play mute?’

Bruce hummed softly in response. If Logan didn’t have such good hearing he would have missed that almost mocking sound. “Thought you didn’t want to come out tonight.” Bruce’s words teased him just an octave higher than normal. That pretty boy persona got harder and harder to slip from when he was being smug. Logan could knock his perfect teeth out right now and not feel bad.

“Changed my mind.” Logan shrugged, pocketing his cigar in for later. “Not that i had much choice” he gave the taller man a well deserved once over. The glow of the moon above mixed with the club’s neon casted the dark knight in a familiar way. It was honestly unfair that one man could look good no matter if he was pretending to be an urban legend or slumping with the first class. Now closer Logan could see that Bruce decided to wear his earrings for the first time in who knows how long. Little black studs glistened in the low light. And was he wearing eyeliner? It was smudged to an unrecognizable degree but it was there. Detailed oriented his bat was, which only solidified that he was set up from the start. Logan ran his tongue against the inside of his cheek as a poor attempted to silence himself but since when has that ever worked. Logan unconsciously leaned closer, his senses burned. “Can't have you walking around like a cheap whore, bub”

The smallest of smirks formed across Bruce’s lips as his eyes dropped to watch that vein in Logan's neck finally pop. Letting out a rare chuckle as he pulled his gaze away shaking his head. “Please, I'm anything but cheap Lo.”

His nickname felt like velvet in winter as it rattled around in the night. It was the same unoriginal name he’s had for years but it alway sounded different from him. It sounded right. If he wasn’t already so stupidly obsessed with that man next to him. Bruce would have caught him off guard just enough to shut him up.

“So you’re a rich whore?” Logan didn’t miss a beat with his comeback as they somehow got even closer.

“Why? Want one?” Bruce countered with a skilled practice. It was instinctual, the joking comment slipped from his lips like a bullet in the chamber even as the shot rang out it left a heavy weight behind.

There was a stand still then, as they stared silently at each other. The sting was pulled so thin between them it didn’t take much for the snap. This time it was Bruce’s callused hands making their way into Logan's hair pulling him into a heated kiss which pulled a deep growl from the other as thick fingers dug into the artificially perfect skin he forced himself to wear in public. Teeth clacked against each other as animal instincts kicked in. Logan took advantage of his strength and pressed that intoxicating smell into the cement wall. Not caring as the noticeable smack of what had to be Bruce’s skull hit the brick. Logan’s knee slotted between Bruce's legs pressing into his harding cock. The whine that slipped his lips was like a well deceived award for having to put up with his well planned torment all night. Reasoning thrown out the window as their bodies gilded messily across each other like horny teenagers practically devouring the other until those dangerous hands tighten in Logan’s hair pulling another growl.

“Fuck, Lo.” Bruce broke the kiss, sucking in the cool night air into his lungs felt like fire. His hips not stopping in their attempts to basically hump Logan’s thigh. His already uncomfortable attire rubbed just right against his cock. Logan wasted no time to dig his canines into his throat. Biting just hard enough to leave an imprint yet he didn’t break skin. Not now anyways.

“What, bub? Ain't this what you wanted?” Logan dragged his teeth over his neck, marking over that pale expanse of his throat. “Huh? Wearing that fucking collone like you don’t know what it dose it me.” His voice was nothing but rasp. Teetering just close enough into Logan's feral territory that Bruce couldn’t help the groan that slipped his lips. “Dressing like fucking sex on legs. Do i even want to know when you got these fucking pants?” To further push his point home Logan hands cupped a fair amount of his ass through the tight fabric. Bruce bucked his hips in retaliation. The friction makes both of them hiss.

“Fucking brat.” Logan spat, grabbing a fist full of Bruce's thin shirt to force him down to his knees. The playboy silently cures his choice in fashion when he feels just how tight his pants pressed back into him. Bruce swears he can hear the stitching against his thighs screaming for help not to mention the actual crack his knees make. He cursed under his breath as hands found Logan’s waist for stability.

His eye flicked from the bulge he was now eye level with to Logan's blown wide pupils. Bruce's hands popped off that obnoxious belt buckle Logan loved to wear with a practice ease acting like he wasn’t the one on his knees. His lips dragged over dented denim making Logan choked out a curse from above. Bruce continued to mouthed Logan through his pants until he felt a hand grab a fist full of his hair tugging a pained moan out of him. Bruce popped off the button of Logan's jeans, unzipping them and pulling him free from his flannel boxers.

Logan’s cock stood proudly now free from its confines. Its reddened head weeped pre-cum from the slit. Bruce smirked, wanting to say something snarky only to look up to meet pleading brown eyes. Okay so maybe he was being too much of an ass all night. Though this was hardly the worst he could have done, still Bruce took the hint and took pity on him. His hand slowly wrapped around the thick base of Logan's cock giving him a couple good strokes. Nuzzling into his hip as he used the leverage to keep Logan from bucking into his hand as he stroked him dry. Not breaking eye contact as Logan's eyes rolled back into his head briefly just from such a touch. The friction makes Logan's head spin just enough to not to complain.

“My poor darling.” Bruce cooed as he pressed a few kisses at the base. Bruce shifted on his knee to straddle Logan's boot so that he could please his own needs.grounding his hips down against worn leather as he nipped at that prominent vein down Logan’s hip, up the underside of his cock.

“Shut up” Logan spat out when Bruce”s tongue flicked the head of his cock before trailing back down the underside only for his hand to replace his mouth again. His hand retreated from Bruce’s hair as his claws fought to make an early appearance.

“Make me” echoed in Logan's ears as his eyes opened in surprise. He stared down at the smuggest person he’ed ever seen on their knees. Logan tried to memorize this exact moment in his very shitty memory. Bruce Wayne on his knees in an open alley, looking at him like a kid during christmas while he stroked his dick actively taunting him. No. Asking him to let go. If Logan believed in a god he'd probably be thanking him right about now.

As Logan's brian took its time to process his request Bruce took no time to wrap his lips around his throbbing cock not stopping into his nose brushed against that tufted of hair against the base. Everything about Logan was thick. His skin, his skull, his fingers but most importantly his dick as it took up most of his mouth. Bruce used his breathing skills to good use not to gag when Logan seemed to finally get the idea bucking into his throat suddenly. Logan’s hand curled back into Bruce’s hair pulling him somehow farther down his cock so he could fuck into the wet heat of his mouth.

“So good baby.” Logan muttered his praises through his teeth.

“Good fucking boy.”

Bruce’s hands dropped to finally free himself from his own pants. Moaning around Logan as he stroked himself to the same hard rhythm that was set in his throat. It didn’t take long for either of them to get close to the breaking point.

“You gonna take it baby? Huh? Be my good fucking boy and take everything i give you?” Bruce was too far lost as he moaned out his agreement. Trying to nod around Logan's brutal trust of his hips into his mouth. “Here it comes baby, here it comes.”

An inhuman noise escapes his lips as Logan’s hips halt suddenly making sure to pull Bruce all the way down around him as he releases down his throat. Bruce followed close behind, spilling out of his fist onto the ground and Logan's boot below. The two of them just stay there for a moment before Bruce finally frees himself with a cough. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he breathed in lungs full of cold air.

“Shit, you okay?” Logan tucked himself back into his pants before kneeling down to Bruce's level.

Bruce nodded between coughs waving it off. “I’m fine. Just forgot to breathe for a second.”

Logan shook his head gently pushing Bruce's now actually messy hair from his face. His eyes now soft and concerned as he gave Bruce a good once over just in case knowing Bruce isn’t one to complain about pain.

“Come here.” Logan muttered pulling Bruce gently into a soft kiss which was pleasantly returned without hesitation. The taste of himself on Bruce's lips didn’t go unmissed.

“You are the worst”

“You love me for it.” Bruce chuckled cupping his jaw, running his thumb across his cheek before pressing another quick kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, I do.” Logan got back to his feet giving Bruce a hand up as they both fixed themselves to be less disheveled. Logan takes another shameless look over Bruce hooking his fingers into one of his belt loops pulling him closer. His voice dropped an octave giving him a weak glare.

“Seriously though, were these fucking pants come from.”

“My first year of college. ” Bruce gave him a little pose looking down at his somehow still intact pants. “I didn’t make it through pre-med but I did party like I was. Honesty impressed they still fit.”

Logan hummed letting him go. “oh, they fit alright.”

Bruce gave him a slap to his arm which Logan overreacted to making Bruce crack a smile. Logan threw an arm over Bruce’s shoulder pulling him down to his height. “Wanna drink? I still have a tab open.”

“You just want me to cover the bill.” Bruce rolled his eyes leaving his grasp to pull open the metal door letting out the loud music spill out into the quiet night for the two of them.

“Promise to repay you when we get home.” Logan smirked, slapping Bruce on the ass as he headed back into the noisy club. Bruce, not too far behind, shakes his head amused as they find two empty seats at the bar.

“Yeah, yeah.”

[pepperpepi]

HOW do you come up with these creative object ideas please teach me your ways

(mainly regarding Chester cheddar(?) and fossil)

HEH!!! i dunno!

for woodsy, i was already really fascinated by trees and wood and saw a tiktok of some guy digging up petrified wood and i was like "Cool!" and went along my way

a while later i needed a character to sign up for in an object camp and i wanted to make a new one!! tahts when. thats when i Remembered. "petrified wood..." echoed in my mind... it was my calling.... i was like haha this would be an awesome gimmick! he's 'petrified' all the time! heh!

so i looked up petrified wood on pinterest and saw such a BEAUTIFUL piece of blue petrified wood!! so then i researched petrified wood for the next few weeks straight and woodsy was born ❤️

here is me going insane over the revelation HYELP (probably some inaccurate info here tbh)

for chester, i was struggling a little! i get help from pinterest while trying out different objects but i ended up using a scrapped oc (mouse trap) and tweaking it a ton!!

heres sum concept doodles i did during school! you can guess which one i ended up getting attached to HELP

i like how i made him a mouse trap because it makes sense to his character and what not!! heh!

anyway TLDR pinterest is ur best friend while making object show characters ANDDD take inspo from ANYTHING!!! you'll never know what could make a cool object oc

[grudgecollector]

God Help The Fool

Pairing: Bo Sinclair / Reader

Summary: Even as a long time residence of Ambrose, you could have barely prepared yourself for what would happen tonight. Your curiosity pulling you closer and closer to the front door, to your doom.

Words: 827

Tags/Warnings: Blood, attempted murder, light descriptions of gore, descriptions of stabbing, Bo's anger

A/N: Um hello... It's been quite a while since I've written any sort of fan fiction in like two years probably, so I apologize if this isn't very good LOL

I have recently been hit with inspiration to write again. I've realized I really miss it.

In the future some of my fics may be a little more centered around Creep and Josef, but I did rewatch House of Wax for the first time in a while last night and it just makes me AGH

I'm not entirely sure how active I will be, but I'm hoping to revitalize this blog and make it into a home for me and anyone who has similar interests once again.

Your ears ring, fingers tightening around the handle as you dig the knife deeper into the flesh of your sudden victim. Your eyes burn, tears threatening to drip down your bruised cheek. A cloudy puff of air comes from your parted lips, the cold winter wind biting into your skin. 

Dark green eyes were staring into your own with both rage and fear, his hands closing harder around your neck as he continued to try and strangle you. The air was being snuffed from your lungs, a fire building up in your chest as you struggled under his strength. 

It felt as if your neck would snap, the way the heel of his hand dug into your windpipe. 

You twisted the knife further into his torso, making him groan in pain. Whatever strength you had left you used, attempting to wiggle the knife around like a joystick on a jammed arcade machine. 

In this moment you felt like you could accept death. Whatever sins you have committed in your life have finally caught up in one foul game of cat and mouse. No matter how hard you tried to fight him off he stayed glued in his place, bloody spit coming to his lips before dripping onto your nose, down to your cheek. 

You heard a warped voice yell above you, it sounded so close yet so far away.

There was a sudden release of pressure around your throat, a harsh breath of cold air filling your burning lungs. You let out a wheezing cough, clutching your chest with a bloody hand as you attempt to suck in more air. 

The ringing in your ears never stopped, your head was spinning, you felt like you would throw up any second. 

Bright white dots blurred your vision, making it impossible to know which way you crawled.

In some way you believed you would be safe from the chaos that occasionally reigned through the quiet, empty town of Ambrose. No matter how much you have seen or heard during your time living here. 

It was tonight that your naivety finally caught up to you. A simple look out the front door ending in you almost dying. 

You should have listened to Bo when you told you to stay upstairs, you should have listened to Vincent when he told you not to move from the closet minutes later, and most of all you should have listened to Lester when he told you to not let curiosity get the best of you. 

There was a tingling sensation on the side of your face, numbness prickling your skin. 

Slowly, your eyes open to see Bo’s fiery ones, his forehead creasing in worry as he lightly caresses the skin around your throat. 

You knew he was angry with you, you could feel it radiating off of him as he stared down at you, chest heaving.

He grabbed your tired arms and hauled you to your feet, making you stumble forward into his chest, where you clutched onto his black button-up weakly. 

“I-” You attempted to choke out an apology, but your throat felt like sandpaper, forcing a cough from you once again. 

“Not now.” Was all he managed to say, his rage bubbling as he glanced over towards the now mangled corpse of the man. 

Bo could barely contain his blood lust in normal circumstances, but when he saw you on the ground like that? It was like something else entirely took him over. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the dominance inside him, watching as some stranger hurt what belonged to him, or if deep down it was the fear of losing something he loves. 

Either way, the younger man did not stand a chance against a seasoned killer such as Bo Sinclair. The wrench the older man wielded now lodged into the broken skull of your attacker, a now unusable body for Vincent’s evergrowing gallery of wax figures. 

Bo could not find it in him to care though, he knew a replacement would be lured in eventually. 

He slammed open the front door of the house, making his way to the kitchen towards his twin who had probably just come out from his studio. 

“Vincent! Take her, there’s still another out there somewhere.” Bo practically shoved you into his twin’s arms, “And do not let her out of your fucking sight.” His darkened eyes glared at you, something vulnerable swirling deep inside. 

You didn’t take his harsh tone to heart, having been with Bo for as long as you have, you have dealt with his outbursts before.

This felt different, though, while his anger was evident, the thing that stuck out to you more was the wetness in his eyes. 

His eyes did not linger on you for very long, his heavy boots stomping back towards the front door. The harsh closure of the door made the walls rattle, some small things falling from the shelves hung up on the walls. 

[chokiechips]

Jimmy Hall- At Dead of Night

I don't know why, but I have a grotesque fascination with Jimmy Hall, and god I wish to be Maya sometimes. Btw too tired to check, so here's the raw fic. Anyways, enjoy the short fic! <3Let me know about any cool characters I should write about!

for gender neutral reader

____________________________________________________

Of course you had to deny the Hugo Punch show, why do you have to do this? Now you have a ghost communicator thingy in your hand that you have NO idea to use- and is that an actual spirit communicating back to you?

Nevermind that. Jimmy Hall's now chasing you down floor 1 with a bat as you dash through corridors, your eyes blown wide with panic, heart thumping with adrenaline. You definitely now wished you had properly read the reviews of this place.

You quickly unlock your room door, and close it behind you as silently as possible, hoping to not evoke any noise that could alert Jimmy. You'd rather not find out what Jimmy would do to you when he found you.

Smoothening back your hair, you walk to the end of the bedroom and kneel down to your knapsack, digging through the contents. Where's your phone? You swear you had it in your knapsack! Where did it go?

You start to dump the contents of your knapsack onto the floor, and immediately search through the mess on the dusty carpeted floor, your fingertips brushing against the fibres of the red carpet.

Suddenly, an muffled echo from outside.

"Come out y/n! You do want your phone back, do you?"

Blasted man. How did he find the time to search through your belo- doesn't matter. He sounded loud, and close. You can't risk being caught. You look around, and dig through the cabinets in the room. Maybe something can be of use?

It definitely doesn't help that the ghost communicator you found in the store room is blaring loudly with spirits screaming at you their life story.

You hiss at the ghost communicator to keep quiet, as your hands deftly check each cabinet, but as you do, you catch a few words from their warnings and rants.

A girl named Maya went through a similar predicament as you, she saved her friends somehow, and left. Jimmy? Left in an even worse state than before. He's even more wily, learning from his mistakes.

Only store keys in the cabinets, nothing else noteworthy.

Well, might as well search. You did see a mirror on the bed, with a sort of intricate design, but no time to be hasty and look at pretty things.

With a sigh, you take the communicator and leave the door, making sure to check the hallways before making a left turn, deeper into the belly of the beast.

Time flies.

You grow tired, tired and anxious of looking behind your back, scampering around the floor like a mouse being chased by a feline, and stupid words from a machine that you should probably be concerned about.

Wind howls through an open window, and you look out, wondering if the drop is worth it. Down below, the sea crashes against sharp rocks, the winds screaming their warnings. Yep, no thank you.

Thump. Thump.

A sharp intake of breath just a few metres away.

Your whole body immediately is thrown in a fight or flight reaction, spreeing down the halls as fast as your wee legs could take you. Behind could be heard the raging footsteps of Jimmy, his voice triumphant and devilish.

Oh dear god no not today.

You immediately enter another hotel room, closing the door and slowly, very slowly, peek through the peephole.

Nothing- wait nothing? Where had the bloody fool gone?

Was he stupid?

You allow yourself some time to breathe, letting out an audible sigh of relief, shoulders slouching. That probably wasn't a good idea, because your eyes immediately shoot to the doorknob slowly turning with such terrifying gentleness.

You barely even heard him.

You fly to the cupboard, and in the nick of time, duck inside the lone cupboard in the room, your pupils trembling with a deep fear.

You shakily suck in a dusty breath of air, attempting to make yourself as small as possible in the cupboard, your hands trembling in the darkness of the cupboard.

Through the small creak of the cupbaord, you see the door slowly open. Him looking around, surveying the room. He looks at the bathroom, and nods curtly to himself, calling out.

"Oh y/n! Don't play games with me! Come out now dammit!"

Fuck no.

He steps into the room and surveys the area, and looks at the bed, his bat at the waist, his eyes roving over the sheets, deep in thought.

Suddenly, he chuckles to himself, a light smile playing at his face, as if laughing at some private joke of his.

What kinda psycho is this?

He then turns to the cupboard, and immediately, you hear the click of a door. Is he gone?

You swore his pupils lingered on the small crack of your cupboard, but maybe you're just sleep-deprived? It is 11 at night, and the lack of sleep from travelling from the airport to this place is taking a toll on you, not to mention the freaking bastard.

You wait a little, and close your eyes, focusing on your sense of hearing.

Just the blow of wind from a window, and pipes creaking.

After a few minutes, a sense of safety settles in you, and you slowly, but surely, climb out the cabinet. But that safety is soon replaced by a deep dread in your stomach, as you look around the room.

What made him so cheery all of a sudden? Why did he not check the room properly? Why did he not suspect a thing even though the goddamn ghost communicator was sitting on the bed?

Not to mention the spirits were having a field day. Screaming and yapping, their voices overlapping each other.

You didn't bother, picking it up, dusting your blouse and walking to the door.

What the hell were these spirits chattering about?

You could make out 'bathroom', and 'don't', but that's that. Maybe they forgot to flush you didn't know.

You probably should have listened though, as you made your way to the peephole, and looked through, shushing the ghost communicator that had only gotten louder.

"What the hell- man come on keep quiet! Now- where is that Jimmy?" you mutter to yourself under your breath.

Suddenly, you feel a warm gust of air on your neck, your hand flying to rub it away as you focus on the peephole. Window must finally get some warm air, or the heater is finally working.

Then, a hand. You immediately freeze up, and so does the voices on the communicator. You dare not turn. A slight chuckle sounds from behind you, almost fondly.

"Right here darling."

The sneaky bastard was hiding in the toilet the whole time.T he hand squeezes your shoulder hard, and your body trembles in pure fear. You can barely think, but soon your senses come back to you, and you reach for the doorknob, and try it. It's locked.

He spins you round, and smiles greedily, dangling the deadlock key in front of you.

"Should have got it sooner huh?"

His hand cups your chin, tilting it upwards towards his face, his grip borderline painful, his eyes roving over your face, lowering to your lips and lingering for a few seconds, before tracing a thumb over your lower lip.

Almost excitedly, fucking freak.

He looks back up, and cackles, a rumbling laugh.

His voice immediately curls, like milk turning sour, a mocking tone in his voice.

"Mother and father would love to meet you, all buried in cement happily ever after, why not stay for a while, hmm?"

His voice drops to an unnatural tone, the grip on his bat tightenting.

"Just stay quiet and good for me okay? It'll just take a moment. Sweet dreams.."

Before you can say anything, you see the blur of his bat in your vision, and a blinding pain bloom in your head, the events happening in slow motion, your world spinning.

Your head hits the floor, and you feel two hands lift you up, hoisted onto a shoulder, and a warbled cackle and murmurings.

You should never had stayed at the Sea View Hotel at the dead of night.

[pixeldistractions]

Five days before the wedding… 

For weeks, the northern summer mornings were temperate and sunny. Now, just days before the wedding, the forecast called for rain. Their new plan called for moving the ceremony under the gazebo instead of the open courtyard with its immovable stone benches. And that meant Jordan needed more chairs for the few dozen guests to crowd into the gazebo. He scoured the storage units, the closets, and the attic, but he found nothing except some cheap metal folding chairs. Not good enough for Stephanie's wedding. He wondered if Ingrid might have some more chairs at the waterfront cafe. 

None of them here worked very often with Ingrid. She was, to be honest, not very useful around here. Sharon had her at the waterfront cafe where she peddled coffees and candles and paintings of sailboats. She was obviously pretty and good at selling things, but beyond that, she couldn't cook, she didn't clean, she was too flighty to wait tables, and too much of an artiste to bus them. 

Out front, she had boxes stacked in and around her truck, candles and crafts arranged for packing, and her easel laid across the truck bed. It looked more serious than just moving some inventory from the Inn to the cafe. 

“Shit, did you get fired?”

“Ha, no, not exactly,” she said. “Sharon had to let the harbor cafe go. Ever hear of the Northern Kitchen Termite?”

“Oh, yeah, that went around here a few years ago. Destroyed a couple of businesses.”

Ingrid shrugged. “Welp, now it got mine.”

“Damn, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“But, maybe it doesn’t? Wanna know a little secret?”

Ingrid took a step forward and waited for him to say yes, eagerly. His rapt attention was a delicious cookie and she needed a bite.

She was shameless, and it was mildly amusing. So he said, “Sure, okay.”

She grinned. She took another step closer. She smelled of vanilla and candle wax. “I hated my lease. Ugh, it was like being owned. Now I’m free! I’m newborn as a bare-assed baby!” She swung back and slapped her own ass. “The whole wide world is my fucking oyster.”

“Huh. Sounds cool, actually.”

“Doesn’t it? You wanna run away with me?”

Jordan laughed. “Sorry, I have to work.” 

Like, he needed to work was more accurate. He needed to save up enough money to find his own apartment and get out of Colette’s hair, and he needed to do it before they drove each other to murder. The hotel rooms were digging into his savings, even at an employee discount. He almost had first month’s rent, last, and deposit for an apartment. Until he did, being homeless was better than spending the nights at that house.

“Anyway, I wondered if you brought back any of the chairs from the cafe?” 

“Nope, sorry, termites got them.” 

“Termites ate the chairs?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, probably.”

“Right, well, never mind then. How about the candles? Boss wants to know if you saved any of your candles or if we need to go shopping?”

“Let me see what I’ve got.”

Ingrid bent over from the hips, waggling her ass at him while she rummaged through one of her boxes. Then she popped up with a phallus-looking candle in her palm. She stroked it up and down.

“What kind of candles does she want? Long ones, thick ones, ribbed for her pleasure?”

Astonished, Jordan could only stare at the candle in shock. This girl didn’t stop. Jordan was no choir boy, but he almost blushed. 

“Oh, for crying out freaking loud,” Maria grumbled, gawking out the front window as Ingrid manhandled her candles and sashayed back and forth like a street-corner hooker.

Maria had stopped dusting the dining room. She lost track of her dusting rag several minutes ago, and now all she could do was watch with contempt. Ingrid had been nothing but friendly to her, but Maria hated her anyway. Or maybe she hated that Jordan entertained her shameless attempts to seduce him. 

Maria didn’t hear Stephanie creep in, quiet as a mouse. “You know, Justin didn’t notice me for years, until one day he did. They’re slow to come around sometimes.”

Maria cringed, although the sentiment was appreciated. “Oh, is it that obvious?”

The two of them sat and gossiped a little longer about Ingrid, Jordan, Jordan’s baby momma, Maria’s crush, and which parts were deeply serious and which were probably not so much. 

Finally, Maria remembered that she had work to do and that Stephanie must have wedding preparations to attend to. She’d been hanging around the Inn too much as her wedding date drew closer, not trusting that this place could run without her. But they were doing okay. 

“Hey, you need to go! Don’t you have your final dress fitting today? I promise we’ve got it taken care of! Your niece is vegetarian. There’s a tofu saltimbocca coming right up. I’ve got your recipe, I can do it.”

“Okay, I guess,” Stephanie said. And in their short silence, the two of them glanced back outside at Ingrid, who was still showing Jordan her pornographic inventory of candles. 

Stephanie said, “Did you hear she’s leaving?”

“Good,” Maria muttered.

Outside, Ingrid had finally shown Jordan every candle she had. He took pictures of a couple and texted Sharon to make the final choice. While they waited for Sharon’s decision, Ingrid went on about everything she might do with herself now that the waterfront cafe was closed. 

“Out west, of course,” she declared. “The world is my oyster, but the Midwest doesn’t suit me. I’m a free spirit, you know. I gotta see the world. I gotta find my people. I just gotta get my camper running.”

This, above everything, finally caught Jordan’s attention. It caught his attention hard. “You have a camper?”

“Yeah, I bought it for two hundred bucks. It smells like weed and piss, but it doesn’t run. Yet. But hey, you’re a handy kind of guy. Maybe you could help me fix it?”

Sure, let me fix your camper so you can run off and have an adventure, Jordan thought. Feelings of resentment and jealousy swirled. What a life. “I don’t know. I’m kinda busy.”

“You have to understand,” Ingrid said, “I gotta get this thing working. It’s like, the nexus of my whole plan. I’m gonna drive out west and stream the whole road trip. You know, all that aesthetic. Snow-capped mountains, dusty deserts, misty forests, yoga on the beach in my bikini. Follow my channel, you don’t wanna miss it.”

Why did that sound like the most fun and frivolous life imaginable? Again, Jordan felt the cage tighten around him.

“So, what do I have to do to convince you? Can you look at it? See what’s wrong?” She smiled suggestively. “I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

“You can pay me in cash. Cash is fine,” he said. “Yeah, sure, I’ll have a look at it sometime. No promises, though.”

Ingrid winked. “Promise? I wouldn’t dare.”

She grabbed a Sharpie from one of her boxes. “It’s parked at my sister’s place. Here’s the address.” 

She went for his arm, but he pulled away and took out his phone instead. "Text it to me."

I’m too old for this, he thought. Although, at twenty-eight and twenty-four, their age difference wasn’t so extreme. It was maturity, mostly. Ingrid made him feel old. Or maybe life did that.

She looked confused and disappointed. She had really wanted to write on his arm.

— "why are you here? #4: then go" part 2 / 4

Next -> // WAYH #4 start // index

author's note: hello, stinky broken camper! Maria probably doesn't need to worry much about Ingrid stealing his heart, but that camper though... 😬

[kathbunny]

@justablah56 did art of the borrower au and thus I now much write about the sillies!

Borrower au context: based on the movie The Secret World of Arrietty by Studio Ghibli. Teeny tiny people live in a house and borrow items from the residence that won't be missed and try to avoid being seen, as they don't want to be killed by humans. Unrelated to the movie, I give them tiny animal or bug traits, like tails or wings or ears. Maxim like many of my other aus, is a scientist who worked to the point of severe burnout and bought himself a house to recover in. He's repairing a previously pretty broken down house, unaware of the residents thriving in the foundations and crawlspaces in little houses they built themselves.

This is just them studying the new resident! And deciding if they might need to leave.

Finbar watched from under the newly brought in couch, long bunny ears twitching at the sides of his head as he tried to listen for any possible conversation. It seems as though only one human had entered the home overnight, but you could never know, especially with old broken homes like this, it wasn't odd for them to begin living in the home one or two at a time as things were fixed.

The man who had entered the residence was older, broad shouldered, and tired looking. Normally, being old and tired implied a human father, but his neat and formal manner of dress implied a single man. Not that Finbar could ever be sure, he wasn't one for getting so close to a human. The man was digging through boxes in search of something, occasionally writing on boxes, his knees getting covered in dust from the floor and wincing when he stood.

Old humans were less dangerous. If he was a man on his own, his family would be very lucky. The garden would become less dangerous, although it may feed them less if he removes the old overgrown plants, but they could adapt if he kept his food well stocked. And the mold within the home may be cleaned up, giving them safer air.

---

Elyse hurried to pull what berries she could off the plants, rolling them to the grate that let them under the house. The new human might soon be cleaning up the garden and she needed to stock up on what she could before it was all cut down. The others were similarly further amongst the overgrown plants, handling the shorter ones while she flew up to the tops of the tall ones.

The back door opened and immediately she dove down, covering herself with a leaf and preparing to run as the new human stepped out onto the porch. She watched as he walked up to the railing, gently testing it by pushing at it, mumbling about repairs before leaning on it, cup of tea in his hand.

She started running to the grate, wings folded in tight. She could start pulling the food to their storage until he's gone.

---

Kyana poked her head out of an old mouse hole, examining the half repaired room that had once been her favorite due to how all the old, turned over furniture created the perfect place to climb. The human was in there, tearing down layers of wallpaper by hand, a radio on a box playing soft piano and violin music. He seemed to get tired, sitting on a box and opening a water bottle, taking big gulp of it until it was empty.

Although her favorite place was going to be changed, she didn't mind it. It looked like there'd be plenty more to climb, based on the bookshelves from the old piles he had set aside to repair. As long as he didn't close the way in, it'd probably be lots of fun!

---

Dani ventured across the house during the night, searching for the tool box the new human had been using for house repairs. She found it, grabbing a set aside screwdriver, almost twice her size, and using it to undo the latches and force it open. It took her almost ten minutes, but she managed it, climbing her way in and seeing the shiny set of brand new tools.

She couldn't take wrenches, as much as she wanted to, but she could steal screws and nails. They'd be incredibly useful for maintaining the little homes of her family. She scooped them up by the armful, tossing them onto the ground outside the toolbox and hopping out herself. She scooped up her shiny new items and ran back, not bothering to close again. Humans would just assume they forgot, especially this human. He seemed disorganized.

---

---

Vhas watched from atop the stairs as the new human desperately tried to turn on his radio, holding the batteries he had taken out of it under his arm. He turned it on and off, he pressed randomly at some of the buttons, he turned it over and finally checked where the batteries went. He let out a frustrated exclamation of some kind, starting to search through boxes for batteries he wouldn't find.

Vhas missed being in a home with a human, chuckling to himself and letting his beetle wings buzz slightly. He stood, setting the batteries down and rolling them off the side of the stairs, running away to avoid being seen.

VR-LA slowly snuck into the half finished library study of the new human, moth wings twitching nervously as he slowly climbed up one of the desks. A book was closed on the desk and VR-LA eagerly opened it, sitting on the pages to start reading in the dark. He hadn't had access to human books in so long! And getting books from other borrowers was almost impossible, so he'd take anything he could get.

When he finished the pages before him, he'd hop off and turn the page, repeating the process for as long as he could. He knew he'd have to return within an hour or two before anybody started looking, but he couldn't help getting absorbed into the book.

He heard the door open and froze as the light was turned on, the new human standing in the entryway, blinking a few times he stared at VR-LA. VR-LA immediately ran, fluttering back to the mouse hole to hide. Maybe he'd forget, maybe he'd think he was dreaming.

-

Maxim blinked a few times as he saw the moth that had been seemingly reading a book on his desk ran away like a person, disappearing behind a bookcase. He must have been more tired than he thought, if he was imagining a stray moth reading a book.

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 43: Light Behind The Door

TW

Description of panic attack/flash back

Master List | Prev | Next

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Seonghwa stated bluntly, shaking his head. “Sit down on your bed so I can check you out, please.  

“Hey, give me a break, be happy I slept yesterday uninterrupted.” You huffed, sitting down as he asked. “I’m not exactly in the best mental state, alright?” 

Seonghwa sighed, motioning if you could turn your face side to side so he could see how things were healing. “Have you been eating?” 

“As much as I can tolerate. Some days are better than others but I am trying to keep up eating at least once a day.” 

You could tell he didn’t like the answer by his frown but made no comment. “Pain?” 

“There is some pain. If I move weird or lay on my sides too long, my ribs and sides still hurt, but I can tolerate it. The burns on my side itch, especially the one on my chest but you said nothing can really help with that. I feel pretty weak too, but that could also be the mental block.” 

He asked you to unbutton some of your shirt so he could see the healing brand. You had removed the bandages prior to him coming in, knowing there was no use to cover it back up if it needed to be checked out. Leaning your head back, you tried your best to hold back from flinching when Seonghwa leaned in, but still leaned away. Seonghwa hummed, standing straight and turning to dig into his bag. 

“So far, everything is looking alright. I’m not concerned about anything physically. I’d like you to try and eat more, get more sleep as well. I did get that heart monitor, you could be fine at this point, however, please humor me and wear it for two weeks.” He showed you the small device, explaining that it needed leads and wires since the wireless one would need to sit on the sensitive skin around the brand. This made it easier to get around that. 

You weren’t going to like it, but you’d listen and do as you were told to get healthier. He asked you to reapply the bandages to your chest before continuing. Slowly, Seonghwa showed you where to place all the sticky leads, avoiding as much of the healing skin as possible. You hated the feel of the adhesive and the wires ghosting over your chest, skin crawling and the already annoying itch jumping to a new level. 

“Only two weeks and if it’s all clear, you can trash it, got it?” He managed to crack a small smile, seeing you pout and hearing your huff. “It’s going to be alright, Mouse, at some point you might not even feel it.”

“F to doubt.” You scoffed, dropping your gaze. “Can I ask you something?” 

Perking up, he nodded, bringing the rolling chair over and sitting down. “Of course you can, Mouse.” 

“Have you ever pursued therapy?” 

A quiet hum left him, nodding his head in understanding as he gazed aimlessly. “Personally, no, though multiple within ATZ have. Are you considering it?” 

“Last night I was asked by Cheol if I would. Rheia has someone, I said it was a good idea but I have a lot of self doubt that is fucking me up. And also needing to trust someone else with what I’ve gone through… I’m not sure of everything basically.” 

Staying silent for a moment, Seonghwa clasped his hands together in thought, leaving you wondering what was running through his mind. “You are going to be unsure of yourself every single day, there isn’t a doubt in the world about that. However, do you think you’ll regret not speaking with a professional to help? Will you regret not taking a healthy step to overcome this? In my eyes, the pros will always outweigh the cons of it. Yes, you can worry about trusting someone, but they hold more confidentiality then I probably would. If Rheia trusts this person, I doubt there will also be any issue.” 

Swallowing thickly, you understood what he meant perfectly. You would regret not pursuing help for yourself, you’d regret that you could stay a shell of yourself willingly. 

“Can I ask who in ATZ got therapy?” 

“Jongho, Hongjoong, San, and Mingi.” There wasn’t any hesitation in his answer, the strongest all have a low point. “All for similar but different reasons. They got treated nonetheless. They know when they want to go back after something happens. They know that it’s a safe space and it's a healthy space with no judgment. I believe they are stronger for seeking help since they are willing to treat themselves.” 

You unintentionally started to pick at the loose skin around your nails, giving a short, minuscule nod to yourself. “Did…you bring Jongho with you?” You were sure you heard him earlier…

Seonghwa snickered, shoulder shaking. “He has been yapping my ear off, asking to come today since you’ve replied to zero of his texts.” 

“Yeah, it was overwhelming with over a hundred messages between everything. I was lucky I could message one person in the house.”

“I could only imagine.” He shook his head and stood, reaching into his bag once more and retrieving the cream for your brand, bandages, and medical tape. “These should last you until I see you next, but let me know if that changes. Would you like for me to send Jongho in?” 

“If you don’t mind?” 

“Not at all. I’ll message you when I’d like to stop by next.” 

“Thanks, maybe next time I’ll be able to come to you.” 

His lips slipped once more into a gentle smile. “I’d like to see that, Mouse.” 

Seonghwa bid you a farewell, clicking his tongue just beyond the threshold. “You are a pest.” 

“Shut up-” You could hear the pout on Jongho’s face. 

“Go on, we came in the same car so please don’t take forever.”

A thank you left the younger man’s lips before Jongho stepped in, shutting the door behind him. He looked frazzled, needing a few nights rest similar to you, but you said nothing. They would be the pot calling the kettle black. He quickly placed himself down on the chair Seonghwa once occupied. 

“Hi.” He started and you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Hey, sorry for not getting back to you-” 

Jongho shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Don’t even worry about it. Wooyoung talked to Chan and they said you were alright so I wasn’t too worried.” 

“Thank god because opening my phone has been a no go. Too many messages.” You huffed out a sign, shivering at the thought. “Kinda wanted to send a mass fuck off but I decided against it.” 

“I think a lot of us might have raided the house if you did.” Hearing him laugh had a light, calm feeling settling in your chest. “But I'm glad you’ve been taking care of yourself as much as you can. You’ve been through something horrible and I’m proud of you.” 

“I have a long road ahead of-” 

“It is still a road to travel forward, no matter the bumps in it.” 

Your gaze fell, brushing your hair back from your face. “Jongho…Can you tell me why you went to therapy?” 

He paused then sat back, folding his head in his lap. “After I aged out of foster care, I had a lot of anger built up. I can’t even begin to describe it. Once you and I got separated, it just got more and more angry. I met Seonghwa at the clinic after I got into a fight on the street and was banged up pretty bad. I lashed out a bunch at him especially when he introduced me to Hongjoong. Joong suggested it and I’ve been going on and off for a lot of reasons from my childhood to my current work.”

You took in his words wordlessly, nodding along so he knew you were listening. He didn’t look troubled by talking about it either, which was refreshing. You know some people are scared to admit to seeking therapy due to the stigmas of mental health. 

“I’m going to try therapy out.” You admitted to him and the tenderest smile spread on his lips. Sighing through your nose, you scratched the back of your neck awkwardly. “We’ll see how it goes. I’ve never gone before now.” 

“Unless they are shit, they will, well should , work on your pace to build up the confidence and trust to talk. Most have amazing patience. Mine matched my energy greatly back then and evolved how I needed them to.” He snickered, drumming his hands on his thighs before standing. “Tell me how it goes, okay? Let some people help if you can manage.” 

You shook your head but grinned. “I’ll try, Jongho. Tell everyone I said hi and that I’m doing okay so they don’t worry.” 

“Will do, chief. Get some rest.” Jongho gave a wave on his wave out, closing the door behind him.

You got the information from Seungcheol after Seonghwa and Jongho left. Staring at the number, ready to be called, you panicked, frozen on the bed.

Why was it so hard to ask for help? 

Was it your long standing hyper-independence? More than likely. You were used to handling all your issues by yourself. You were used to getting up despite your problems and moving on with your days. 

Now you couldn’t easily do that. 

You closed the phone app and directed yourself to your messages, finding the one group chat you needed at that moment. 

[To Threeway 12:23 PM]  Are you home? 

From beyond the door, you heard something drop and a call of Joshua’s name from Jeonghan. You couldn’t help the smile that fought to spread on your lips. 

[To Threeway 12:24 PM] Very subtle Can you both come here?

“Are we in trouble?” Joshua questioned Jeonghan and the other groaned. 

“If we are, I’m not at fault, I haven’t done anything. I am blaming Cheol if we did something wrong.”

They approached quickly and knocked, waiting to hear permission to enter before the door opened. They stepped in with wide eyes, curious as to why you had summoned them into your safe space. You tucked yourself into the pillows against the headboard, clearing your throat. 

“Can you sit?”

Jeonghan took his desk chair while Joshua pulled an ottoman over. They looked nervous, tired, maybe a little lost. Jeonghan’s nails were picked at and the skin around his nail beds were red and irritated. Joshua’s lips were dry, picked, and had definitely bled at some point. They looked as hollow as you felt. 

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Jeonghan fired off questions and you shook your head, leaving him stumped. “Then-” 

“How are you two ?” 

Both of them made a face, like you just asked the dumbest question on the planet. You waited, raising a brow the longer the silence stretched on. They shared a look, unsaid words you couldn’t read. When they both looked back at you, Joshua was the first to break.

“I miss you.” His shoulders dropped. “I’m worried about you. So is everyone else. We are just going through the motions of each day. It hasn’t been easy.” 

Jeonghan picked at his nails and you grabbed a small pillow, tossing it quickly at him. He huffs and sits on his hands like a child, leg bouncing anxiously. He takes longer to speak but his head drops when he does. 

“I can’t sleep. We know we can’t fix this and, god , does it fucking suck. I wish this was a dream we could all wake up from soon-” Jeonghan groaned out of frustration, throwing his head back. A sniffle was heard. “I’ll kill whoever hurt you the minute you feel comfortable enough to tell us, Mouse.” 

The seriousness in his tone wasn’t necessary to know he was speaking the truth. Joshua gave a short nod in agreement, the rest of SVT probably held the same opinion, let alone the entire mafia alliance.

The faces of the Monsta X members flashed behind your eyes and you sunk into the mountain of pillows. Goose bumps spread all over your body, skin stinging with pins and needles. Your eyes went unfocused, breath held in your lungs burned to come out. The back of your throat burned and you were reminded of the gasps for air you took once you were pulled out of the water filled box. Your mind honed in on the pain that subtly radiated through your rips and the skin covering there, the electrical burns you tried to ignore. You bit the inside of your cheeks, holding back from scratching your skin raw. 

You still felt trapped in Limbo, only a new version of it. 

“Mouse?” The call of your name snapped you back to reality. You boyfriends looked concerned, shaky eyes scanning you. “You with us?” 

Nodding, you blinked a few times to clear the fog that settled over your mind. Looking down, you noticed your nails were digging roughly into your palms, leaving harsh credent indents. Unclenching your hands, and your jaw, flattened your palms out on your thighs, sighing. 

“I’m trying to start therapy…for all of this.” You motioned aimlessly at yourself. “But I’m having a hard time calling to set up an appointment.” 

Joshua leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees. “Do you know why it is hard?” 

“I have a few guesses.” Shrugging, you rolled your head to the side and felt the needed stretch. 

“Would you want to talk to us about them?” He continued, “if you are comfortable.” 

There wasn’t a reason to hide the reasons from them. You know you trusted them despite the proximity issue you had going on currently. 

“Asking for help when you’ve never seen a professional is hard. I’ve always been a keep it to yourself, hold onto it, and move on.” Your leg bounced with jitters. “I never sought out therapy before and now that I am, I’m nervous of what will happen. I have so many ‘what ifs’ running through my head that are also getting the better of me.” 

Jeonghan cleared his throat. “I can’t speak from experience, but…you won’t know what will happen until you call and take that step.” 

How did so many of them know what to say when you needed it even when the comments were simple? They spoke with grace and a wind beneath their wings. You envied the decorum they showed. 

You sucked in a deep breath and held it in your chest for a few seconds, calming the anxious heart beating. Placing a hand over the bandaged brand, you made up your mind and reached for your phone. 

“Will you both stay as I call and make the appointment?” Why the fuck were you nervous asking that? 

“Of course, sweetheart.” Joshua’s sweet, calming voice grounded you.

Jeonghan hummed his similar answer, smiling. “Always here to help, love.” 

It still took you a few moments to make the phone call, staring displeased at the numbers boring back at you. Your significant others were waiting with bated breaths, silence as you built up the mental courage to proceed. When you pushed the call button, they both gave you gazes full of pride but the dial tone spiked your anxiety. 

The woman who answered sounded nice, maybe an older woman. Before she was able to get any information, you informed her that Rheia had given you the number and she hummed into the phone. She asked you some general questions for your name, birthday, and asked if you’d like to be seen as soon as possible. She took a note of you saying you’d like online appointments to start, hearing the clicking on a keyboard on the other side of the line. You would need a computer and a webcam, the doctor deeming it a hundred per cent necessary to know what she was working with. 

By the end of the call, you had an afternoon appointment the next day, a lighter feeling in your chest, and two wide, gorgeous smiles gleaming back at you. 

“You did good, sweetheart.” Joshua beamed, nudging Jeonghan with his elbow. 

Jeonghan looked just as proud, still sitting on his hands to stop his nervous habits. “I’m – We’re proud of you.” 

“That took more energy out of me than I expected.” You slumped, pulling a pillow close to your chest. 

“Join us in the living room?” Jeonghan asked. “We can put on some movie and eat since we were going to make something anyways.” 

You thought through the idea, knowing you leaving the room would be beneficial. You also needed to speak to Wonwoo about using Pandora tomorrow afternoon…

“That sounds amazing…let’s go.”

It was the second time you had fallen asleep in the living room and woke hours later. Similar to the first time, you didn’t dream, only calm, necessary slumber. 

After your previous loveseat nap, you stayed up all night. Once Seungcheol went off to bed fully, you really tired to fall asleep once more in bed but it never came. Though he said he would wash the blankets, your antsy energy had you washing and drying them all, sitting impatiently on the floor of the laundry room. With hours to spare after the laundry, you…did all the dishes and cleared out the dishwasher

You snuck into Pandora again, continuing on with simple games and a movie to occupy you, curled up in your bundle of blankets. At some point, you fell asleep, waking up to a nightmare covered in sweat, and trudged upstairs after cleaning up to sit in Jeonghan’s room. 

Now it seemed about the same. 

The house was peacefully quiet, you definitely missed dinner but a small note was on the side table, only noticed when you sat up. 

Didn’t want to wake you, dinner is in the fridge - JS 

There was a small, attempted doodle of a chicken, if you had to guess, directly under his handwriting. It made you shake your head and smile. Quietly, you found the plate of baked chicken and vegetable medley. How did you honestly sleep through them cooking? Typically they were loud, sound filling the whole house, especially at dinner time. 

“Maybe games…” You whispered to no one, heating up the food in the microwave, watching it spin and spin until it was heated through. “Definitely games…” 

With food in hand and a blanket acquired, you kicked the Gengar bean bag chair towards the door to Pandora. You pushed it down the stairs, landing unceremoniously at the door. You tried to step over it to press your hand to the print pad, keeping the food from spilling, and pushing the door open with some struggle. 

Kicking the bean bag through the door and shutting it behind you, the clearing of someone’s throat had you looking up. 

Wonwoo was sitting comfy in his computer chair, hair a mess, headphones on, and two monster energy drinks beside his keyboard. He pushed his glasses up tiredly, blinking up at you. 

“Hey,” He spoke first, eyeing the bean bag chair. 

“Typically you are asleep at this time.” 

“You know I know you’ve been coming in here, right?” It was an innocent question, there wasn’t any accusation behind his tone. 

You set your lips in a flat line, kicking the bean bag chair lightly to make more talking room. “Kinda figured. I only came down when you weren’t here because- you know…” 

A beat of silence passed before he snorted, holding back his grin. “You want me to leave my space?” 

“What- no- shut up.” You stammered, shaking your head. “It’s fine, just-” 

“Not too close, got it.” 

You paused, stepping away from the bean bag chair. “This is heavy, can you help me?” 

Wonwoo let out a low rumble of a laugh and took his headset off to stand. You moved further away, letting him easily lift your gift from Jun, finally being put to use after a while. He waddled over to the lounge area and placed it in a spot beside the coffee table, pushing said table over to make more room. 

His eyes shifted to you, wordlessly inquiring if it was good enough.  With your nod, he returned to his previous spot at his desk and you moved to settle down with your food and blanket. You ate quietly, listening to each clack of him pressing keys on his keyboard in the tranquil space. 

“Do you want to play a game?” You asked, both of you knowing the meaning behind your outwardly innocent question. There was always a conversion to follow the flow of video game teamwork. You had questions and he would give you honest, non- I’ll kill them answers. 

Lifting your head to look back at him, there was hesitation in his eyes. 

“Are you sure?” 

Those words rested heavy in the air, a moment for you to take back your question if you wished to. There was no knowing where the conversation would devolve into or how you’d react, but you wanted some clarity before your therapy session the coming day. 

“Yeah I am.” 

He sat himself down as far as he could from you on the couch, watching you pull up some two player game and slide a controller across the coffee table to him. Neither of you jumped straight into questions, getting into the rhythm of the game before taking that step. The air around you felt heavy, thick enough to be cut through with a knife. 

“What did Seonghwa say about your condition?”

Wonwoo, thankfully, broke the silence first after that teamwork rhythm was in place, making you let out the breath you were unknowingly holding. 

“He said everything is healing alright but I need a stupid heart monitor until I see him next.” You hadn’t forgotten about the wires that rubbed uncomfortably on your skin, having to fight the urge to rip it off for hours at that point. 

“Everyone has been in a better mood since you came out of your room yesterday.” He chuckled through his nose. “I hope Jihoon’s ultimatum wasn’t too hard.” 

“Really it was the push I needed.” Truthfully you were grateful for the other man’s quick thinking, not…that you would tell him that yet. “I’m still a little iffy but everyone is being respectful which I appreciate.” 

A hum left him. “Do you know why you are feeling like that?” 

“Not exactly, there are some ideas in my head but…I’m planning to figure it out in the first therapy session tomorrow.” 

“Oh.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him nod, keeping his focus on the game. 

“And I either need to borrow a computer or come down here for a webcam tomorrow afternoon.” 

“I can set it up down here. Probably more privacy than upstairs.” He winced when his character fell off the edge of the map. “I could lock everyone but you and me from Pandora.” 

“That would be mean, Wonu.” 

“But effective for maximum privacy.” 

“You just like being an introvert that lives in his man cave. If Cheol let you, this would be your room, hermit.” 

Wonwoo rumbled with laughter, letting a pleasant silence settle over the space now that the awkwardness was broken. The quiet clicks from the controllers were familiar, preparing you for the questions bubbling in both your and his minds. 

The silence stretched for nearly an hour before Wonwoo seemed to have enough, pausing the game and setting his controller down. He said nothing at first, only leaning forward to place his elbows on his thighs and face in his hands. He took in a slow deep breath, his leg starting to bounce restlessly. 

“Mouse,” His somber tone had the hair on the back of your neck standing on edge. “I need you to be honest with me and we never have to bring it up again.” 

Don’t- 

“Just shake or nod your head and I’ll understand.” Wonwoo lifted his eyes, adjusting his glasses. His eyebrows were furrowed together tightly, pain behind his eyes. “Did Monsta X do this to you?” 

Hearing the name out loud for the first time since waking up made every muscle in your body tense. You felt the weight of the world pressing down on your chest, pushing all the air out. 

The warmth that once came from the blanket wrapped around you had long gone frigid. You flinched at the sensation of ice cold water drenching every inch of your skin. You heard something – or someone – but the sound was far off in the distance and…muffled, underwater. Something was- There was this loud beeping. 

You couldn’t move. You were back in that horrid metal chair in that damp, moldy room with Kihyun’s sick, sadistic smirk staring back at you. You knew what was going to happen next, that was the part that scared you the most. The anticipation of what was to come was harrowing. You didn’t want to relive the pain. You didn’t want to relive your worst nightmare play by play, knowing how it is always going to end. And you couldn’t stop it .

There wasn’t any fight left, you couldn’t even attempt to fight in this…state, whenever you were. Had you just woken up and everything before waking up in the ATZ wasn’t real? Were you still their prisoner? Was your mind making up lies to help you cope? 

Dread…

Powerless…

Vulnerable…

Ashamed…  

Ashamed you let them get to you so easily. Ashamed you didn’t realize earlier that Monsta X was your stalkers. Ashamed you couldn’t even hear their group name without having a flashback. 

Ashamed. Period…

Something was touching you, something placed on your head. You weren’t able to move away from it, trying to wipe Nightmare’s and Joker’s faces from your vision. 

The piercing sound of piano keys met your ears. It was played loudly, louder than the scenes flashing through your mind. Your vision started to blur. The sound was soft, a slow rhythm that had your heart beating slower in time with the notes. The slow raise of a violin joined along the piano, calm and quaint, a breath of air rushing into your lungs. A low beat of intermittent percussion fading in wasn’t too bold to remind you of the banging on the metal box, reminding you that you had escaped. The vibration of the cymbal brought some feeling back into your arms, electrifying the reminder you were alive . 

The room slowly transitioned from where you were held captive to the low lit space of Pandora. 

Taking in a shaky gasp of air, your entire body shuddered as you came back to reality. 

You felt the pressure of headphones on your head, the song repeating from the beginning. Wonwoo knelt on the floor in front of you, concern gracing his features. You reached up to wipe your face, met only with tears streaming down your cheeks. Your hands shook with panicked energy, feeling your heart slow to a somewhat normal rate. The other said something but the music was too loud and you felt like a bobble head at how dizzy you were. 

It took you a moment to remove the headset, letting the ringing in your ears play out as you refocused on Wonwoo. 

An apology flimsily spilled from your lips and Wonwoo looked…annoyed, but you didn’t think it was at you. 

“Why are you apologizing?” It was a rhetorical question. “ I’m sorry , do you need anything?” 

“Ju-” Your voice broke and you groaned. “Juice sounds amazing-” 

He was gone before you even finished the request, leaving the door to the basement open in his wake. 

You took a moment to bundle yourself back up into the blanket, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. Sniffling to calm your tears, you tried to make yourself small, curling up to seemingly protect yourself. 

“Here.” You didn’t hear him return, flinching some as he placed the small glass of juice down, happy to see the straw in it. “Anything else?” 

“I’m okay, thank you.” You shakily reached for the glass and took a long sip, shivering at how sweet it was. “Just give me a second.” 

Wonwoo sat on the floor in front of you, keeping a watchful eye on you for any issues. You were able to hear the song blasting through the headphone still, letting the ballad’s instrumental continue to ground you. 

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo repeated, fists balled in his lap. “I didn’t mean-”

“Please don’t tell them yet-” You cut him off, downing the rest of the juice and setting the cup aside. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle hearing everyone talk about them …nor do I think I’m ready to say it or admit everything yet, I can’t even say it…” 

Wonwoo studied you, his gaze flicking around your person, making you huddle in on yourself more. You heard him sigh and he stood, ruffling his hair in frustration. 

“Fine- Fuck, okay…” He didn’t sound pleased, but he stared down at you. “You promise, when you are ready, you will tell them, right?” 

Nodding, you pulled the blanket up to your chin. “Yeah.”

“Can you…promise you won’t tell them I knew first?” 

If you weren’t so mentally exhausted, you would laugh. “Yeah, promise.” 

“I am, however, going to put some eyes on them if I can.” He held your gaze. “Just so we are clear. No moves, just watching them.” 

“I understand.” You and him stared silently for a beat, only for you to point weakly at the still on TV. “I’m not going to be able to sleep anytime soon…can we continue playing?” 

Disbelief crossed his face but Wonwoo sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, we can keep playing. I’ll need to sleep eventually though and set up the computer before that.” 

“Okay…I might just stay down here all night though.” You grabbed your controller, watching him take a seat. “Thank you, Wonwoo.” 

“Don’t thank me, I spiraled you into a PTSD episode-”

“No, you fucking idiot, not that. Thank you for getting me out of it, for one thing, and another for understanding.” 

“Oh…you’re welcome.” 

“Now help me kick this boss’s ass.”

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