#you leave to get some tools and come back and he's in a slightly different position

[spring-lxcked]

wait that scheduled post just reminded me that i would love a full-blown horror thread of someone trying to work on/check out/repair springtr.ap thinking he's unpowered/deactivated atm and the whole time he's. completely aware. just taking his sweet time to actually reveal it.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Blue Magic

How I imagine the lads men (pre-relationship) react to you verbally enjoying them gently greasing your scalp. A/N: This one is specifically for my black girls and anyone with thick hair who understands what it's like to have to grease your scalp. Also for those who understand what it was like growing up with your momma and aunties brushing your neck, ears, forehead, and inner most thoughts. Getting popped with the comb for moving too much and the dread of knowing they’re about to pull out that hot comb. [Requested by: Anon]

Summary: He was always curious when you would turn down plans because you needed to wash your hair. He never understood why you had Wash Days instead of just a quick wash while you're showering. Since you had a crush on him you took the time to explain how your hair is different from his and how there's no such thing as a quick wash while showering for you. You decided to let him see what all goes into your Wash Days. Now here you were sitting crisscross on the floor in front of your full length mirror surrounded by all your hair tools. You just finished blow drying your hair in four sections and it was a relief to drop your arms and relax them for a while. You hung your head knowing that you had one last step to do before you could lay down.

“Do you need some help?”

Zayne

Zayne would be so meticulous with his hands as if he were actually doing surgery on your hair. He would be so gentle gliding the rat tail comb through your roots and gently spreading the grease on your scalp and slightly massaging as he went. “I’ve never had someone be this gentle with my scalp” You couldn’t help, but sigh however your sighs seemed to come out as soft whimpers. “Right there, scratch right there” he did exactly as you said and felt his ears getting hot in the process. Hearing you moan and whimper out soft “That feels so good” and “wait wait massage right there” followed by the most sultry sound he’s ever heard come out of you.

Nearly halfway through he's standing at attention. His nerves are on edge and he doesn't want you to see him like this. "I’m sorry, but I have to head home I have an early out-patient to attend to in the morning" You turn suddenly making him jump. "We're only half done" Your words came out more whiney than you intended.

You’re a little confused at his sudden need to leave, but you nod and stand to walk him to the door. "I'll make it up to you. Good Night." You don’t miss the very obvious bulge in his pants as he quickly grabs his coat and slips out your front door.

Rafayel

Rafayel is unintentionally rough as hell when he starts parting your hair. “Ow! why are you tugging so hard?!” You smack his hands away opting to do it yourself, but he begs to try again and you give in to those big puppy dog eyes he has. “Be gentle!”

Second time around he’s so gentle it almost feels like a lovers touch as he massages the section of your hair before going through with the rat tail comb like you showed him. You can’t help the noises that escape out of you as he smears just the right amount of grease on your scalp. “Are you always this vocal during this process?” He asks in almost a whisper. You try to turn to look at him, but he quickly snaps your head back towards the mirror, hiding his face behind your head. “It feels good when someone else does it” Another sigh leaves you as he keeps going “Please don’t stop” Once he reaches the last section you end up leaning slightly back into him and thats when you feel something poking your lower back.

Y/N: Raf are you…..are you turned on? Rafayel: You’re the one moaning my name while im doing this! Y/N: So it’s my fault? Rafayel: YES Y/N: pokes it Rafayel: do that again and im calling the authorities

He quickly excused himself out of the room while you cleaned up your mess of hair products.

Xavier

Xavier is hanging on by a single worn thread while he’s greasing your scalp. He can barely make it through the first section before he’s already nearly panting listening to you moan “Thank you Xavier” Hearing his name on your lips like that had him near feral. “You’re welcome” He whispered in a raspy tone. You feel him constantly adjusting his position and clearing his throat while he slowly works his way through the next section of hair. “Right there rub right there” You whimper and he inhales deeply as he does as you say. “Right here?” His voice is low and gravelly it actually sends tingles through your body.

Xavier literally can’t take it. His composure was slipping the minute you sighed his name. He managed you finish the job only to turn and tilt your head back to look in your eyes. The tension was always thick between you two. His gaze bounced from your eyes to your lips and you melted when he whispered “Can I kiss you?”

Sylus

Sylus is outing you right then and there he don’t care. The minute you whimper from his fingers gliding across your scalp he’s smirking. He’s so gentle while he does it you almost forget this is a Mafia Don that you have greasing your scalp in the middle of the night. “People would get the wrong idea if they could hear you now” He teased in that sultry voice of his. You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you that quickly dissipated the second he started massaging your scalp again. “It just feels so good” You whimper again while he slowly works his way through your hair. “I can tell”

He would be able to hold his composure throughout the entire process and by the time he’s done you can finally think clearly. You quickly slip your bonnet on and turn to face him thats when you notice his red cheeks and ears. “You’re never going to do this for me again will you?” You see the corner of his mouth quirk upwards.

He’s enjoying this.

“I don’t mind making you moan again” You shove his shoulder and he just chuckles as you pound your fist into his chest. “You owe me a scalp massage now sweetie”

[harrietswriting]

hiiii!!! do you think you could do something with the gang (separately) being protective of reader? its okay if you dont want to though!!! totally up to you 💕💕

The Gang Being Protective

The outsiders x fem!reader

an: I tried to give them all different plots so it wasn't repetitive. Thank you for the request and sorry this took SOOO long. (This request is so old and this took me WAY too long I'm sorry 😭) please leave more requests guys!

W: men being gross and creepy, swearing, not proof read

Darry Curtis

Darry Curtis normally isn't one for parties, but you convinced him to go to one with you. He was, unfortunately, not having the best time. But you were. You were drinking and dancing and having the time of your life. You pulled Darry around with you as you chatted with your friends, acquaintances, total strangers, anyone.

Some time into the party, the two of you got separated. You were getting another drink and talking to a old classmate from high-school. A guy approaches you, and you immediately get a bad feeling.

"Hey sweet thing." He slurs with a smirk.

You grip your drink tighter and it takes everything in you not to show your disgust on your face. "Hi."

"You look good enough to eat. Let's get outta here, yeah?" He steps way to close to you.

Ew. "No thank-"

"No, she doesn't." A familiar, stern voice cuts you off as a muscular arms is wrapped around your shoulders.

You glance up at him. He's glaring daggers at the man who talked to you.

The man scoffed. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Her boyfriend. Now why don't you back the hell up?" His voice is stern, deep, and angry.

The guy scoffs again, rolls his eyes, and walks away. "Whatever.."

Darry turns his attention to you. "Are you alright, y/n?" He asks tenderly.

You nod. "Thank you."

"Of course, darling, you don't have to thank me." He kisses your forehead.

Sodapop Curtis

"Can you hand me a wrench?" Soda asks you as he sticks his hand out from under the Curtis's truck. The poor old thing had broke from the hundredth time and he was in charge of fixing it.

You grab a wrench out off the tool box beside you and hand it to him. "Here."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

The only reason you're here, sitting on the curb while Soda fixes up the car, is because you had come over to tell him something. You were a little nervous to tell him. You've heard stories from your friends about how their past boyfriends weren't cool with stuff like this.

"Hey, Soda?" You say while staring down at your hands.

"Yeah?" He calls back from under the car.

"I'm going with my friend tomorrow, so we have to cancel our date."

"Oh." He slides out from under the car and sits up, looking at you. "You can't go any other day?"

You shake your head. "He's only going to be in town a few days, and tomorrow is the only day he's free." You explain.

His eyebrows furrow and he looks untrusting. "He?"

You nod. "We were friends in elementary school, but then he moved away."

"Oh." He thinks this over for a minute. "It's not like a date, right?"

Youre taken aback. "What? No, of course not. We're just hanging out as friends, babe."

"Good." He nods and ponders this again for a moment. "Can I go?"

"Do you not trust me?" You ask, feeling slightly hurt.

He shakes his head. "No, of course I trust you. I don't trust this guy I've never meant. Plus, if he's your friend, I wanna meet him." He smiles. Soda did like knowing all the people in your life. He had wanted to meet your family and friends as soon as possible.

"I- I don't know. I haven't seen him in so long, and it might be weird with you there. He doesn't know you, you don't know him. I want you to meet him too, but I don't want to make it awkward with you there the whole time. Don't you think it's annoying when people drag their partners to every hang out."

"Yeah, okay. Hm.. how about I drop you off and meet him when I drop you off." He smiles, knowing that that's a good suggestion.

You smile too. "Sure. That sounds like a good plan, Soda."

Steve Randle

Shelves don't restock themselves, so Steve was stocking them while complaining to you. You ate some chips he bought you while he ranted.

"I got this job so I could work on cars, not restock shelves." He told you.

"Do you want me to help you?" You offer.

"No, no. Its my job. And I don't need us both losing our minds cause of how boring this is."

You laugh. "Okay."

He finishes stocking everything in the box he had, so he goes into the back to get another. He kisses you before going.

You crumple up your empty bag of chips and look for a trash can to throw it away in. The bell by the door rings, meaning someone entered the gas station. You find a trash can and toss the chip bag from a short distance, but somehow, you miss. So, you bend down to pick it up.

And then you hear a whistle. You think it's Steve trying to tease you for a moment, until you turn around and see some random guy. He was smirking at you too. What the hell?

"What the hell?" A familiar voice asks angrily. You turn your head and see Steve walking over to you while glaring at the guy. "Why're you whistling at my girl?"

"Hey, man. I didn't know that she'd been claimed." He raises his hands.

Claimed? You scoff.

"Claimed? " Steve says, "She's a human being, not a, fucking parking spot or something. Why don't you get the hell outta my store." He crosses his arms.

The guys shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and huffs. "Whatever." Then he turns and leaves.

"Fucking asshole." Steve shakes his head then looks down at you. "You okay?"

You smile. "Yes, thank you."

He uncrosses his arms and reaches for your hand, taking it in his. "You don't have to thank me, baby."

Two-Bit Matthews

It was a chilly afternoon, and you and Two-Bit were walking around town together. You were wearing his jacket and his arm was around you. You were talking about random stuff and laughing together. The two of you had just left a diner and were now walking to your house.

You always had a blast when you were with Two-Bit. He was funny and surprisingly sweet. He made you feel lighter and just being around him calmed you down. He was familiar.

The two of talk about school, friends, life, anything that pops into your minds. All is going great until you pass a guy who's leans against the side of a building, smoking a cigarette. He whistles at you. A somewhat small sound that was absolutely unnerving. It immediately made you uncomfortable. And of course Two-Bit heard it and noticed your change in energy.

"Has that ever worked for you?" Two-Bit asks the guy angrily as he wraps his arm tighter around you.

"Huh?" The creep looks you the both of you.

"I said, 'has that ever worked for you?' Because I'm guessin' it hasn't." Two-Bit had stopped walking and was looking back at the guy.

"I- fuck off, man." He turns to leave.

"Leave girls like mine alone, wacko!" Two-Bit calls as the guy walks away. Then he turns his head to look at you. "I'm sorry, baby." He says.

"Oh, it's okay. I'm fine." You say as you two begin to walk down the sidewalk again.

"But it's not okay. Guys shouldn't be whistling at or cat calling you, baby. Ticks me off." He lets go of your waist and holds your hand.

You squeeze his hand, appreciating his concern and protection. "Thanks for standing up for me."

He shrugs. "Don't mention it, I owed you, you got lunch."

Dallas Winston

Dallas loves to show you off. He loves getting to let people know that you're his. He loves watching other guys disappointed faces when you're all over him.

You were hesitant to wear such a short skirt to the party at Buck's, but Dallas was quick to reassure you.

"You look absolutely gorgeous. Good enough to eat, doll." He held you from behind as you gazed into your mirror. So it was settled. You wore the skirt.

Unfortunately, that meant you got stares.

One man in particular had been staring at you all night. At first, you thought you were imagining things, seeing him the corner of your eye, but you kept making eye contact with him. It was making you uncomfortable.

"That guy over there is staring at me." You whisper to Dallas, peeking over your shoulder at him.

Dallas tightens his arm around your waist. He looks in the direction you're looking. He makes eye contact with the man, causing the man to look away.

"I'll talk to him."

Only Dallas Winston doesn't "talk" to people who have pissed him off, and he's clearly pissed off. Now, you'd be happy to see this guy get slugged, but you really didn't want Dallas getting into a fight. So, you grab his hand when he starts to walk away.

"Dallas–"

"I'm just gonna talk to him, I promise." He squeezes your hand then pulls his away. He walks over the man and you lag slowly behind him, really hoping this doesn't end in violence.

Dallas approaches him. "Hey man, my girl doesn't like being stared at by creeps like you. I think should you cut it out."

The man scoffs. "Maybe she shouldn't dress like a that then. I can look if I'd like."

"She can dress how ever the hell she pleases, doesn't give you any right to watch her like a fucking creep."

Oh boy was he getting mad. You walk up behind him and put your hand on his shoulder. "Dal, it's not worth it, c'mon."

The man smirks at you. "Well, hello sweet cheeks."

Ew. "Excuse me?" You say at the same time Dallas's fist lands on his face.

Johnny Cade

Johnny trusts you mote than anyone he knows, so why was he so worried? Sure, you'd hung out with a friend for yours that happened to be a guy and didn't tell him, but that guy's just your friend, right? Well, he better be. Johnny knows that he should talk to you about it, but he's not sure how to bring it up. Luckily, you do one day while walking through the park with him.

"Last weekend I went to see this movie, Viva Las Vegas, that new one with Elvis in it, with my friend Aaron. It was just okay." You say.

He hesitates then asks, "Who's Aaron?"

"My friend." You say simply.

A faint smile appears on his face from your answer. "Well, yeah, but who is he? Why're you going to the movies with him?" He feels awkward asking.

You can tell what he's thinking about, and you feel a bit guilty for making him worry. "Oh, it's nothing bad, I swear. Me, him, and this girl, Margaret– we were all three going to go together, but Margaret never showed. We learned on Monday that she'd been sick."

"Oh," he nods. "I mean, I don't really mind that you're hanging out with a guy alone. If it was Soda or Steve or Ponyboy, ya know, I wouldn't care. It's just cause I don't know him, that's all."

"Yeah." You pause then smile. "You were jealous." You tease as you take hold of his arm.

"I'm wasn't–" He pauses and looks at you. He sighs, "I was worried about you. I trust you, but I can't trust people I've never met."

You think quietly for a moment, then make a suggestion. "How about, next time we make plans, I'll ask if you can come, so you can meet him."

He smiles and nods. "Okay, that sounds perfect, sweetheart, thank you." He slips his arm out from your grasp and instead puts in around your shoulders. He pulls you in, towards him, and places a kiss on your forehead.

An: idk why this took so long. Please leave me more requests! The more specific, the more fun!

[hearts4golbach]

Can I request carrington x reader where his Lon term partner (reader) didn’t like flowers, so he makes her paper ones himself? Like those paper bouquets you see in like, booktok

Thank God for Tiktok.

pairing:

Carrington Bornstein x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

pre established relationship 👅

not proofread

warnings:

none.

word count:

1.0k

To say Carrington had been crafting for hours was an understatement. the sun had gone down a while back. He was sitting in his moonlit room surrounded by miscellaneous crafting tools and books. tomorrow was your birthday. no, he hadn't been procrastinating. he had ordered you a gift but stumbled upon the idea to make you paper flowers. you preferred not to get real flowers. You were always so upset when they inevitably died.

so, he was glued to his bed (pun intended), making you an immortal bouquet of paper flowers.

previously, he had rushed out of the house to go find some books he could cut up. clearly, he didn't own any, and he wasn't about to steal one of Johnnies' comics. he settled on going out, possibly to goodwill or target, to get a book or two for his project. he wandered to the arts and crafts section, getting a hot glue gun and sticks. he also found a pack of pipe cleaners and some ribbon. everything he had chosen was a perfect match for his vision. and with that, he was all set.

it had been about three and a half hours since then. he was about to finish the very last flower, then he'd have a set of exactly twenty. he mentally praised himself for how well they actually turned out. he even curled out the edges of the paper to imitate real flowers.

setting the last one in the pile, he admired his work. he couldn't help but smile to himself, dreaming of your reaction at dinner tomorrow night.

Carrington grabbed a handful of the dark green pipe cleaners and began attaching them to the paper flowers. thoughts of your bright smile plagued his mind.

he knew you'd be somewhat shocked at the present, considering he wasn't an arts and crafts type of person. when it came to you, he was up for anything.

he envisioned how the bouquet would look in your bedroom, grinning to himself whenever he realized it'd fit your aesthetic perfectly.

he sang to himself softly. the song that was playing reminded him of you. he was slightly relieved when gluing the stems on didn't take as long as the flowers themselves. he held the fairly large bouquet in one hand, a stupid smile plastered on his face. he tied a bow around the stems as perfectly as he could before setting it on his desk carefully.

as soon as he crashed into bed, he fell asleep almost immediately. ignoring the ache in his knuckles and the slight pounding in his head, he drifted off to sleep.

the next morning went by fast. he had a couple of 'business' things to figure out with Jake and Johnnie, which went by a lot quicker than he had figured. by lunchtime, he was anxiously waiting by his phone for you to respond. of course, he knew it'd take forever. you were at lunch with friends, and you were coming over straight after. it was a sort of nervous excitement. he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his gift.

Carrington decided against sitting there for another hour. he went to the bathroom and adjusted his hair. his curly dark brown locks hung in his face, complimenting his bright blue eyes. he tried to do something different with his hair, but there wasn't much. he knew you wouldn't care. You loved playing with his messy hair.

finally, his phone rang. your name and photo popped up on the screen. he scrambled to his phone and answered on the first ring. "Hi, baby." he greeted.

"Hey," he could hear the sudden smile in your voice, which made him grin. "im leaving now. Am I still good to come over?"

"Yeah. yeah, of course." he furrowed his eyebrows together, very expressive as he spoke even though you couldn't see his face.

you hummed and said goodbye before ending the call. you sped over there, so excited you drove over the speed limit without even realizing it.

meanwhile, Carrington prepped your present. he wrapped it in sparkly black, silver, and light blue wrapping paper. he taped the small card on top and grabbed the faux bouquet. he waited downstairs on the couch, holding the items in his lap.

whenever you arrived, you walked quickly up to the door. you knocked a couple of times before entering, which had become your usual routine.

Carrington jumped up and pulled you in for a hug. you felt contentment wash over you as his hands rested on the small of your back and his head in the crook of your neck.

he placed a kiss on your neck. "Happy birthday." he pulled away, beckoning you over to the couch. "c'mere."

you silently followed him over. he handed you the small box, which was neatly wrapped. "What's this?"

"What does it look like?" he laughed, "it's a present."

"I told you I don't need anything," you scolded, a sincere tone in your voice.

"I wanted to get you something. open it!" he urged.

you rolled your eyes, a contradicting smile on your face. in the box, there was a beautiful necklace. it had 3 charms on it, your initial, Carringtons' initials, and a small heart. you pouted your lower lip and looked up at him. "I love it."

"im really glad," he grinned, handing you two more things. "Read the card later." he was embarrassed to see your reaction to what he wrote in person.

you sighed, "Fine." he finally handed you the bouquet.

your jaw fell to the floor as you looked at the beautiful, handmade flowers. "You made this?!"

he nodded, a prideful smile on his face. "I thought you'd really like them since you're a bookworm."

you paid no mind to his joke. you were absolutely starstruck by the flowers. "they're so beautiful, Carrington." You couldn't contain the soft smile that threatened to appear. you placed a soft, slow kiss on his lips. "I love you."

he placed a kiss on your forehead. "i love you." All he could think was, 'thank god for tiktok.''

[losers-clvb]

it will come back // soldier boy

pairing: soldier boy x female!reader

summary: you unknowingly take in soldier boy after his escape from russia.

content: canon level violence, reader has a small savior complex, corruption kink but you could probably ignore it, maybe slight ooc soldier boy, yapper reader, age gap (reader is twenty-five), ben mentions wanting to bite reader multiple times, smut, unprotected piv sex, reader is into ben killing for her

word count: 3.8k

note: first time writing for soldier boy! it has been a year since i've watched the boys, but rewatching it now has made me want to write for it. inspired partly by "it will come back" by hozier, which is where the title comes from.

masterlist

----

The first interaction you had with Soldier Boy was risky. You knew it, but it didn’t stop you from following him into an alleyway. He had stumbled into the dark, cramped space with a pained look on his face. You, who was known to take in a various selection of strays, felt a pull toward the man. Perhaps it was your naivety to the world that prevented you from seeing the danger in the bearded man.

You opened your mouth to speak. The moment he heard the nearly silent intake of your breath, he had you slammed up against the brick of the nearby building, a hand wrapped around your neck. He was heaving out breaths, eye twitching while he surveyed his little follower.

Oxygen. You needed oxygen, but the tight grip on your throat was cutting off that precious supply. Ben looked into your eyes and he could smell your fear. It was washing over you, but there was something else there. Something that made him loosen his grip on you. You sucked in a breath, a whimper leaving your lips. He had let you breathe, yes, but you were still trapped between him and the building.

Ben had no qualms about killing, even if it was a harmless little thing like you. He had done far worse in the name of Vought. Yet when his eyes journeyed across your skin, falling to exposed patch of cleavage that seemed like it was on display with him in mind, something other than bloodlust crashed through him. You were the first innocent thing he had seen since before the Russians, before he had been frozen for what could have been an eternity.

“I’m sorry.” You managed to get out, not daring to even try to wiggle in his grasp. Your voice wavered slightly and you had the overwhelming thought that you were about to die. Past that, in some deep, dark pit inside of you, there was that savior complex, begging to be released, a motherly instinct of sorts. You wanted to help the vulnerable, and even with that crazed flash in his eyes, you knew Ben needed your help.

He didn’t speak. No. He only backed away from you, his eyes still trained on the sweet flush of your skin. It wasn’t until his back bumped into the opposite building that was only a few feet away that you made your own move. You should have run, should have taken the opportunity to escape this wolf of a man.

You took a hesitant step toward him. He flickered his gaze to your eyes and a sick, predatory need bubbled in him at the glimpse of care he caught in them. You didn’t run from him. You shuffled toward him, careful to not make any sudden movements. You didn’t want to spook your new-found project.

“I can help you.” You whispered, reaching out a hand to touch him. Ben imagined you saying it in a different way, purring the words into his ear while he was inside of you.

Your fingertips grazed the collar of the hoodie he had stolen in Russia. He flinched, only just slightly, even though he knew you wouldn’t be able to hurt him. It was instinct by now, the memory of the Russians digging tools into his skin overtaking him.

“Will you let me help you?” You asked when he didn’t speak. God, Ben could have just died at the purity of your care. He hadn’t felt a gentleness like this in so long, far before he had accepted the Compound V into his system. The women he had been with before, they wanted him for a variety of reasons; sex, pain, fame. You were different. He couldn’t imagine why, but your actions were spurred on by the overwhelming need to care for something.

Ben didn’t let himself relax into your touch. He may have been captivated by you, but he still felt the adrenaline of being pushed into this new world coursing through his veins. Your head snapped to the end of the alley when a siren sounded. It was only a police car, flying past in advancement of something else. When you looked back to Ben, a soft smile was shining across your face.

He wanted to ruin you.

You took his lack of fleeing as an opening to really touch him. You cupped a hand over his beard, the bushy hair soft under your touch. You wondered what had happened, who he was. You didn’t recognize him. You had heard of Soldier Boy in school, but it had been years since you saw a picture. Even if you had been able to conjure up some sort of comparison, this man in front of you was far from the American hero he had been before. He was scruffy, wild, and silent.

“Can you trust me?” You asked, your voice just a tiny bit louder this time. Ben caught your choice of words. Can you trust me instead of do you trust me. It pulled something out of him, made him finally speak for the first time since before the Russians turned him into a popsicle.

“Yes.”

The word was quiet and not much of an answer, but it felt like Heaven to you. You had gotten him to talk. A warmth spread through you at the gravelly tone of his voice. Your eyes twinkled at him. He almost regretted speaking, but then he remembered that you were fragile, breakable. If you did something to threaten him, he could kill you in a split second.

You wrapped your other hand around two of his fingers, figuring that was a better option than completely holding his hand. The palm of his hand was calloused, his skin rough in comparison to your buttery soft hold.

Ben let you guide him out of the alley and back onto the streets of New York City. Crowds bustled past. Most had their eyes on their cellphones but some gave the pair of you a strange look. You could imagine their confusion. You, with your hair tied back with a pretty pink bow, dragging along someone who looked like he had just crawled off a park bench. You could hardly care. The giddiness of having something to take care of made your feet move faster down the sidewalks.

The entire journey to your studio apartment was filled with Ben watching you. Your fear had dissipated long ago, replaced with excitement. He could smell your perfume now, an apple scent that reminded him of pie. Pie. He hadn’t had that in a while, he now realized.

“It’s not much.” You mumbled while unlocking the door. You almost sounded sheepish, something that only made Ben want to have a taste of you even more. You had invited a total stranger into your home yet you were still embarrassed of your small space.

You closed the door softly behind him, the click of the lock catching his attention. He whipped his head to you, alarm in his eyes despite the fact that he could tear the door off its hinges if he really wanted to. You shivered under his gaze, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“There’s dangerous people out there.” You defended, your voice small. The irony of your words escaped you. Yes, there were dangerous people out there, but there was also one right in front of you. You pulled your jacket off and Ben was practically salivating at the curve of your collarbone. How easy would it be to just nibble at the skin that stretched there?

“Are you hungry? You look hungry.” You babbled out, the words spilling like water. You were nervous now, not because of his presence but more for the fear that he would run from you. You needed this, needed to take care of someone. This wasn’t the first time you offered aid to something, but it had never been a man like this.

Ben was silent. He didn’t want to talk again. He was intrigued by you. You were young, he knew. Twenty-five, at most. Much younger than him, much more innocent. He wondered if you knew who he was, knew what he could do with just his bare hands.

You took in a breath and nodded, padding over to the designated kitchen area. While you threw together a sandwich for him, he let his eyes wander around the space. A bed in the corner, picture frames lining the wall, and something that was flat and black hung on the wall. Huh. He didn’t know what that was.

He silently stepped over to your pictures, eyes scanning them. People who shared the same slope of your nose smiled back at him, along with a few that he assumed to be friends. He lingered on a picture of you in a cap and gown, a bright smile on your face while you held up a college degree.

“That’s my mom.” Your finger jabbed at a photo of you, slightly younger, and a woman hugging side by side. Ben squinted his eyes, trying to study the photo, commit it to memory. You offered a plate to him.

“Peanut butter and jelly. Raspberry, it’s my favorite.” You explained. Sure enough, there was the sandwich, cut into four perfect triangles. “Sandwiches always taste better cut like this.”

Ben didn’t know if it was true. He couldn’t quite remember anything other than the slop that the Russians had fed him. You sounded so confident in this information that he decided it didn’t matter, you had to be right.

It hit you then that you never introduced yourself. You looked up at Ben with wide eyes and blurted out your name. His eyebrow twitched up.

“That’s my name.” You clarified. You waited for him to respond with his own name, but ended up just staring at him in silence.

That was the start of something new. Something that was unexpected to you both. You gave him your usual bright smile before turning away to disappear into the bathroom, leaving him with his food.

----

You woke up to a grunt. A glance at the floor next to your bed told you it had come from Ben. You frowned and waited to see what would come next. Another grunt, and now he turned over violently. A nightmare, maybe?

You reached a hand down to nudge his shoulder. Big mistake. You had barely grazed his shirt when his eyes snapped open. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you to the ground. You yelped in pain when your head hit the floorboards. He was on top of you now, his knee digging into your stomach.

You were trembling beneath him. His eyes flared in panic and pure determination before he realized it was you, not an enemy. He eased his knee off, but still hovered above you. His long hair dangled down, the ends brushing your face. You let out a shaky breath and tried to ignore the bruising that was sure to be appearing on your wrists.

Ben wasn’t known to hold himself back before, and he hadn’t changed much in the years he had been away. He could hear your heartbeat pounding and he wanted to take a bite where it beat. So he did.

Faster than you could process, he knelt his head down to your chest. His teeth dragged across your breast, digging in enough to leave a mark. Instead of a cry of pain, a whimper of pleasure that you tried to stop tumbled out of you. Ben flicked his eyes to your face, looking at you through his eyelashes.

That was when he smelled it. It sank through the fear that you had felt prior. The sweet smell of your arousal drifted up to him, better than anything he had ever experienced. The years of living without this, without a woman’s body writhing under him, were catching up to him all at once. The drop of self control he had dried up and he moved without thinking.

“Oh,” you hummed out when he ripped your tank top clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to the air. Ben immediately attached his mouth to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around it. You tried to move your hands to touch him, any part of him, but he made it a point to pin your wrists down above your head.

You moaned out when he nibbled on the nipple in his mouth. He moved to the neglected side, not wanting to leave any inch of you untouched. His other hand snaked down to pull your shorts down. He slipped a finger through your folds, gathering your arousal on it before bringing it to his mouth. God, you tasted just as good as he thought you would.

Ben pulled himself out of the sweatpants he wore. He was achingly hard. And big. You noticed that immediately. You weren’t sure if he would fit, but he had no doubt you would stretch around him nicely. He pushed himself into you, slowly. Inch by inch, he watched his cock disappear. He had forgotten how amazing it felt to be inside of a woman.

You groaned at the stretch. It stung a bit, but the pain was quickly replaced by intense pleasure. You were trying to pull your hands out of his grasp -- it was a fact that you loved to grasp onto your partners during sex -- but Ben held firm to your wrists. The fact that his hand could wrap around both of your wrists only made his thrusts feel that much better.

“Oh my God,” you moaned out. He grunted in response, driving his cock in and out of you.

“Ben,” he groaned. Somehow you knew that was his name with no further explanation. The fact that your brain had something to hold onto now made you squeeze around him.

“Ben,” you moaned out. He angled his hips up, pounding into you now. You threw your head back when his tip bumped against that perfect spot inside of you.

“Ben, Ben, Ben,” you kept repeating, the name coming out in breathless gasps. You couldn’t think anymore. Everything was him. He groaned into your chest, biting down on your breast again. You would be marked up by the end of this, but you didn’t mind.

You practically screamed out his name when you finally came. Thank God your only neighbor had been on vacation. A low hum echoed from your throat as Ben continued to chase his own high. Your eyes were shut, your body numb. You felt him twitch before filling you with his cum. He gave you a few more sloppy thrusts before collapsing next to you, slipping out of you with the action.

“Mhmm,” buzzed from you when you turned on your side. Ben had loosened his grip on you, allowing you the freedom to wrap an arm across his chest. He let you drape yourself over him, even if he didn’t exactly crave the aftercare. You were quick to fall back asleep, your breaths coming out shallow and even. You were naked, Ben fully clothed, but he still pulled the blanket around both of you. He followed you into sleep, ignoring the way your fingers gripped onto his shirt unconsciously.

----

You woke up alone. You were still on the floor, but the blankets were wrapped around you like someone had tucked you in. No. Not someone. Ben.

Now you had a name for the man, but he was gone. You pulled yourself up and walked to the bathroom, the blankets falling from your form. There wasn’t any sign of Ben. His bag that he had when you found him was gone. You assumed that meant he was gone too.

You quickly got yourself ready for the day, knowing you had work in just a few hours. You wondered if he would come back. He didn’t have anyone else, you assumed. Why would he be out on the streets if he had a home?

A shower helped to wash away the sweat and cum from the night before, but the most you could do for the bruises on your chest was a high collared shirt. You let your fingers ghost over the marks, tracing the outline of Ben’s teeth. If you focused enough, you could still feel the scratch of his beard on your breasts.

It was weird, you decided, that a person could just disappear like this. It was as if he didn’t even exist. The plate that had held his sandwich was cleaned and put away, his dirty clothes that he had changed out of gone from the corner they had been thrown into.

You thought you would have more time with him, more time to fix him, to take care of him. That was what the whole thing had been about. You wanted someone to care for, as you had done many times before. The difference between the stray dogs and him was glaring. The animals had never left you, not until you brought them to a shelter or a new family. Ben was gone, and you had no clue where he had gone.

You turned on your television while you readied yourself, letting the news station play. You weren’t focused on the words, because if you had, you would have seen an image of Ben, Soldier Boy, flash across the screen, informing everyone of his return to the world. No. By the time you looked back at the news, it had already moved on to a segment on an elementary school’s new parking lot.

You frowned to yourself and swiped up your bag. Your mind was still stuck on the last night, at the way Ben had made you come. You were so distracted that you hadn’t noticed the man that had been following you for a few blocks, not until he had wrapped a hand around your face. You gasped at the touch, his hand tight on your nose and mouth.

You couldn’t breathe. He dragged you into an alley, one that was identical to the one you had shared with Ben. You scratched at the man’s arms, trying to get him to let you go. Black spots crowded your vision and you were sure you would pass out when he finally threw you to the ground. You coughed and tears stung in your eyes.

“Where’s Soldier Boy?” The man grumbled out. You ignored him. How were you supposed to know? He was dead, wasn’t he?

“I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.” The man hissed and a boot came down on your hand. You cried out in pain. “Where is he?” You were about to answer, tell him you didn’t know, you were innocent, beg for your life, but before you could even look up, boots thumped on the concrete down the alley. You looked up, catching a blur of dark green through your tears. Your captor turned around to face this new guest, lifting the boot off of your hand in the process. You scrambled away.

“There you are.” The man mumbled, a grin in his voice. You wedged yourself in between a parked car and a building, hiding from whatever was now happening. You heard a few grunts before the car rocked with the impact of something thrown at it. Blood spattered on the wall above your head and you flinched, covering your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

You heard the crunch of dead leaves under footsteps. Your eyes tracked the noise, moving around the side of the car to the front of you. You didn’t dare to look up.

“Doll.”

The voice was oddly familiar, but only elicited a whimper of fear from you. Ben could smell it again, your pheromones drifting up to him. He let out a growl and lifted the car, pushing it to the side to expose you.

He walked toward you and it wasn’t until his boots were in front of you that you finally looked up. A look of recognition crossed your tear-streaked face. He was different than when you had last seen you, but still the same. He had cut his hair, shaved his beard, leaving a short covering of facial hair behind. His old hoodie and sweatpants had been replaced by a tailored green supersuit bearing the logo that had been printed across pages of your history book.

“Ben?” Your voice trembled out, cracking midway through. You recognized those green eyes that raked over your body. He gave you a smirk, reaching a hand out for you to take. “Why are you here?”

“I take care of my things.” Ben growled, hoisting you to your feet. You shivered at the emotion coursing through you. You were still shaky and your eyes drifted to the rest of the alley. Half a body lay on the top of the car. You gasped in shock and Ben pulled you into his chest. He didn’t mind the blood, but you, his innocent little fawn, shouldn’t be exposed to it all. You closed your eyes and sank into him, focusing on his fingers digging into your skin.

“You left.” You whimpered into the leather of his suit. It didn’t matter that this was impossible, that the man you had taken in was actually a supe from your mother’s time.

“I had to take care of something.” Ben’s voice was confident, cocky. You couldn’t believe that this was the same man from yesterday. You pulled away, looking up at him. He smirked down at you.

You brushed your thumb across his cheek, wiping away a spot of blood. It hit you then what he had done. He had killed a man, ripped him in half with his bare hands.

For you.

You smiled at him, cupping your hand around the back of his neck. You pulled him down to you and kissed him like your life depended on it. He tasted amazing, but it got even better when he bit down on your lip. You let him in and he pushed you up against the wall, pulling a moan from you.

Ben gathered your skirt to your waist and pulled down the pants of his suit to free himself. You moaned again, this time a little louder, when he pushed into you, filling you like he had the last night.

Maybe it was morbid, but the sight of your attacker’s body mixed with the knowledge that Ben had done it for you made you want it even more. So, Ben fucked you in the alley, surrounded by blood, and you grasped onto him, nails digging into his shoulders.

[ckret2]

So I heard y'all are really eager to see Bill shipped with an old man. This is what you wanted, right??

(Sorry, it's still gonna be a while yet before we get to the old man y'all are looking for.)

Chapter 80 of that fic with human Bill as the Mystery Shack's increasingly casual prisoner: the government comes snooping around the shack again, scaring the crap out of everybody—including Bill, who's too nervous about getting arrested to realize he's being flirted with.

####

Bill woke late in the morning to the smell of dead fish and a subtle but insistent full-body itch. It was one of the most pleasant mornings he'd had since he died.

Sunburn, he thought. No surprise there. He dragged the false nails that had survived since the girls' sleepover across his shoulder and reveled in the way the pain was momentarily relieved and then flared back up twice as strong as before. Sunburns had always been one of his favorite human sensations, that constant pleasant background burn prickling across his skin and blazing higher any time he was touched; he hadn't realized just how much he'd been missing them while he was locked inside. He wasn't built to be out of the sunlight.

While most of him just vaguely itched, the bands of skin around his waist and upper thighs where he'd applied the anti-sunscreen were on fire. When he tossed aside his bedsheet to inspect, he was satisfied to see the difference the anti-sunscreen had made—the skin was only slightly darker and ruddier, but it was visibly leathery with tiny bumps. It was a good start. Still—they might have been more visible if the rest of him were less sunburned.

He pushed that thought from his mind. He'd sooner die again than admit that sunscreen might have been a good idea for any reason. If the lines weren't visible enough after the sunburn healed, next time he could strengthen the anti-sunscreen recipe and shoot for blisters, that might leave scars.

He dug his nails into one of the more deeply burned lines and was hit with a dizzying rush of euphoria as the burned skin screamed in pain. Oh, he could happily do that all morning. But first maybe he should get some breakfast.

He rolled off the sofa, landed on all fours on the floor, and grabbed Journal 4 from under the sofa—he'd left it there with the pages spread out so the watery fish brains he'd finger painted on each page didn't glue the book shut. He documented last night's "dream"—he'd haunted the halls like a ghost, collecting what tools he could access to start repairing the portal—then hid the journal behind the sofa in the window seat's cushion where it belonged. He still needed to find a better hiding place for it. Maybe after breakfast. 

There hadn't been a grocery run since he'd acquired his new fridge, so all he had upstairs were half a dozen condiments, a bag of tortilla chips, and enough cider to kill a horse. If he could get somebody to open the kitchen fridge, maybe he could steal the eggs, that was probably the single most nutrient-dense ingredient currently in the house; that'd keep him going between meals until grocery day...

Where were his clothes.

The t-shirt and bikini he'd worn to the beach yesterday were still flung across the sofa; but the box he'd stuffed all his other clothing in had vanished. He stared at the shelf it was supposed to be on. His hoodie. Who'd stolen his skin?

He scowled.

He folded his Pony Heist bedsheet lengthwise, folded it around his waist and rolled it down like a sarong, pulled on the t-shirt and his eyepatch, and stalked from his room.

The kids' bedroom door had been left open. No sign of Bill's clothes in there, but he found an important clue: Dipper's ever-present mountain of dirty clothing was gone. Laundry day. Soos must have mistaken Bill's box of perfectly clean clothes for dirty laundry and stolen the whole thing. Great.

While he was momentarily unsupervised in the kids' room, he flipped through Dipper's journal, annotated some of the recent pages with helpful info and added an embarrassing anecdote about Ford's research years (all in code, of course), and stole Mabel's glass pyramid and a pair of pink sunglasses that were shaped like the words "RAD DUDE" from her bedside table. He stashed the pyramid in his room on the window seat.

And then he headed downstairs, trying to mentally calculate the most impactful way to whine about his clothes having been stolen in order to make Soos feel as guilty as possible without making himself look pathetic.

"Hey Bill!" Mabel called from the living room. She held up a couple of headbands; she'd wrapped two pipe cleaners around each that stuck up like antennae. Foam stars were glued to the ends of one headband's pipe cleaners and pompom bees to the other. "I'm making deely boppers! Do you want one?"

"More than anything!" Bill claimed the one with bees and shoved it down over his tangled hair. Mabel was in here doing crafts, Dipper was watching crappy local TV—Bill couldn't get into the gift shop with them in here as witnesses. "Hey, here's something crazy: did you kids ever notice the stairs to the attic have 32 steps going up and 28 steps going down?"

Mabel and Dipper looked at each other; and then ran for the stairs. "No way!" "How's that possible?"

That would keep them occupied for a few minutes. Bill backed through the gift shop door.

Wendy looked up from her phone. "What up, dude."

"Hey, cool girl!" He spun around on his heel and trotted over to lean against her counter. "If anyone asks, you let me into the shop."

"Got it." She glanced at Bill's sarong. "Is this the return of Toga Guy?"

"Nope; laundry day."

"Oh, yeah. Washing machine's been going all morning," Wendy said. "Soos says Ford's been running around in a coat that smells like nasty lake water, so he stole it."

"And stole my box of perfectly clean clothes." Bill refused to entertain the possibility that this might be partially his own fault for making his room smell like dead fish. The smell would air out! "So I'm gonna humiliate him for it in front of his tour group."

Wendy laughed. "Don't do that, man. You know what he's like, sometimes he makes goofy mistakes." She gave him a quizzical look. "You keep your clothes in a box?"

Right, he'd been keeping Wendy teetering on the edge of thinking Bill was in an unsafe situation here. Was there any benefit to her knowing how inhumane his living conditions were? Not at the moment, when things were finally improving. "Shack's run out of guest rooms and I didn't need new clothes in the mindscape! We just shoved my clothes in a crate until we can get a spare dresser or something." Topic change! "Hey—I saw your brother beating up a fish at the lake yesterday."

"Oh yeah, you mean dinner? Marcus was so proud of his catch. He did the worst job deboning it, though. I almost got a surprise lip piercing." Wendy stuck out her tongue. "What about you guys? Soos says you fought Bigfoot or something?"

"They did. Ask the Stans for the details; while they were catching fish, I was catching rays," Bill said. "And I think I was more successful than them."

"Suntanning?" Wendy took in his blatantly sunburned appearance.

"Unless you're about to say 'oh wow, you look great!' say something different," Bill said. "Anyway, I'm a wilting houseplant! I have a sunlight deficit I'm trying to catch up on." He glanced wistfully toward the window in the door and the bright beautiful day outside. "If I didn't have to ask someone to let me in and out, I'd be out there right now."

He'd been angling for Wendy to graciously offer to help escort him outside. Instead, she said, "Oh, dude, we leave the door unlatched during the day. You can just walk through it backwards like you do from the living room."

"Wait—really?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

He gave her a skeptical look; but when he glanced through the door's window, he could see himself standing out on the porch just a few seconds in the future. All right, he wasn't complaining. "Then I'll see you later." He sauntered over and backed through the doorway.

It worked. He was outside. He stepped off the porch and spread his arms, soaking in the sunlight. Look at that—escape was really that easy the whole time. He could have just backed through a couple of doorways. A little frustrating that he was learning this after he'd found a complicated workaround that required climbing on the roof, but this would make his life easier in the future. He walked back into the doorway again.

It didn't budge. He kept trying to walk for a couple of seconds before his brain forced him to accept that there was, in fact, a door there, and it wasn't getting out of his way. Did the doorway trick only work in one direction?! How did that make sense! The doorway to the living room handled two-way traffic just fine!

"Hey!" He spun around and gave Wendy a death glare. She laughed silently. He knocked furiously. "Hey, I'll get you for this, see if I don't!" When Bill had his power back, maybe he'd make her into a gargoyle on the outside of the Fearamid while the rest of the town was nice and cozy in his throne. See how she liked being locked outside. Pyramids didn't even need gargoyles.

She just waved at him, oblivious to the danger she was courting.

He muttered, "Oh, Icy, if you weren't Raina's kid..." She was Raina's kid, though.

All right, fine, no big deal. He wasn't letting anyone think this bothered him. Eventually a tourist would come along and let him in. If the Pines caught him and got mad, he could tell them that Wendy had tricked him into getting stuck outside, and it wouldn't even be a lie. (Would they believe him, though? Mabel would. Ford definitely wouldn't. Bill thought he at least ought to earn points for nicely sitting on the porch like the obedient dog they wished he was...)

A dented beige car rolled into the parking lot; Bill perked up as three out-of-place-looking men in black suits stepped out. Well, look who was back. "Hey, nice car! Much subtler than the fedmobile you were driving yesterday."

Agent Powers almost stumbled mid-step when he noticed Bill. "Er—yes. I appreciate the recommendation."

Bill got to his feet and leaned with one hand on a post. "I see you at the beach, I see you at this tourist trap... I'm starting to think you're on vacation, agents!"

Solemnly, Powers said, "I can assure you we're not."

"Definitely not," Agent Trigger agreed.

Bill glanced past them. Agent Dale was grinning broadly and snapping photos of the Mystery Shack with a camera hanging around his neck. "Wow, this place is so much fun." He tilted his head back to get a picture of the totem pole.

Bill raised his brows.

Trigger said, "Those are investigation photos."

"Sure," Bill said.

"We're looking for the owner of the Mystery Shack," Powers said. "I don't suppose you've seen him, ma'am?"

"Not yet. I think 'Mr. Mystery' is giving a tour right now."

"I see. Thank you for your help, ma'am." He almost moved to head inside, then hesitated.

He'd been doing that a lot around Bill the last couple of days. "Something else I can help you with, agent?"

"Uh—" Powers cleared his throat and flushed faintly red high on his cheeks. "I—feel that I ought to inform you that you're... looking even more exquisite today." Trigger stared at Powers.

Bill—slouched; sunburned; barefoot; fingernails and toenails painted in four different sloppy styles; and wearing a child's bedsheet with cartoon ponies on it, a purple puma t-shirt so large the neck hole slipped down his shoulder, an eyepatch with hot pink "RAD DUDE" sunglasses on top (and faint tan lines showing where he'd been wearing his eyepatch on the other side yesterday), and bumblebee deely boppers—said, "Tell me something I don't already know!" He laughed. "Kidding—that's impossible."

Powers nodded sharply and turned away, wearing an odd look somewhere between disappointed and relieved. "Dale, you stay out here and take some readings."

Dale flashed Powers a thumbs-up and pulled out a tablet.

Powers opened the door; Bill quickly pushed off the post. "Hey! Aren't you gonna hold the door for me?" He had something that looked like a skirt on, he could exploit that social norm today.

"Er—" Powers stopped in his tracks. "Yes, of course, ma'am."

"Aren't you a gentleman!" Bill swept back inside.

Wendy laughed at his grand reentrance—but petered out as she noticed the overdressed new visitors. Bill split off from the agents to circle the shop and try to look like a normal tourist, but he mouthed toward Wendy, "Feds." Her eyes widened.

"Excuse me, miss," Powers said to Wendy. "We're looking for the proprietor. Do you know when he'll be available?"

"Uhh..." All knowledge she previously had of the shack's tour schedule fled her mind in the face of a legit government agent. She circled around the counter. "I'll... tell Soos you're here."

Powers frowned. "'Soos'?"

"Yeah, um—Jesús Ramirez? The owner?"

Trigger muttered to Powers, "I think that's the handyman."

Wendy said, "He took over the business last year."

"Apparently our intel is out of date," Powers said. "Very well. We'll wait here."

Wendy veered toward Bill on her way to the museum and hissed, "Take the register—"

"Hell no," Bill hissed back. He wasn't letting the government know he worked here if the shack was under investigation. "Where's Melody?"

"Out. She slept bad."

Hmm. Strange. "I'll distract the suits." He wanted to snoop, anyway. "Go."

Wendy gave him an exasperated look, but ducked into the museum.

Bill sidled up to the agents, who were inspecting the display of alien-in-a-tube keychains. Trigger picked one up and murmured, "Are they suspended in jello?"

"That has to be a health hazard."

"Good likeness of the real thing, though."

Bill stopped in his tracks. There weren't a lot of places in the US where a government agent could have a personal meet-and-greet with an alien corpse in a glass tank. They must have been assigned to one or two investigations in Hangar 618. Strange; he would have thought there was more than enough going on in Gravity Falls to keep their schedules filled.

He shook off his misgivings, leaned on a display cabinet near the agents, and said loudly, "So!" He tried not to grin too widely when both agents jumped. "Looks like it's just us until the next tour."

Powers' cheeks turned pink again. "It looks like it." He cleared his throat and tried to surreptitiously adjust his tie. "I... suppose I'm overdue to ask you your name?"

"Call me Goldie!" Before Powers had an opportunity to dig deeper into Bill's identity, he asked, "So what brings you by the shack, agents? I don't think you ever explained what you're investigating!"

"Yes, that would be because it's classified. That information is shared strictly on a need-to-know basis," Powers said. "But we're here to check on last week's gravitational anomalies and an odd power surge that was witnessed over the weekend." (Bill loved this chatterbox, funniest secret agent ever.)

"Oh wow. Sounds exciting," Bill said, voice just a little too flat to sound convincing but a little too forceful to sound like he didn't mean it. (Always keep 'em guessing.) "Any leads?" He doubted it.

"Not yet," Powers admitted. "We've tracked similar power surges in Gravity Falls for decades, and last year several occurred concurrently with other gravitational anomalies; but our investigation last year..." Powers exchanged a glance with Trigger. Trigger just grimaced in irritation. Powers finished, "didn't find anything conclusive. So." His voice took on an edge of frustration. "Here we are. Looking around town."

"Again," Trigger grumbled.

Bill was surprised they could even remember last summer's gravitational anomalies. He'd expected Ford had completely erased their memories of the case; but he hadn't seen exactly what term Ford had plugged into the memory gun. "D'ya expect to find anything conclusive this time? Or is this just a routine follow-up on an old case."

"More of a routine follow-up," Powers said.

"Standard procedure," Trigger added.

"Except," Powers said, "that two days ago, we also received an anonymous tip that a dangerous individual may be hiding in this very building—and that they pose an immense risk to national security."

Trigger said, "Possibly global security."

Bill learned what it felt like for a human's blood to run cold. "Huh," he said. "Interesting."

"Witnesses claim the power surge appeared to originate in this part of the woods. We think this individual might have been involved," Powers said. "But it's probably nothing you need to worry about, ma'am." (Bill must have looked more alarmed than he'd meant to.) "We receive tips like this all the time. I doubt we'll find anything interesting here. All the same—"

The gift shop door popped open and Agent Dale poked his head in. "Sirs!" He held up a beeping tablet. "I'm picking up a signal from one of our flash drives."

Powers and Trigger turned their full attention to Dale. "Which one?" Trigger asked.

"The one we lost last summer."

The agents exchanged a look.

Soos hurried through the curtain to the museum, Wendy following close behind. "Hey, dudes! Welcome to the Mystery Shack! What can I get for you, a tour? Souvenirs? Um, bribes...?"

Bill grimaced. As Wendy passed, he muttered to her, "He does not have the grace at this Stanley does."

Powers's eyes darted between Dale and Soos; and then settled on Soos. "Mr. Ramirez. I'd like to have a word with you about your business. Privately."

"O-of course! I hope you don't think we're up to anything or anything." Soos pulled aside the museum's curtain. "Just step this way. Through my magic portal to a world of wonder and whimsy!"

"If I have to," Powers said tiredly. "Trigger, Dale—you two follow that signal. I want that flash drive back."

"Yessir." They hurried out of the gift shop.

Before Powers followed Soos into the museum, he turned to Bill. "My apologies for disrupting your trip, ma'am, but I'm afraid the next tour may be... delayed." A look of panic flashed across Soos's face.

"I can come back tomorrow!" Bill waved off the apology. "Watching a small-town business owner get investigated by the feds is way more exciting! You oughta check his financial records, I bet there's all kinds of tax evasion going on here!" Soos's panic escalated to sheer terror.

To Bill's surprise, something akin to fear flashed across Powers's face as well. "You think we're—? That is—we're not that sort of federal..." He cleared his throat loudly, mumbled, "Very kind of you," and hastily retreated after Soos, cheeks red.

What the hell was that? Powers had been paying way too much attention to Bill the last couple of days. Was it possible he was playing dumb? Did he already know that Bill was the "dangerous individual" in the Mystery Shack? Was he just trying to figure out the best way to bring Bill down and drag him in—

"Man." Wendy laughed, keeping her voice low. "You really distracted him. What'd you do to the poor guy?"

Bill leaned on the counter by the cash register. "What?"

"He's head over heels for you." At Bill's blank look, Wendy said, "Wait, did you not notice?"

Bill opened his mouth. Nothing came out while he tried to reconcile Wendy's claim with the idea of his body ending up suspended in a glass tube in a secret military base. "What?"

"Did you see him?" Wendy asked. "He can't stop staring at you, every time you glance at him he gets redder, you said one nice thing to him and he completely fell apart..."

Bill mentally ran through the last two days. Ohhh. In retrospect, that did explain why Powers had offered to rub sunscreen on him. "I barely even noticed! I'm used to everyone treating me like that! At least four people fall in love with me daily," Bill said. "I turn heads and drop jaws everywhere I go. I've got a whole collection of lower jaws preserved in formaldehyde." Admittedly, not all of them had dropped naturally. A few had been coaxed.

"Most people just steal their partners' shirts, but alright. I can respect a good murder trophy collection."

"There's a fine line between a lady-killer and a serial killer," Bill said cheerfully, "and I'd know! But enough about my love life!" As much of a relief as it was to realize Powers wasn't plotting Bill's arrest, that didn't mean it couldn't change. "What did you guys do with the flash drive with the agents' secret mission?"

Wendy shrugged. "Dunno, I wasn't here."

And Bill hadn't been either. While the Stan twins had been recounting their tragic life history, Bill had been fully occupied at the Quadrangle of Qonfusion, repairing the damage Ford had done before the portal opened and trying to get his Henchmaniacs to chill out about those guys who'd died. (Seriously, none of the dead guys had even been among the Henchmaniacs' A-listers, who cared?) By the time he'd realized something interesting was happening, the agents' memories were already erased and they were heading out of town.

"Okay. Great." He backed into the living room. "If you see 'em again, slow them down."

####

Bill pounded on the guest room door and waited.

"Just a second!" Ford answered the door, his freshly laundered coat in one hand and a Bigfoot fur-covered lint roller in the other. "What is—? Bill." His expression immediately closed off. His gaze flicked up to Bill's bumblebee deely-boppers. "What are you wearing."

"High fashion, not important. What did you humans do with the flash drive you got from the eagles?"

"The what from the what?"

"Last year. Right after you got home. Government agents. Little black plastic stick full of knowledge."

"Oh, that. Fed it to the goat," Ford said. "Why."

"Because the agents put a tracking device in it, and they're tracking it right now."

Ford's brows shot up. He hurried to the guest room window; Bill peeked around him.

Agent Trigger and Agent Dale were wandering around outside, Trigger in the lead while Dale trailed behind him looking at a tablet screen and saying, "Warmer... warmer... colder... okay, now warmer again..."

"Damn." Ford rushed to the back door.

Bill grabbed him by the sweater before he could get outside. "Whoa there, cowboy. If they see you, do you have a story prepared for why the 'superior officer' who sent them packing last year is still here?"

Ford raised a finger. "I... do not." He rushed to the stairs. "Kids!"

"Grunkle Ford!" Dipper stumbled to the bottom of the stairs, sweating and breathing heavily. "Hey—" Mabel ran into him from behind, nearly knocking them both down. They grabbed the banister for support as they panted. Dipper tried again, "Hey... did you know... the number of steps on the stairs..."

"Yes yes, the half of the staircase hidden by the turn in the landing changes when you can't see it," Ford said. "Dipper, Mabel, we have an emergency. I need you to catch the goat! Now!"

####

Gompers gnawed placidly on a paper towel hanging out of the trash can. He detected the subtle bouquet of rotting bell peppers. And was that spilled orange juice? Truly delectable. He took another bite.

The back door burst open. Gompers turned to stare as Dipper and Mabel charged outside.

He bleated indignantly as they scooped him up between them. Dipper hissed, "Go, go, go!"

They hauled him inside and slammed the door.

Trigger and Dale circled around the corner of the shack. Dale said, "It should be right... huh. That's weird."

"What is it?"

"The signal from the flash drive just moved."

"Moved? Where?"

Dale walked in a small circle, trying to get the tablet to re-triangulate the flash drive's location. "Inside the shack."

Trigger frowned at the door.

####

"C'mon, Gompers," Mabel hissed, trying to drag him down the hallway with Dipper. "We've gotta get you somewhere the government guys can't see you through the window!"

Gompers bleated again. Dipper smacked a hand over his mouth.

All three froze as someone knocked on the door. Voice low, Dipper said, "We're not home. Nobody's home right now." Mabel nodded.

####

Bill lurked next to the living room door, listening to the conversation in the gift shop as Powers said, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Ramirez. Oh, and by the way—you wouldn't happen to have seen any top secret government flash drives around the place, would you?"

There was a long pause. "Why, no," Soos said carefully. "I have not."

"Then do you have an explanation for why my agents detected one in this vicinity... and it's moving?"

There was an even longer pause. "Perhaps it was... eaten. Without our knowledge," Soos said. "Mayhaps by some variety of creature."

"Hmm," Powers said. "Perhaps. Would you mind if we look around for it."

"Uhh... yes. I would mind," Soos said. "Please don't."

Powers sighed deeply. "Fine. We'll be back." The floorboards creaked as he walked toward the exit. "Trigger, Dale—let's move out."

The household didn't heave a collective sigh of relief until the gift shop door had shut.

####

(A lot of y'all have been waiting for the Bill Seduce A Government Agent plot for like a year and a half. We're finally here! Yay!

Back in April when I was starting to write this plot in earnest, I was trying to figure out a reason why the agents would turn their attention on the shack (and the Pines family) again that was more threatening than just "yeah there are more gravity anomalies, again. whatever." And @quartz-the-moth-cat solved it with one word: "Gompers." Genuinely that one suggestion pulled the whole plot together. So thank you again for that.

In the months since TBOB came out, a lotta folks have incorrectly assumed I've made changes to my plot due to TBOB or that eerily TBOB-compliant things I wrote before the book were actually written after. So I think I'm gonna start documenting what I'd already planned/written, because I'm petty and I don't want TBOB to get credit for my own ideas:

The entire Agent Powers plot arc was written before TBOB came out. Adding fish brains to J4 was a post-TBOB addition (since we now know that's how he controls books), as was the bit with the agents discussing aliens and the aside about Hanger 618. And the chatter about stealing people's lower jaws, because in the wake of TBOB I think I need Bill to crack more jokes about gore & body horror. Nothing else in this chapter was changed due to TBOB.

I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's comments!!)

[siri-ike]

Mad science private school

First

Of course, this place has single bed rooms. At least he has some privacy. But why is it so big and empty? His room is as big as the lab at home. He could build his own gadgets if he wanted... there must be a scrap yard somewhere in the city.

Apparently, it's unusual to dress normally or for students to leave at all. Four different people thought he was an intruder. But Horace did take a break from mopping to give him directions. Never mind that he seemed to be mopping up rubble, when clearly you are supposed to use a broom or vacuum, come on, that's lab cleanup 101. In his defense, Horace didn't look act or sound like a janitor. He seemed more like a guard dog with extra jobs... and a rubber mask. Come to think of it, practically everyone here wore a mask. Most of which barely covered their faces. Is it too hard to change your skin hair and eye colors slightly and put on a completely different personality? Now that's how you hide in plain sight.

Of corse, this big fancy town would have a salvage store instead of a yard. Back home, no one charged you to recycle. He did get some choice pieces, however. It's just like his parents taught him, look for whatever looks the most like junk. Chances are no one's examined it properly.

He also went to a local hardware store. The store clerk gave him weird looks at the registe. Thanks to Vlads lack of information, he hadn't brought any basic tools, so he had to buy 6 different sets. He probably looked like an amateur way over his head for a project or hobby.

The taxi driver gave him funny looks, too. He probably doesn't get asked to drop people off at the ocean.

Wait.

How's he supposed to get to the island? For that matter, how did he get off the island? It's way in the middle of, not even a harbor, it's off the coast of Jump City.

It looks like a regular tower from this angle.

Exept, he could have sworn it was purple, not blue.

[jo3ydr3w]

stobotnik week 2025 day 2

Prompt 1: Yearning

The silence in the dimly lit lab was almost suffocating, but Stone didn’t mind. He’d grown used to the quiet, the soft whirring of Robotnik’s machines filling the gaps between their conversations. Tonight, however, something was different.

Stone hovered near Robotnik’s workbench, his fingers nervously fiddling with a small wrench. His gaze kept darting to Robotnik, who was focused entirely on his latest project, his brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted some gadget with a precision that could only come from years of experience.

Stone had been working tirelessly all afternoon, fetching tools, sorting through piles of equipment, organizing components, all in an effort to make Robotnik’s tasks easier. But despite the hours of effort he’d poured into his work, something was gnawing at him—a deep, unshakable feeling that maybe it wasn’t enough. That Robotnik didn’t notice. Or worse… that he didn’t care.

He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to calm the tight knot in his chest, but the longing was growing too strong. He needed something. Just a word. A simple acknowledgment. Something to remind him that all of this—everything he did for Robotnik—meant something. That he meant something.

Robotnik didn’t look up from his work as he adjusted a small dial, eyes flicking over the blueprints he had spread out before him. Stone’s heart beat faster in his chest.

“Doctor…” Stone’s voice was barely above a whisper, almost hesitant. But his need to be heard pushed him to try again. “Doctor, I… I finished organizing the parts like you asked.” His words hung in the air, but Robotnik didn't even flinch. He merely grunted in acknowledgment, his attention never leaving the schematic in front of him.

Stone’s hands clenched the wrench tighter, feeling a wave of disappointment flood him. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the ache in his throat, but it was getting harder to ignore. He couldn’t help but feel… invisible.

“Robotnik,” Stone tried again, his voice just a little more insistent now. He stepped a little closer to the workbench, careful not to disturb anything. “I—I found that rare part you needed, the one for the actuator. It’s all cleaned up, ready for you to use. Just like you said.”

There was a pause. Robotnik glanced at him, just a brief glance, but it felt like an eternity to Stone.

“Mm. Good,” Robotnik muttered, a small grunt of approval. But his attention was already back on his work, his fingers moving with mechanical precision as he fine-tuned a component.

Stone’s heart sank.

Good. It was always just good. He needed more. Needed everything to be good enough for Robotnik, for his praise, for his approval. Without it, he felt like a ghost—an afterthought, someone who simply existed in the background, never fully seen.

He took a step closer to Robotnik, his voice trembling now, desperate for something more, something real. “I’ve been working so hard for you, Doctor,” Stone said, his eyes cast downward, the wrench now a lifeline in his trembling hands. “I’ve been doing everything you asked. Everything.” His voice cracked slightly as the words tumbled out. “Just… can you say it? Can you say you’re proud of me? Just once.”

Robotnik paused this time, his gaze flicking over to Stone. The air felt thick with the unspoken words hanging between them. The silence stretched out before Robotnik sighed, wiping his hands on a cloth as he leaned back in his chair, eyeing Stone carefully.

“Proud of you?” Robotnik’s voice was cool, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—something that Stone couldn’t quite place. “I don't have time for empty praise, Stone. You want praise for every little thing you do? Then you’re wasting both of our time.”

Stone’s chest tightened, and the words hit him like a slap. He tried to steady his breath, but it was hard when all he wanted was that tiny scrap of validation, that one shred of acknowledgment that he mattered. That the things he did, the things he gave for Robotnik’s success, actually meant something.

“But I…” His voice faltered. “I’m trying so hard, Doctor. I’ve been doing everything for you. Everything.” His words were pleading now, the desperation creeping into his tone. “I just… I just want you to notice. To… to say that I’m doing a good job. That you care about what I do for you.”

Robotnik’s expression softened ever so slightly, and for the first time that night, he leaned forward, studying Stone intently. There was something different in his gaze, something more understanding, though it was fleeting.

“You are doing a good job, Stone,” Robotnik said, his voice quiet but firm. “You’ve been helping me in ways I couldn’t have done alone. But you don’t need my constant praise to know that. Your work speaks for itself.”

Stone’s heart fluttered at the words, the quiet warmth of them. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet. He needed more. He needed to hear that Robotnik truly valued him, that all of his tireless efforts were seen and appreciated. He took another step forward, his voice almost pleading now, fragile.

“I just want to know you care,” Stone whispered, his voice raw. “I want to know that… that I matter to you. That I’m more than just… just someone who does your bidding.”

Robotnik paused, and for a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the soft hum of machinery. Finally, Robotnik leaned back in his chair, his eyes softening just a little more.

“You matter,” Robotnik said, his voice quieter than usual, though still laced with his usual sharpness. “You’ve always mattered. Without you, my plans would fail. I couldn’t do it without you.” He let out a long sigh, as if this was a difficult thing for him to admit. “You may not always get the praise you crave, Stone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate you. You’re more important than you give yourself credit for.”

Stone stood there, staring at Robotnik, the weight of his words sinking in. For a brief moment, everything inside him felt like it had shifted, the aching hole inside him filling, just a little. He didn’t need grand gestures or constant praise—just this.

A single, quiet acknowledgment.

“Thank you,” Stone murmured, his voice trembling, his heart finally calming. “That… that’s all I needed.”

Robotnik nodded curtly, turning back to his work. “Get back to it, Stone. I still have plans to execute.”

But this time, as Stone picked up his wrench and returned to his tasks, there was a small, steady warmth inside him. It wasn’t everything he had yearned for—but it was enough. For now.

Prompt 2: Dependency

The dim light of the hideout flickered against the walls, casting long shadows across the cluttered, makeshift living space. The usual hum of Robotnik’s gadgets was eerily absent. The machines lay dormant, as though they too were waiting. Waiting for their master. Waiting for him.

Stone paced back and forth, his feet dragging on the cold floor, his mind spiraling. He hadn’t felt this way since… since before he had ever joined Robotnik. Since before he had become the loyal, devoted assistant to the mad genius.

But now? Now, with Robotnik gone, Stone felt completely adrift. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Every movement felt mechanical, every task meaningless. Without Robotnik's presence—his direction, his orders, his sharp reprimands—Stone felt like something was missing. Like a part of him was gone, leaving him hollow.

He’ll come back soon, Stone tried to tell himself, but it did little to soothe the restless, frantic anxiety building in his chest. It had been days—weeks?—since Robotnik had disappeared. There had been no word, no communication, and that was eating away at him more than anything.

He sat down heavily on the couch, running his hands through his hair as he stared at the monitor in front of him. The screensaver flickered, and he absently reached to tap the keyboard, but he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t concentrate. Everything seemed insignificant without Robotnik there to guide him, to give him purpose.

Why hasn’t he called?

Stone’s thoughts churned, spiraling into darker corners. He had grown so accustomed to the constant presence of his superior, the never-ending barrage of tasks and orders. When Robotnik wasn’t around, Stone’s mind became a prison. He thought of all the things that could have gone wrong on that planet. What if something happened? What if Robotnik needed him and he wasn’t there to help? What if…

He stood up abruptly, feeling the weight of his own thoughts pressing in on him like a physical force. He moved to the window, looking out into the night, though there was nothing to see but the blackness of the empty sky. The wind outside rattled the panes, a reminder of how alone he was. How completely isolated he felt in this moment of waiting.

His fingers tightened around the edge of the windowsill, nails digging into the wood, as he whispered to himself, “Where are you, Doctor?”

His words hung in the air, almost a plea. It was irrational, it was unnecessary, but there it was—this deep, gnawing fear that he couldn’t shake. Without Robotnik, without his genius, his plans, his presence, Stone didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing. He felt like a shadow without his light.

The door to the lab creaked open, and Stone’s head shot up. His heart skipped a beat as he turned toward the sound, expecting to see Robotnik walk through, his usual confident stride filling the space. But the figure who entered was not Robotnik.

It was just a few of Robotnik’s leftover machines. A set of drones, dispatched on some unimportant errand. Stone’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. He felt a pang of frustration as he turned away from the door. His body slumped back down onto the couch.

Why hasn’t he called? Why hasn’t he come back?

His thoughts were like a drumbeat now, incessant and pounding. The only thing that calmed his racing mind was the thought of when Robotnik would finally return. When his master would walk through that door, his commanding voice filling the room. Stone needed that. He needed him. The very thought of Robotnik’s presence—the way he would stride into the room with all his intelligence and authority—was the only thing that made Stone feel grounded.

Minutes stretched to hours, and the anxiety in his chest twisted tighter. Every sound outside, every movement in the shadows of the hideout, made his heart race in anticipation.

Where is he?

Stone gripped the edge of the couch tightly, his hands shaking. He couldn't seem to breathe properly, his chest tightening with each passing second. He had no idea what to do. Without Robotnik, he was just… adrift.

He stood again, pacing, his hands running through his hair in agitation, his eyes darting constantly toward the door. His thoughts were chaotic, desperate.

What if something happened? What if he’s in trouble? What if he doesn’t come back?

The thought terrified him. He couldn’t live without Robotnik. His entire existence had been shaped around serving him, supporting him, making sure the doctor’s plans came to fruition. He had been content, in a way, with that role. But now? Now, with nothing to do but wait, it was like a part of him was missing. The uncertainty gnawed at his insides, a hollow ache that he couldn’t shake.

Suddenly, there was a noise—a soft click, followed by the unmistakable sound of the door unlocking.

Stone’s heart leaped into his throat as the door creaked open. There, standing in the doorway, was Robotnik, his eyes tired but gleaming with that familiar brilliance.

Stone’s breath caught in his throat, and he froze, the weight of his own desperation heavy in his chest. The need to reach out, to make sure Robotnik was really there, to beg for some reassurance, overwhelmed him. He needed to hear it. Needed to hear the words that would make him feel whole again.

"Doctor…" Stone breathed, his voice trembling. “I—I’ve been waiting for you… I’ve been… so worried.”

Robotnik looked at him for a long moment, his gaze shifting from the door to Stone’s trembling figure. There was something unreadable in his eyes, but he didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them.

“Worried?” Robotnik’s voice was tired, but it still carried that sharp edge, that command. “You shouldn’t be. I knew you’d hold down the fort while I was gone. You’ve been a good assistant. You always are.”

Stone’s hands trembled at the praise, the weight of it sinking into him. It wasn’t just any praise. It was Robotnik’s. And that was enough to calm the storm inside him, just a little. He closed his eyes for a moment, a shaky exhale escaping his lips.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Stone whispered. His voice cracked with emotion, and he couldn't quite bring himself to look up. He wasn’t sure why, but the words felt like the first breath he’d taken in days. Like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Robotnik gave him a short nod, his eyes softer than usual. “Now, get some rest, Stone. You’ve done well.”

And with that, Robotnik turned, already heading toward his workbench, but Stone didn’t care. The words had done their job. He wasn’t alone anymore.

And that was enough.

Prompt 3: Control (This one is real angsty)

Stone had thought about this moment for a long time.

Control.

Not just in the small ways—bringing Robotnik his coffee exactly how he liked it, anticipating his needs before he even voiced them, ensuring everything ran as smoothly as possible. No, Stone had that kind of control down to a science. That wasn’t what he wanted.

What he wanted—what he needed—was something bigger. A shift in power. Just once, he wanted to be the one in charge. He wanted to pull the strings, to make Robotnik react instead of the other way around.

So he tested it.

Little things, at first. Holding eye contact just a second too long. Answering orders with clipped affirmations instead of the usual “Yes, Doctor.” Standing a little closer than necessary when handing him reports.

Then, he got bolder.

Interrupting. Not with anything blatant—Robotnik despised blatant incompetence—but with small, subtle derailments in conversation. Steering things in his own direction. Making suggestions before Robotnik could demand them.

Then, finally, finally, pushing back.

“You should take a break, Doctor,” Stone said, voice measured, controlled. “You’ve been at this for hours. I can—”

He barely saw it coming.

One moment, he was standing there, perfectly composed, perfectly poised to take another step forward in his attempt to wrest some semblance of control from the situation. The next—

Fingers in his mouth.

Stone’s brain blanked out completely.

Robotnik’s hand was on his jaw, fingers pressing down against his tongue, forcing his mouth open. He didn’t squeeze—didn’t need to. The mere gesture of it was enough to short-circuit Stone’s mind, to make every thought scatter like static interference.

“You,” Robotnik murmured, tilting his head as if observing something mildly amusing, “are adorable.” His voice was slow, deliberate, dragging over every syllable like he had all the time in the world. “I’ve been watching you try to play this little game, Agent Stone. Pushing back. Speaking out of turn. Thinking, for even a second, that you could tell me what to do.”

Stone’s breath hitched, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Robotnik leaned in, just enough for Stone to catch the sharp glint in his eyes, the barely-restrained amusement behind them. “I don’t take breaks. My mind doesn’t stop. That’s why I’m the smartest person in the world.” His fingers flexed slightly, pressing down just enough for Stone to feel the pressure. “And you? You’re here because I allow it.”

Stone’s knees nearly buckled.

His grip on control—his carefully constructed plans, his attempts at tilting the balance—evaporated in an instant. All that remained was this. Robotnik’s voice, his presence, the undeniable weight of his authority pinning Stone in place.

Then, just as quickly as it happened, Robotnik withdrew. He wiped his fingers absently against his coat, already turning back toward his work as if the exchange had been nothing more than a passing thought.

“You’re good at following orders, Stone. Stick to that.”

Stone stood there, swallowing hard, pulse hammering in his throat.

Right.

Control wasn’t his to take.

Not here. Not with him.

And maybe—just maybe—he liked it that way.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I’m loving so much the new disowned verse omg, it is so good, you are a genius.

But I’m curious, how did reader and jason met?

The apartment was in a cracker box of a building with thin walls. His neighbors were a young couple that fought about money 25/8 and an elderly 'Nam Vet who liked his porno but- he could cope.

It was different than Gotham. There weren't constant gunshots. And that was weird. But. He knew better than to think his PI license wouldn't make him some money. Even out in the sticks. There was always a contentious divorce. There was always something not quite right. Cops in over their heads.

And he'd have down time. He could read. Work on his bike. Fuck. Maybe even actually go see a movie... Sure. He knew eventually he'd get bored but. For now, he was looking forward to it.

He shut the door and locked it behind him, frowning just slightly and making a note to get a better lock while he was out. He doubted he could find anything super great in town- he'd probably have to order something but. He'd passed a hardware store in town so... it might be worth checking out. If he made friends with the old guy that probably ran it he could probably get some special orders if he needed it.

So he set off that direction, wandering on foot down the sidewalks and taking note of the other houses. It was the middle of the afternoon. And the lunch whistles at the old factory still sounded at nood and then 30 minutes later. Tucked away from the tree-lined main drag, the houses back here varied from run down to better homes and gardens.

That tracked.

They got better closer to the front. The older show homes outweighed the eyesores. American primitive lawn decor. A surprising number of pineapples- and he snorted, wondering if it had come from a big box store or if it was a signal. Or both.

Still.

By the time he made it to the hardware store, he was reasonably certain he could stay busy. All was not as Leave it to Beaver as the Town Council would have you believe. And the first place he was gonna leave a flyer was in the beauty shop. Those old biddies HAD to have some shit to stir up.

He shouldered the door open and a bell, an actual bell, chimed. And he smiled a little taking a deep breath. The smell of dust, tools, and old well-maintained wood hit his nose and he exhaled. Definitely not going to find any high tech locks here. But, he had a soft spot for independent shops.

"Be with you in a minute!"

The voice made him jump. Not the gruff voice of a grumpy old fuck he expected. And it made him search of the source. Curious. "No worries," he said, walking a little farther towards where he'd heard it. Finding a young woman on a ladder stocking some boxes of bolts on a shelf. A pink canvas gardening apron tied around her hips to hold more boxes. "You got door locks?" he asked.

"Aisle 5 next to the paver catalogs," you tell him, steadying yourself so you can turn and glance down at him.

"Perfect," he said, "Thanks."

"Mhm, let me know if you need anything else," you tell him.

Jason paused and looked around, "Think you can put a tool box together for me I just moved and-"

"Ah, yeah. One Bachelor special," you tell him," Jumping down from the ladder, "I think I can get you fixed up. At least enough to get you started. You'll be smashing your thumbs in no time."

"Got a first aid kit too?"

"Right up at the counter," you snort. "But if you want anything special, you gotta see Adam at the Pharmacy. Mine are pretty basic."

"I can deal with basic- at least until you sell me a band saw-"

"Oh lord."

[venuslcver]

JUST FRIENDS ⋆

pairing: bestfriend!sarah x kook!reader

synopsis: sarah cameron is your best friend.

tw: alcohol use, pining trope, fluff, toxic relationship, kissing, feminine described character (no use of y/n)

any type of interaction including likes, comments, and reblogs is appreciated! but ultimately not necessary. let me know if im missing any warnings!

your friendship with the champagne-colored locks, indigo scattered irises, sarah cameron, began in the first grade. your dad had done some business with ward, sarah's dad. both, your dad and ward, had got stuck with you and sarah, meeting at their house instead of the usual— country club.

you were less outspoken than sarah. making your way through the entrance of their house, into the foyer, you were met by her practically smothering you with a hug. before you could comprehend what was occurring, she grabbed your hand yanking you up the stairs of her house. pulling you into her room, without saying a word, she grabbed her newly released american girl, handing it to you.

and from that day on, you guys were inseparable. see, you didn't have any siblings, so it became lonely most of the time. but with how much you and sarah hung out, wheezie and rafe became family. god, how you loved each other. hanging out every day of the week. after spending all day together in your private school, sarah and you would spend all afternoons together— either pissing rafe off or hanging out at the beach with your boyfriends, which also included pissing off rafe.

rafe's friends, topper and kelce were like douchebag one, douchebag two, and douchebag three. 3 douchebags in a pod. sarah was dating topper thornton, and you were dating kelce. you knew from day one that kelce was a tool, and well, sarah was more native to that fact, also, being true about topper.

"you just don't get it! h-he's different around me!"

"is he really that different? he was pressuring you to have sex!"

the amount of distain that you felt towards thornton was unmeasurable. your jaw seemed to simultaneously lock and anger coursed through your veins when you saw his stupid face. no one was worthy of sarah, especially that dick face.

though, there was great reason for you not to like him, from the time that he insisted on driving a jet ski instead of sarah, even though he was too drunk to drive, and crashed. giving sarah a concussion. rather than taking care of her, he left a day after to vacation. leaving you to tend to her every need. though you would have done that either way.

or another time, again, he was too busy messing around with his friends and being drunk to notice that they had left sarah at a party. the same party that he practically begged, or guilt-tripped, her into going to. yet, again, you had to console her as you took her back to her house.

"i swear he doesn't even love me"

your legs began to ache at the lack of movement you had provided them with. standing, slightly swaying back and forth, you were becoming increasingly irritated.

the party, you and sarah were attending had started two hours previously, yet you stood in the same position for the past forty-five minutes. watching your ex-boyfriend— kelce attempt to win against sarah in a game of beer pong. he had been convinced that he could win if they played just another round. they had already played two, now on their third. they both had won one game each.

the whole game had caught the eye of many people that were previously partying, now surrounding the table. standing closer to sarah's side of the patio furniture, your eyes darted between their moves. sarah had 2 cups left, kelce had 1. a window had opened for kelce to tease sarah. and, again, him being the douchebag he is, he took it. though it didn't faze sarah in the slightest.

his offputting behavior was the whole reason that you had broken things off in the first place. sarah had come to the same abrupt realization not long after finally noticing her worth. both guys dumped within a week of each other. kelce was proving your entire point of breaking up with him, at that current second.

now, having one cup each, it was a matter of time before kelce was either being obnoxious out of excitement or acting like a total crybaby.

kelce missed.

alright, it's now sarah's turn, etching near her, you watched. actively hoping she won. looking intently towards her, she sent a giddy smile towards you before guiding the ping pong towards the last remaining alcohol-filled cup.

with the sight of her making the ping pong in, you began jumping up and down with her in unity. wrapping your arms around her, you both hugged.

the scoff that left kelce's mouth interrupted the hug, "i-it's not that serious. you won by chance sarah, let's play 'another game."

looking at each other, you and sarah simultaneously roll your eyes, leaving it to sarah to speak, "getting a little desperate aren't we kelce?"

getting a laugh from the crowd that had formed, not leaving a millisecond of a moment for kelce to spew some of his bullshit, sarah grabs ahold of your hand, pulling you towards a more secluded area of the host's house. an unoccupied hammock that overlooked a small portion of the beach.

laying across from each other in the cream-colored hammock, sarah let out a laugh before speaking a word, "i don't know why you even dated that asshole"

lift your head, you sent a glare towards her, "i know you're not talkin"

letting out a cough, sarah began to seek out a change of subject. pulling you by your hand, both of you, now, are straddling the hammock.

"alright! enough about stupid boys, lemme read your palm"

"what?!"

"you heard me!"

letting sarah lay your palm flat— her nimble finger slid tracing the lines of your palm.

"no no no, this is bad", sarah said shaking her head in disbelief.

it seemed that you began to overindulge for the sake of sarah, though you would always do that.

"s-sarah w-what is it?"

genuinely concerned by her own made-up delusions, sarah spoke, "when i read your palm lines, it says that you're gonna have what seems to be like six kids, with a lousy douchebag"

letting out an obnoxious scoff, you began to giggle, "i would die a painful death before i would let that happen"

"and i would kill that lousy husband of yours before he could marry you"

your face dangerously close to hers, "oh really, is that so?"

before sarah could come up with a witty response, her breath began to hitch when she began to feel your breath against her pale complexion cheeks— now pink in color.

connecting your line of sight from directly in her eyes, gradually moving to her rose, plump lips. sarah doing the same. once more, looking back into her eyes, you slowly moved your face, a mere inch away, now very close in proximity.

just like always, sarah had to be confident. slowly leaning forward, she captured your lips. naturally, you froze for a moment before you started to lead the kiss.

ding

the kiss only lasted a moment, only to be interrupted by a message from your mom. breaking the kiss, you looked down at your phone.

"ah shit i didn't realize what time it is"

although sarah was sad you had to leave, she knew your mom worried a lot. jumping up off the hammock, you began to walk away with haste.

"j-just let me know when you get home"

[chericos]

Curled Around Your Finger ꩜ .ᐟ

M. Fushiguro x curly-haired!(implied black!)reader

Inspired by @/just-jordie-things

Megumi Fushiguro loves your hair.

(Not like it was any secret) Granted, he loves every part of you. It’s not like your physical features are attributed to his reasons for loving you. But it is a WELL known fact among your peers that Megumi is borderline obsessed with anything relating to your hair.

Any chance he gets he’s carding his hand through your locks and curling them around his finger. You could be anywhere, doing anything, and he will find (or make) a reason to play with your curls. It’s like second nature.

In his defense, he has a constant need to touch you. Whether you're cuddled up during a movie night, placing his hand over yours while sitting on a bench, or—even with his disdain for pda—linking pinkies while walking through crowded areas. It’s not his fault his hands tend to migrate to your hair naturally. (he knows what he’s doing)

And it’s not like you were none the wiser either. You saw how his eyes were trained on your hair when sitting on the train together. You felt the way his fingers softly massage your scalp while you rested your head on his chest. You even heard the way he’d hum with a dopey grin on his face as he braided and twisted small sections during breaks.

So that’s why it’s no surprise when he offers (follows you) to come to the hair supply store with you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The bustling streets of Tokyo felt alive with the energy of the afternoon rush, but for Megumi Fushiguro, it was just another errand he had committed to. You walked next to him, hand in hand, and a skip in your step as you made your way downtown. Megumi turns his head to look down at you. The midsummer sunlight kissed your face, making you look radiant, he wondered how you always looked even prettier than the last time he saw you.

Your smile brightened as you reached out to give his hand a squeeze before releasing it. The beauty supply store came into view, a colorful beacon amidst the sea of grey buildings. The large windows displayed a myriad of hair products, tools, and accessories, promising solutions for every hair type and problem.

"Thanks for coming with me, Gumi," you said, glancing up at him. "I know it's not really your thing."

"It's fine," Megumi replied, his usual stoic expression softening slightly when he looked at you. "I wanted to spend some time with you anyway."

It's a relatively quiet affair. The only noise came from the other few scattered patrons and the muffled hum of music playing through the speakers. But his eyes follow you like a hawk. He was taking a mental note of every product you grab and storing it in the back of his mind for later.

If anyone were to ask, he would just say he was doing “what any good boyfriend would do”—which is true, but honestly, he just wanted to be useful. In the case at any point, you need to refill on something, you could depend on him to go in your stead.

"Alright, first on the list is leave-in conditioner," you said, walking towards one of the aisles as he followed silently behind you. You crouched down to reach your go-to hair brand, Megumi watched as you picked up different bottles, reading the labels and ingredients carefully. He always admired how knowledgeable you were about what your hair needed, and the way you seemed to navigate the store with ease.

"Do you have a preference for scents?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence, and surprising you with his question.

"Not really," you replied, smiling at his interest. "As long as it works well and doesn't clash with my other products, I'm happy."

You handed him a bottle. "What do you think about this one?"

Megumi took it, sniffing the open cap. "It smells nice. Light and fresh.”

"Perfect," you said, adding it to your basket. "Next, I need a good gel. Something that will define my curls without making them crunchy."

As you continued your search, Megumi stayed close, shadowing you like an eager puppy. He occasionally picks up products, asking for your opinion on them. You explained the difference between various types of gels, creams, oils, and what brands you do and don’t support, and he listened intently, making sure to memorize your hair care routine.

"Do you always use so many products?" he asked as you compared two different gels.

"Pretty much," you replied with a small laugh. "Curly hair can be high maintenance, but I love it. It's a part of who I am. Especially after everything I've been through regarding it."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I like your curls. They suit you."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thanks, Gumi!"

After picking out a gel that met your criteria, you moved on to accessories. You browsed through hair ties, clips, scarves, and headbands, holding up different options for Megumi's opinion. He offered his thoughts, telling which colors go best with your complexion and what style would fit your aesthetic.

Finally, you reached the checkout, your basket full of new products and accessories. As you placed everything on the counter, Megumi stepped forward, pulling out his wallet.

"Let me," he said, and before you could even think of protesting, he had already gone and paid for everything.

"Megumi, you didn't have to do that," you said, touched by his gesture.

"I wanted to," he replied simply.

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection for him. "Well, thank you. I really appreciate it."

Megumi insisted on carrying your shopping bags, gently taking them from your hands with a firm yet kind expression. "You shouldn't have to carry anything if I'm with you," he said, his voice resolute. As you left the store, bags in hand, you felt a sense of contentment. The streets of Tokyo were still crowded, and you ended up linking your arm around Megumi’s to not get separated.

While you both walked back to the dorms you turned a corner, and noticed a quaint coffee shop with large, inviting windows and a cozy ambiance. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted out onto the sidewalk.

"Want to grab a coffee before we head back?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"Sure," he agreed, a rare smile playing on his lips. "I'd like that."

The two of you walked side by side, the bustling city around you feeling a little bit quieter, a little bit more peaceful. In that moment, you knew that it wasn't just about the beauty supply store or the products you'd bought. It was about the time spent together, the small acts of care and understanding that strengthened your bond.

As you sipped your coffee and chatted about everything and nothing, you felt grateful for Megumi and the way he made even the most mundane of tasks feel special. And with your new hair products in tow, you knew that your curls—and your heart—were in good hands.

I’m a sucker for curly hair…

also, I find that each time I write I start blanking out when it comes to dialogue. Idk I can never seem to get it down right 😞

@ CHERICOS 2024 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate, or plagiarise my works

[meikadonnelly]

|| izzy stradlin ||

izzy stradlin x fem reader

you and izzy have an argument

trigger warning : arguing, swearing and just general talk of anger that may be triggering for certain people (no physical)

angst/fluff at the end.

You’re sitting on your living room couch of a small apartment in which you and your boyfriend Izzy both live in as he’s sitting on the opposite end, trying to change his guitar strings. He’s getting frustrated and just when you think he’s calming down, you hear a snap and look over to see one of his strings, snapped in half, laying broken along his black guitar.

“For fucks sake!” he yells, throwing one of his tools down onto the coffee table. You look at him as he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair while breathing deeply.

“Maybe you should have a break? Are you hungry? I could make y-”

“No,” he interrupts loudly.

“Are you sure? It might make you feel bet-”

“Just stop!” he yells, interrupting again and looking at you, his hair covering his face slightly. “I don’t need any fucking help, i’m not a baby,” he says bluntly. You look at him.

“I never said you were,” you say quietly. “I was just trying to help.”

“Well don’t,” he says, standing up and walking into the bedroom, slamming the door loudly. You stay sitting there, looking out the window for a while, thinking about what had just happened. You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there for but after a while, you hear the bedroom door open. You look up to see your grumpy boyfriend, walking into the kitchen and to the fridge. You watch him open the fridge door and stand there, looking into it blankly. “Stop looking at me,” he grumbles, grabbing a bottle of water and shutting the door abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, trying to make him look at you. He ignores you and starts walking out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. “Can you stop being an asshole and come here?” you snap quickly, frustrated with his attitude. He stops and turns around, looking at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Excuse me?” he says, glaring at you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, regretting your choice of words. “I just want to know what’s wrong.” He steps forward and narrows his eyes.

“No, you wanna know what’s wrong? I’m sick of always being the bad guy when I don’t want to talk about things,” he says. You frown slightly, examining his face which shows frustration but deep down, you can tell he’s upset about something.

“I’m not frustrated because you don’t want to talk, i’m frustrated because you take all your shit out on me!” you say loudly. His breath hitches at the tone of your voice and he sits the bottle of water on the kitchen counter, crossing his arms.

“You were the one who decided to pry,” he says bluntly which makes you let out a frustrated sigh.

“You’re my boyfriend, of course i’m going to ask what’s wrong when you’re clearly acting different,” you argue to which he rolls his eyes.

“For fucks sake,” he mutters under his breath as he runs his hand over his face. “Just leave me alone,” he finally says, picking his water up and walking back to the bedroom.

You stay sitting on the couch while silence fills the apartment. You sit for about 15 minutes before deciding to attempt talking to Izzy. You walk slowly to the door and knock gently, pushing it open at the same time. You look into the dark room to see Izzy sitting on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. “Izzy?” you say quietly. He doesn’t look up so you continue further into the room, eventually standing in front of him. “Izzy,” you say, this time a little louder. You stare at him as he takes a few deep breaths before looking up at you. He moves his gaze back down to his hands as he speaks.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. You tilt your head as you look down at him. “I’m so stressed about the new album and I don’t know how to fix it,” he admits.

“Some things you can’t always fix Izzy,” you say. “But you can always ask for help,” you add on. He lets out a big sigh before finally looking at you. You look back down at him and smile gently. He puts his arm out and grabs yours, pulling you to stand in between his legs. He rests his forehead against your stomach as you put your arms around his head. “Let me help you,” You whisper as you feel his shaky breath on your stomach.

“I don’t want to drag you into my problems,” he mutters against your skin. You put your hand under his chin and raise it to look at you.

“I love you Izzy, and that means that I am here to help and support you whenever you need it, no matter how big or small the problem is,” you say as he watches you. “Please don’t try to handle this on your own because we both know it’s not going to make anything better.”

He keeps looking at you, not saying anything, for a few moments before closing his eyes for a brief second and taking a deep breath. “I need you to help me,” he finally says to which you tilt your head with a soft smile.

“I’m here for you okay?” you whisper.

“I love you, even if I don’t show it,” he says, standing up in front of you. He leans down a little to rest is forehead against yours, closing his eyes and staying quiet. You wrap your arms around his neck and close your eyes as well, taking in the silence and the smokey scent of the apartment. You both stand there for a second before you hear him shift a little so you open your eyes and pull away to look at him. He opens his eyes slowly to look at you, his eyes squinting slightly as the room is dim.

“Is there anything that I can do to help you now?” you ask softly. He thinks for a second.

“Just stay with me. Help me understand that i’m going to be okay,” he replies quietly. You nod with a soft smile and pull him back into a hug.

About 10 minutes later, you are both laying in bed, under the covers, enjoying the quiet. You’re both laying on your sides, facing each other. Izzy has his face hidden into your neck again as you run your fingers through his hair. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing is slowing down as he relaxes. You kiss the top of his head.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you whisper, closing your eyes too.

[small-sinclair]

Hii!!

Sinclair brothers react about it's time to wake up but S/O don't want to get up just want to stay in bed and sleep

Thank you and have a good day!!!❤️

Hewo, friend! Thank your for the request :3

I'm also going to add Reggie and Brahms, too.

Slashers with an s/o that doesn't want to leave bed.

Bo: Snuggles

"Darlin', I know ya hate mornin's but ya need to let go of my arm," he drawls, tapping your shoulder to let go. "I got things to do, an' I need your help wit' puttin' up a new welcome sign."

Y/n's hand takes Bo's arm and pulls it back into their grasp. They sigh tiredly and drift back to sleep. Bo just signs and lays back down with them and nuzzles into their chest. "Okay, honey. Twenty more minutes an' we move."

Bo said this about two hours ago. Now, he and his s/o are snuggled under the covers once more, Bo kissing their head and hands. Maybe it's a good idea to take the morning off.

Vincent: Works anyways

He knows you don't get up right away, and he's okay with that. Vincent is already dressed and working on his art when you stumble out of the little bedroom off the side of the basement and lean against him. Vincent knows you stay up late sometimes with your own work, but he just wants your to feel well rested with everything. He looked over as you rest your head on his shoulder. Both of you listen to the opera music play as you watch him work with his hands.

He puts his tools down and pats his lap, motioning for you to sit. You do, and he holds your waist as you play with his hair.

"Sorry I slept in later," you whispered, sleep still hanging in your voice.

He shakes his head as he starts rubbing your back. At least you're somewhat awake for him to give you some loving by kissing your hand and cheek, his lone eye admiring your sleepy-filled eyes.

Lester: Passenger Royalty

He was able to wiggle out of your grasp and get dressed to leave for work. He normally leaves before the sun comes up, so he knows you won't be awake. Today is different, however.

Lester wakes you up with kisses and nudging your gently like a puppy. "Sweet pea? Do ya wanna wake up?"

"No," you murmur as you started back to sleep.

He raises a brow and kisses your forehead. "How 'bout ya come wit' me today? If we leave now, we can get that fast food breakfast ya lik'?" He kisses you again. "An' Starbucks from the next town over? Headin' 'at way anyhow 'cause I gotta report from the sheriff two deer down."

You think it over. "C'n I be in my fuzzy pants all day? And not leave the truck?" You asked, blinking some sleep away.

"Be my passenger royalty, darlin'," he conformed. "Deal?"

You smile sleepily and kiss him sleepily. "Grab my blanket and pillow, too. I might sleep."

Brahms: The Nervous

Brahms gets scared when y/n doesn't get up at their normal time. He moves from his room and goes through the wall tunnels to find them still in their bed with the covers over their head. He saw this once when he was younger when someone was sick and dying.

Brahms comes to y/n's side of the bed and shakes them slightly. "Wake up," he whispers. "Please, wake up? Get up?" His child voice fills the dusty air as his nerves take over. "Why aren't you getting up?"

Y/n stirs and parts their eyes. Without saying anything, they pulls Brahms into their chest and lay them back down in bed.

"Y/n sick?" Brahms ask.

"No," they answer as they start going back to sleep. "Just a lazy day." Y/n looks down at Brahms and carefully takes off his mask to steal a kiss. "Does Brahms wanna join y/n on this lazy day?"

Even though it doesn't go in his normal schedule, Brahms nods and snuggles into their arms, sighing softly. They should have more lazy days.

Reggie: Comes back and Joins

Reggie wakes up and kisses your forehead. You normally wake up with him, but he noticed that you were extra tired today from last night's date. He smiled in your hair and kisses you once more, causing you to follow his lips to kiss him back.

"Go'morning, honeydew," he says lightly. "I gots some deliveries ta do. Promise 'll be back by lunch."

"Bring food?" You murmur, kissing his arm. "Please?"

He smiles and rests his head against yours. "Reckon so, beauty." HE looks at the clock then back at you. "I promise ta bring bac' sum burgers and curly fries from 'at dinner yous like." Reggie squeezes your head the sits up to leave.

When he comes back and sees you still in bed, he'll smile and place the bags on the counter. He takes off his boots and hands his hat before climbing in bed and pulls you into his chest, kissing your head. Soon, he joins you and drifts back to sleep, holding you close.

[ya9amicide]

Redamancy [BTS]

chapter two

♡ info ♡ k-pop masterlist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ♡

summary: Hybrids were accepted in society to a certain degree. To some, they are for entertainment. Used as sex and money tools. To lock up and abuse whenever and however they please. Something to have control over. To others, they are companions. Just like regular animals are used for therapy or simply companionship, hybrids are too.

To the rest, they are just like everyone else. Someone with their own life who deserves the same freedoms as your everyday John or Jane Doe. Wren is one of these people. She hates the idea of owning a hybrid. She has nothing against those who own them for medical or companionship reasons. Just the rest.

But, when a ragtag pack of seven mismatched hybrids somehow ends up in the woods behind her home, she takes them in and does the one thing she never thought she would do. Own them. But, she also does something she didn't even think was possible. She fell in love with each and every one of them.

pairing(s): ot7 x ot7, ot7 x oc

warnings: none

taglist: @frieschan​ || @writingwithmai || @osakis-gf || @hiefisch

Although I knew there were seven of them, it was no less shocking or intimidating now that they were standing in front of me. It was clear that they were all a different species which is shocking as most of the time, packs with both predator and prey hybrids don’t mesh well.

Some were hiding behind others. The ones in front did not look happy with the situation…understandably.

“Hello,” I say, observing how some of their ears twitched at the sound of my voice. “I was going to feed…I’m sorry I never got your name.” I turn my attention to the German Shepherd I welcomed in earlier.

“Hoseok,” he says.

I smile and he shifts on his feet. “I was going to feed Hoseok and offer a place to sleep while the storm is raging outside. He told me there were more of you so I thought I’d offer the same to you as well.”

One of the hybrids in the front watches me. He has shaggy gray ears and a tail to match. “Why?” He asks, tone flat and voice low.

“Do I…need a reason?” I ask and he narrows his eyes and I sigh. “Because you shouldn’t have to sleep outside in a storm like this. You shouldn't have to sleep outside at all to begin with.” They still just stand there. “I’m going to get some more towels so you can dry off. If you’re here when I get back, I’ll assume you accept my offer, and if not…” I take my leave then.

When I get back, I make a move closer to them with a stack of towels, and they shuffle backwards, some letting out low growls. I freeze, body tensing. Without taking my eyes off of them, I slowly place the towels on a side table by the couch. “Feel free to sit in the living room or the kitchen. Once we get some food in you I can show you to the showers and the bedrooms. You can take some of my brother’s clothes in the meantime.”

Moving into the kitchen to make more food, I don’t hear anything from the other room for a few minutes. Then there’s shuffling and I know they’re drying off. From what I can tell, they are all staying in there.

However, when I turn around to start bringing food to the kitchen table, I see the tall hybrid with the shaggy gray fur and I jump. “Motherfu–,” I slam my hand over my mouth before I finish the word. I’m sure he can hear the erratic beating of my heart.

His mouth twitches slightly. “Sorry.”

I wave him off after my heart calms down a little. “You’re fine. I just didn’t hear you coming in so I wasn’t expecting to see someone when I turned around. Would you mind bringing everyone to the table, please?” He nods and walks off.

I set all of the food out and notice that they are all standing off to the side, watching me. “...You can sit down.”

“Anywhere?” The small cat hybrid in the back says, moving to stand behind the others when my gaze turns to him.

I tilt my head slightly in confusion. “Of course, anywhere! I don’t have a preference so pick whichever spot you want.”

The predator hybrids seem to surround the prey around the table. The only spot left is by the shaggy gray one from before. It seems they want to protect the others from me should I try something.

They all wait for me to start filling my plate before they do the same. “So, I know Hoseok’s name. Can I know the rest? Also, I’m not really the best at identifying hybrids so if you’re comfortable I’d like to know what kind of hybrid you are.”

Hoseok is the first to speak up, still nervous, but clearly more comfortable with me than the rest because of our previous interaction. “German Shepherd,” he says, which makes sense as soon as he says it. His ears and tail are full of deep brown fur, both a bit wild from the conditions outside.

“Yoongi,” another one of them says, his tone and stare both cold, “Russian Blue cat.” It’s short and dirty, but it’s clear to see that his fur is a silvery gray color.

The small cat from before sits next to him, gripping his sleeve tightly. “Jimin…I’m a Calico.” His voice is timid and he avoids looking at me. His fur is a beautiful patchwork of black, orange and white.

One of the tallest ones speaks next, his tiny white ears barely visible through his hair. “I’m Seokjin,” his voice is quiet and kind. “I’m a ferret.”

“I’m Jungkook! I’m a rabbit,” one of the younger boys says. It’s then that I can hear the sound of thumping on the ground. His foot is tapping in excitement and he gives me a bright, but still nervous smile. I smile kindly at him and his eyes twinkle.

The big hybrid from before leans back in his seat next to me. “I’m a wolf,” he says and then pauses, as if waiting to see if I would run away in fear at this. I simply raise a questioning eyebrow in response and he smirks again. “My name is Namjoon.”

I finally turn my attention to the last hybrid and almost jolt when his striking feline eyes meet mine. They’re half lidded and observant. “Hello,” his voice is deep and echoes throughout the room. “My name is Taehyung, I’m a tiger.” He grins wickedly.

“I thought packs with predator and prey hybrids don’t usually work?” I ask.

“Most of us have been together since we were young,” Namjoon says. “Under the right circumstances bonds like ours can work.” His tone is suggestive when he talks about how they came together. It’s dark and angry. Clearly, the circumstances weren’t good ones.

The bunny is still bouncing his foot in anticipation under the table. “What’s your name?” He asks.

“I’m Wren,” I say, taking another bite of food.

“What do you do, Wren?” Yoongi asks in a purr. He leans forward, tone sly.

My gaze turns fond. “I’m a writer when I want to be but a professor everyday in between.” I love what I do. Most days I get to teach people about Greek mythology, something I’ve held a big interest in since I was little. And in between all of that, I get to write books about things from the deep recesses of my mind that others get to eventually enjoy.

“How did you guys end up out in the storm?” I ask. They all shift uncomfortably, those who were previously comfortable now retreated back into themselves. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Namjoon waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. It’s a reasonable question. We’ve been out on the streets for a while now. All of us have rotated to and from different owners and shelters since we were young. That’s how we met each other. We all eventually ended up on the streets and just stuck together after that.”

It was safe to say that after that, the lighthearted mood was gone.

When everyone finished eating, I guided them upstairs to the different bedrooms and bathrooms. “Here are some clothes. They should fit relatively well,” I hand them each a pile of clothes to choose from. “They’re my brothers. He used to live with me but when he moved out he left some stuff behind. There are towels and toiletries in the cabinets. You all can choose between any of the bedrooms except mine of course. So, any room besides the last one on the right is free reign. If you get hungry feel free to raid the kitchen, I just ask that you clean up any messes you make.”

I watch them all shuffle where they stand. I blow out a breath of air and awkwardly rock on my heels. “Well, if you need anything don’t be afraid to come ask. I have nothing going on tomorrow so don’t be afraid to wake me. All I ask is that you knock before you come into my room.” Knowing they won’t give me any further answers, I walk down the hall to my room. Giving them one last look over my shoulder, I quietly close the door behind me.

[byeuijoo]

autumn things 𐀔 boynextdoor

genre : purely fluff ⋆ warnings : absolutely none ⋆ wc : 697

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ୨ ✩ ୧

park sungho ⭒ carving pumpkins

one of autumn's must-do activities is pumpkin carving. and since sungho can't refuse you anything, he instantly said yes when you offered to take part in a sculpture workshop at the end of the day. armed with quality tools and cool aprons featuring cute little ghosts, you now both listen carefully to the instructor's instructions on how to make the most of your future masterpieces. but it's a little more complicated than expected.. which prompts your boyfriend to give you a hand and carefully carve your pumpkin before his. and, of course, he won't stop cutting until he sees the satisfied smile creep across your colorful lips. this activity was actually less strenuous than he had expected.

lee riwoo ⭒ scary movies night

one of the special things about autumn is that it's also the season for your favorite celebration : halloween. and how to start the season without a marathon of scary movies? sanghyeok don't really mind watching 3 or 4 movies in a row with you. he loves the cosy little space you've created in his living room, the pillows on the floor, your back pressed against his chest and the many warm plaids covering you both. although he seems more preoccupied with observing every reaction on your face than following the development of the film, his hand nonchalantly caressing your side is a reassuring touch that prevents you from being afraid of evil screamers.

myung jaehyun ⭒ coffee shop date

coffee dates aren't just an autumn custom, but when this time of year offers you the opportunity to discover new flavors, a tour of the coffee shops is a must. and what better way to do it than to take jaehyun with you? the poor boy doesn't dare say anything to you, he just follows you, smiling, pulling by your hand through the streets of seoul in the late afternoon. the colors are pretty, and the sunset watches over your skin. and after a long search, you finally found what you wanted : an iced pumpkin spice latte. you've been waiting for it since last year, and you couldn't wait to show it to your boyfriend. who, by the way, didn't have the heart to admit to you that he'd already drunk some — too busy finding you adorable with that overexcited look and those stars in your eyes.

han taesan ⭒ cold hands

a colder wind, light rain in the air, a slightly overcast sky... there's no doubt that autumn has arrived. it's time to bring out the sweaters and booties. summer is now over, and of course — you're colder than under the sun. especially your hands. as a good boyfriend, dongmin never misses an opportunity to take you home after class, and he soon notices that you're trying your best to warm your poor fingers. without saying a word, the boy grabs one of your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours before slipping them both into his jacket pocket, keeping them both nice and warm.

kim leehan ⭒ leaf piles

something you've always loved about autumn, are the pretty colors that decorate the trees. long walks in the afternoon are great for leaf peeping — the reds, oranges and yellows that grace the city's streets. donghyun likes to follow you on your walks, watching your face light up with every new color. but the best is yet to come : piles of leaves on the roadside, which gardeners have stubbornly collected, seem to call on both of you to jump in. which you did, of course, with a burst of laughter that rocked the wind. and the poor workers don't dare blame you, because your good mood seems to be far too contagious.

kim woonhak ⭒ rain shower

there's something special about autumn rain – the feeling of raindrops on your skin is different. and it's something you love to share with woonhak, when you get out of class after a long day, and all the other students are rushing to avoid getting too wet. you stare at the grey sky for a moment before walking calmly hand in hand, huge smiles plastered on your faces, and your hearts beating in unison. no matter how wet or sick you get the next day, because running under the first autumnal rain shower is a precious moment you like to share with someone special in your heart.

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reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !

[miffysrambles]

Hello I wanted to ask for a peng and azure x reader headcanons i just barely see any x readers of these two and they are my favorite.

If not then I understand I hope you have a great day/night though.

Sorry Peng’s is shorter, I had less to say about them!

Azure Lion:

Mmmm, big man.

Super protective of you even before you start dating, you can feel his grip slightly tighten on your shoulder if he sees someone get a little too close to you. 

Not afraid to speak his mind to this person, especially if you have trouble speaking up when someone makes you uncomfortable.

His voice drops as his purple orbs glare down at the stranger, “You’re clearly making them uncomfortable, leave before I rethink about sparing you from a fight…”

He makes sure you’re safe and comfortable at all possible times.

He prefers verbal affection over physical affection at first, this man will die if your hand even grazes him when you first start dating.

He’ll just be talking with his sworn brothers as you walk by, intentionally brushing your hand against his paw.

He’ll have the biggest grin on his face now, his cheeks flushed red as he tries to carry on the conversation like nothing happened.

Definitely a size difference, he’s decently taller than you and he adores it.

Although he still prefers verbal affection further into the relationship, does not mind physical affection.

He loves it when you sit on his lap, his arms wrapped around you as you just enjoy each other's company and make each other laugh.

Oh, and this man definitely purrs.

You’ll be resting your head against his chest, running your fingers through his mane and he’ll just start purring.

He thinks it’s embarrassing but seeing how happy it makes you, he just lets it happen.  

Struggles with criticism sometimes- takes it as a personal attack on him.

Definitely takes some time to accept your words when you tell him he's doing something wrong or bad, but don't worry!

He's a big softie when it comes to you and eventually takes your words to heart to try to fix himself.

I’d like to think he really enjoys doing domestic things with you and for you like cooking and cleaning, this man will let you relax and put your feet up after a long day of work while he makes you dinner.

His favorite is gardening, he’ll come with you to the grocery store to look at gardening tools and seeds.

“Dear, do you think we could get lilies and chrysanthemums for the flower box outside the kitchen window? I think they would match the curtains nicely.”

Totally wears Hawaiian/Polo shirts, cargo shorts, and aprons when he cooks for you. 

House husband material fr.

Peng:

Oooo this smug motherfucker.

They love to tease you and otherwise just mess with you to see your reactions. 

Will sometimes lift you up in their arms and fly away from what you were doing, laughing as you pout from them taking you away from your duties.

“I was grocery shopping Peng!” 

“Shush darling, this is much more important.”

Smirking as you eventually agree and stop struggling in their arms, bringing you to whatever destination they had set up for you (Usually a picnic date or a scenic nature walk).

However, in the beginning of your relationship, if you show them love back will become flustered and pretend they don’t care.

“I-I am not blushing! Like I care what a mere mortal has to think about me!”

The small smile on their face as they turn away from you says otherwise. 

It would take a lot of time to get up to the point where they can show their love for you back, but the payoff is definitely worth it. 

Pretends to hate PDA saying it’s disgusting but secretly loves it when you take control and kiss them first.

They are protective of you, just not as much as Azure.

Will wrap their wing around your shoulder in comfort if they feel like you’re uncomfortable or nervous around someone.

“Waste one more second of your disgusting breath on my darling, and you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

Will only do this if you’re safety is in clear danger (Azure does it regardless lmao).

Although they act like they don’t care, if anything were to happen to you they hunt the person who hurt you down, even if the safest option would be to run away.