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maysileeewrites · 5 months

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a helping hand - John Murphy x reader

Summary: „Why are you helping me? I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“ Set during 1 x 10 (I am become Death), based on this teaser.

warnings: mentions of blood + injuries, angst, Murphy being Murphy (yes, he does have a soft side in this, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still a dick); please lmk if I forgot something!

AN: I’m not quite sure whether anyone will still care for Murphy x reader in 2023, but I love my trash son so much, I just had to write something about him. Please let me know if you liked it!

You dip the bloodied cloth into the bucket filled with water, watching as the water slowly turns red. Your hands are bloody as well and there’s dried blood crested under your fingernails, but with all the sick teens around you needing medical attendance, you don’t have time to try to thoroughly wash your hands, so you just dip them into the water, grabbing a bar of soap, watching as the water turns an even deeper red.

Blood.

There’s just so much of it.

You sigh, standing up again. There’s no time for dwelling on your thoughts, not when the whole first floor of the Dropship is full of sick, coughing teenagers that need your help.

You go to Fox and Connor next, checking up on them. But apart from trying to clean them up - they’ve started coughing up blood as well - and getting them to drink some water, there isn’t much you can do to actually help them. You have no medicine, no painkillers - apart from Monty’s moonshine and considering that a painkiller really is a stretch in your opinion -, nothing. Only a few spare blankets you and Clarke gave out earlier, in order to help keep everyone warm.

A sudden wave of anger and irritation at your helplessness when faced with this unknown, dangerous virus overcomes you and you clench your fists in frustration. You allow yourself a moment to try and bury that emotion deep inside - because being this emotionally overwhelmed, you won’t be any help to the others -, closing your eyes and breathing deeply.

When you open your eyes again, they land on Murphy - who’s looking right back at you with his good eye, the other one is still swollen shut.

You gulp, trying to swallow down the nervousness that is suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Murphy’s the one who brought the disease into the Camp.

After being tortured by the grounders for days, you try to remind yourself. After being unceremoniously tossed out of Camp for a murder he didn’t commit. And while he’s definitely a rude asshole that can be a bit unpredictable at times - though you think more often than not he’s just lashing out when provoked, attacked, or in case of the whole Charlotte incident, wrongfully accused - you don’t think that he’s as bad as everyone makes him out to be.

But maybe that’s just you being naive, always wanting to see the good in people. He did try to go after Charlotte, after all. Though, you think, that probably had more to do with him seeking justice - a twisted, self-righteous kind of justice, but still justice - than vengeance.

You sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Whatever the deal with Murphy is - and whatever the reason for you to suddenly spend so much of your thoughts on him is - right now, it doesn’t matter.

Right now the only thing that matters is that he’s sick and hurt and he needs someone to help him clean up his wounds and that’s exactly what you’re here for.

So, you take a deep breath and square your shoulders, before walking over to him and dropping down in front of him. His blue-green eyes - the good one at least- meet yours for just a split second, but then he’s looking away again. You dip the cloth into the bucket of water - after helping Fox and Connor you’d gone out to get some fresh water - and reach out for him, but just when you’re about to touch him, he twists away from you.

„What’re you doing?“, he says, his voice low, distrust and irritation evident in his expression.

„Helping you“, you answer, gesturing to the wet cloth in your hands. „Someone needs to clean up your wounds, Murphy.“

He scoffs. „Yeah, right.“

You frown. „Look Murphy, just let me help you, please.“

He doesn’t say anything to that, doesn’t acknowledge your words with anything other than a raise of his eyebrows, but you decide to just take his lack of a verbal response as a good sign - or at least as a sign that he hopefully won’t refuse your help any further.

You wet the cloth cloth again, before carefully reaching your hand out to him again. This time, he doesn’t twist away from you, so you gingerly touch his bloodied and scarred cheek with your fingertips, before carefully applying pressure with the cloth.

All the while, Murphy looks at you, an undecipherable emotion in his blue-green eyes. The intensity of his gaze is distracting, and you swallow, trying to concentrate on cleaning up his wounds, trying to ignore the burning heat of his gaze. Though it’s impossible to really ignore it, with you two being so close that you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, causing you to shiver.

Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - if you weren’t paying so much attention, you might’ve missed it, but as it is, you can see the bitter smirk that crosses his lips for an instant, before he bites down hard on his lips.

Your eyes meet then. You swallow - you feel caught in his stare, unable to look at anything but him.

„Why are you helping me?“, he asks you, his voice low and raspy and laced with something that almost sounds like desperation. „I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“

„Because you need help“, you say, underlining your words by lightly trailing your fingertips over the deep cut on his left cheek. „And because I want to understand you.“ It’s true - you do want to understand him. You want to know how he came to be who he is today, why on earth he set fire to a room on the Ark.

And fuck. This - this is dangerous.

That bitter smirk crosses his face again. „Oh, so you want to know why I’m such a jerk, why I told the Camp’s location to the grounders, is that it?“

„You were tortured“, you say softly, but Murphy only scoffs.

„Yeah, I’m afraid that doesn’t count as an excuse“, he says, voice full of bitterness.

„Wha-“, you start to say, but then you remember that you saw Bellamy talking to Murphy earlier. And yes, that would certainly explain Murphy’s comments about his being tortured not being an excuse for giving up your location.

You sigh frustratedly. Of course you know that Bellamy only wants to protect everyone at Camp, but you also know him well enough to imagine him making some kind of petty remark how he wouldn’t have caved under torture, wouldn’t have given up the Camp’s location.

Which - fuck that. Anyone would eventually cave under torture, even someone as strong-willed and fierce as Bellamy.

Murphy’s hiss of pain when you accidentally linger too long on one of his cuts with your fingertips draws you out of your thoughts. „Sorry“ you say, biting your lip.

Murphy just shrugs and suddenly you’re hit with the desperate urge to help him, even though you’re not quite sure if there even is anything you can do that could make his situation better - apart from cleaning up his wounds, which you already are doing.

„I’m sorry for what happened to you“, you say then, looking at him. „That’s not - I can only imagine what you went through and I really am sorry that that happened to you.“

Murphy looks at you, confusion and irritation evident in his expression.

„And I know that won’t change anything-“

„No it won’t“, Murphy interrupts you, but this time, there’s no venom in his voice - just pain and resignation. „But it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.“

Now it’s your turn to be confused. As you continue cleaning up his wounds, you mull over his words in your mind, trying to understand what he’s implying with his words. Does he mean that he was tortured on the Ark? But that can’t be right, can it? Yes, the Ark’s council is strict and unforgiving, but you haven’t heard about them torturing somebody.

„Can you even see anything like that?“, Murphy says, interrupting your thought process, and suddenly he’s reaching out with one hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallow, trying desperately not to show how much that one little touch affected you. But your heart is thundering so loudly in your chest that you’re convinced that he’s able to hear it.

Especially once you can no longer pretend to re-inspect the cuts on his face yet again - you really need to take a look at the wounds on his chest.

You clear your throat, trying to sound more confident than you feel. „I - uh - I need to take a look at the wounds on your chest, judging by all that blood I’ll probably need to do some stitches … uhm could you - uh - maybe take off your shirt?“

Kill me, you think, wanting to die from embarrassment. Of course, the first time you’ll see a boy without his shirt on - apart from some of the boys that walk around Camp shirtless in the morning and you don’t think that they actually count - has to be in this weird situation.

As if reading your thoughts, Murphy just smirks, before taking off his shirt. But just when’s almost free of his shirt, he hisses, his face screwing up in pain.

„Let me“, you say, helping him.

For a moment, you just stare at each other breathlessly.

Then, so quietly that you’re not quite sure whether you’ve imagined it, he says: „Thank you.“

You nod, clearing your throat. Not knowing what else to say, you start inspecting his chest, lightly trailing your fingertips over the various scratches and other wounds - trying not to be distracted by his muscles you can feel under your fingertips and his burning gaze.

Murphy hisses again when your fingers brush over a particularly deep wound. „Sorry“, you murmur, leaning in even closer to get a better look at his wound. „This wound needs some stitches, I’m, uh, going to get a needle and some thread.“

You get up and walk over to where all the medical supplies are stored, thankful for this short moment away from Murphy, his intense stare and your confusing thoughts about him.

„Here“, you say, after sitting down in front of Murphy again and hand him the bottle of moonshine you’ve grabbed as well, „you might want to drink this before I get started on those stitches.“

Murphy just nods, taking the bottle of moonshine from you and taking a long, big sip. „Do your worst“, he says, prompting you to roll your eyes.

„Thanks for the vote of confidence“, you murmur, though you can understand why he’d be apprehensive about this. If it were you being in his situation, you’d rather be stitched up by a trained doctor as well, but since you teens are all on your own and Clarke, the only one of you with actual medical training is currently getting some well-deserved sleep, you’re his only option. Unlike Clarke, you haven’t received any actual medical training but you do know how to give stitches - in theory at least - so you hopefully won’t screw this up.

Here goes nothing, you think, getting started on the stitches.

Murphy bites down hard on his lips, though a slight hiss still escapes him.

You cringe, shooting him an apologetic smile before concentrating on his wound again. „Sorry.“

Murphy doesn’t say anything in response, just nods.

You’re both quiet as you continue with the stitches. Then, when you’re almost done, Murphy suddenly says: „I got real sick when I was thirteen … only made it because my dad stole some medicine for me ... course, he got floated for it …“

You swallow, meeting his gaze. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you this - you just know that the story he’s about to tell you most likely won’t have a happy ending.

Murphy looks away from you then, laughing bitterly. „My mother … she was never the same after his death … She started drinking. Blamed me for his death. Told me everyday that I’m a worthless good-for-nothing that’s responsible for his father’s death. She died three years after him … and I just-“

He stops talking then, shaking his head.

„Murphy, I-“, you start to say, though you stop as well, not quite knowing what it is that you actually want to say. Murphy suddenly opening up to you is so confusing and his story so heartbreaking, you’re not quite sure what the appropriate words for this situation are, let alone if there even are any.

„Anyway“, Murphy now says, voice tinged with bitterness, „I just - I had all this pai- anger in me and I didn’t know how to handle it, how to let it out. So I set fire to those rooms, got arrested.“

„Murphy …“, you say, your voice hollow, your heart breaking for the broken, angry boy in front of.

He laughs dryly, though the sound has a wheezing quality to it that instantly worries you. „You wanted to know, didn’t you? Wanted to understand why I became such a jerk. Well, there you have it.“

„I do“, you say, putting away the needle and thread and looking at Murphy, meeting his gaze. „I do understand you, Murphy. I still think you’re an opportunistic jerk, but I understand, I really do. I - I know that it’s not worth much, but I am sorry that this happened to you, it’s awful.“

Murphy just shrugs, not saying anything.

But he’s still looking at you and now that you know what to look for, now that you finally understand him better, you see the pain in his expression.

Not just due to the torture. There’s so much more, pain that’s probably been building in him for years and that he turned into sharp, pointed hate and anger, because he didn’t know how to deal with all of his pain.

You want to help him, though you don’t really know how and why. Yes, he is a rude jerk and at Camp he was also somewhat of a bully, but you think that that’s most likely due to him not knowing how to communicate in something that’s not just anger and aggression. But you also believe that there’s more to him - that he’s not just this lonely, broken, rude jerk that that’s probably just a facade he’s hiding behind.

„I understand, Murphy“, you say again, still looking at the storm of emotions in his green-blue eyes. Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - he’s listening to you and something in his gaze tells you that he believes your words, believes you. „I truly do. But there’s more to life than just pain, anger and aggression.“

With that, you reach out a hand, softly grasping one of his hands with yours. You’re not quite sure why you’re doing it, you just know that you want to be there for Murphy, that you want to help him - and that you want him to understand that you truly mean your words.

Murphy’s arm jerks, as if he wants to rip his hand out of your grasp, but then he grasps your hand, squeezing it lightly. He reaches up with his other hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Just like before, your breath hitches. But this - this is different than before. This time, there’s no venom in Murphy’s gaze, no quiet challenge, no pent-up anger. Just curiosity and something softer that you can’t quite describe.

„I still don’t really get why you’re helping me“, Murphy says, leaning even closer to you. You’re so close that you could count the lashes on his good eye. You feel his breath ghosting over your skin and you shiver in anticipation.

„But I’m glad that I let you.“ With that, he leans in even closer, searching your eyes and whatever he sees in them, must convince him. He presses his lips to yours and you’re so overwhelmed that you don’t know how to react. But just when you feel Murphy starting to pull away, you kiss him back, bringing your free hand up to his neck.

You feel him smirk into the kiss and if you weren’t currently kissing him, you’d definitely roll your eyes at him. As it is, you continue kissing him, though you give his hand a squeeze that’s probably a bit too harsh.

Murphy just smirks again, deepening the kiss and tangling his hand in your hair. You can feel your heart start to beat faster and there’s a curious sensation in your stomach that feels like those butterflies that you’ve read about in books.

You lose yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of Murphy.

Kissing Murphy feels good, though his lips are chapped and dry and he hisses in pain when you overeagerly lean a little too much against him. But still - kissing Murphy feels good.

And even though you’re still confused and you know that one conversation won’t suddenly make him sunshine personified - you like his dry sarcasm way too much for that - you also know that you want more. You want to get to know Murphy, really get to know him, you want to be there for him. And if there are more occasions to kiss him along the way of getting to know him and helping him, then you certainly won’t complain about that.

Murphy gives you one last, bruising kiss, before breaking the kiss, breathlessly leaning his forehead against yours.

„I - Murphy - what …“, you stammer, still too wound up from the kiss.

Murphy smirks. „That was thank you.“

You can’t help but roll your eyes. „I see“, you say dryly.

„For stitching me up … and for not giving up on me“, Murphy adds, his voice serious again.

You smile softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his eye. „I’ll be sure to stick around then.“

Murphy grins, though there’s a vulnerability to it now that wasn’t there before. „Doesn’t sound too bad …“

„Yeah, it doesn’t“, you agree, before leaning up to kiss him again.

You feel him smiling into the kiss, causing you to smile as well.

Yes, the road ahead is not going to be easy - this is John Murphy, resident sarcastic, rude asshole, after all - but you’re not afraid to walk it with Murphy.

#john murphy x you #john murphy x reader #john murphy imagine #john murphy the 100 #john murphy #the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 tv #richard harmon #john mother fucking murphy #the 100 x reader #the 100 x you #maysileewrites

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cherry-cola-on-ice · 8 months

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Can you write a story that has Thomas Hewitt getting jealous at a guy flirting with his S/O please love your work🙏🙏🙏🙏

Jealousy Jealousy

It shouldn't bug him so much. Especially after all this time.

It wasn't your fault after all. Anyone with eyes could see how beautiful you were. Everything about you was crafted by some higher being, sculpted from the stars and the skies. And you were so sweet, so kind. You brought a smile to even Uncle Monty's face.

And most of all, he knew you loved him. He repeatedly told himself, saying it over and over again in his head like his own personal mantra. As long as you loved him, he didn't need anything else.

Thomas's eyebrows furrowed as you laughed at the joke. He couldn't tell you jokes. But this stranger could. This handsome, younger man with perfect teeth and perfect hair. He looked like one of those men on the front of the harlequin novels Hoyt steals out of suitcases.

You laughed again, head thrown back. God, you were perfect. Too perfect for him. This stranger was the type of man you deserved.

From the back room of the gas station, Thomas shifted his weight nervously. He knew he should have left you at the house. It was a bad idea, just like Hoyt said. You brought to much attention to yourself. Unknowingly and unwittingly, of course. Never your intention.

But you had a magnetic power around you, drawing people in.

Your soft eyes were what made him fall in love with you. When his family first found you, hiding out in their barn, crying your eyes out, he felt a pang in his heart that was new to him. You looked scared and you were alone. Everyone else had left you, all meeting their ends by his chainsaw.

He asked you why you didn't struggle and you always shrugged "I guess they were never really my friends to begin with. They tried to leave me for dead. "

And he didn't question it at first. After all, it all brought you to him. You were his now.

But-

You should hate him. You should fight him. You shouldn't be able to stand the sight of him. You were better off with this man, this stranger who could give you the life you deserved. The overwhelming feeling of despair hit him like a shot to the stomach.

But then you turned to him. And smiled. That sweet smile, the one that lit up a room and light up his life. And it was directed at him. It was his smile.

And for a moment, all was right in the world. You chose him.

But then-

"So, I gotta wonder... What's a sweet thing like you doing in a shit hole like this?"

From afar, Thomas could see you bristle, your demeanor change from jovial to defense "What's that supposed to mean? There's nothing wrong with here."

The stranger laughed "Yeah, it's cute in tetanus shot kinda way. But nowhere such a hot piece of ass such as you should be. "

Thomas ought to punt this creep straight into a grinder. His fist balled up and he began stalking towards him-

Except you beat him to the punch. Quite literally.

The stranger fell to the floor, holding his bloody nose. Whimpering. Thomas was surprised, he didn't think this guy would go down that easily. The man wasn't as tall as him, but he was still a sizable man. And you floored him.

Looking back to you, he watched as you shook your hand out, cursing under your breath "Fucking hell, dude! Your face made out of concrete?!?"

"YOU BROKE MY NOSE, YOU BITCH!"

"Yeah, and I'll do it again if you don't get your ass outta here!"

The man, holding his bleeding nose, lifted himself off the ground, shooting daggers at you. Instinctively, Thomas placed his body between the two of you, glaring back at him.

The stranger, though looking absolutely terrified, feigned confidence and scoffed as he walked by. You grabbed Thomas's arm, shouting as the stranger left the store "Yeah! Get out here, you-"

Thomas spun you around, grabbing your face in his hands. He looked you over, looking for any signs of harms. You scrunched your nose "I'm fine, Thomas!"

Thomas huffed, pulling you close to him. You laughed in his arms, standing up on your tip toes to press a kiss to his mask. Thomas looked down at you, taking in the lovestruck look in your eyes.

Yeah, he had nothing to worry about.

#slasher x reader #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt headcanon #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x y/n #the texas chainsaw massacre #tcm the beginning #slasher headcanons

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suugarbabe · 5 months

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[Chapter 5]

word count: 4.3k

warning: smut, fingering 18+ content MDNI

an: Theo is not mentioned in this chapter and I’m so very sorry but chapter 6 is very Theo heavy so I hope that makes up for it 🫶🏻

You and Enzo had made a routine of apparating to the club together. You had been doing this for about a week before the incident with Monti, but ever since that night Enzo was very firm that you arrive together. The first few days after it happened, he carried a lot of guilt with him for letting you go to the alley by yourself. It took heavy convincing, but you were pretty sure that you were able to convey how much it wasn’t his fault, and that you were glad he was there to help protect you.

Since that night, Mattheo had barely been around the manor. You could count on one hand the amount of times you actually saw him at the manor over the last two and a half weeks. It was more like you heard him more often than you saw him, and most of the time he was yelling. All of the other boys were being yelled at regularly, but Draco seemed to be taking the brunt of it. You weren’t sure if it was because they were family, but it made you feel kind of bad for him.

It really made you upset not seeing Mattheo that long, not really interacting with him. Maybe upset was not the right word, but if you thought too long about it you felt queasy. There was something about the dynamic between you and Mattheo that made you feel one of two ways, either incredibly, seething, fire burning, hell raging mad - or - light headed and butterfly stomach and warm and yearning and pining and wanting so much of him you thought you might physically implode.

You were thinking about all these things as you were doing mindless work getting the bar ready for the night when Pansy walked into the room, mouth running a hundred miles a minute as you heard her pleading with whoever was on the other end of the cell phone pressed to her ear. When her conversation finally ceased, Pansy set the phone down on the table in front of her. Her head was hung low, like she was trying to recenter herself. You looked over at Enzo, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

In the next moment Pansy was screaming with rage as she pointed her want towards the stage nearest her, deep red exiting her wand and the stage effectively exploding in front of all of your eyes. Your mouth was agape, not expecting to ever see this side of Pansy. Enzo only shook his head in annoyance, taking out his own wand and giving it a swift flick, causing the once exploded stage pieces to slowly float back to their original position until it was like Pansy didn’t have an outburst whatsoever.

“What’s the problem, Pans?” Enzo broke the silence, clearly having dealt with this side of Pansy plenty of times before. Pansy let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “One of the main stage dancers is not coming in tonight and I have no one to replace her. You know how particular Mattheo is, he’s going to have a fucking aneurysm over this. Roxy is good, but she can’t do the whole stage by herself.” Pansy leaned her head back, closing her eyes and letting out a few more expletives.

Enzo couldn’t contain his amused smirk, “This is why I’m glad I don’t have your position, Pansy. It is far more easy being me than it is being you.” You scoffed, quickly quipping back, “Yeah until you’re basically dying and whining like a toddler when someone is trying to save your life.” Enzo gasped at you, fake hurt in his eyes. But the interaction managed to put a smile on Pansy’s face, if only for a brief moment. “Really, you guys, I’m not sure what I’m gonna do, I really don’t want to deal with an angry Mattheo tonight.”

You gnawed at your bottom lip, wondering if what you were about to say would be helpful or just start another argument. You really wanted it to be helpful, you wanted to show everyone how valuable you could be in a crisis, prove yourself of sorts. Especially after the last time you were given a task you basically caused them to all have to show their darkest sides of themselves in order to save you. You glanced over at Enzo, knowing that immediately after you spoke your thoughts he would protest.

Enzo’s eyes widened before you could even speak, shaking his head as if he already read your mind; which in fairness was highly possible. Regardless, you turned back towards Pansy, the words flowing from your mouth before Enzo could protest for real, “I could do it.” Pansy’s head snapped up at your words, you quickly reasoning as to why it was a good idea, “I wanted to be a dancer when I first came to the club anyway, I know I can do it. Not to mention I watch the stage every bloody night, I could probably do Roxy’s routine in my sleep. And Roxy and I already have a good relationship so there would be like…chemistry or whatever.”

Once again you managed to make Pansy smile. “That’s brilliant!” She exclaimed at the same time that Enzo barked out, “Like bloody fucking hell you are.” Both you and Pansy turned to Enzo glaring. “Okay, remind me to never be in the same room as the both of you when you’re upset, because this is fucking scary,” he took a step back from both of you, “but I’m serious, Angel, no way. Mattheo would fucking kill you if you went up on that stage.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you head went along with it, “Oh, please Enz, Mattheo would never hurt me, let alone kill me.” Enzo scoffed, “Right right, I forget, you guys have that special relationship.” He emphasized the last two words with air quotes. You narrowed your eyes up at the sandy haired boy, “What are you insinuating?” Enzo doubled down, not breaking eye contact with you, “I’m saying that your relationship is different with Mattheo than any of us. He lets you get away with a hell of a lot more than any other person in this family.”

“Oh, bullocks,” you spat back at him. You were irritated beyond belief, Enzo never spoke to you this way. “Fine,” Enzo held his hands up in surrender, “how bout you just go tell him about your little plan then, hmm? I know he’s here.” You looked over at Pansy who just shrugged her shoulders. Turning back to Enzo you crossed your arms stubbornly, “Fine, I’ll go ask him.” Enzo huffed, “Well fine!” You shouldered past him, “Fine!” He called back at you again, “Fine!” For good measure you threw one more over your shoulder, “Fine!” Pansy covered her face with her hands, shaking her head, “You guys are worse than having bloody children, I swear it.”

You walked with determination back towards Mattheo’s office. With each step the air felt like it was getting thicker, but you urged yourself to keep moving, to prove to Enzo (and everyone else) that while you now worked for Mattheo it didn’t mean that he controlled you. With a flick of your wand his office door swung open to reveal an irritated Malfoy and Mattheo with a satisfied smirk on his face that was less than comforting.

“Can we help you?” Draco sneered, clearly annoyed by the boldness of your intrusion. You stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed. You gave Draco an irritated look before turning to Mattheo, “Pansy said one of the main stage dancers isn’t showing up today, so I’m going to replace her. I know the routine and have a good rapport with Roxy so-”

“No.” Mattheo cut you off with a firm statement. You huffed in annoyance, “Yeah that’s not really an option here, boss, if we don’t find someone to go up there then the club will lose money and I know that you don’t really like that and it’s bad for bus-”

“I said no,” Mattheo’s voice boomed again, “I’ve told you before, Birdie, you are not a dancer. You are a bartender. You are not going to be a dancer, will never be a dancer, under any circumstance. Is that clear?” You glared at him, holding his gaze as your lips formed a thin line. You opened your mouth to protest again but Mattheo flicked his wand, mumbling a quick depulso and pushing you back through the doorway before slamming it shut.

You’re a right git, Mattheo, you said to him. No means no, Princess. Don’t play with fucking fire, Mattheo thought back. You stood outside the office trying to weigh out your options. You were about to lean towards just giving up, when you heard Draco’s voice, “C’mon, what’s the harm, really. It’s just one night, and you know she’s right fit, she’d bring in so much money. She’s right about us losing out with just Roxy up there.” You smiled at a bit at Draco actually being on your side, maybe he wasn’t such a tosser after all.

“Absolutely fucking not, she’s not doing it. I swear to fucking Salazar if she goes on that bloody stage it’s your head, Cousin.” You didn’t have to see his face to know Mattheo was seething and poor Malfoy was on the receiving end of it. The fiery anger in his tone only fueled your own further.How dare he think he can decide what you can and cannot do? You didn’t care if he was the owner of the club, he had no right to tell you what decisions you could make. You were tired of him acting like he owned you.

With a deep breath you walked away from the office door, heart pounding as you made your way back to the bar. You felt like your heart beat was in your head with every step you took, the bass of the music in the club not helping ease this. When you got back behind the bar you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to try and center yourself. In the time you were in Mattheo’s office a large amount of clientele had appeared, the current dancers working hard to milk them for all their money as Enzo bounced back and forth behind the bar.

As you got to the bar you turned around toward the booze, grabbing the most expensive tequila the club had as you slammed four shots down in front of you.“Y’alright, Angel?” Enzo’s eyes grew wide as you picked up one glass at a time and quickly threw them each back, the alcohol burning your throat in the most calming way. Picking up the last shot Enzo’s large hand enveloped your wrist, “Slow the fuck down, what are you doing? Trying to blackout on the job?”

Your eyes pierced his, a storm of determination brewing behind your pupils, “Enzo, let go of my wrist or I’ll hex your fucking cock off.” He shook his head, stubbornness higher than ever, “No way, Mattheo will have my throat if I let you get fucking sloshed.” You groaned in frustration, rolling your eyes and stomping your foot on the ground like a toddler having a tantrum.

“Why does everyone act like Mattheo is my fucking keeper?” You leaned your head toward the shot, tipping it in to your mouth while Enzo still gripped your wrist. He rolled his eyes at your actions, finally letting go, “Why’re you doing this, Angel? Was I right about the meeting with the good ol’ boss?” You looked toward the stage as the dancer finished up her routine, crawling on her knees and swaying her hips as she picked up the large bills from the stage floor and stuffing them into her bikini top and barely there bottoms.

Enzo followed your gaze, laughing nervously, “Oh no fucking way, hell no. You’re not…no, Angel.” You turned to face him again, pulling off your tank top to reveal your rhinestone bikini top, “Who’s gonna stop me?” You shoved your tank top into Enzo’s chest, walking toward Blaise at the Dj booth to tell him what song you wanted and what stage name to announce. Enzo glanced around the club nervously, praying to Merlin that Mattheo wouldn’t notice, or that at least whatever stage name or song you played didn’t alert him to your little rendezvous.

Enzo stared at you as you walked towards the dancers changing rooms, trying to get you to change your mind, He’s gonna have your ass if you go through with this Angel, you know that don’t you? Entering where the rest of the dancers were you just shook your head, answering Enzo, Let him! You quickly found Roxy, walking up to her and telling her your plan. She gave you a questioning look, but after assuring her that Mattheo would only be upset with you and not her, she helped you get ready, hair, makeup, the works before going towards the main stage entrance.

As Mattheo left his office to find Pansy and talk solutions, Blaise began introducing the next entertainers to come on. Being none the wiser to your plan, he did everything you asked. Flicking a few switches on his sound board the main stage began to illuminate, catching the attention from most of the patrons and earning some whoops and hollers from those that were excited for the main event.

Blaise held his wand to his throat in the booth, doing his introductions, “Please welcome to the main stage your favorite girl R-R-R-R-Rooooxxxxyy,” he drawled out. “And accompanying her tonight is someone new to the stage,” at this Mattheo stopped dead in his tracks. He looked over towards the bar only to find Enzo looking towards the ceiling and avoiding his eye contact. He looked across the club at Pansy, who was holding her hands up in surrender. Blaise’s voice continued, “Let’s give a very warm and wallet generous welcome to…” Blaise paused for dramatic effect, lowering the lights around the stage and putting a small spotlight at where you were about to walk out, “Cherrí.”

The amount of whistles and cheers that occurred when you stepped out into the light was almost deafening. You tried to give your most sultry smirk as you walked toward the pole opposite Roxy. You grabbed hold of the cool steel as you began walking in a slow circle, Blaise putting on the song you requested; Cherry Pie.

You grabbed hold as high at your height would allow as the lyrics began, following Roxy’s typical routine and pulling the bottom half of your body up the pole, hooking your knee around the bar and leaning backwards as it spun, now hanging upside down while you grabbed the pole above you

She's my cherry pie

Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise

Tastes so good, makes a grown man cry

Sweet cherry pie, yeah

Maneuvering your body around the pole proved to be a lot easier than you anticipated. Following Roxy’s lead you would stay on the pole while she walked and danced around the stage, shedding a layer of clothing here and there and crawling seductively towards the bills that were being thrown on stage. When she walked back toward the other pole, you took a deep breath, knowing it was your turn to do what she called crowd work. You took one last spin on the pole, the whistles from the men directly in front of you fueling your adrenaline along with the song you chose.

Swingin' to the drums

Swingin' to guitar

Swingin' with the bass

In the back of my car

Ain't got money

And I got no gas

But we'll get where we're goin'

If we swing real fast

I scream, you scream

We all scream for her

Well, don't even try 'cause

You can't ignore her

You slowly slid the skirt you wore down your thighs, the man in front of you’s eyes roaming your body like you were his last meal. You shimmied your hips, pulling your skirt down teasingly slow and bending over in front of the men to give them a full view of your arse. Bills flew to the stage as you finally stepped out of your skirt, sinking to your knees and spreading them wide to sit back on your heels. You let your hands roam up your body, over your breasts causing the hanging rhinestones to shake and glimmer in the light, then dragged your hands up and into your hair, throwing your head back as you bounced slightly on your knees.

Crawling on your hands and knees across the stage you were sure to arch your back, swinging your hair back and forth in time with the song, throwing winks at men that looked like they wanted to tear you apart like an animal but instead threw money on the stage. Walking back over to you, Roxy held out her hand, helping you up slowly so your body’s slowly dragged against each other as you stood up, giving the whole audience a show.

The song ended and Blaise turned on an interlude as you and Roxy maneuvered around the stage to grab the bills that were left. As you were picking up some bills while still trying to look sexy and sultry on your hands and knees a man held out a large bill in front of your face. You reached out your hand, but he quickly grabbed your wrist. You were about to protest or even hex whoever it was. But as soon as you saw the tattoos on the fingers that held you all your nerve endings tingled.

Slowly, you looked up. Taking in the sharp black suit jacket, crisp black dress shirt, all to go along with the onyx eyes that belong to Mattheo Riddle. To any average onlooker it would seem like there was a glint of playfulness in his eyes. But you’d seen that look before, many times during your lessons. If this look told you anything, it was that you were going to regret your last few decisions.

His voice was low when he spoke, you almost had to lean closer to even hear him as he grit his words through his teeth, “Office. Now.” It was a command and not one you were going to ignore. You sat on your bum, swinging your legs over the edge of the stage. Despite his rage Mattheo still assisted you. Grabbing your hips, albeit harshly, and lifting you off the stage and setting you down on your feet.

Once standing he gripped your wrist again, leading you to his office like a child about to be scolded. You looked toward the bar, Enzo meeting your gaze and miming locking his lips as if to assure you he didn’t tell the boss on you. Once in his office Mattheo released his hold on you, “Sit.” You walked toward the chair in front of his desk before his voice cut through the silence once more, “Not there. On the desk. Facing my chair.”

You gulped, trying your best to keep your face stoic despite the rising heartbeat in your chest. You walked slowly around his desk, slowly lifting and perching yourself atop. The wood was cool against your bare thighs, Mattheo not even giving you a chance to put more clothes on before dragging you through the club. So there you sat, clad in only your bikini top and thin panties. You tried your best to control your breathing as Mattheo came to stand in front of you.

He gripped each one of your thighs just above the knee, his touch setting your skin aflame. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hands splayed across your legs, squeezing the flesh as he spoke to you, “Are you proud of yourself?” You tore your eyes from his hands and looked up at him, confusion clearly written on your face. “Oh, don’t play innocent now, Princess. Not after that fantastic performance you gave,” he wore a shit eating grin as your face fell. Mattheo’s grip on your thighs tightened slightly as he spread your legs wide enough to step between them.

“I was just-” Mattheo gripped your throat, effectively silencing you before you could begin. “Ah, ah. It’s my turn to talk, you just get to sit there and listen.” A shiver ran up your spine as his hand that was still on your thigh slid up higher. “You really pissed me off just now, Birdie. Blatantly defying me after I told you no. I told you from the beginning, no dancing, and yet what did you fucking do?” He hung his head, letting out a light chuckle as his thumb kneaded the inside of your thigh, “Do you know why I won’t let you dance, Princess?”

You shook your head the best you could with the grip he had on you. His smirk grew in to a devilish grin as he leaned in close, whispering in your ear, “Because if you’re going to be a slut for anyone, it’s going to be me, and only me, do you understand, Princess?” You nodded, squirming on the desk at his words. Mattheo met your gaze, taking in your current state of desperation, “Do you like that, Princess? The idea that you only get to be the perfect little slut for me?” He slid his hand between your thighs, dragging two fingers along your folds over your panties. He smirked at the dark wet spot that was already forming, pressing his thumb lightly against your clit. You jolted at the contant, a pathetic whimper leaving your throat.

“All this for me, Princess? Or is some of this for all those men throwing dirty bills at you being a whore?” You groaned at the degrading words, shaking your head, “N-no, it’s all for you, Teo. I swear, just for you.” Mattheo growled at the nickname, eyes darting down quickly to your parted lips before meeting your gaze again, “Good, because it’s about time for everyone to know who you fucking belong to.” With the grip he had on your throat he finally brought your lips to his. The kiss was anything but gentle, lips harshly pressed against one another as his thumb started circling your clit again. You whimpered at the action, Mattheo taking the opportunity to allow his tongue to explore your mouth.

As his lips trailed lower, along your jaw and to your neck, his fingers gripped the top of your panties before tugging harshly and ripping the thin material off your body. You gasped and could feel Mattheo smirk against your skin. When he found a particular spot to suck and bite near your collarbone he ran his finger up your folds, coating them in your slick before circling two fingers over your clit. “Fuck…” you moaned out, trying your best to take in all the pleasure you were receiving.

Mattheo’s lips found yours again as he circled his fingers around your hole teasingly, swallowing the whimpers as they left your lips. Without warning he slipped a finger deep inside your cunt, your back arching and bringing your chest flush to his. “Fuck, Princess, you’re so fucking tight, don’t know how you’re ever gonna take my cock when you can barely take a finger,” Mattheo groaned against your lips. You mewled against him, hands gripping the edge of the desk like a vice, unsure if you were able to touch him or not, but too lost in the pleasure you were feeling to try.

He added a second finger, thumb finding purchase on your swollen clit, slowly finger fucking you on his desk. He broke his lips from yours to watch your cunt swallow his fingers over and over as he pumped them into you. “Fuck, Princess, you’re taking my fingers so well. Those other men would die to be in my position right now, but that’s not who you want, is it, pretty girl?” You shook your head vigorously, chest heaving. “Words, gorgeous, let me hear them. Let me hear what I’m doing to you.”

You tried to keep your eyes from rolling in the back of your head and answer him, “N-no, fucking hell-” Mattheo curled his two fingers now with every outward thrust, pushing against your g-spot in the most delicious way no one else every had. The blissful stretch created an overwhelming feeling of pleasure, “Don’t want them, j-just want you.”

You could feel the pressure building inside you, the waves of pleasure clouding your vision. He quickened his pace, his long fingers hitting places you have never been able to reach and sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. His thumb made tight circles over your clit and you clenched around his fingers. “I can feel you clenching around me, Princess. Come on, be a good girl and let go f’me.” It was like his permission was all your body was waiting for as you fell over the edge into your orgasm.

Your vision blurred as you let out a pornagraphic moan, Mattheo continuing to finger you through your high, your legs shaking with pleasure. As your breathing calmed Mattheo slowly slid his fingers from your cunt. He stuck out his tongue, bringing the glistening digits to his mouth before lewdly sucking them clean causing you to clench around nothing.

“I swear to Salazar I can’t wait to fucking devour that cunt of yours,” he grabbed hold of your thighs, gripping them tightly as he captured your lips in another searing kiss. You couldn’t help but moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. Mattheo rested his forehead on yours, his own chest rising and falling along with yours to catch your breath. “Never forget that you’re mine, Princess.” He leaned back slightly, grabbing hold of your chin. His eyes held an intensity to them as they locked with yours, your breath hitching in your throat as he spoke three final words.

“I own you.”

#protego series #mafia!slytherin boys #mafia!blaise zabini #mafia!enzo berkshire #mafia!mattheo riddle #mafia!draco malfoy #mafia!pansy parkinson #mafia!theo nott

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deady-nightshade · 2 years

Text

Slasher Kisses HC 🔪

💋 Pucker up, Buttercup, we’re getting lippy! 💋

Includes the following Slashers: Jesse Cromeans, Asa Emory, Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, and Pinhead (added 09/29)

**SFW but there are allusions to sex. Will also be S&M themes for Pinhead.**

**Pinhead will be described using they/them pronouns**

Jesse Cromeans

His kisses will leave you breathless.

He can’t speak, but when he kisses you, he pours every emotion into them.

I picture him wrapping a hand around his S/O’s neck, allowing him to take full control of the kisses.

Will kiss/grab your neck every chance he gets....if you were to kiss his neck and bite it, he will growl.

He kisses to show affection and to give/receive pleasure.

Most often than not, kissing Jesse will turn into a make out marathon which usually ends with the two of you naked and utterly spent.

Even though his lips are scarred, I picture them being soft yet firm.

Loves to swallow your moans and his name when you say it barely above a whisper.

Asa Emory

At first, his kisses are soft (with calculating undertones).

Very responsive to his S/O, and will change the kiss to accommodate the situation.

He doesn’t kiss to show love, but to feel pleasure and gratification; he’s human, and a man at that, he has urges and he knows that kissing can often lead to those urges being satisfied.

Likes to touch your face and loves holding your cheek. The action grounds him and while it may seem sweet to you, to him, it’s a show of dominance.

Also likes to kiss your eyelids (Angel Kiss); it’s not a common place to kiss your partner, but he gets a thrill that you trust him enough to close your eyes in his presence.

I also see him doing this kiss when his S/O is sleeping—that’s the only time when his walls come down and allows himself to be vulnerable.

Thomas Hewitt

Kissing Thomas is sweet, tender and filled with love and adoration.

Unlike Asa, Thomas kisses to show affection and love. And unlike Jesse, who likes remaining in control, Thomas just wants whatever you give him.

Expect the first kiss to happen with his mask on, and 9 times out of 10, you will have to be the one to initiate. After your first kiss, he becomes hooked and will convey his needs through eye contact.

This man can smolder.

Thomas will always wait for you to make the first move, and after months, if not a year, he will slowly become more comfortable enough to initiate kisses. He might even remove his mask if you give him enough time, love and acceptance.

Do not expect be kissed by Thomas in front of Hoyt, he will kiss you in front of Luda Mae, and possibly in front of Monty.

For the love of God, kiss his scars and tell him how pretty he is!

Brahms Heelshire

His kisses are fueled by need and desperation.

He won’t stop kissing you until he needs to breathe. Even then, he’s going to kiss and bite any skin that he can reach or has access to. If you push him against the nearest surface and take control, this man will melt and become like putty in your hands.

Like Jesse, Brahms will not stop at kisses; they serve as a form of foreplay for this man and he does not have the willpower to stop.

He’s too starved of affection. And it’s not like that we’d complain 😏.

Is not afraid to kiss you.

You could be cooking and he slips out of the wall, pushes you against the counter and will take whatever it is that he wants and needs in that moment.

And as we know, this man is clingy!

Likes it when you are on top and giving him your undivided attention. He goes feral when you bite his bottom lip (just be mindful of any scar tissue).

Vincent Sinclair

Soft and tender, much like Thomas Hewitt, but unlike our lovable, cannibalistic Texan, Vincent isn't afraid to touch you and pour his love and passion into the kisses.

The first kiss is nothing more than a peck, and you kiss his mask, seeing how he hides his face. Under the mask, his face is redder than a rose in full bloom.

I picture him removing his mask earlier than Thomas would, maybe after six-ish months into the relationship.

His need to feel your lips against his is too much.

At first, he might move the mask up slightly, to reveal his lips and actually kiss you, and once he becomes more comfortable, he will remove the entire mask.

Please kiss this man’s hands, including his fingers, and he will die right then and there and ascend to heaven.

You can kiss him in front of Lester, but try to refrain yourself in front of Bo. Bo can and will make Vincent’s life hell if he sees you kiss his twin.

Bo Sinclair

This man doesn't kiss — he makes out.

If you try to give him a peck, he will wrap his arms around you and force you onto his lap.

Likes to be in control, but also likes it when you fight back a little and/or play hard to get. He likes the chase.

Will kiss you anytime, anywhere, regardless who is there.

I can see him pulling you into his lap at home and going to town on your mouth with Vincent walking by. Bo likes to rub his relationship with you in his twin’s face.

He’s a jerk...but we love him.

Like Brahms and Jesse, things don’t stop with kisses...they never do.

His kisses are desperate, and usually driven with lust. The only time his kisses differ is if he's having a rough day, or if you two have just done the deed.

His kisses will be softer, still hungry, but there's an emotional undertone to them.

His kisses are his way of begging you to stay with him, to not leave him alone.

Pinhead (Hell Priest)

Cenobites cannot differentiate between pain or pleasure (this is cannon)...so kissing them (Pinhead), is going to be whole learning experience.

It’s a good thing that Pinhead is curious and likes learning new things, because this is going to take a lot of time and energy on both your parts.

And to make matters even more complicated, their entire face is covered in pins (their name is Pinhead for a reason).

At first, they will kiss areas that their pins will allow — think forehead, nose, chin, hands/palms, inner wrists, etc...

But don’t be discouraged, with a lot of calculating, you can kiss the Cenobite on their lips!

I also have this HC that Pinhead can remove the pins, or they could be removed by someone else.

In that case, mouth kisses will happen more regularly once you convince Pinhead to give them a try.

And while Pinhead might not feel a lot of pleasure with the kisses, they will notice how you react to them.

If you react positively, they will continue to kiss you.

If you react negatively/indifferent, then they will stop kissing you...it doesn’t bother them in anyway.

Now, the only time they will get riled up when kissing you, is if you were to keep the pins in their face and go crazy — desperately seeking their mouth, not caring that the tops of the pins are slicing your face and causing blood to cover both your faces.

That will send Pinhead’s mind reeling (in a deliciously wicked way).

#bo sinclair #bo Sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelsire x reader #Thomas Hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #jesse cromeans #jesse cromeans x reader #asa emory x reader #asa emory #pinhead x reader #pinhead

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allyeardepression · 1 month

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@jegulus-microfic | march 25 eyeliner | words: 819

tw: child abuse, blood, mentions of violence in the past

James was going mad, and it was all Walburga’s doing.

It all started when Regulus finally got out of this horrible imitation of a home. The boy was barely past his sixteenth birthday at the time; when he fell out of the Potters' fireplace, Regulus looked even worse than Sirius did the night he ran away. The older brother has been beaten up badly but could manage to stand on his own; on the other hand, the night the younger brother got out, he was fighting for a breath like a man drowning; his whole face was swollen and covered in blood.

When Regulus appeared in their living room, only James and Sirius were home. At the sight of him, they both panicked to the point where they forgot how to think. All Sirius could do was turn Regulus onto his back and hold his head so the younger boy wouldn’t choke on his own blood while crying and begging anyone who would listen to keep his baby brother alive. At the same time, James was running around the house, looking for something—anything—to help his best friend’s brother.

Thankfully, Effie and Monty arrived only a few minutes after Regulus, and as soon as they processed what was happening, they took all three boys to St. Mungo’s.

Not even a week later, Regulus looked like nothing had ever happened to him. At first, all he did around the house was eat, sleep, and argue with Sirius, but as time passed, the arguments turned into talks and helping each other. James didn’t have to ask to know the Black Brothers were trying to fix their relationship; he saw it in the way Sirius talked about Reggie and how he started bringing the younger boy with them on nights out and letting him into his own world. The change was noticeable in Regulus, too; he opened up a little, spent time with James’ parents, and started trying out muggle stuff like records, Polaroid, or cigarettes. Maybe James didn’t know him well, but he understood that those little things were important both for Sirius and Regulus.

In the first half of August, when Regulus was at their house for a little over a month, James found him sitting on a bench in their backyard. He was reading ‘Crime and Punishment’ Effie gave him, while James’ own copy waited to be read under his arm.

“Do you like it?” the Gryffindor asked, taking a seat next to Regulus.

The boy raised his head slowly, evidently reading the last few words on that page. When their eyes met, James literally lost his mind. Not only that, he also lost his ability to hear, feel, and think—everything except for seeing—because right there in front of him sat the boy he always found beautiful, yet at that moment James couldn’t come up with anything as mesmerising as Regulus’ silvery eyes outlined with heavy black. This mix must’ve outshined the star Regulus was named after. James felt like he could fly just by looking into those eyes; he started thinking of a son-

“Potter? Are you quite alright?” A gentle hand on his shoulder pulled James out of his haze. He blinked once, twice, and a third time for good measure before he closed his mouth (When did I even open them?), swallowed thickly, and mumbled something unintelligible. It was Regulus’ time to blink. After a second, the boy burst out into a loud laugh. “Oh god, Potter, come on! It’s just a little bit of eyeliner; Sirius wears it all the time!” Reg kept laughing, still holding James’ shoulder.

“Yeah,” the older boy managed to spit out when the other started calming down. “But he doesn’t look half as good as you do.” Regulus froze, the grin on his face turning into a sheepish little smile, a pretty pink creeping up his pale cheeks. “Oh,” James started, wondering why he’d said that. “I—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable; I’m so, so very sorry, I—"

“That’s alright, James. I’m-“ The younger boy cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I’m glad you like it,” he finished, biting his lower lip and still smiling a bit.

James, whose smile was normally big and bright, smiled shyly at Regulus.

“Do you mind if I-?” he pointed at his book. The younger Black looked over at him and shook his head slightly.

“Not at all; we can discuss the story later, if you’d like?” It came out as a question more than a statement, so James nodded once and started reading from where he finished last night.

The silence surrounding them was comforting—just a little buzz of bugs flying around and wind rustling leaves on an apple tree a bit ahead of them. Surrounded by all of it and still slightly nervous from earlier, neither of them noticed the glances they were stealing at each other.

#jegulus #dead gay wizards #starchaser #james potter #james x regulus #regulus black #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders #walburga's a+ parenting #angst/comfort #by: allyeardepression #hogwarts au #fluff #hurt/comfort

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intimacyequalsdeath · 7 months

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Bubz's Slasher Fictober: Day 2 Thomas Hewitt (Apple Cider)

Welcome to day 2! I hope you all enjoyed day one and as previously probably assumed this one will be going up on October 2nd.

Notes: Minors DNI, Gender Neutral Reader, No specific pronouns used except "You"

It had been nearly 2 years since you had found yourself at the Hewitt farm, When the small town had gone to hell after the meat packing plant shut down Luda Mae knowing you had nowhere to go offered to let you stay with her and her sons Tommy and Charlie or as he demanded to be called Hoytt and uncle Monty.

A year after you had found yourself at the farm was when the family decided to start looking at more "Unethical" ways of putting food on the table. Luda took you aside and explained to you why this was something that was in the best interest of the family, especially Tommy.

You fell into the ways of the family rather quick. Your role was the friendly face that would lure unsuspecting travelers back to the house where Tommy and Hoytt would be waiting to put meat on the table. This went on for many months like clock work every time someone would role into town. Until one was too smart for your liking.

The day started off as any, You left the Hewitt house and went down to the gas station to man your post. It was about noon when a car containing only one man pulled up, you watched from behind the counter over top of your magazine as he got out and entered the station.

"Well hello their darlin'" The man greeted. You held back an eyeroll at the flirting.

"Hi there! Can I help you sir?" You turned on your best customer service voice. The mans smile widened.

"Well now that you mention it, My car started to give me some trouble about a mile or so back and I was wonderin' if you had anyone here who could look at it?" He asked, Bingo you thought.

"Yes! actually my uncle back at the house can look at it, if you want I can point you in the right direction?" You saw the strangers face hardened for a moment before softening again.

"That would be good darlin', thank you" He said, You shot him a fake smile as you rounded the corner of the register counter to follow him outside. You were in front of him almost to his car when you heard a familiar sound behind you, you turned to look back at him and noticed the gun immediately.

"Now darlin' if you cooperate with me nicely and help me out no one's gonna get hurt ok?" Stiff with shock you willed your head to nod. He motioned for you to climb into his car and you followed willingly. Even though he had the upper hand you knew who was waiting back at the house for you so you gladly led the unsuspecting fool back to the Hewitt house.

You knew uncle Monty was probably asleep in his room while some old movie blared on his tv, and Luda Mae was out for the day visiting her friend the tea lady so all you had to worry about was Hoytt and Tommy. You lead the man up the old porch stairs as he held the gun to you, You made sure to knock on the door 3 times before opening. It was the code you had made to alert the family of danger and you knew Hoytt and Tommy were jumping into action.

"You know it's not to late to change your mind on this" You spoke to the man as you stood in the kitchen with him still standing behind you. He scoffed.

"And why would I do that?" The man sneered, you could feel barrel of the gun pressing into the back of your skull.

"Because if you don't, you're going to regret it" You said matter of fact as the kitchen was suddenly overtaken by the sound of a chainsaw revving up.

When Thomas burst through the old kitchen door the man was too shocked to move the gun quick enough. The chainsaw came down on his arm holding the gun as you quickly side stepped out of the way but not before grabbing the gun from the man.

He screamed and swore at Thomas, not that much could be heard over the chainsaw.

The chainsaw came down once more this time on the man's chest, silencing him for good. Once the man slumped into a pile on the kitchen floor the chainsaw was turned off.

You turned to Thomas and smiled up at the behemoth of a man.

"Thank you darling, You're so good at keeping me safe" You praised knowing Tommy would eat it up. You saw his eyes lighten through his mask as his free hand came up to caress your cheek, the nervousness of him possibly losing you slowly leaving his body.

"Goddammit boy! Look at the mess you made of the kitchen!" The moment was interrupted by Hoytt finally stepping in to see what the commotion was, he looked at the two of you.

"You damn kids better have this shit cleaned up and spotless before mama gets home! You know how she hates her kitchen messy" he said grabbing a beer from the fridge then heading back into the living room. You rolled your eyed and groaned.

"He's right for once Thomas, We don't need to let mama see this" Thomas nodded and set the chainsaw on the table, Looks like you and Thomas would have to wait till after dinner.

#slasher fandom #slasher x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre 2 #Fictober #Halloween

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pathetichimbos · 1 year

Note

hiiiii

was wondering if you’d like 2 do a quick “where is she” type hurt&comfort prompt with thomas and/or bo!! maybe some victim vs slasher action thatd be funn

Includes: Thomas Hewitt / F!Reader

SFW

TW: Hurt / Comfort / Reader is kidnapped under false pretenses of being 'saved' / Their slasher bf does Not Like That / Canon Typical Violence

…

Hi! Thank you for sending in this ask and I hope you're doing very well.

This... Did not turn out to be a quick drabble, haha. I, as usual, got carried away. When I checked the page count I was at 12 pages and had only written Thomas' part, so there's that. I don't want to overload in one post, or keep you waiting any longer, and I'm currently struggling to write Bo's part at the moment, so I'm going to post Tommy's part for now and update this later with Bo. I welcome any pointers for his character, by the way, I've never written for him lol. Anyways... I hope y'all enjoy!

Quick side note: I just recently reached 300 followers!! Yay!! I'm so excited and happy that you guys enjoy my work <3 I'm going to try and start writing more often so please, send in all your requests! Thank y'all for taking the time to read my stories and follow me, it means the world to me.

Thomas Hewitt:

The Texas air was hot and heavy, as it was in most August days, weighing everything from the birds to the pigs down, not much of anything caring to move about in this heat. Even Hoyt elected to take the day off, currently lounging about on the front porch, beer in hand. Though that wasn't too unusual, at least now he had somewhat of an excuse.

Luda Mae was in town, running the store, today being one of those rare days where she took Monty with her so he could “get his stinkin' ass out of the house”, as she had so graciously put it.

Not even Thomas had a lot to do today, so the two of you were taking advantage of that, currently set up on the living room couch.

You were sitting on the back of the couch, with Thomas situated between your legs, mask off and hair down so you could properly comb through it.

It was late morning by this point, so the strongest wave of heat hadn't come through yet, and you had all the windows open to try and keep the air flowing through the house before it did.

The radio played an old song from its corner, echoing a woman's voice throughout the living room. You hummed along, gently separating another section of hair and spraying a light mist of water over it with a spray bottle so you could carefully brush it without hurting your husband.

Thomas currently had his head leaning against your thigh, partly to give your more access to that side of his head, and partly because he was dozing off from the mix of humming and having you gently work through the knots in his dark curly hair.

You finished brushing out that section, running your fingers from his roots to the tips a couple of time to be sure, before pulling it to the side to place in a loose ponytail with the rest of his untangled hair.

You could start feel the soft, deep rumble as Thomas began to snore, and let out a soft laugh.

He had a habit of falling asleep every-time you brushed his hair, enjoying the close contact and the chance to take his mask off and let his skin breathe.

You let out a soft hum and bent down to place a kiss on his head, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone as you did.

You pulled back and continued to work, putting in even more effort to be gentle and soft as to not wake him. You carefully moved his head to your other thigh and began to brush the other side of his head, the brush easily combing through the knots, a stark contrast from when you initially started brushing his hair for him a few months ago.

After another fifteen minutes or so, you were finished, and pulled his hair together to give it a final brush through before setting the water bottle and brush to the side, sitting up straight to stretch your back and arms.

Thomas was still gently snoring, face pressed against your inner thigh as he continued his midday nap. You didn't really have the heart to wake him, but your ass was starting to fall asleep and hurt from sitting on the hard surface of the back of the couch, and it was getting close to time to start on lunch.

You let your hands run down his hair and to his shoulders, giving them a gentle but firm rub as you planted a kiss on his temple, speaking softly, “Tommy, baby, wake up. I'm all done.”

Despite what most people would assume, Thomas wasn't too much of a heavy sleeper, especially when he was on the couch, and that little bit was just enough to stir him awake.

He sucked in a shallow breath and let out a yawn, stretching his arms under your legs before hooking them over your thighs, letting his head fall back to look up at you with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning.” You joked with a smile of your own.

He hummed a bit and leaned over, pressing a kiss to your thigh.

“I've gotta start on lunch soon.”

He shut his eyes and let out a soft grunt of disapproval.

“Mhm.” You hummed back, running a hand through his hair again, “And then I've gotta--”

You were cut short by the rigid sound of the telephone ringing from the table behind you.

You sighed and reached around, pulling the base up and into to your lap.

“Hello?” You answered, holding the receiver with your shoulder while you idly played with Thomas' hair.

“Y/N? Could you put Hoyt on?” Luda Mae responded, skipping a greeting as she always did. After all, she's calling her own house, why should she have to say hello?

“'Course, Mama, lemme call for him.” You agreed, covering the receiver with your hand before yelling, “Hoyt, it's for you!”

No response.

“Hoyt?”

Nothing.

“Hoyt!”

Typical.

You reached down and tapped Thomas' shoulder, catching his attention, “Tommy will you go grab Hoyt? I think he's passed out in the rocker out front.”

He let out a disgruntled sigh but stood up, reluctantly sulking out the front door.

“Thomas is goin' to get him now, Mama, I think he fell asleep on the porch again.” You explained into the phone.

“Alright.” She sighed, “Just tell him to hurry up.”

After a few moments you could hear Hoyt yell from the front porch, followed by him stumbling in, still half asleep, with Thomas in tow.

“Phone.” You set the base back down and held out the phone for him to take.

“Who is it?” He slurred out, yet still grabbed the phone.

“It's Mama.”

“What the hell does she want?” He grumbled, before repeating the question to her, “What the hell do you want?”

You silently ushered Thomas over and grabbed his mask before standing straight on the couch to help him put it back on. It wasn't your favorite thing, having your husband hide half of his face, but Hoyt was awfully mean when he was drunk and it made Tommy feel more secure.

“Uh-huh. Alright. Yea. Yea. I'll be there in 'bout half an hour.” You could hear Hoyt finish mumbling and hang up the phone behind you before much too loudly announcing, “Thomas, get ready, we got supper comin' in down at the store!”

Thomas and you both let out a sigh. Well, looks like your day off was cut short.

There was a routine in place for days like these and falling into it was rather easy. You were placed on Hoyt duty, meaning you had to get his sheriff uniform ready to go and Hoyt sobered up enough to drive, and Thomas had to prepare the basement for the arrival of new guests, to put it delicately.

The two of you set to work, Thomas planting a quick kiss to your lips before tucking himself away in the basement, and you sat Hoyt down with a plate of carbs and a large glass of water to try and sober him while you tracked down everything he needed.

By the time you finished finding all of the things he carelessly threw around from the day before, he had sobered up enough that you deemed him safe enough to leave the house.

You assumed you had quite sometime before Hoyt would make it back, so you decided you'd take the time to get a few chores done beforehand, even though you knew it would upset Thomas if he found out.

It was his request that you stay in your shared room when Hoyt brought any new victims home, always worried that something would happen.

Normally, you listened to him, but the longer you waited the more chores would pile up. Besides, it would just take a few minutes.

You started with the dishes from breakfast, what with it being a lazy day and all, you figured you could do them at lunch instead. You had a couple of other things to clean up in the kitchen and finished it off with gathering the trash to take it out on your way to feed some leftover slop to the pigs.

Only an hour and a half. You smiled to yourself as you checked the wall clock, happy that you finished the chores so fast.

You dropped off the bag in the can by the back door and dumped the leftovers into the slop bucket that you kept beside it and made the short walk to the small barn out back where the pigs stayed, passing the chicken coop on the way.

The small pink pigs squealed with delight when they saw you approach, having gotten used to either you or Thomas being the ones to bring them food.

They gathered around the long feed trout that was set up in their pen, happily squealing in anticipation as you dropped the spoiled leftovers into their pen, each of them happily chowing down on the food. You kneeled down and patted one of their backs, one of the females, if her large, very obvious pregnant belly gave any clue. Tommy had noticed a while back that she was pregnant, and you gave extra care in keeping an eye on her.

You cooed after her, ushering her to eat all she could for her and her little babies, gently rubbing her back as she ate.

You sat up after a moment, stretching your back again before standing up and grabbing the slop bucket to carry back to the house.

You cringed when you picked it up, however, this time catching a whiff of the moldy food that caked the sides. Apparently it had been a while since the bucket was washed out.

You carried it out of the barn and to the side where one of the outside hoses sat, turning on the creaky faucet to wash out the bucket.

It was a messy job, and by the end of it, the dirt you once stood on was now mud and your shirt was soaked with a large splash of water. At least it helped cool you down a bit, being out in the heat like this was exhausting and you were already sweating.

You turned the faucet off and shook the bucket out a bit more before the sound of running footsteps caught your attention.

You turned back to the house, only to see a young man you didn't know running straight for you.

You jumped at the sight, taking a step back out of surprise and fear. However, when you did, your shoe hit the mud and you slipped, landing clear on your back and knocking the breath out of you.

You tried to take in a sharp gasp of air, only to be met with pain coursing from your spine to your chest, making it tighten.

You sat up, grasping at your chest and trying to breathe, tears streaming down your face, all while the man finally reached you.

“Hey, hey--!” He called out in a loud whisper, shaking as fear lined his voice and filled his wide eyes.

You shook your head no, pushing yourself back and away from him.

“No, no, it's okay, it's okay,” He raised his hands as he kneeled down, “I-I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help, I'm gonna help.”

You continued shaking your head and pushing away, desperately trying to breathe so you could scream for Thomas.

He ignored your obvious attempts to get away from him, and grabbed your arm, pulling you up and towards the back of the barn. You finally managed to pull in your first breath, coughing as he continued yanking on your wrist, practically dragging you across the dirt and grass.

There was a second door in the back and he found it easily, pushing you into the barn and towards the ladder to the loft where the hay was kept.

The pigs squealed in surprise, running around in their pen in distress as you tried to fight against the stranger.

“Stop! Leave me alone!” You pushed and pulled against his grip as he tried to shove you up the ladder.

“No, it's okay, I-I'm not one of them, I'm not gonna hurt you--” He ignored your pleas as he spoke over you, “I'm gonna help, I'm gonna help--”

You could feel the old creaky wood bend and groan against your back as he shoved you into the ladder repeatedly, trying to force you up there.

Sharp pain shot through your elbow as it slammed into the wall, finally managing to get your wrist out of his grip.

You ignored the pulsing and shoved him back, freezing when Hoyt's revolver fell from the man's pants.

You thought about diving for it, but he was faster, his hands in the air as he knelt down to pick it up.

“No, don't, don't worry, I- I'm not going to hurt you, I got this, before I ran--” He grabbed the gun and shoved it back into his jeans, “I won't hurt you, I promise.”

How stupid could this man be? Did he still not get it yet?

You were shaking, your racing heart almost loud enough to cover up the sounds of the pigs fearful squeals and Thomas' chainsaw echoing back from the front yard.

There was no way he'd hear you, not all the way back here, and definitely not in time.

You took a shaky breath and silently cursed yourself for reloading that same pistol before sending Hoyt off just earlier today.

Your mind started racing as you tried to think of a plan, your hands grasping at the air, looking him up and down.

He was on the younger side, early twenties at most, splashes of blood covering his open red button up and gray t-shirt. He was blond, making his light five o'clock shadow almost hard to see against his tan skin. His brown eyes were puffy and red, practically shaking with fear, his chest heaving and fists curled at his side.

“We, we've got to hide--” He took two bold steps towards you, “Before they come looking for us.”

You pressed yourself harder against the ladder as he did, taking in a shaky breath and nodding. He didn't know who you were, and you needed to keep it that way until you could escape.

You turned around to face the ladder, the old wood creaking under your weight as you climbed up, pushing the thick wooden door open with a thud before climbing in.

The scratchy hay dug into your knees and hands as you crawled further into the loft, giving the man room to climb in right behind you.

He immediately shut the small door and looked around, “We should put something heavy on the door.”

“B-But what if we need to get out quickly?” You countered, not wanting to make it harder to get out.

“It'll make it harder for them to get in.” He ignored your input and walked over to the nearest bale of hay, “We need to keep them out.”

You watched helplessly as he struggled to drag the heavy bale across the dusty wooden loft, finally falling down with a thud after he managed to cover the door.

“We can wait here until we get a chance to escape.” He crawled his way over to sit beside you, still shaking but seemingly calmer than before.

He swallowed and took in heavy breaths, trying to process the last few hours in his mind as you silently begged whatever god that was willing would help you get out of this alive.

You could've practically jump for joy when the familiar sound of a idling chainsaw and heavy footsteps against the barn floor became apparent against the calming squeals of the pigs down below.

You could almost feel the man tense beside you as he started shaking his head, quietly pushing himself away from the bale of hay that covered the loft door.

“No, no, no, no...” He mumbled to himself quietly, covering his own mouth as he pressed himself into the old wall of the barn.

You looked to the floor, Tommy's footsteps slowly circling around the barn, and felt a firm grip on your arm as the man quietly pulled you back with him.

“Shhhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and pulled out the revolver, looking back to the bale.

It was your turn to shake your head, lifting your hands as you spoke, “No, no, it's okay, don't--”

He slapped his hand over your mouth as the footsteps stopped.

Thomas looked up, to the loft.

He could've sworn he heard a woman's voice, even over the anxious pig's squeals.

He gripped the chainsaw tighter, confusion overcoming him.

The victim Hoyt sent him after was a man, so, did that mean there were two of them? Had Hoyt somehow overlooked an extra person? It wasn't completely uncommon for him to make such a mistake.

He stayed silent, listening. There were no more sounds now.

He took a step towards the ladder, noticing the mud marks leading in from the open back door, even against the ladder.

The chainsaw weighed heavy in his hands, send vibrations through his fingers as he readjusted it to hold it in one hand.

He grabbed the ladder with his now free hand, the ladder creaking loudly under his weight as he took a couple of steps up, positioning the chainsaw to press against the door.

It didn't budge, so he squeezed the trigger, the chainsaw revving up and cutting through the old wood with ease.

He pressed further, the spinning chain suddenly flinging wood chips and hay back at his face with enough force to actually leave some small scratches on his exposed cheekbones.

He ignored it and moved the chainsaw in different directions, cutting at the hay bale that was apparently left on top to deter him.

Within a few seconds he was able to use the base of the chainsaw to get enough leverage to sling what was left of the door open, the remaining hay flinging to the side with ease.

He pushed himself up, grabbing a hold of the side of the loft's floor to help him balance as he pulled himself up with enough force so he wouldn't get caught off-guard by the two victims undoubtedly waiting for him.

His chainsaw slammed on the loft floor, still rumbling in idle as he stepped into the loft, deep brown eyes darting to the man sitting across from him, to the gun pointed directly at him.

He ignored the threat as he stood up straight, chainsaw tight in his grip.

“Don't come any closer!” His voice was unsteady, his hands shaking.

He took a step.

“S-Stop!” He stuttered over himself, thumb slipping more than once as he pulled the hammer down.

Thomas listened this time, staring the man down.

“Drop the chainsaw.” The man ordered, “Now!” His voice cracked.

Thomas did as he was told, the chainsaw hitting the floor with a loud thud.

“O-Okay, now grab it!” Thomas could hear the floorboards creak as the second victim walked up behind him.

His hand flexed as the footsteps stopped.

He could use her, as leverage, even a shield. All she had to do was reach for it. The moment she did he could grab her.

His eyes darted right and he saw dirty, shaky hands grab the handle.

His hand shot out, catching her with force as he turned.

You screamed, out of surprise and pain as Thomas gripped your wrist with enough force to bruise it.

Confused eyes met yours as he stared, his strong hold loosening out of reflex.

“Let her go!” The man yelled from beside you two, still pointing the gun at your husband.

He did.

He pulled back, fear and hurt in his eyes as he tried to figure out why you were here.

You hated yourself as you picked the chainsaw up, heavy in your grip as you dragged it away from him.

You walked closer to the man, the chainsaw sending vibrations through your hands and to your arms, turning them to jelly. You were unfamiliar with handling the large tool, only ever using it once before when Thomas had taught you how.

The man hurried to stand, still pointing the gun at Thomas.

“H-Here.” You offered, pushing it out to him, “I don't even know how to use this thing, I'll end up hurting myself.”

The man nodded, falling for your lie, “Okay, then you take this,” He shoved the gun towards you, “I can handle that thing.”

You switched weapons, Hoyt's gun feeling much easier to handle in your hands.

It wasn't light, the weapon weighing heavy in your hands as you slammed the butt of it against the man's head, a few drops of blood splattering against your hands and face as he hit the floor.

You turned to Tommy, letting the gun hit the floor as you let out a heavy, shaking sigh.

“Thomas--” You stepped over the man's unconscious body, arms wide as you threw yourself at your husband.

He met you halfway and slung his thick arms around you, clinging to you as he crushed you against his body.

You choked on a sob as you buried your face in his neck, hot tears streaming down your face out of relief.

He pushed his masked cheek against your head, pressing a kiss to your mud caked hair, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to steady his breath.

He had been ridiculed, relentlessly beaten by bullies, threatened by coworkers, attacked by victims and almost killed dozens of times, but nothing compared to the fear he had when he saw you in that loft.

He couldn't understand why you were there. Had you randomly changed your mind and decided to leave him? After so long? Were you taken against your will, threatened and forced to do these things? Were you hurt, scared, afraid for your life while he was off doing what Hoyt told him to? What would've happened if he hadn't shown up? Did he scare you, or hurt you?

You pulled back just enough to place your hands on his cheeks, Thomas holding you up as you pulled him into a kiss.

You opened your mouth and he deepened the kiss, your hands snaking around his neck and trying to pull him even closer while teeth clashed and tongues fought to explore each other's mouths like teenagers sharing their first kiss.

You sighed through your nose, pressing your forehead to his as you pulled back to look at him.

“I'm so sorry.” You whispered, “I didn't think he'd be back so soon, I- I thought I had more time...”

His brown eyes were filled with fear and relief, feeling like he had almost lost you.

You cupped his masked cheek, letting your eyes flutter shut as you finally felt safe again.

It was a long time before Thomas let you out of his sight after that. He was glued to your side, overprotective and worried for months to come.

You often caught him staring at your deeply bruised wrist while it healed, angry and ashamed that he hurt you.

You constantly reassured him that you weren't angry at him, or scared that he'd do it again. He treated you like glass long after it healed, gentle and afraid, like you'd break into a million pieces if he didn't take extra care in his touches.

Needless to say, it took months before life went back to normal for you two, but after that, anytime any victims were expected, the first thing he did was safely tuck you away in your shared room before anything else.

#slasher fandom #slashers #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x s/o #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o #Jamie Writes

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prettytoxicrevolver · 22 days

Text

Jealous of Joe | Juraj Slafkovský

wc. 1.9k

Juraj's jealous when he sees you with another certain athlete

(sorry for the bad google translate throughout)

You jog down the steps of Nationwide Arena until you're face to face with a wall of glass blocking you from the players on the ice. Your eyes roam the red and white jerseys, finding purchase when they land on the familiar number 20. You look over his figure, studying the way he skates down the ice with ease. He looks like he’s floating, stick down, looking for the puck, focused, perfect.

You and Juraj Slafkovský have been friends since the minute he was drafted by the Montreal Canadiens. As one of many social media managers, you became best friends with the whole team, finding safe spaces in Cole, Nick, Kirby, Kaiden, Monty, and most importantly, Juraj.

The first thing you ever bonded over was your mutual knowledge of the Finnish language. The two of you could converse for hours in Finnish and not even realize until another one of the boys finally gains the courage to ask about what you two have been saying. They even tried to use it to their advantage, asking if you understood what he would say in Slovak but you were no use in that department.

You try to snap yourself out of the trance you were in, looking around the rink to see what kind of media you could create before the game. You’re in the middle of thinking up a new question or tiktok challenge when you feel a presence next to you.

“They look good,” the stranger says from next to you and you don’t look over as you respond, somewhat hoping the person leaves.

“Hopefully they keep it up during the game tonight,” you respond, knowing the Hab's tendency for third period strikeouts.

“You think Caufield will score?” the boy next to you asks and you shrug.

“It’ll make my job easier if he does,” you joke and the laugh that sounds from next to you is so melodic it has curiosity leading you to turn your head.

To say you’re shocked by the man standing next to you is an understatement. After working in this league it takes a lot for you to get star struck by an athlete but you’re speechless, jaw dropped open looking at Joe Burrow standing next to you.

“Holy shit,” you blurt out and the older boy turns to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’m Joe,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake and you can’t help the shiver that runs down your back when his hand slides perfectly into yours.

“(y/n),” you say, still not quite sure that you’re not totally dreaming. “No offense, but what are you doing here?”

His laugh has you smiling right along with him and you find yourself wanting to hear more of it.

“I’ve been meaning to come out and see a game for a while, meet the players and so on. I figured since I’m injured,” he takes the moment to lift up a carefully wrapped wrist in front of your eyes. “I would come and check it out.”

“Well if you’re expecting your fellow Ohioans to win, I apologize in advance,” you say and Joe throws his head back in laughter.

“Oh really?”

The two of you continue talking, trading jokes and reveling in each other's laughter. You were beyond enjoying the conversation with Joe and you almost forgot about the ongoing practice and job you should be doing.

Juraj certainly didn’t forget. During practice, a game, in the arena, out of the arena, no matter what Juraj always has an eye on you. The minute you stepped up to the glass during his practice his eye was on you, watching what you were doing, but more importantly, who you ended up talking to. Juraj’s furious and jealous gaze roams your figure, hating the way your head is thrown back in laughter, pink rising to your cheeks at his words, the slight, shy movements he knew all too well.

At some point his brain must have shut off because suddenly his body is barreling down the ice without a second thought. You’re mid sentence to Joe when a loud bang sounds in front of you and you both jump back in fear. You look up to see Juraj standing there, a sheepish smile on his lips but something different in his eyes. You shoot him a look that conveys the sentence “are you serious right now???” and Juraj waves awkwardly before backing off and skating away.

“Your boyfriend?” Joe asks and you jump at his voice, forgetting he was there for a moment.

“No, no,” you say, glancing at him before reverting back to following Juraj’s movements. “Just friends.”

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I asked you out then?” Joe asks and your body fully turns towards him at the question.

“I can pick you up before the game tonight? I have an empty seat next to me,” he offers and you grin.

“I’d love to.”

Juraj spends the rest of practice pissed and all the boys can tell. They’re even playing a game, seeing who can mess with him the most before he truly snaps.

Nick takes pity on him, the captain skating over to the young player. He follows Juraj’s gaze to where you are and watches as his eyes flame in anger when you smile at Joe.

“What's up?” Nick asks, vague enough that Juraj can tell him what’s actually going on or he can brush it off.

“He can fight?” Juraj asks and Nick fully turns to him in shock.

“What?”

“I’m gonna fight him if he goes out with her,” Juraj says, determination so deep in his eyes that Nick knows he’s not a force to be reckoned with.

Normally, before games you’re nervous for other reasons. Making sure you have enough content, tweets are loaded and ready to go, photos are edited and stats are ready to be posted. This time, your coworker is taking on those nerves while yours belong to the date you were about to go on.

You looked over your outfit for what feels like the millionth time and smooth out the canadiens jersey that falls over your body. You were showing up with Joe but still had Juraj’s last name on your back; the irony. Joe knocks on your hotel room door right at 7 and you let out a breath before making your way to the front door.

You were no stranger to Joe’s pregame outfits but you were shocked out how he could still look so incredibly good even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. His smile is blinding and while you know you should be swooning at the sight, you can only think about Juraj’s crooked smile, the way he looks down, not wanting anyone else to see the beauty.

You and Joe head to the arena, a short drive in his luxury car and he’s nothing but a gentleman the entire time. Your heart flutters from time to time but you’re not sure if it’s because of Joe, or because you're nervous to see Juraj.

You two take your time getting to your seats, stopping to grab drinks before heading down as the players are finishing warm ups. Juraj thinks he’s safe, that he won’t have to control a temper for the rest of the game but it all falls flat when he sees Joe with an arm slung around your shoulders in the front row.

“Leave it be,” Nick warns the younger player and he shakes his head, praying his focus turns towards the game.

The game against the blue jackets is physical, to say the least. The boys are playing like it’s a revenge tour and the game is tied for most of the time. Third period begins and Juraj is firing on all cylinders at this point. He’s finishing his checks, he’s rushing down the ice, he’s doing anything and everything to forget about you and Joe.

You watch as Juraj digs for the puck, a battle between him and one of the blue jackets players trying to gain possession of the puck. It sails down towards Nick and Juraj lets up, words clearly exchanged between him and the opposer.

“Careful before I take your girl out next,” the player sneers at Juraj and he’s officially seeing red.

You watch in slight horror as Juraj slams the player into the boards and fists go flying. The fight must last a quick 20 seconds but feels like a lifetime. You’re on your feet and pressed against the glass as Juraj gets up, a fresh cut on his cheekbone and his hair disheveled and hanging over his now dark eyes.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, watching as Juraj is escorted down the tunnel and some of the boys are casting glances in your direction.

“(y/n)?” you’re snapped out of your trance at Joe’s voice and turn to find him with worry and understanding in his gaze.

“I have to go check on him,” you say and Joe nods.

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek that explains all of his thoughts and feelings. You smile, a bit of sadness laced in the look, before parting and heading straight for the locker room.

You race down, surprisingly not getting lost as you run and you flash your access badge like your life depends on it. You finally come face to face with the locker room door and you take a deep breath before flinging it open, unable to stay away from Juraj any longer.

“Kto si, do pekla, myslí, že je? Sedí tam s ním a užíva si každú sekundu!! A ten sráč, ktorý-” Your brain flies a million miles an hour trying desperately to grasp the little Slovak language you know but to no avail.

“Juraj?” you call and the 6 foot 2 hockey player halts all movements before turning towards you.

“What are you doing here?” he grinds out, chest heaving trying to catch his breath.

“I wanted to check on you.”

“jebať ma,” he mutters angrily. “Go back to your new boyfriend.”

Juraj was torn clean in half between two sides. One desperately wanting you here, wanting you to stay and talk to him, to explain that Joe meant nothing to you. The other half of him is infuriated, feeling disrespected that you would show up now after flaunting Joe in front of him.

“What the fuck is your issue?” you snap, taking several steps till you're inches from Juraj’s face.

“Ježiš Kristus.”

That’s the last thing you hear before Juraj leans down and slams his lips against yours, the kiss lighting you end to end in a fiery passion. His hands wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your tip toes and press your chest against his padded one. Your body takes a minute to catch up and when you do, your hands tangle deep into Juraj’s damp strands pulling him close and begging him to never let go.

Unfortunately, humans need air and the two of you separate, panting heavily for a moment after. You fall back onto your heels and Juraj’s eyes search yours for a moment before speaking again.

“You’re my issue,” he says and before you can retort he shushes you. “I love you. You walked into my game with my name on your back but your hand holding his.”

Your eyes stare deep into his, your heart cracking at the idea that Juraj could ever be hurt by your actions. However, it’s filled back up when you remember him admitting that he loves you.

“Oh minun rakkauteni,” you murmur, pulling him into you again and reveling in the feeling of his lips on yours.

“It’s you baby. It always has been and it always will be,” you promise.

Juraj grins against you, the moment fleeting but lasting forever.

#prettytoxicrevolver fic #juraj slafkovsky fanfic #juraj slafkovsky imagine #juraj slafkovsky blurb #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky fic #montreal canadiens fic #montreal canadiens x reader #montreal canadiens imagine

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guinea-pig16 · 8 months

Text

Late Night || I'm Here

Please read Part 4 before reading this one!

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Word count: 3,700+

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Time slows as you start running towards Monty. From the corner of your eye, you see Freddy sprinting towards you, yelling at Gregory to run. Behind you, you can hear Gregory falling over, a hiccup escaping him as he begins to cry. You have no clue what on Earth you’re doing, your only thought is to protect Gregory, and to help Monty. So you do the only thing you can think of.

You run towards Monty and dive into his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. You expect to be dragged alongside him as he continues running to Gregory, but what you don’t expect is him to freeze in his tracks. You tighten your grip, face buried in his chest. Everything around comes to a halt.

“Monty, please…” You mumble. You pull away enough to look at him, your heart pounding as he’s already staring at you. His eyes pierce into yours. You can hear his servos grinding and struggling, as if they’re attempting to force him to move. But he doesn’t, he remains as still as a statue.

“Monts, it's okay… You’re okay… You don’t need to hurt anyone.” You say. His eyes never leave yours, not even as Freddy slowly approaches, not even as Gregory slips deeper into the shadows.. You lay your head back on his chest, and hug him harder.

“Let me help you, Monty… Please…” You shut your eyes and pray he’ll let you. After a moment of stillness, you feel his arms gently wrap around you. He holds you so softly, as if you’ll break from the slightest touch.

“...Okay…” whispers Monty, his voice lined with static. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and pull away enough to give him a soft smile. Gently holding his arms, you guide him into a kneeling position.

You stand, keeping your hands on his shoulders. Freddy moves to stand in front of Monty, watching for any sudden movements. You take your laptop out of your bag and set it on the ground next to you. He sits there patiently, watching your every movement.

“Okay, I’m going to remove the back of your head plate, alright? And then I’m going to plug in my laptop to your computer chip and we’ll get you fixed up, okay?” You hope explaining everything will make him feel better. Monty just nods, and you tense slightly when you see his hand twitch. You round Monty and stand behind him. You remove the back of his head plate and plug in your laptop. Monty twitches again, but does nothing.

“Alright, I’m going to need to reboot you after this, okay? Don’t worry, you’ll wake up in a few hours and be right as rain.” You give him a smile, and he just nods once more. You pull up his code and search for the odd man out. You find it, and begin to delete it.

Monty suddenly lurches forward, and shudders violently. Freddy twitches forward, prepared to restrain him if need be. You quickly finish deleting the code, and Monty stills once more.

“Alright… See you in a bit, Monts.” You say, and hit the reboot button. Monty slumps forward, but is caught by Freddy before he hits the ground. Freddy kneels and holds Monty against him. He then frantically looks you up and down for any possible injuries.

“Y/N, what you did was very dangerous! Monty could have seriously injured you in this state!” He chastises. You duck your head slightly.

“Freddy… I’m fine… Monty would never hurt me.” Freddy looks unconvinced. “Besides, it all worked out! We’re all fine, right Gregory?” You lean to the side and look to where Gregory had been hiding. He just stares at you, the remnants of his tears staining his cheeks. Freddy looks back at Gregory, then back to you with a raised eyebrow.

“Look… I know it was stupid but I just…” You rest one of your hands on Monty’s cheek. “I hated seeing him like that… I had to help him, even if it risked my life…” Freddy looks at you for a moment, before letting out a sigh. He places a hand on your face and rubs his thumb against your cheek fondly.

“...You have a good heart, Y/N… That is why I care for you so much.” You lean into his touch and smile at him. You both sit there for a moment, looking at each other fondly. Then, the moment is broken by Gregory coughing slightly.

“Oh, right! Sorry, Gregory! Got a bit distracted there…” You say, face flushing. You hear Freddy’s internal fan whir a bit as well. You stand up and dust off your pants. You then jog slightly to where Gregory is and kneel to give him a once over.

“You alright, kiddo?” You ask. He nods and sniffles slightly, his face still stained with tears. You reach into your bag and bring out a rag. You hold it in front of him, silently asking him for permission. He gives you a small nod, and you gently begin to wipe away his tears. Once you're done, you rest a hand on his head.

“You’ve been very brave today, Gregory.” You then glance to where Freddy’s standing, making sure he can’t over hear. “If it were any other kid in your position, they’d shit their pants.” You whisper, cracking a grin. Gregory’s face splits into a small smile, and he giggles quietly. You ruffle his hair, causing him to swat away your hand, and stand up right as Freddy comes over. He’s holding Monty bridal style, clutching him close to his chest.

“Alrighty, let’s get Monty to his room!” You say, glad that this is finally over. Freddy nods, and him and Gregory follow you to Monty’s room. You then stop in your tracks. “...Oh… Right…” Monty’s room still hasn’t been fixed. You’d rather him not wake up in a trashed room.

“Let us take him to my room.” Freddy says, catching onto your train of thought. You do a double take at that.

“Are you sure? He can stay in Parts and Service while he reboots.” You question. Freddy nods.

“Of course! Monty is my friend, I would feel better if he were in a more comfortable place.” He says. You shrug.

“Alright then. Lead the way, Mr. Fazbear.” You dramatically gesture for him to take the lead. Freddy chuckles quietly and begins to lead the way back to his green room. You and Gregory trail behind him.

Arriving at Freddy’s room, you unlock the door and let Freddy enter first. He lays Monty gently on the couch. Gregory walks in and plops down on a bean bag chair in the corner, letting out a loud sigh. You smile, glad that Gregory can finally relax. It’s been quite the night. You sit yourself on an ottoman next to Monty. Freddy sits at Monty’s feet on the couch. The three of you sit there in silence. Gregory eventually falls asleep, and you got up and laid a blanket over him, Freddy placing a plush next to his head.

You watch Monty, observing every inch of him, waiting, worrying. Freddy watches you in turn, noticing your tired eyes, the way they try to flutter close.

“Y/N.” Freddy’s voice causes you to jump slightly, having become accustomed to the silence. You turn to him, eyelids heavy.

“What’s up?” You ask, suppressing a yawn. Freddy looks at you, worriedly.

“You should get some rest. Monty will not wake for several more hours. And you’ve been awake for so long…” You wave a hand dismissively.

“I’m fine, just a little tired is all.” You rub your eyes with a hand. “Besides, I want to be awake when he wakes up.” Freddy doesn’t respond. You go back to watching over Monty, your eyes feeling heavier and heavier. You take Monty’s hand in yours. Man, you’ve got to stop pulling all nighters at work. Your head droops forward. What time is it even? You check your watch. It’s almost 5 in the morning. You’ve been up for almost 20 hours now.

Suddenly, you feel a soft, warm weight being draped across your shoulders. You sink into its comfort.

“Sleep. It is okay. I will wake you when Monty wakes up.” Freddy says gently, coaxing you to lay your head down on Monty’s chest. You let out a sigh, resigning to comply. You’re too tired to put up a fight anymore. Still holding Monty’s hand, you shift into a more comfortable position, and let your mind drift off into sleep.

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Monty’s POV

Monty opens his eyes, and looks around the dim room. Where was he? He registers a weight on his chest and sits up slightly, only to freeze in place.

Y/N was sleeping soundly, laying their head on his chest and holding his hand. If he had a heart, he swears it would melt at the sight alone.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Whispers a voice. Monty’s head snaps to the direction of the voice, and sees Freddy watching him, a fond look in his eyes. His internal fan kicks up, and he looks away, observing the room he’s in. He cringes at seeing all the Freddy plushies, posters, and other paraphernalia. He must be in Freddy’s room, then. He begins to ask why he’s here and not in his room, when Freddy cuts him off.

“We didn’t want you to wake up in an… Uncomfortable environment. So, I offered my room for you to rest in.” He says with a soft smile. Monty doesn’t respond, and instead looks at Y/N sleeping soundly on his chest.

“...What… What exactly happened?” Monty whispers, trying not to wake Y/N. He doesn’t remember much of anything, just the overwhelming feeling of anger, fear, and hurt. He tries to remember, and instead feels an intense pain behind his eyes, causing him to clutch his head with his spare hand. Freddy twitches, as if he was going to touch Monty.

“Well, you, Chica, and Roxanne were infected with some kind of… virus. It caused the three of you to become incredibly violent. You all were attempting to attack Gregory for an unknown reason.” Freddy looks behind him, Monty following his gaze. He sees a small boy curled up in a bean bag chair, clutching a Freddy plushie, snuggled in a blanket. He tried to attack him…?

“But Y/N was able to figure out a solution, thankfully. So all three of you should be fine now.” Freddy smiles warmly. Monty looks down where Y/N lays, asleep, and gently rests his other hand on their face. He smiles at them. Man… they really are incredible… Freddy watches Monty in silence for a moment, the smile never leaving his face.

“...You care for Y/N, don’t you?” Monty’s head snaps up, internal fan whirring. Freddy has a knowing look in his gaze along with a smile. Monty is silent for a minute, then musters up the courage to give a curt nod. Freddy’s smile widens and he nods back. They sit there for a moment, unspoken words hovering in the air.

“You should tell them.” That catches Monty’s attention. He looks at Freddy, shocked.

“...But… Aren’t you two…?” He questions, hand gesturing between Y/N and Freddy.

Freddy gives him a smile. “It’s okay. You should tell them.” Monty goes to protest, when he feels Y/N begin to stir.

“Monty…?” Y/N mumbles, slowly sitting up, drowsy eyes looking up at him.

“Hey short stack.” He whispers, using his hand to move stray hair from their face. Y/N leans into his touch, sighing.

“You scared the hell out of us, asshole…” Y/N mumbles, leaning forward and hugging Monty. He jumps slightly, not expecting the contact, before gently wrapping his arms around them.

“Yeah, I heard…” He says, making eye contact with Freddy. He gives Monty a nod of encouragement, still smiling softly. Monty releases air he didn’t know he was holding. Gently, he pulls Y/N away from him and looks them in the eye.

“Y/N… I need to tell you something…” Y/N cocks their head, looking at him confused. Monty looks once more to Freddy, who just smiles back. “Y/N… I’m… I love you.” Y/N’s eyes widen as he continues.

“I’ve loved you since we met. I can’t get your damn smile out of my head, the way you laugh, the way your eyes look. I’d been avoiding you because I was… I was scared. I’ve never felt like this before and I didn’t know what to make of it. I was scared you’d reject me, and wouldn't wanna be around me anymore.” Monty looks down, avoiding eye contact. There’s silence, his confession hanging in the air. Just as he begins to regret opening his mouth, a hand gently lifts his face. Y/N looks at him, their eyes searching his face, their mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Monty… I… I care about you too. So much… But… Freddy and I… we’re…” Y/N trails off. Monty already knows the words they won’t say. We can’t.

“...Perhaps we can share?” Freddy pipes up. Both Monty and Y/N whip their heads to look at Freddy.

“Huh?” Both Monty and Y/N look at him, confused.

“Let me clarify, perhaps Monty and I could both be with Y/N. If Y/N is okay with that.” Says Freddy, still smiling, looking at Y/N. Monty looks to Y/N as well. There’s no way they’d agree to that… right?

Y/N sits there for a moment in thought. Monty can practically see the gears turning in their head as they think. They turn and make eye contact with Monty.

“...Would you be okay with that? If I were with both of you?” Monty thinks for a moment. He loves Y/N, but is he willing to share them? He glances at Freddy, who’s looking at him with an indecipherable emotion. He’s never been Freddy’s biggest fan… But… He looks back to Y/N, into their eyes full of care and patience. Maybe… Just maybe this could work out…

“I’m game if you are.” He relents, willing to give it a chance. Y/N and Freddy both break into grins. Y/N takes one of Freddy’s hands, and then one of Monty’s.

“We’ll make this work, together. Let’s promise each other to try and see this through, alright?” Y/N says excitedly. Monty and Freddy glance at each other.

“You got it, Superstar!” Says Freddy, pressing a kiss on Y/N’s head. They both look at Monty now, with expectant eyes. He lets out a sigh.

“Yeah yeah, I promise short stack…” Y/N gives Monty a radiant smile that makes his chest swell in adoration.

Maybe this will work out…

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A couple months later…

Y/N’s pov

You stand in the parking lot, freezing your butt off in the December air. You scowl at the boy rummaging around in the trunk of your car.

“C’mon, Gregory! Hurry up, I’m freezing here!” You complain, wrapping your coat tighter around you.

“I’m trying! Not my fault you have so much junk in here!” He quips back. You roll your eyes, and he finally lets out a ‘aha!’ and closes the trunk. He comes to your side, holding two canvases under his arm. You hold your hand out for him to take, and he slips his into yours. The two of you begin the trek to the Pizzaplex entrance.

“Do you think they’ll like them..?” Gregory mumbles, readjusting his grip on the canvases. You look down at him, a fond smile gracing your face.

“They’ll love them. Don’t worry, they love everything you make for them.” You reassure Gregory. The two of you approach the Pizzaplex, and you almost stop to admire the decorations they had out for Christmas. They always went all out for the holidays, but you think they took it up a notch this year. You both enter and stand in the lobby for a moment, enjoying the warmth.

Families bustle around you, either doing their holiday shopping or rushing to all the attractions the Pizzaplex has to offer. You scan the crowd, keeping Gregory close to you, looking for a particular bear or alligator. You lock eyes with bright blue ones and your face splits into a smile. You wave your arm and make your way to Freddy, slightly dragging Gregory behind you.

“Hello my Superstars! It’s so nice to see you both!” He exclaims, sweeping you into a short kiss, and ruffling Gregory's hair. You grin at him, his usual top hat has been retired for a Santa hat. You stand on your tip toes and lean to whisper in Freddy’s ear.

“Gregory has a surprise for you!” You whisper. Freddy’s eyes light up and looks to Gregory, who’s staring at his feet, clutching the canvases to his chest.

“Well now! May I see what you have for me, Superstar?” Freddy gently scoops Gregory into his arms. Gregory doesn’t say anything, and hides his face in his scarf before taking one of the canvases and shoving it into one of Freddy’s hands. Freddy supports Gregory with one arm and looks at the canvas, his eyes widening in glee. You lean against Freddy’s arm and look at the painting proudly. It was a painting of you, Freddy, Monty, and Gregory. He had stayed up late into the night for weeks in order to make two copies in time for Christmas. You can’t remember all the times you had to take him to bed after he’d fallen asleep on his easel.

“...My goodness! This is beautiful, Gregory! Thank you so much!” Freddy wraps his arms around Gregory and gives him a tight hug. Gregory complains loudly at the hug, but you and Freddy both see the smile on his face.

“Hey, where’s Monty? Have you seen him by any chance?” You ask, looking around the crowd. Freddy puts down Gregory and looks around the crowd as well.

“Hm, he may be near his Green room. From what I’ve heard, I believe he’s doing a birthday party, he might be done now.” You nod and begin to maneuver through the crowd with Freddy and Gregory.

You have to say, these past couple months have been pure bliss. After that night, Monty has been as sweet as can be, along with Freddy. Everyday when you came into work, either Freddy, Monty, or both would be there waiting for you, ready to give you a hug and a kiss. Freddy is his usual sweet, caring self. But Monty has shown you a completely different side of him. He’s still his joking, sarcastic, rough self, but he shows you his tender, soft, caring side now. His kisses are gentle, and he holds you as if you’re made of porcelain. And when things have gotten a little… ‘Steamy’ between the two of you, he always makes sure you feel loved and taken care of afterwards.

And Gregory has been the perfect addition to your weird little family. He’s been living with you since that night, and you have to say, it’s been nice not waking up to an empty house anymore. He’s a little brat sometimes, sure, but he makes up for it with his little shows of appreciation. Whether that be him brewing coffee in the morning for you, or him drawing a picture for you to put in your office. His art skills have been improving every day, and almost half of your office walls and fridge have been dedicated to showcasing his art.

You bring him to work with you when you have to work night shifts, and have been teaching him some mechanics and how to repair simple things. He’s become like a sort of assistant to you, helping you repair arcade machines and photo booths. Freddy and Monty sometimes come down and hangout in P&S with you and Gregory, and you end up staying later than you should talking and laughing with the three of them.

The three of you finally make your way to Monty’s green room, having had to practically battle your way there through the massive crowd of people. You sigh in relief when you see Monty standing there, clad in reindeer antlers, taking a picture with a little girl. He waves goodbye to the small family, a soft smile on his face that grows larger when he sees you, Freddy, and Gregory approach.

“Well, long time no see! How have you guys been?” He exclaims, arms open for a hug. You wrap your arms around Monty, and he gives you a small kiss on the head, and then gets down on one knee to ruffle Gregory’s hair. He swats away Monty’s hand, making him chuckle. He spots the canvas Gregory is holding.

“Well now, what’ve we got there? Mind showin’ me kiddo?” He asks. Gregory hesitates slightly, before handing over the painting. Monty takes it and looks at it, his eyes widening, a smile stretching across his face.

“You made this?” He looks to Gregory, who nods, cheeks tinged red with embarrassment. “Kid, this is incredible! Thank you!” He scoops Gregory into a big hug.

“Put me down you big lizard!” Cries Gregory, pushing away from Monty half-heartedly. Monty chuckles and puts him down.

“I don’t start my shift for another couple hours, so I was thinking maybe you guys would want to watch a movie?” You ask, looking between Monty, Freddy, and Gregory. Their faces light up.

“Sure thing! We can use my green room since we’re right here.” Monty gestures to the door of his room.

The four of you go inside of Monty’s green room. Monty closes the curtains and clicks a button on the wall, a tv screen lowering from the ceiling. Freddy settles on the couch and Gregory hops into his lap. You sit next to Freddy, and Monty comes and sits on the other side of you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You lean on his shoulder and hold one of Freddy’s hands. Monty turns on a Christmas movie, and the four of you sit there, relaxed. You look between Monty, Freddy, and Gregory and smile.

Life’s good.

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IT'S FINALLY DONE !!! Months of work finally finished !!! I want to thank each and everyone of you for your love and support!! You're what keeps me writing and creating !!! I'll be posting and updating the chapters with chapter covers over the next coming days, so keep an eye out for that! I have a one shot idea using Late Night's story, but after that I'm going to explore a different fandom. I'm still open for drabble and writing ideas if ya'll have any!! Anyways, love y'all !!! Ciao !!

XOXOXOXOXO <3

#fnaf fic #monty gator #monty x reader #glamrock monty #montgomery gator #montgomery gator x reader #gim fic #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #glamrock freddy #fnaf x reader #fnaf fandom #glamrock freddy x reader #gregory security breach #fluff #completed

236 notes · View notes

acidxinxwonderland · 10 months

Text

small spaces and large hands

18 plus smut shot! Minors DNI!!!

Pairing: Glamrock Freddy/F!Reader

Summary: All you wanted to do was pull a harmless prank on your good gator friend, how were you supposed to know that you'd end up getting holed up in a closet with Freddy? Although just maybe it was all worth it in the end.

Tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Robot/Human Relationships, No vaginal sex, thigh grinding, thigh fucking, Female Reader, Closet Sex, Praise Kink

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Just a fun lil one shot I've been writing for the past few days ^^ enjoy!! :D

The ao3 link in case that’s more your style: small spaces and large hands

Everyday you learn something new working as a maintenance worker at the Mega Pizzaplex, today is the day you learned that just maybe pulling pranks on giant animatronics is not the best idea. Especially if that animatronic is a gator with an ill temperament.

“Get back here brat!”

You hear him roar behind you while your legs carry you as far as you can go, trying your best to suppress your giggles as you look back to see the googly eyes still on his glasses. You whip your head back around, taking a sharp turn down a large corridor and seeing your knight in shining armor, Freddy.

“Freddy!” You stop right in front of him, panting out and looking up at him a panicked yet extremely amused expression your face.

“Superstar! Are you alright-”

You’re quick to interrupt him. “No time for that, I gotta hide, Monty’s after me!”

The animatronic bear stares down at you for only a moment before opening the door behind him and grabbing your shoulders. He picks you up with utmost ease, bringing you into a cramped closet and closing the door behind him.

It was too late for you two when you both realized he did not need to come into this closet with you.

You are now sandwiched between a giant robot made of metal and a cold hard wall, your lips tug down into a frown as you try your best to move to get some more room.

“This is uncomfortable.” Freddy bluntly states and you have to stop everything in your power to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, you think?” You huff.

“My apologies superstar. Here, I can adjust myself and make it more accommodating for you.” Freddy reaches down and grabs your hips with attentive hands, bending his knees to lower himself so he can press his back against the wall.

You let out a sigh of relief as he places you back down on the ground, giving you a bit more breathing room. It was almost perfect except for the thick thigh right in between your legs, only the smallest movement and you’d be brushing up against him.

“Is this better?”

“Yeah, much better, thanks bud.”

There was a silence that fell between the two of you after this, his blue optics fixated on you intently and although his presence was quite calm the air still felt thick around you. You try your best to think of something to say but thankfully he speaks first.

“So… Why are we hiding?”

“Well, it was supposed to be just me hiding but erm… I may or may not have put googly eyes on Monty’s shade when he set them down.” You let out a small chuckle, feeling satisfied with yourself. “Clearly, he did not think it was very funny.”

You expect to get reprimanded for your harmless prank from Freddy, but instead he lets out a deep chuckle that was like music to your ears.

“Oh my! That is quite hilarious.” He gives you a tender look, bringing his hand up to pat your head. “I am impressed, but of course, someone as clever as you would be able to pull something like this off.”

You smile up at him as you enjoy the contact. “Well I’m glad you think so. I mean, it was no biggie, I did want to take a picture but he figured it out pretty quick, you know… Not really being able to see very well as soon as he put the shades back on.” You snicker. “He immediately went after me too, didn’t even take off the eyes.”

“Hah! Really? I can only imagine how he looked.” Freddy’s tone was full of amusement. “Just be careful alright? Monty would never harm you of course, but he still has quite the temper…”

“I am well aware.” You nod your head. “I knew what I was getting into, it was worth it.”

“Well then I'm glad it provided you entertainment.”

Your eyes search his face for a moment; you really were expecting him to scold you for what you’ve done, he’s always on your case over the smallest things. It appears like pulling pranks on one of his bandmates was not worthy of one of his lectures.

You wait there for a few moments before you feel as though the coast is clear, although now you are starting to enjoy the closeness. You go to move but Freddy does before you, his leg moves upward and presses against your sex. Your eyes widen from the sudden friction, a small gasp falling from your lips.

“Are you alright?” Freddy was quick to check on you, his head tilting to the side. Does he really not realize the situation he just put you both in?

“Um.. Y-yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You whisper as your eyes wander around the small closet due to the nervousness you feel deep within you. “Just still feeling a bit cramped.”

He nods his head. “I understand, I'll try to make it better.”

You go to open your mouth to tell him not to do that yet the only thing that tumbled out was a sharp moan as his thigh slid even further up against you. Freddy immediately stills himself, staring down at you with what appears to be a surprised expression. The air was even more thick as his blue optics searched your flushed face.

“... Did I hurt you?” He finally asks and you shake your head.

“N-no… No you didn’t hurt me. Just um,” You glance down at his leg. “Your thigh is up against a sensitive spot right now.”

You watch as the gears turn in his head before finally understanding what you mean. “Oh! It was a sound of pleasure?”

You didn’t know your face could feel so hot, shooting him a glare. “You don’t have to say it out loud!”

“You’re right, superstar, I'm sorry.” He trails off, keeping his eyes fixated on your face while you begin to become more and more hot underneath your shirt. “Your heart rate is so high... There is no need to be embarrassed.” His voice drops down an octave, a tone you’ve never heard him speak in before, it was… Really nice.

“Well you know, making a noise like that in front of Freddy Fazbear is not exactly something that happens every day.” You look away from him, it didn’t help that his thigh was still pressed up against you.

“No, it sure isn’t… But in my opinion, I think it sounded enchanting.”

Your eyes snap back up at him quickly, your shoulders tensing as his words sink in.

His hands fall down to your hips, giving them a light squeeze as he leaned down closer to you. “In fact,” He pushes you down onto his thigh, eliciting a gasp from you. “I would really like to hear more… If that’s alright with you.”

You are at a loss for words, not expecting him to actually make a move on you. You feel the air in your lungs get squeezed out as you train your gaze on him, it was not easy to think with him holding you like this. He was so much larger than you, you know it was supposed to be intimidating but all you feel is a surge of wetness in between your thighs.

“O-of course it is.” You finally murmur out.

As soon as you give the permission he presses you down onto him more while raising his leg. You bite down on your bottom lip, the sensation making you whimper. He lets out a hum as he begins to guide your body back and forth, your clothed sex easily sliding against his metal leg.

“There we go… Does that feel nice?” He purrs out the question, staring down at you with half lidded eyes.

“Y-yes, it feels good.” You find yourself having a hard time keeping your eyes on him, feeling extremely flustered from his ministrations. You let your head fall back against the wall behind you, thighs quivering from each tingling pleasure sent through your body.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me, superstar.” His voice was soft yet demanding.

You are quick to follow his command, bringing your eyes onto his. His gaze was so intense, it made your muscles seize as you allowed soft noises to fall from your lips.

Each drag of your hips sent chills across your skin, not being able to stop the timidness you feel as he brings his hand up to your face. The large paw caresses your jawline before using his thumb to trace your bottom lip, you part them as he pushes the large digit into your mouth. Your lids halfen, suckling gently as he lets out a low groan from the sight alone.

Freddy continues to guide you with ease using his other hand, the grip on your hip tightening to the point it felt almost bruising. A muffled moan emits from you as he picks up the pace, the friction was enough to feel your core tighten up in knots.

You become louder around the thumb in your mouth, it was almost embarrassing that you were already on the edge despite the two of you just starting, what made it worse when Freddy stilled your hips.

He pulls the thumb out of your mouth and you give him a slight glare. “W-why did you stop!?”

“I apologize my starlet, but I have a better idea.” He withdraws his hand from your face and pulls down your pants and underwear to your mid thigh in one quick motion. He stops for a moment, staring down at your dripping cunt with a low growl that causes a deep blush to spread across your cheeks. His thumbs trace around your glistening lips with a feather light touch.

“You are so beautiful.” He murmurs out in a trance-like tone. It takes him a few moments to snap out of it, finally using his massive hands to cup the back of your thighs and as if you weigh nothing more but a feather, he pushes your legs up into the air until your knees are up towards your torso. “Is this too uncomfortable?”

You grunt from the stretch, feeling a deep sense of curiosity from this strange position. “It’s um, it’s a-alright. What are you planning to do?”

Freddy gives a gentle squeeze to your skin before speaking. “I would like to use your thighs for pleasure. I promise it will feel good for both of us. Is that alright with you?”

Your eyes widen, taking a moment to breathe before nodding your head.

“Good, very good.” You can tell he’s getting excited as he slightly parts your legs. The sound of something opening hits your ears, your brows knit together and just as you are about to ask what that was you feel something rather big slowly push past your thighs.

You feel your breath stop in your throat as the head of a long, thick member comes into your vision. Your mouth was practically watering, you had no time to question it when all you could think about was how that would feel inside of you.

Freddy lets out a deep chuckle, bringing your body up a little more so it could rest upon your aching pussy. “You don’t seem too surprised.” He presses your thighs together once again, letting out a low groan. “Must be too excited to really care, hm?”

You nod your head, feeling something stir deep within you as you keep your eyes on the large cock between your legs. You were simply at a loss for words but who on earth could blame you? You feel your sex pulsate with carnal need, your body was screaming at you for more, more, more. “F-Freddy.” You finally whisper, snapping your eyes up to him with pure desperation. “Please move.”

“Since you’ve asked so obediently, of course. But you must try your best to not make too much noise, alright? I don’t want anyone hearing your beautiful sounds besides me.” With that he drags his hips back at an agonizing slow pace. Both of you make small noises from the delicious friction it created.

You feel your wetness coat the underside of his member as he pushes back in, the rigid texture sliding across your clit was mind numbingly perfect.

You couldn’t grab too much considering you were suspended in the air in a bit of an uncomfortable position, so you hook your hands underneath your knees, pulling them up more as you continue to let out long moans from each drag of his cock against your swollen clit.

“Feels so good…” He huffs, his pace quickening as grunts emit from him. “Makes me wonder how tight you are, the thought of you squeezing around me sounds heavenly.”

Hearing Freddy Fazbear dirty talk was not something you’d expect to be a major turn on for you, but it made you barely think. Your hole felt empty, fluttering around nothing and causing you to squirm and whimper.

“You c-can go ahead. I-I… I want you inside of me.” You don’t even recognize your own voice as you whimper out in a pleading tone. “Please.” Since being polite seemed to work in your favor last time, what was the harm in trying it again?

Your words seem to have quite an effect on him with the way he snaps his hips forward, metal clashing against skin and causing you to let out a whimper that was a bit too loud.

He stills himself, another growl rumbling from him. “We can’t, it… It would not be wise when you are not properly prepared. Besides,” He rocks back and forth, setting a steady pace once again. “With the way you’re acting now, I know you wouldn’t be able to keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet.”

A warmth blooms across your cheeks like flowers in the spring, pants and grunts filling the void of the small closet. It was all so dizzying, especially once he picked up speed. The moans falling past your lips were increasing in volume and he gives you this warning look that sends a chill up your spine. You clasp your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet as he continues to push in and out of your thighs.

“That’s a good girl.” He grunts out in between his heavenly noises. “So compliant, perfect for me.”

An unbearable pressure took place in your core from both the stimulation and his praise, your thighs squeeze tighter around him in an attempt to warn him but it was too late. You let out a long, almost feral moan through your hand, your head hitting the wall behind you as the waves of an orgasm came crashing down onto you.

“Oh my.” Freddy says in this awe struck voice that made you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. “That’s it, let it all out superstar… I never knew someone could look so good like this.”

Despite just cumming the bear steadily increased his thrusts, his brows knitting as his soft grunts became faster. You have to keep your hand over your mouth, the overstimulation was almost too much, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes

“Oh, oh my… I’m getting close. That’s my good girl, you can take it.” He rambles out so hotly it makes you want to hear him on the brink of cumming all the time.

Freddy’s hips stutter before giving one finally thrust in between your thighs. He lets out this long growl as his body leans forward, pushing your legs towards you even more.

Despite Freddy clearly reaching his climax, there was not a single drop of semen. You’re a little disappointed but not surprised.

The two of you stay in place for a moment, you catch your breath as Freddy appears to be registering what he has just done.

Finally he lets you down on your feet, smoothing your hair down and straightening your shirt as he mimics the sound of clearing his throat. “I am so sorry.” He says as he pulls up your pants. “That- that was highly inappropriate of me. I took advantage of you.”

You are quick to shake your head, a little taken aback from his sudden anxiety. “No, no!” You place your hands on his. “Not at all. I was 100 percent on board with this.”

“... You really mean that?”

“Yes! That was the hottest thing that has ever happened to me, are you kidding?” You let out a laugh, rubbing your thumb into his metal.

Freddy laughs along, giving you a warm look as he brings his hand up to your cheek. “I trust you. You did so good for me, starlet.”

You turn your face towards his hand in an attempt to hide your growing blush. “T-thank you.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss against his palm.

You are quiet for a moment, feeling a bit anxious. “Um…” You finally say, peering up at him. “Would it be okay if we did this again?”

“Oh, did you think we would do this and leave it at that?” He lets out a deep chuckle. “We are far from over superstar.”

“I-I see.” Just when you thought your face could not get any hotter he leans in, brushing his cold muzzle against your lips before pressing against them tenderly. You return the gesture while letting out a shaky breath through your nose.

Once he pulls away you feel like you could finally breathe, looking up at him with a smile brimming with affection.

“See you soon?” You ask, feeling elated from this new bond the two of you now share.

“Very soon. Good luck keeping my paws off you, starlet.”

#glamrock freddy #glamrock freddy x reader #nsft #cc x reader #fnaf #fnaf smut #degen hours #one shot #robosexual

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yanderes-galore · 3 months

Note

Could you do yandere Montgomery Gator with prompts: 11, 28, and 54

Oh these prompts work so well with him....

Here's a short using these prompts! I only had one scene in mind so it's a short drabble thing (is drabble right???)

Yandere! Montgomery Gator Prompts 11, 28, 54

"I'd crush their heart in front of you if it meant you'd only love me!"

"Do you know how hard it is to wear a facade? Just to get people to like you?"

"Selfish! That's what you are!"

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Jealousy, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Threats, Minor swearing, Forced companionship.

"Do you know how hard it is to wear a facade? Just to get people to like you?"

The gator bot growls at you, backing you into a corner. Like a predator to prey his eyes never leave you. Glowing red eyes glare into you with rage as he cages you in.

Monty's so damn tired of playing nice. He's tried so hard to make you like him. Instead, you ogle at other bots instead of him!

You praise Freddy, you spend time with Roxy and Chica. Even the Daycare Attendant has more interactions with you. But Monty? You ignore Monty because he's too violent... too arrogant.

You see him as a monster. Even after he acts all nice for you, you still see him as a threat. So why should be bother playing nice?

Why doesn't he just take what he wants?

"Selfish! That's what you are!" Monty roars at you, watching as you wish to sink into the wall behind you. "You're cruel, you want me to suffer as you talk with other bots! What about me, huh!?"

You look like you want to order him to calm down but are too petrified. Monty grins for a moment before scowling. He wished it didn't have to come to this...

But you've ignored him for too long now.

"I'd crush their heart in front of you if it meant you'd only love me!" Monty chuckles. "I could scrap every bot in this place to keep you where you belong."

"Just let me go-" You plead, only for Monty to break out in a roaring laughter.

"Oh? You want to play victim now, do you!? What a laugh!" Monty taunts you, claws dangerously close to your skin.

"Okay, Fine..." Monty rumbles in a deep growl. You have hope in your eyes... but notice he doesn't let go. He grins, showing his teeth.

You feel his metallic claws drift across your skin... fear returns to your face.

"But only after I've had my fun, okay, darling?"

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf security breach #yandere montgomery gator #yandere monty gator

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imagine-darksiders · 5 months

Text

On the Ropes, ch. 24 - Facing Freedom

Fnaf Security Breach.

Montgomery Gator X Reader.

Latibule - 'A small hiding place. A place of safety and comfort. A different home from the one you come from.'

-------

It’s dark in the lonely stairwell at the top of Fazbear’s Megaplex.

Dark. And cramped. Small. Certainly, too small to comfortably admit an animatronic gator with shoulder struts almost an equal width to the meagre space it provides, who nonetheless has managed to wedge himself into the area meant solely for humans, his crimson optics kicking out just enough light to illuminate the sign that’s nailed to the door in front of him.

Wires prickling with anticipation, Montgomery half shutters his optics, glaring hard at the sign as though he can intimidate it in much the same way it intimidates him.

‘NO EXIT,’ it mocks in bold, red letters, ‘ROOF ACCESS ONLY.’

It isn’t so much the sign itself that unsettles him, more-so what lays beyond it.

And what lays beyond it is nothing more mundane than a roof.

The Plex’s Roof, which leads to the Outside.

Montgomery knows tragic little of the world outside the bounds of this building. The Plex itself is his world, always has been, and until this very night, he’s never once had any inclination to explore beyond its encompassing walls.

Why would he want to? Everything he needs is within - His charging station, his bass guitar, his golf course…

It was only a few hours ago, after you clambered into that taxi and sped from his sight, that something occurred to the gator, something that was immediately embarrassing to admit, yet equally impossible to ignore.

As it turns out, there is one thing on the Outside that he can’t get in here.

There are rules at Fazbear’s Megaplex. Those that pertain to the guests, and those that the animatronics are beholden to. Guests may not enter the premises after the front gates are locked, and the animatronics may not leave the premises at all.

It’s a good thing then, Monty supposes, that the rules were intended to be followed by those animatronics for whom rules are paramount. Bots like Freddy and the Daycare Attendant, for instance, whose watertight programming leaves very little room to stray from the parameters of their protocols.

It’s how they were designed, after all. Most especially the bear. Freddy was always meant to be an unwavering and infallible role-model for children to aspire to – someone who says please and thank you, who never raises his voice, or snaps his teeth… Someone who follows the rules… Freddy’s a good example.

Sometimes Monty wonders if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than the bad example. The band’s own black sheep dressed up to look like a gator.

Have to have Bad so you know what Good looks like, right?

‘Don’t be like Montgomery, kids. He’s a rule-breaker.’

The animatronic’s optics droop for a moment, falling away from the sign in front of him, plastic brows slotting together to send a bleak frown at the doorhandle instead.

Well… Whether his design was intentional or not, he’s glad the mechanics got lazy with his programming, mostly because it means he has the processing power to override the meagre safeguards that were put into place to keep him inside the Megaplex.

Theoretically, he could have left whenever he wanted to. He just… didn’t want to.

Until tonight.

Green-tipped fingers slide through the darkness and alight upon the silver, lever handle, hesitating there for a few seconds whilst the gator boots his processor into gear, and not for the first time, ponders over what he’s about to do.

The prospect has been buzzing through his joints every hour since you left, rendering him restless on his axis.

“…This is stupid,” he grumbles to the empty stairwell, though his claws never leave the door handle.

It is stupid. And in fact, he’s had to run no less than four diagnostic checks on himself in the last six hours, all in an effort to find the glitch in his coding that’s nigh insistent upon him leaving the Plex for the single and solitary purpose of checking up on you.

… Stupid Freddy, and his stupid point… ‘I don’t like to think of her dealing with this by herself…’

Yeah? Well, neither does Monty.

Three days ago, he’d have laughed brazenly in the face of anyone who told him he’d be taking a vested interest in the well-being of a cleaning lady. Well, more fool him, because in just a few days, that little cleaning lady had hooked him like an expert angler, but it was Montgomery Gator who landed himself his first and only friend.

Closing his optics, Monty focuses on the steel hidden beneath his frame, a reminder that he’s built quite literally of the strongest stuff.

Montgomery Gator isn’t scared of going Outside. Outside should be scared of Montgomery Gator!

“Rah!” he exclaims suddenly, shoving down the handle and throwing the door open. It swings outwards, clanging loudly against the brick wall outside with such force that it starts to shudder closed, only to be thrown open once more as Monty shoulders through it, stomping purposefully out onto the roof of the Plex.

All at once, he receives a general alert about the abrupt drop on external temperature, though he dismisses it with a flick of his snout.

Trailing to a halt several steps from the door, Monty puffs excess air from his nostrils, watching a cloud of billowing steam rise up towards the night sky.

Behind him, the door swings shut with a metallic ‘clunk.’

“Huh,” he ponders aloud.

That was… easier than he thought it was going to be. Nothing’s shutting down, none of his systems are telling him to get back inside…

“I… did it?”

… Tilting his head skywards, Monty’s optics slide open to their maximum extent, wide with wonder.

Far above him, an uninterrupted blanket of sleek blackness sweeps across the entirety of his optical range. He almost shrinks underneath the weight and vastness of it.

There are no corners to it. Nothing standing between it and him to break up the view.

It’s the sky.

He knows about the sky, of course, but to actually see it for the first time… He never realised how… unending it was.

And, oh, the stars. Monty spins in a slow, lazy circle, keeping his head craned back as a smile begins to pull at the silicone of his lips. Billions of tiny, little lights, like the glittering linoleum in the Plex, but out here he’s looking up instead of down.

His gaze moves North just a little, and there, he witnesses for the first time the crescent moon hanging over him, a tiny thumbnail of white against an otherwise pitch-black sky, yet somehow commanding the horizon.

Faz Co. All this time, they’ve been keeping the animatronics inside, and… Freddy, Chica, Roxy – all of them – they don’t know what they’ve been missing!

Monty didn’t know, at least, not until now.

But he did it. … He’s Outside.

Montgomery Gator is standing outside the Megaplex!

A wide, triumphant grin peels across the gator’s snout. Spinning around on a heel, he puffs his chest out at the doorway he’d just come through, nodding at it as if it were an adversary he’s just put in its place.

“Ha!” he barks, then again, “Ha!” Because this feels like a poignant moment. Like he’s just beaten… something, even if he isn’t sure what that is right now.

Rolling his shoulders, he points his head towards the edge of the roof, where a distant, orange glow is peeking over the lip of the outer wall. He braces himself, despite knowing what he’s about to see – the car park – the city beyond, but he’s never seen it from this vantage point.

Approaching the wall, he places his palms on the brickwork and peers out into the world beyond.

The car park stretches out in every direction he looks, like another void or a sea swathed in a thin layer of glittering frost. Or the sky, perhaps.

Raising his optics, Monty follows the rows of streetlights that retreat into the distance until their pretty glow is lost among the glare of the city’s skyline.

“There it is,” he mutters to himself, tipping his head to one side and eyeing the distant buildings and high-rises, “… Looks bigger from up here.”

But no further than a mile, by his sensors’ estimate.

With his lithium battery sitting at a comfortable ninety eight percent charge, he’d wager he has six hours, tops.

Belatedly, he sets an internal timer for five.

He can’t afford to get stranded halfway back to the plex, after all.

The city lights seem to wink at him, beckoning and daring, as if to inquire, ‘Well? Are you coming, or are you all talk?’

It’s a risk… Hell, this whole endeavour is a risk. If he’s found out, it’ll be curtains, and he can kiss his position in the band goodbye. Best case scenario, they’ll strip him for parts and shove his endo back into the basement with all the others.

Worst case?

… Well. He doesn’t like to think of the worst-case scenario.

Not for the first time, Monty has to wonder if he’s really about to risk his very existence for a cleaning lady.

But then, he only has to remember the little glass figurine sitting on his desk in the green room to banish all doubt from his processor.

Okay… Just this once, maybe you’re worth the risk.

Besides, no one need know he’s even gone.

He’s already pulled your home address from the employee databanks, and all he needs to do now is get there undetected, have a look through a window or something to make sure you’ve made it back safely, then return to the Megaplex without being spotted.

A simple enough plan, with only three, easy steps.

Monty scoffs softly to himself, planting a hand on each of his jutting hips, his tail swaying to and fro in apprehensive, sweeping motions.

How hard could it be?

Running a diagnostic check on his pneumatic cylinders, Monty sets his sights firmly on the city lights flickering ahead.

In the corner of his HUD, a red light blinks lazily to life, overlayed by a very important set of coordinates.

For as awestriking as the sky and the stars are, for Monty, there’s someone out there in the World that’s more important.

In a single bound, he leaps clear over the roof’s safety parapet and plummets like a meteor to the tarmac below.

The impact is quite literally ground-breaking. The force of a several-tonne animatronic hitting a solid surface rocks the carpark, causing the very earth itself to shudder in apparent surprise.

Luckily for the gator, given his affinity for jumping down from his catwalks in Gator Golf on a regular basis, the mechanics – sick of repairing his stabilisers every other day – had conceded to simply buy the most robust shock-absorbers on the market and promptly installed them into Monty’s legs, all without his input, of course.

He couldn’t be more pleased now, however. The heavy-duty springs catch much of his weight when he lands, screeching at the strain, yet stabilising the gator as they decompress, leaving his robotic joints no worse for wear.

Straightening up, Monty stretches out the wires in his neck with a satisfied grunt.

He doesn’t even spare the Plex a backwards glance.

-----

Monty supposes he ought to be grateful that the icy November chill has driven all but the hardiest humans indoors, and those that have bravely ventured out trudge up and down the city streets keep their heads tipped down, tucked into the raised collars of winter coats.

They’re certainly not looking up.

So, none of them see the enormous, dark shape bounding across the gaps between each building.

There is much that Monty would have liked to marvel at as he leaps across the city like it's a scaled-up version of his golf course. The humans walking down below. The rusted 'oldness' to some of the buildings that gather dust and frost like cloaks.

The wind might have felt nice against him, he supposes, if he were a human, and if he had skin, not plastic, silicone and metal.

But the little numbers ticking down in the corner of his HUD remind him of why he set out on this journey in the first place. Time is hissing away like sand through an hourglass, and he'd much prefer to fill it with fulfilling his prior motive than to satisfy a casual curiosity.

Air whistles past Montgomery’s audials as he soars in a graceful arc down onto the roof of a rundown old factory. If his geological tracker is steering him right, he should be almost on top of your address.

He keeps low as he steals across the roof, almost pulling himself along on all fours just to keep out of sight until he crawls to a halt at the frost-stroked parapet.

Hesitant, he pokes his snout above the edge of the wall, peering past it to survey the building sitting adjacent.

According to his internal tracker, this is definitely the right place; a dreary tower of flats, piled on top of one another and stretching out from side to side, sporting windows that are far smaller than the ones the Glamrocks have separating their green rooms from Rockstar Row.

‘Huh. Must be for privacy,’ Monty assumes.

He notes that most of the windows are dark. Only a few spill forth soft, yellow light, just enough to chase away the darkness that tries to encroach into the homes within.

He wonders which window you’re waiting behind. If you’re waiting there at all.

The resounding ‘wham!’ of the animatronic hitting the alley floor rattles several metal dustbins nearby and sends a small, furry animal scampering out of an overturned box, hissing and spitting back at the gator as it flies out into the street beyond, disappearing just as swiftly as it had emerged.

Gritting his jaw in a grimace, Monty freezes for several, long moments, his pistons locking tight, audials strained to pick up the sound of any humans who might be inclined to investigate the jarring disturbance.

Lo and behold, not five seconds after the ground ceases to shudder, from somewhere overhead, he catches the distinct sound of wood scraping over itself – a window sliding open.

As swiftly and silently as an enormous animatronic can, Monty slinks backwards into the deeper shadow of the building, concealing himself beneath a rusty, iron fire escape that climbs the wall. Pressing his frame against the bricks, he tilts his head up to stare apprehensively through little, metal slats at the underside of a chin that pokes itself out of the window several storeys above him.

He curses at himself for growing careless. Surely, he hasn’t come this far just to get himself caught now…

As Monty’s apertures narrow to focus in on the human overhead, he very nearly releases an incredulous laugh when the figure tilts its gaze down, and a weary face reveals a little more of itself to the gator.

Of course… What providence, that the face he sees belongs to the very human he’d come looking for. Serendipity. He understands the definition, but has never yet felt its influence, until now.

An unknowable fondness softens Monty’s optics, shuttering them slightly as he watches you briefly scan the alley from left to right, but never quite hazarding a glance to the darkness directly below the fire escape.

You thusly miss the animatronic peering up at you from the shadows.

“Cats?” he hears you wonder aloud, rubbing at your thinly-clothed arms and shivering at the cold, November air nipping at your skin. Before Monty can snort aloud at the idea of mistaking a gator for a feline, you duck back inside and pull your window down once more, sealing it shut with a decisive ‘thunk!’

At once, the animatronic’s posture goes slack.

That had been close.

His intention was never for you to see him, he only came to find out if you made it back safely. And, hey! Mission accomplished! You’re back in your home. Good. You appear to be moving around by yourself okay. Even better.

Everything is all right. He can go back to the Plex now with a weight lifted from his shoulder struts.

He waits a moment in the dark.

Then he waits a few seconds longer.

Those few seconds turn into a minute, then two…

“Hmm.”

Shooting a scowl at his legs, Monty briefly considers running a troubleshoot to determine why they aren’t cooperating. He would… If he weren’t already well aware of the reason.

Perhaps… A quick peek through your window, just to be sure… Just to prove to himself that… that…

His processor fumbles for a flimsy excuse.

That there aren’t any major hazards in your home that he needs to take note of.

Yeah. Yeah, that’ll do.

‘Ugh, I’m startin’ to sound like Fazbear,” he grouses, laying a huge paw over his snout and shaking his head, discomfited. But that does get him to think… Freddy has a lot of friends. What would Freddy do in this situation?

Well, setting aside the fact that Freddy would never leave the Plex in the first place… Freddy would try and make sure his friends were okay, right?

Monty twists his neck to face the ladder of the rickety fire escape.

His processor ticks over, pushing an idea into his motherboard.

Just a peek.

The metal walkway could carry him right past your window, he could just take a look inside on his way to the roof.

Where’s the harm in that?

You came to check on him after the endo attack, is it so wrong if he wants to do the same for you?

‘No! It ain’t!’ he tells himself firmly. The idea is gaining traction, and Montgomery’s yellow chest sticks out as though he means to challenge his own hesitation.

He’s Montgomery Gator! He does what he wants - and if what he wants is to make sure that his… his only friend isn’t about to go climbing up unstable ladders or picking fights with strange endos, then… then so be it.

With a determined nod, Monty doesn’t hesitate any further.

A few strides carry him to the bottom of the fire escape where he plants one, cumbersome foot on the first step.

The thin slab of metal immediately screeches in protest under the unprecedented strain heaped upon it, but although the steps bow and dip as he begins to haul himself up towards the first platform, the whole contraption fights valiantly to hold itself together.

Step by step, the gator climbs, reaching the first section, then the second, then the third.

Your window should be on the fifth floor by his count.

Deep in his chassis, he feels a tiny spark of excitement flicker to life, likely the result of a loose wire, but the sudden prospect of seeing a human’s home for the first time – and not just any human’s home, but your home - is an altogether exciting development.

What might he see in your green room?

A vanity, perhaps? Like the ones the Glamrocks have? Maybe even a large sofa, set to one side of the room, plush and comfortable, just as you deserve. Do you have any photographs, like the ones you have in your cleaning cupboard at the Plex?

Eagerness propels the gator further up the fire escape, until at long last, he rises to a cautious halt on the platform outside the fifth-floor window…

Careful not to let his swaying tail whack against any of the bars and alert you to his presence, Monty slinks forwards, ducking his head low to peer through the frosted glass.

A pair of thin, cream-coloured curtains have been pulled across the width of the window, though there’s still a gap between them, wide enough that he can see a generous portion of your home beyond.

The room inside isn’t… entirely what he’d been expecting.

It’s longer than his green room, with a modest sitting area near the window, and a kitchen sitting at the far end that would sadden Chica if she ever found out how cramped it is. The fridge alone looks as though the door wouldn’t open without clanging against the counters opposite.

Frowning, Monty drags his optics back towards the sparse living room. There is a sofa, as he suspected, but yours makes the one in his green room look like a luxury.

Brown, faux leather has been stretched taut over a blocky frame, hard and unforgiving and about as inviting as a slab of concrete.

A television sits opposite, square and small, its screen utterly dark. And between the two, he studies a table that’s been stained all over with brown rings from many a mug that missed the intended coaster.

There’s still one thing in particular that Monty has been trying to find, however. For all his searching and scrutinising, he hasn’t spotted hide nor hair of you.

The gator’s brows click together audibly as he scans each corner of the living space, then on to the kitchen. But the only thing of note is the little saucepan sitting on top of a black cooker, a trail of steam wafting up towards the ceiling. Grunting, he drags his optics to the right, where they finally land upon a nondescript door set into the East wall.

‘Could you be behind there?’ he muses.

As if in answer to the silent question, the door abruptly swings open, and Monty’s shoulder struts sag with relief to see the familiar form of his – of you! Of you - hobbling into the room.

In a moment where he’s taken in by blind excitement, he raises a massive paw, curls it into a fist and makes to rap it against the glass, pulling up short just before his knuckle joints make contact.

Monty blinks, shaking his head and giving his fist a perplexed glance before he slowly lowers it to his side.

Shifting forwards to peer through the glass once more, Monty watches keenly as you pause in the empty space between the kitchen and your living room, where you spare the steaming saucepan a quick look. Then, in another second, you twist yourself about and begin to limp in the direction of the window.

Jolting, Monty drops his head, shying back to conceal himself a little more from the light that creeps along the tip of his snout.

It comes as yet another relief when you stop heading for the window.

Easing back on his rigid struts, Monty instead watches you edge between the coffee table and sofa, manoeuvring your crutches about in the unaccommodating space until at last, you collapse back into the ratty cushions with a wince, and promptly discard the crutches in a haphazard mess on the floor to your left, throwing them down as if they’re nothing but hateful things worthy of your disdain.

The television sits neglected in its little corner, the screen still dark and blank, but you don’t reach for the remote that sits on the table in front of you.

To the gator’s mounting confusion, you proceed to sit quietly for several long, uneventful minutes, hands folded in your lap whilst you gaze down the length of your body. Monty may not have the shiniest processor on the factory line, but even he can tell that your eyes are adhered exclusively on the cast enveloping your leg.

He should… probably get out of here…

Once again, the nagging operations running through his head lay their hackles down. You’re safe… So, he can go.

Right now.

Somehow though, despite logic, the gator’s focus remains locked unwaveringly in your direction.

There’s a software in each animatronic – one of the first ever implemented into newer models like the Glamrocks. A facial-recognition scanner, wired from their optics to their CPU. At first, it was merely intended for use as a feature that identifies individual faces. That’s how they could tell the thousands upon thousands of guests apart from one another, not to mention the staff.

After all, what child wouldn’t feel special when their favourite animatronic remembered their names, remembered them?

Over time, management decided they were onto something with that particular technology. And thus, the software was revisited, then tailored for an additional purpose.

Soon enough, the animatronics were upgraded with the ability to not only recognise faces, but to read emotions as well, to an extraordinary degree. Tiny twitches in the brow, muscle contractions in the lips, as miniscule as they might be, would be picked up, and the bots would react accordingly.

Staring at you now, Monty registers the tiny, downward tilt of your lips and the pinched skin wrinkling between your brows, not to mention the way you’ve slouched into the sofa as though your strings have been cut, and some half-rate puppeteer has left you there like a discarded plaything.

In short, you look nothing short of miserable, sitting there, glaring dolefully at your leg in a cast, prompting several alerts to ping across Monty’s motherboard, urging the animatronic to approach and make you happy again.

And as if to affirm what his sensors are alerting him to, he watches on in dismay as you blink and a single, glistening tear is squeezed out through your lashes, marking a lazy path down your cheek, and dripping off the tip of your chin.

Something that, were he human, Monty might label as ‘guilt,’ starts to squirm through his circuits. There’s something so terribly inconsiderate about him witnessing your tears in the privacy of your own home, a place where you should feel safe and unobserved. Goodness knows he gets sick of all the gawking from time to time, of all those hands pressed up against his showroom window, eyes on stalks.

But what’s he doing now? To you?

Now that you think you’re free from prying eyes, your composure has slipped off like an ill-fitting mask.

He shouldn’t be here… He shouldn’t be seeing this, certainly not without your knowledge.

Tail drooping, Monty lifts one, hefty foot and places it carefully behind himself, fully intent on leaving now lest he do something stupid… again.

He’s just seconds from twisting his head away from the window when, without warning, you suddenly snap upright in your seat.

Startled, Monty freezes, wondering if he’s been spotted, but a glimpse of you tossing your head towards the kitchen directs his wide optics to the real catalyst.

The saucepan that had been happily steaming away on the hob has promptly turned into a broiling, spitting mess of white bubbles. Scalding water spills over the lip of the pan, hitting the glassy surface with an angry hiss, then creeping towards the edge of the counter where it begins to drip in rivulets down the side.

In a flurry of flailing limbs, you struggle to haul yourself up off the sofa, and Monty picks up the slew of profanity pouring out of you, even through the glass, vulgar enough that he can almost picture Freddy clutching at imaginary pearls.

You succeed in getting to your feet at last, but in your rush, you try to step over your discarded crutch, perhaps assuming you might make it across the kitchen without it.

Sadly, however, Monty is helpless except to watch on in mounting horror as the toes exposed by the open end of your cast whack into the metal pole, and you unleash a shrill squawk of pain, toppling forwards to land with a sickening ‘thud’ on the carpet, barely throwing your hands out in time to keep your nose from hitting the floor first.

Monty is moving before he even registers the fire exploding to life in his processor.

Strong, black-tipped claws bury themselves into the bottom of the window frame, splintering wood as they find purchase. You must have locked if after investigating the ‘mysterious’ noise outside, but for the animatronic, the little, silver latch doesn’t stand a hope in Hell’s chance against his sophisticated motors.

Wood scrapes violently over wood as Monty hauls the window up in one, great thrust, slamming it home and squeezing himself through the gap he creates, and subsequently gouging several notches out of the frame with his shoulder struts.

Within mere seconds, he’s flown across the room and upended the coffee table with a sweep of his burly arm. In the very same motion, he stoops down over your back, his scanners going haywire.

Palms flat to the floor, you’ve barely had time to push yourself off your chest before Monty’s large palms find purchase on your ribs.

You immediately turn rigid beneath his touch, though the gator pays that little mind as he begins to pry you gently off your carpet with a care he’s known only to reserve for children – and more recently, a certain cleaning lady.

“Easy, easy” he rumbles, ex-venting a puff of steam from his nostrils as his system acclimatises to the warmer air inside your home, “I gotcha.”

Montgomery Gator has never been the type of bot who’s inclined to look before he leaps.

He wants to be. So badly. Primarily because - of all the animatronics at the Plex - Monty is the one for whom action and consequence are as known to him as his own tail.

His processor just… doesn’t think sometimes.

It might be quite alarming, for instance, to be a human, alone in your house, with no prior knowledge of an animatronic’s proximity, to then suddenly be made aware of its presence when it promptly leaps through your window and starts picking you off your feet, gears whirring and metal clanging loudly with each thudding footstep.

But that little snippet of information didn’t occur to Monty.

Why would it when his friend might be hurt?

So, he really isn’t expecting the shriek that explodes out of you, nor for you to suddenly come alive under his hands, wriggling and struggling, slamming your fists down on his forearms. “NO!” you holler, your voice hoarse with desperation.

Taken aback, Monty almost loses his grip on your sides, but at the last moment, he twists you around to face him and drops you – albeit gently – on the sofa, wincing as your flailing, uninjured leg catches him in the knee-joint. Not because you’ve kicked anything out of alignment, but because when it comes to a battle between metal and flesh, metal is always the last to yield.

Though you let out another undignified yelp, the moment you’re free, you lurch backwards into the cushions, arms pushing you deeper amongst them whilst your eyes frantically scan the looming bot in front of you.

Holding out his palms in a pacifying gesture, Monty blurts, “Hey! Lady, relax. It’s just me!”

Recognition instantly blooms across your face, softening the terrified pinch of your brows for just a few, precious seconds. In that time, Monty has the unexpected, yet not unwelcomed privilege of someone looking at him like they’re relieved it’s him, and not some other bot.

Then, of course, the relief spreading over your features is sucked back in and twisted up until the corners of your mouth turn down and your eyes once again bulge in their sockets, horrified by what they’re seeing.

“M-Monty!?” you stammer, tripping over his name as you gape up at him, slack-jawed.

Ah… Shifting awkwardly on his feet, the gator quirks a floppy smile down at you, casting a surreptitious optic to his HUD, and the results that confirm you’re entirely unhurt by your impromptu fall.

So far, things are not going according to his fool proof, three-step plan…

#fnaf #security breach #on the ropes #monty gator #reader #fluff #freedom #angst #protective but he doesn't know it yet #animatronics

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