#potp x reader

Flufftober Day 1: Eye Contact w/ Narinder

Flufftober Day 2: Handholding w/ Heket

Flufftober Day 3: Rain w/ Jorge Sanchez

Flufftober Day 4: Kisses w/ Jason Voorhees

Flufftober Day 5: Change w/ Shamura

Flufftober Day 6: Letters w/ Itward

Flufftober Day 7: Sick w/ Kallamar

Flufftober Day 8: "Come to bed" w/ Winslow Leach

Flufftober Day 9: Comfort w/ Astro

Flufftober Day 10: Drunken Confession w/ Ragatha

Flufftober Day 11: Exploration w/ Spot

Flufftober Day 12: Cuddling w/ Laughing Jack

Flufftober Day 13: Bathing Together w/ Captain Caviar Cookie

Flufftober Day 14: Staring w/ Sebastian Solace

Flufftober Day 15: Lunch w/ Almond Cookie

Flufftober Day 16: Rest w/ Moon

Flufftober Day 17: Birthday w/ Yatta

Flufftober Day 18: Hugs w/ Sun

Flufftober Day 19: Mapping w/ Leshy

Flufftober Day 20: Flowers w/ Splendorman

Flufftober Day 21: Combing hair w/ Dark Cacao

Flufftober Day 22: Sunset w/ Baal and Aym

Flufftober Day 23: Moving Day w/ Various CRPs

Flufftober Day 24: Pet names w/ Ticci Toby

Flufftober Day 25: Protection w/ Rodger

Flufftober Day 26: Perfume w/ Glisten

Flufftober Day 27: Kiss marks w/ Finn

Flufftober Day 28: Mall w/ Jeff The Killer

Flufftober Day 29: Reunion w/ Eggson

Flufftober Day 30: Heal w/ Dark Choco

It had been at least a year since you, Winslow, and Phoenix had managed to escape Swan’s hold… or at least the most you could given the circumstances. You… admittedly confused on some of the finer details of things- surely Winslow was exaggerating when he had said Swan had rights to his soul..? Or at least had done something with it- he was always a bit… theatrical, always giving big reactions. 

In fact- it didn’t matter how long or how far away you had gotten from everything… Winslow was always on edge. As far as you could remember there wasn’t ever a moment where he allowed himself a chance to rest. You… couldn’t bring yourself to blame him for that. He’d been through so much both physically and mentally. 

One of the biggest challenges with living with him wasn’t his tendency to breathe down necks or- in some more horrifying acts of protection- watching you or Phoenix sleep at night… you had learned that he looked horrifying in a dark room when you were in bed. 

No… it wasn’t his paranoia that was a problem… It was the byproducts of it that made things a real challenge. Winslow absolutely refused to set the record straight about his not-death. The growled mention of Swan and Sing Sing was enough to make you drop the topic… fair enough, you thought… but it went further- he had insisted that you and Phoenix take on new names. 

If he had it his way he would have the three of you go as far away as you possibly could. 

Today… was admittedly one of his better days- all things considered since it was just you and him home in your apartment together. Phoenix… was out working. 

The apartment was new- to you at least-... Winslow had felt trapped in the last and was starting to… as you called it: prowled. 

At the moment the man sat hunched over the small kitchen table scribbling on a piece of paper as he muttered and tapped under his breath. Music was one of the few things he allowed himself to do these days- when he wasn’t keeping his eye on you and Phoenix he was writing down music. Never to play, you’d be lucky to hear him humming the melodies in passing. 

The desire to bring the song to life was there… Even with the mask you’d catch the way his blue eye glittered at the mention of reading over the sheets and sing it for him- or even with him… only for it to quickly snuff itself out. Saying that the music was what got you all here in the first place- you… that was another thing that you never fully understood. 

There seemed to be so much that you didn’t fully understand or grasp the full context of.

“You’ve been sitting there for hours, Winslow,” You mumbled softly as you step into the kitchen with your stained coffee cup. 

Not that you could scold him- you weren’t any better; having spent the past several hours sat hunched over in your bed writing paper after paper- scratching out stories as they popped and developed in your mind. Things would be so much easier if you had a typewriter… but they were too… bulky and expensive. Even the smaller ones nearly took the wind out of you… with the current job you had? Yeah. Fat chance. The income would be better put into supporting yourself and the other two. 

Your bones creak softly with each movement- each muscle attempting to unwind itself and each joint crackling softly. 

Winslow hardly gives you a response. 

Good day or not, that was odd behavior from him. Any other time he would give you his full attention.

He was just as attentive as he was on edge. 

“Winslow,” 

You don’t bother washing your cup; opting to soak it in some water instead. The glass is set down and the few short steps you need to reach his side are taken. “Winslow,” You repeat as you lean over his shoulder to take a glance at the papers under his hands. There were more scribbles than there were notes. Your lips curl slightly in a frown before your face falls to a neutral worry. 

Your hand finds his shoulder- and finally… finally he looks at you… and God he looks so tired. 

With some hesitation the index of your free hand settles under the beak of his mask. He tenses… and relaxes under you.

The mask is pushed up to grant you a better look at him.

He… had gotten better about taking his mask off- at least sometimes. It really was one of his better days. 

“You look exhausted Winslow,” Your fingers curl around his shoulder. The leather of his suit felt… odd under your touch- worn down from his constant need to wear it. He’d need new clothes soon- something he felt comfortable in… but it was hard when he refused to go outside.

Or more accurately outside within the view of people. Sometimes you swore you saw glimpses of his cape or mask when you were out. Phoenix had mentioned getting the feeling of being watched over when she needed to work a late shift. 

Winslow… for what it was worth… took the measures to protect you both. 

The hand on his mask trails to his cheek and cups it. Winslow hums softly… the noise robotic and warped through his talk box. 

“I can’t sleep until Phoenix has returned,” 

His words make the circling of your thumb slow to a stop… Winslow’s eye flutters shut at the lack of motion. 

“She’s only a few blocks away, you know her job is closer now here than the last apartment,” You try to reassure. “Phoenix is fine, and she’s going to be fine… until the end of her shift, and when she comes home… and tomorrow, and the day after,” 

Winslow grumbles something under his breath, whatever had been said was too tough to catch as his box crackled and squeaked. 

If you could, you'd see if you could convince him to take it off long enough for you to try to poke around it… it’d been having issues as of late. Just another problem to stack on top of everything else. 

“Come to bed Winslow,” You said as softly as you could manage. 

“If not for yourself, then for me. You know I hate to put yourself through so much fuss…” Your thumb resumes its previous circling motion against his cheek.

“Phoenix will be just fine, I promise you,” 

Winslow’s eye opens back up and stares around. First to you… then your hand… then to the apartment’s door… and then to the floor- or maybe to himself? The way he was hunched in front of you made it hard to tell. The beak of the mask being pushed up didn’t help at all either. 

Then… Winslow inhales long and deep through his nose, and releases is through his metal teeth… the noise warbling and coming out in an odd wave of fluctuating pitch and sound. 

“...Fine…” Winslow suddenly rises to his feet and towers right over you- as you stumble back to give him the space and to let you have a better view of his face as you crane your neck back. 

It didn’t matter how much time you spent with him- you weren’t sure you'd ever get used to his height. You were so accustomed to seeing him hunched over working on something that he looked… small… frail…

He wasn’t a beefcake by any means, but he wasn’t scrawny. 

You’ve seen at least some of his strength before when he had barreled straight through a door- breaking right through it… that… was not a fun time- having to explain that to everyone else that “no haha we aren’t hiding a third person with us and we totally didn’t break this door-!” 

You shake the memory from your head…

…and your hands find his. 

“Come on big guy, I’ll let you sleep in my bed for now… I think I need a nap myself-” 

Winslow’s eyes harden at the mention.

“The doors are locked and the curtains are drawn- just like you like them. If anyone comes by they won’t be able to see us… we’ll be in my room anyways… and we can lock the door if you want the extra security,”

It was a fire hazard, but if it would soothe Winslow’s mind enough for just a few hours to finally get him to sleep you’d take the risk… even if the countless PSAs and warnings you had been treated to in your developmental years were currently yelling at you from the murky depths of your mind as the memories merged and melted together into a cobbled up amalgamation of smoking horror. 

“Come on,” You repeat and walk him down the hall to your bedroom… to your surprise he lets you do it with zero resistance. 

“I’ll even let you have the extra blanket,” A warm smile flashed to him as the door to your room is opened. 

You push him to the bed- rougher than you’d intended as you underestimate how warn he actually was… a pang of worry clenches your chest.

“There,” You shift the blankets around over him, before finally crawling into bed. Not without closing and locking the door behind you first, of course.

“Now… just… sleep, okay?” You nestle deep against Winslow’s side with a sigh… the ache in your body was still very much present. You’d take a break from your writing tomorrow, you decided. If you were lucky the guilt of pushing voluntary work to the side wouldn’t gnaw at you too badly.  

You don’t close your eyes until Winslow does… and it…

He had the same idea as you. 

You were already pushing your luck with how far you could push against his desire to stay awake and keep watch.

So… you close your eyes… and… your body pounces on the chance of sleep within a few short minutes. 

The last thing you feel as you drift off was the feeling of Winslow tugging you closer against him and the wrapping of his arms around you.

AVAILABLE PRIZE FICS:

Narinder w/ eye contact (cult of the lamb)

Heket w/ handholding (cult of the lamb)

jorge sanchez under the rain (the book of life)

jason voorhees w/ indirect kisses (friday the 13th)

shamura w/ change (cult of the lamb)

itward w/ letters (fran bow)

kallamar w/ sick (cult of the lamb)

winslow leach w/ "come to bed" (phantom of the paradise)

astro w/ comfort (dandys world)

ragatha w/ drunken confession (the amazing digital circus)

spot w/ exploration (across the spiderverse)

captain caviar cookie w/ bath time (cookie run kingdom)

sebastian solace w/ staring (pressure)

almond cookie w/ lunch (cookie run kingdom)

moon w/ rest (fnaf security breach)

sun w/ hug (fnaf security breach)

leshy w/ mapping (cult of the lamb)

splendorman w/ flowers (creepypasta)

baal and aym w/ watching the sunset (cult of the lamb)

various crps w/ moving day (creepypasta) (note that this one is not one set scenario rather the reader looking back and mourning having to move away. very self indulgent to the author)

ticci toby w/ pet names (creepypasta)

rodger w/ protection (dandys world)

glisten w/ perfume (dandys world)

finn w/ kiss marks (dandys world)

When Winslow had asked you to take the day off of work, you knew something was going on. It didn’t take long to deduct that his pains were eating away at him more than they normally did. The hisses through gritted teeth as he tried to move around your apartment, to carrying himself slower and more uneven than what you were used to seeing. 

It was just the two of you, Phoenix needing to go to work to make the rent. 

You guide Winslow back to bed, a task that wasn’t that easy. He insisted that he was well enough to do his chores, and that he still wanted to work on his music. He only stopped fighting back when you shot him a look. His words turn into a garbled noise. 

You gently push him to the bed, being mindful of where your hands rest. Your eyes linger on the tear in the chest of his suit- he hadn’t gotten the chance to mend it. He was still binded by his contract with Swan, and that was the only thing keeping the stab wound from bleeding… but the wound was still there. Perpetually open, but not exactly oozing gore. 

You didn’t know how it worked. Winslow didn’t seem to know the specifics either, only that as long as Swan was alive then he would be too. Despite that fact, Winslow wasn’t all that happy knowing the producer was still out there. It took so much convincing to make him stay put and not seek out his revenge. 

The three of you fled together the night Beef had died, granted his death was at the hands of the man in front of you. You… still did not know what to make of that, but you’d like to believe that the Winslow you knew before everything went to hell was still in there somewhere. 

Your hands rested on his chest, one an inch or so above his wound. You hadn’t meant to keep your hands on him for so long.

Winslow’s hands wrapping around your wrists brought you back to the moment, his single blue eye staring right into your own. 

With the mask it was hard to read him. Even without it, it was hard. 

You try to tug your hands off of him with a sheepish apology but his firm grip keeps you in place.

“Winslow…” 

He hums, before taking your hands off of him and adjusting himself to lace his fingers into yours. His uneven breathing was made obvious by the box on his chest, allowing it to be heard in metallic rasps. You could see his mouth try to work, lips curling and twitching as he tried to draw the words out.

It looked like it hurt. 

“It's… okay…” He finally managed to draw out, eye darting downwards and back to you. He was referring to the wound, you were sure. 

Your mouth tried to twist itself into a smile, but the opposite was achieved. 

He finally let your hands slip out of his- though his hands still lingered in the air as you continued to stare at him. 

“It’s not- you’re not, Winslow,” 

Your hands lift themselves back up and come to a rest on the removable part of his helmet, and he nearly jolts back as if your hands were hot irons. His breathing hitches, and your hands pause- fingers hooked around the edges- but he grows still.

You let go, instead letting your hand cup his slightly swollen jaw. He relaxed but didn’t go completely slack in your palms. 

“Are your teeth bothering you again? I could run to the store to get you some pain killers… take the edge off,” 

Hopefully, you added mentally. 

He shakes his head. 

“..Stay..”

You only nod in response before letting go of his jaw. You don’t miss how he tried to push his face back into your hands. 

“Move over, I want to check your chest,” 

He does as he’s told and pulls himself to the head of the bed, laying down on his back in front of you. You position yourself in between his legs. 

You reach forward, and carefully unbelt the box that allowed him to speak from his chest. You set it to the side, and Winslow lifts himself off of the bed just enough for you to slip your hands under him to undo the belts and zippers of his suit. 

“You don’t have to wear that, you know- I’m sure we can find some clothes for you somewhere,” 

You know he won’t respond, but his mouth still shifts out of instinct. 

You tug the leather suit off of his arms, and he helps free them for you. You let the material rest at his torso. 

He never told you how he got the burns on his body, only that they were Swan’s fault. The bulk of them had been on his face, according to Phoenix when he showed her… but there were some on his neck, most of them ending before they reached the collar bone. They had already healed and scarred over, at least as best as they could without medical attention.

They weren’t what you were looking for.

Your eyes dart down lower and focus on the red gaping gash near where his heart would be. It was still glistening with blood, but not a single drop stained the actual skin around it. 

The contract, you reminded yourself. 

At least the wound didn’t seem to get infected no matter how much time passed… but it never healed, either. 

There wasn’t much you could do for it, only be mindful of where you put your hands on him; and hope that somehow, somewhere, Swan doesn’t end up dying.

“You’re sure this is fine?” You ask as your eyes dart between the wound and Winslow’s face. He merely nods, a low rumble coming from his chest. That answer would have to suffice for now.

“I’ll take your word on it,” 

You tug on his suit, and look at him again.

“I want to check on the bullet wound too, to make sure it’s still holding up alright… but I’ll need to lower your suit more… is that okay? You can clean it yourself, if you don’t want me to see.” 

There’s a long pause between the two of you, his eye fixated on you before he finally blinks. 

He gives you a nod.

“Yes to go on or…?” 

He nods again, and you take that as permission to continue onward. 

You pull the leather suit lower, stopping them at his hips.

Right there, a few inches above his hips was a rather gnarly looking bullet wound. You had read about Winslow’s “death” in the newspaper the morning after it happened. A security guard had got him. It was a wonder Winslow had survived long enough to sign Swan’s contract.

The wound was infected, or at least looked like it.

It wasn’t pretty. But what wounds are?

Pale sickly skin surrounded it like a bruise- only met with a sharp border of red around the opening. 

You try to keep a neutral face as you tear your eyes away from it. This specific wound was the source of Winslow shambling. Like the stab wound it seemed to be held in place, neither deteriorating or healing. He had good and bad days. Today was just one of them.

You place a hand by Winslow’s side and lean over him to the nightstand. He reaches in for you, just about reading your mind and getting what you wanted- your arms were too short to reach from your position. 

It wasn’t much but it was enough to give you peace of mind. 

You make a mental note to thank Phoenix for keeping products in the nightstand. 

“This might sting,” You warn, and dap the cloth on the wound. Careful, light- but enough to scrub away some of the gunk that had accumulated. You feel Winslow’s thigh tense around you- you give him a moment to gather himself. He relaxes, and you get back to work.

It’s only minutes until you’re patting it dry as gently as possible. Soon enough a bandage is pressed against it. 

You toss the rag to the side to wash later. 

“There…” You mutter as you pull Winslow’s suit back up, but his hands grasp you and stop. Letting go, you sit back and look up at him. Even with being as gentle as possible, the process took something out of Winslow. He was still tense, and a thin sheen of sweat now coated his body- hardly visible, only the light gave away its presence. 

“Sorry… I wasn’t too rough on you this time, was I?”

Winslow immediately shakes his head, thickly swallowing spit as his tongue darts between his silver teeth. 

He holds his hands up, gesturing towards the suit.

“Do you want to put it back on yourself?”

He nods, and lets his hands rest.

You allow him to rest, in the meantime you take the dirtied rag and throw it into the dirty laundry… on your way back you glance through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom for any luck finding something to help the pain. 

You do find a mostly empty bottle of ibuprofen… it… won’t do much, will it?

Walking back into the bedroom you find Winslow resting his head back on a pillow, still halfway undressed. You don’t push him to move. 

“Here,” You pass him the bottle and a glass of water, which he takes eagerly. Some water spills down his chin but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

You take a seat on the side of the bed and watch him out of the corner of your eye. He seems much better than he did a few minutes prior, body now untensing. 

It’d all be so much easier if he wasn’t legally dead… what would happen if you took him to the hospital? You doubt it would be as easy as sending him in and getting him back home without a hitch- that’s not how it works does it? Would it give away your position to Swan, too? That would most definitely put you all in danger. 

You wish it didn’t have to be like this.

“How’s your jaw?” You ask. “I can make you something nice and soft tonight for dinner,” You offer. He hums, pushing himself into a sitting position. He slips his arms in through his sleeves and shimmies to slide the leather across his body. You drag yourself behind him to redo the back. 

He stays still as you put his talking device back on him. 

A few experimental noises and hums, and he turns to you.

“It’s not… terrible…” He says after making sure everything was working as it should. “Still doesn’t mean you should eat whatever,” 

He only nods, he knows you’re right. You’ve had conversations like this before. Scenarios where stubbornness to adapt to his new conditions had left things worse for him. 

“I could make you a smoothie- use the cold to calm down the swelling and you get your fruits in,” You offer. “Maybe you’ll be better soon for something else,” 

You think.

You weren’t a doctor. 

“I think we still have some strawberries… maybe some mango chunks somewhere,” You glance at Winslow and he’s leaned towards you. “Or I can do something else,” 

“Smoothie’s fine… share?” He asked. He shyly looked away.

A piece of him before everything had gone wrong was still in there.

You smile, rising to your feet. “Sure, if you don’t mind me snagging most of it,” You tease. His chuckle comes out wheezed, and you try your best to ignore it. “I’ll be right back with it, give me ten minutes-” You gently put your hand on his shoulder as he attempts to follow you. 

“You… stay put for now, okay?”

He stares at your hand.

“Okay,” Is all he says in response, and he makes no move to keep your hand off of him as you drag it off of his shoulder.

“Okay!” You repeat, and turn on your heel to the doorway. You glance over your shoulder one last time, and give him a soft smile. “I’ll only be about ten minutes,” You reassure. 

He only keeps staring at you, eye transfixed on your face. You can still feel him staring as you turn back to the hallway and walk away. 

This was… fine… not ideal, but it would be fine enough. You’d make him the smoothie, and you’d share it with him- and hope that it would help combat the swelling in his mouth. 

Hasn't really celebrated anything since he got his music stolen- the only time he does is when he celebrates you and pheonix-- he can't do much but he does everything that he can to make the two of you feel special

And you want him to feel special!

He's a total night owl so you'd have a good chunk of the morning getting everything in order before he wakes up- make him a cake! You try your best to make it as soft as possible to accommodate for the pain his metal teeth cause him

He looks so genuinely surprised when he walks out of his room and finds you and pheonix waiting for him with cake and presents

The entire day is spent focused on him and he can't lie, it feels bizarre... he's so used to the roles being reversed, but he's not going to lie and say that he doesn't like recieving your (and pheonix's) affection

You're both making sure that his day is as good as it can be confined in your apartment

He doesn't want to go out- not that there is much for him to go out to. He's not fond of the idea of parting with his mask, but he's known as a dead man- having a reputation of breaking into *the swans* place to destroy things and "dying" in the process leaves... at least some recognition...

The dull breeze of autumn passed between the silent pair as they huddled over steaming cups of coffee. If it hadn’t been so packed inside, you’d both be tucked away comfortably in a corner. Unfortunately, Winslow was late to this little meet up- one that he had asked for. 

You bring your coffee to your lips, hardly bothering to blow on it to cool down.

He had asked you if Swan had let anything slip to you. It’d been a few weeks since Winslow had been in contact with the blonde and he hadn’t heard anything.

“I figured… since you work for him you might have heard something-” He repeated again as his fingers drummed against his cup, his smile sheepish and hopeful. But he looked so exhausted. 

You only shake your head for the third time this afternoon, “I’ve heard nothing- and even then I don’t think he would talk about that around me. I only help set stages and props, things like that… I mean sometimes I work the lights, but…” You trailed off and took a sip of your coffee.

Winslow visibly deflated a little.

“I’m sure he’s going to call you when he’s ready- give it some time.” You quickly try to reassure. He offers a slight nod, but his mouth remains twisted. “It’s only been… what? Barely a month?” 

He gives you another nod as he takes a drink of his coffee. The steam fogs his glasses but he doesn’t make any moves to clear the lenses.

“I’ll bet he’s going to call you any day now!” You lean back in your chair and smile at him. He returns it.

“You’re right,” 

Now you nod, and you twist in your seat and look through the window of the cafe. “I think I’m going to run in real quick and get a pastry, do you want anything?”

Really, you just wanted to dip inside for the warmth, even if just for a moment. Another breeze gives away your intentions as you try and fail to bite back a shiver. 

He sways slightly in his seat before standing up. “Eh…” He began before finding his voice again, blue eyes darting from you to anywhere else. “Sorry I didn’t-” He tried again and cleared his throat. “The coffee is the only good thing here… if you want something to eat… maybe we can go somewhere else?” 

A pause as he worked his teeth.

“I could drive you, it’s warmer in the car anyway,” He stuffed his hands into his coat and pulled a smile across his cheeks.

You blink a few times.

“Are you offering to spend more time with me?” You teased, and he shrinks into his collar. 

“Only if you’re willing to take the offer,” He grabbed his coffee off of the table and swished it around. “You walked here, right? I can drop you off you don’t want to-” 

“And here I was, beginning to think you just wanted to use me as a bridge to Swan,” You chuckled. His face reddened and he shook his head, whipping his hair around and roughing it up; made worse by the breeze.

“Of course not!” He nearly spat, and took a short breath to smooth over his tone. “I enjoy your company,”

You wave him off as your laugh fades, “I’m just teasing you Winslow!” 

He relaxed, holding his gaze on you. “Ah…”

You down the rest of your coffee and toss the empty cup into a nearby trash can. “So what did you have in mind?”

“Oh!” He perked right back up, waiting for you to join him at his side. “There’s another cafe not too far from here that has some nice options, if you still want a pastry…” He began, rattling off multiple different options as he led you to his car. 

He opened the passenger side door for you, and closed it before you even had the chance to reach for the handle. 

He continued his rambling as he crawled into the driver’s seat, only stopping to adjust his tall height into a comfortable position in the seat. He pushed the seat back to allow his legs enough room. 

“Surprise me,” 

His hands stop at the steering wheel. He shoots you a glance from the side.

“You sure?”

And you nod. 

“So long as it’s not too far away, I’ve got to get back home to get some chores done,”

He hummed in response, and turned on the radio. He instantly changes the station a second after The Juicy Fruits start playing.