#it's the only horror film i have the stomach to watch for | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

willaferrreyra · 8 months

Text

first date movies — neil lewis x reader

word count: 2.9k (oops this was….way longer than i thought)

contains: SMUT (18+ ONLY) —> fingering, oral (m receiving), public indecency (getting it on in a movie theater because…it’s neil), fluff, happy ending!

you have a crush on your coworker and you really wish you didn’t.

note: this has not been proofread so place excuse any typos! i hope you enjoy especially since this is my first smut fic on this account which is insane. also all of the movies referenced are some of my favorites so…..i’d absolutely recommend them if you haven’t seen them already! neil is my silly little movie buff husband and i’d absolutely LOVE to write for him again so please leave some feedback if you’d like more!

cillian taglist: @mortylover

As you stood on a step stool, shelving new video arrivals, you could hear Ingrid Bergman's lovely Swedish accent behind you.

Notorious. You'd seen it a million times but you'd never gotten sick of it. It was your favorite Hitchcock and often the movie you'd throw on if you were in need of comfort. Although it was your turn to pick what everyone watched at the video store today, you weren't sitting with everyone else on the big worn out sofa. You preferred to shelve and enjoy the sound of the movies in the background (maybe walking over when your favorite scene was on). After all, someone needed to help the customers even if you didn't have many.

You had an annoying habit of reciting movie lines that you loved, as did Neil, the owner of the store and one of your closest friends.

"This is a very strange love affair," you said with Ingrid as you placed Valley of the Dolls in its right place.

"Why?" Neil said right along with Cary Grant, glancing over at you.

"Maybe the fact that you don't love me," you shot him a dramatic look, trying to do your best Ingrid Bergman impression.

"Your Bergman should be better for someone who's seen this movie more times than she can count," he said.

You rolled your eyes.

"She's got a unique accent! Plus it's very transatlantic. That's hard."

"She can do the Fargo accent," your other coworker Jonathan pointed out, not bothering to look up from the TV.

"Oh, you betcha," you grinned, nailing the unmistakable Minnesotan "o" sound.

"That's not hard!" Neil protested.

"It's not easy!"

The doors jingled as your best friend walked through the door, cutting the discussion about accents short. Before you could even say anything she already had a request.

"First date movie. Help."

You thought for a minute.

"Well what's the person like?"

"I don't know! I haven't met him yet. This is a blind setup by a coworker thing."

"Do you....think you'll be paying attention to the movie?"

She made a face.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Not necessarily! You could be....talking."

After many failed dates with guys who were into film, you understood the complexities of picking the first date movie. It said a lot about a person — what they're into, how they feel, who they aspire to be. But at the end of the day, it needs to be something that can transition to being background noise for a good make out session while still being enjoyable. Very few movies check all of those boxes.

"Just don't give me anything too complicated, okay?" she sighed. "No Lynch. No Cronenberg."

You fake frowned. "I was just gonna rent Crash and Lost Highway to you as a double feature."

She shuddered as she remembered the horror that was watching both of those films. You could stomach things like that but she absolutely couldn't.

"Okay, sit tight. I have a thought," you said as you ran over to the romances.

Your friend wandered over to the TV while you hunted for her perfect first date movie.

"Hey guys," she said monotonously.

"Hey," they replied equally unenthused.

She stood and watched the movie for a minute before you came back holding Moonstruck.

"Cher. Nic Cage. Romantic. Easy to follow. It checks every box!"

"That's your idea of a first date movie?" Neil scoffed.

"What's yours? The Seventh Seal?" you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, that's why Denise broke up with him," Jonathan replied.

"What? You didn't tell me that!"

"Well it kind of just happened," he said. "And to be honest I'm not so broken up about it."

After knowing Neil a while, you knew that he wasn't one for consistent steady girlfriends. Denise lasted longer than most, but in the end he always seemed to get bored. Sure, he got around to an extent, but it was hard for you to picture Neil Lewis truly settling down. Unless, of course, you pictured him with you — but you tried not to do that. The thought popped into your brain every once in a while but you pushed it out as soon as it arrived. You knew you'd only end up getting hurt.

"Okay, well that's good because I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movies tonight. I mean, I'm all for a good ol' post breakup pity party but I'd much rather go see The Thing on the big screen tonight."

You and Neil did your part to keep your local independent theater in business more than anyone else in town. It was a regular thing for the two of you to go see at least two movies a week, sometimes more. Sometimes Jonathan and Lucien would tag along and sometimes it was just the two of you — every time you secretly hoped that it would be just the two of you.

"Now that's a good first date movie," Jonathan said.

"The Thing for a first date?" you scrunched your nose into a face of disapproval. "You guys have no taste."

"Well good thing we're not going on a first date then," Neil said. "But yeah, I'll go with you, I'm not doing anything else. Wanna grab dinner and go straight there?"

Those words shouldn't have been such a dagger to you but they were. No shit, this wasn't a first date. He didn't need to remind you.

"Yeah, that's fine," you said, trying to mask the disappointment in your voice. "I just have a few more things to finish up here and then we can head out."

You helped your friend rent her movie and finished up your shelving duties with a little less pep in your step than usual as Neil's words played over and over again in your mind like a broken record.

Good thing we're not going on a first date then. Fuck him. It's not like he was trying to hurt you, after all he didn't know that you maybe kinda sorta liked him. But those words.....you just couldn't take your mind off of them as you mentally prepared yourself for your very clearly stated non-date.

—

A little diner by the local theater had been your spot with Neil for as long as you'd been coworkers. It had become a tradition of yours to sneak in mini bottles of booze to pour into the milkshakes, either on celebratory or wallowing in your sorrows occasions. Neil's breakup felt like a good excuse to give your shared vanilla shake deserved an extra kick, even if you were the one who really needed it.

"Is anyone looking?"

He shook his head as you poured the vodka into the glass, stirring the concoction with the straw. You didn't wait for Neil before placing your lips to the straw and downing a quarter of it all at once.

"Hey, take it easy. I thought I was the one who needed the alcohol tonight," he chuckled.

"You said it yourself, you're not upset about Denise," you said, the irritation in your voice shining through.

"Are you upset about something, then? I'm sorry I didn't really help you shelve today, I just- you know, you like to do that stuff by yourself sometimes. And you picked such a good movie I couldn't tear myself away from the screen."

It would've been easier if you had really been upset about that. You wished that you were upset about that And now half the shake was gone, everything you wanted to say was rushing to your head, and you didn't even think about what you were doing when you blurted out:

"Why can't this be a first date?"

His eyes widened as he let out a small chuckle, assuming you were kidding.

"What?"

"You heard me. Why can't this be a first date?"

As he stared back at you, you felt like you had just fucked everything up. This amazing friendship was just ruined now because you drank your boozy milkshake too fast.

"Do....do you want it to be?" he asked.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed before burying your head in your hands. "Forget I said anything. I-I drank that too fast."

"No, I....we can call this a date if you want. In fact I'd really like that."

He wasn't trying to humor you and he wasn't trying to make the situation better by saying something that he didn't mean — he was dead serious.

"Neil, don't say that if you don't mean it," you sighed. "I'm just....upset today. Don't listen to me."

He studied your face for a minute before speaking again.

"Do you remember when I interviewed you for your job?"

"Now what does that have to do with anything?"

You did, in fact, remember your Gumshoe interview very well. You had asked him if he'd ever considered doing a film noir themed commercial for the store and you'd never seen someone so excited about an idea before — you always assumed that was why you had gotten the job.

"I knew you before that, you know," he said. "I remembered you from when you used to be a customer. There was actually this one time when you had an overdue fee and I paid it for you and told the guys that I had lost the tape."

This made you smile a bit.

"Point being?"

He took a deep breath before he continued on.

"Normally when we do the interview process, we ask the same shit, you know? What's your favorite movie? Who's your favorite director? And I asked you that stuff even though I thought I already knew the answers, I remembered what you used to rent. I thought I knew you so well and then you just went totally fucking wildcard on me — and I loved it. Ever since then you've kept on surprising me and I....well, I really like that. I guess what I'm trying to say is I really like you. And I think I always have."

You stared at him wide-eyed. You had not expected your little drunken tantrum to get you a confession of feelings.

"Neil....do you know why I rented from Gumshoe all the time? I mean, I'm all for supporting the little guys, but I really went in to see you. And then I got this job and I got to know you and you weren't just the cute guy at the video store anymore, you were like....my cute friend/boss technically but I won't get into that. But I got to know you and I watched you go through all of these relationships because you get bored eventually and....I just think you might get bored with me. I'm no Katharine Ross in Butch and Sundance."

He shook his head as a smile crept across his lips.

"No, you're even more exciting than that. You're like...Barbarella or something. Queen of the galaxy."

"Barbarella's whole thing was sex appeal," you point out. "That's the whole movie."

"Sex appeal, sure. But she's also kind and interesting and witty. You've got all of that."

You took all of that as a compliment but you found yourself blushing at his mention of sex appeal.

—

When you arrived to the movie theater after finishing your meal, it seemed that you two were the only ones dying to see a John Carpenter flick on a Tuesday evening. You had your pick of seats in the empty theater.

Your non-date turned date couldn't have been going better, honestly, it made you think that you should turn to drinking more often. It fixed this problem miraculously well.

As you settled into your seats and the lights dimmed, it was clear that both of you wanted to make a move but didn't know how to do it. After all, you couldn't just go straight for unzipping his fly. Or could you? Tonight was all about confidence and he clearly liked it when you kept him on his toes. You decided to start slow, resting a hand on his thigh, letting your hand wander from there.

He looked over at you as you made contact with the bulge in his jeans. It was hard to read his expression in the dark, but you could feel that he didn't want you to stop.

"Are we really gonna do this here?" he whispered.

"We've both seen this a thousand times, I think it'll be okay if we get a little distracted," you whisper back. "U-unless you don't want—"

He cut you off with a kiss that was a long time coming. You were surprised by the sheer force of it as your tongues collided. His hand reached up to cup the side of your face as you melted into the kiss, illuminated by the glow of the silver screen. He made you feel dizzy, but in a good way.

Now, you had never been intimate in a movie theater before, but it was even more exhilarating than you could’ve imagined. As you slowly unzipped his fly, taking his length out of his jeans, you noticed that Neil wasn’t watching the movie at all. His eyes were completely focused on you.

“You’re really taking your time, aren’t you?” he whispered. He was rock hard already and you could tell that he was getting incredibly impatient. You held the base of him while you teased his tip with your tongue. Whatever composure he thought he had went out the window as he his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Based on his breathing patterns you thought he was going to come right then.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Just….just like that.”

You could feel him trembling as your tongue continued to work its swirly magic. Eventually you began to take him in your mouth completely, greeting him with the warm sensation of the back of your throat. He groaned out your name in a raspy whisper as you bobbed your head on his length. Before you knew it, you could feel a hand on your head guiding it along — his touch felt so intimate and loving, you couldn’t get enough.

“I-I’m close….I’m— fuck….I’m gonna—“

Before he could finish what he was going to say, you could feel his come coat the back of your throat. It was a warm, welcome feeling and you couldn’t wait to feel it again.

“Jesus christ,” he sat there catching his breath before turning to you. “That was….wow. You’re just…..I-Incredible.”

You smiled at the praise. It wasn’t even day that you were complimented on your blowjob skills.

Your head made its way to his shoulder as you sat side by side watching the movie. His hand began on your though but slowly because to creep it’s way up between your legs.

“Returning the favor?” you whispered, smiling softly as you glanced in his direction.

He nodded, speaking in a sultry whisper that nearly made your legs shake. “You know, you just made me feel so good….it would be a crime not to reciprocate it, don’t you think?”

You continued to rest your head on his shoulder as he slipped two fingers inside of you. You couldn’t help but notice how easily they went in — you had been soaked for hours.

“All this for me?” he chuckled. “How long have you been like this?”

“All night,” you said in between heavy breaths. “I-I’m always like this around you, Neil.”

“No way, are you really?”

His switch up from the sultry whisper to his excited tone made you giggle.

“I have….a tendency to daydream about you when I’m around you,” you explained.

His fingers found just the right spot as he continued to question you. It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to talk.

“Daydream about what specifically?”

A small whimper escaped your mouth as his fingers curled inside of you. You couldn’t even recall what you used to daydream about until it hit you.

“This…..this exact moment. I-I’ve….fuck….Ive daydreamed about this a m-million times.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked as he started to pump his fingers faster. “And how does it end?”

“I- Neil- I’m gonna—“

“How does it end, sweet girl? Tell me.”

You could barely even answer in between heavy breaths but you managed to speak up, your words intertwined with your moans.

“Y-you make….you make me come, N-Neil! I’m….right now, I’m—“

“Show me. Come for me. Show me how the daydream ends.”

And you did, trying your best to keep quiet as you came undone. You buried your face into his shoulder as you whimpered and throbbed against his fingers.

“Good girl,” he exhaled. “That’s a good girl.”

—

The next day at work, you and Neil debated what you should tell the others. To announce the relationship or keep it a secret was a heavily debated topic, but you eventually settled on keeping it to yourselves for a while before revealing it. You thought it would be nice to have something that was just yours for a while. Plus, hiding a relationship can be incredibly sexy.

As you walked into Gumshoe, you flashed a quick smile at Neil who was in his usual spot behind the counter before taking your place at the shelf.

“Hey, Jonathan,” you called over to the couch, getting his attention. “I was totally wrong. Upon my rewatch, I think that The Thing would be a great first date movie.”

“See, I told you! I told you and you never fucking listen to me,” he said. “What made you change your mind?”

You glanced over at Neil one more time. It was clear that he was thinking about last night just as much as you were.

“I don’t know…” you shrugged. “Maybe it’s Kurt Russell.”

#cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis x reader #cillian murphy smut #I HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DARLINGS!! mwah!!!

1K notes · View notes

judeswhore · 9 months

Text

please don’t kill me, mr ghostface

summary: jude is the perfect protector after a night of horror movies

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

notes: you can find my masterlist here. this is a longer version of this ask i got but idk if i like how it turned out

"jude," you hissed quietly, jabbed the tip of your finger into your boyfriend's ribs and glowered when he didn't so much as flinch. the room was dark and almost silent, the only noise the soft patter of rain on the windows and the whistle of the wind through the trees. it was the wind that had woken you and now awake all you wanted was a glass of water, cursing yourself for not bringing a bottle of water up like usual. the only option was to wake the boy beside you and get him to go down to the kitchen with you. "jude."

usually you wouldn't ask him to go with you, would've just made the quick trip and then snuggled back into his warmth a few minutes later but tonight was different. before bed, and for most of the afternoon, the two of you had binge watched a multitude of horrors and now the safety of daylight was gone your mind was running wild. you kept having visions of a killer with a knife in your kitchen or a little girl running down the hallway. your over active imagination meant you refused to go downstairs on your own so jude would just have to come with you as protection.

he still hadn't moved and you were getting impatient, pushing gently at his shoulder while whining his name and finally he started to stir. he made a low grunted sound, reached an arm out to grab at your wrist in hopes of stopping your next jab. he didn't open his eyes, just held your hand against the warmth of his chest.

"what's wrong?" his voice was rough with sleep, deep in that way that made your head spin and when he used your hand to stifle his yawn a tiny part of you felt bad for waking him up. the bigger part of you was still thirsty but too afraid to go downstairs alone.

"i need a glass of water." you whispered and pushed yourself further up, tugged your arm from his hold. jude still hadn't opened his eyes but you watched his nose crinkle, confusion clouding his already sleepy features.

"okay? what're you telling me for?"

"can you come with me?" your voice was small, laced slightly with embarrassment and you felt a little warm when jude finally cracked an eye open. you dropped your gaze to stare at his chin.

"to get a glass of water?"

"yeah. i don't wanna go on my own."

"baby," he huffed out a breathy laugh and finally opened his eyes properly, taking in your pouted expression and frowny brows. he shifted onto his back and propped himself up on one elbow, rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye. "why can't you go by yourself?"

"it's dark." you mumbled, already tugging the duvet further off him, curling your fingers around his arm and pulling. "i'll be quick, i just don't wanna be down there on my own."

"are you being for real? it's like 3 in the morning. just run down."

"i don't wanna. please, jude."

"is this because of the films? i told you they were gonna give you nightmares but you never listen to me, do you?" despite jude's complaints and obvious i told you so, he let you lure him out of the warmth of your bed. "what, d'you think ghostface is gonna be waiting down there or something?" he was teasing, you knew that, but it still made you frown, the back of your hand whacking against his stomach.

"you're being mean." you grumbled.

"you're being mean! y'just woke me up and now you're dragging me downstairs when it's freezing. y'didn't even let me put a shirt on." he complained, rubbing at his eyes again as he pulled the bedroom door open. he held his arm out behind him and wiggled his fingers, an invitation for you to hold his hand. you did so with a soft smile, ignoring his words and locking your fingers with his as he led you down the hallway.

you gripped his arm with your free hand and pressed as close to his body as possible, smushing your cheek against the warmth of his bicep. for a few seconds you were both quiet, jude leading you down the stairs, one hand running along the banister to make sure neither of you tripped in the dark.

"this is ridiculous, y'know, there's not actually gonna be anyone down here."

"you don't know that."

"i do know that. because there's never been anyone down here." he deadpanned, throwing you a blank look over his shoulder as he ushered you in front of him at the bottom of the stairs. you refused to let go of his hand, tightened your fingers around his while he pressed up against your back and nudged you into the kitchen. bright light lit the room when he flicked the switch and he bumped his nose against your temple. "told you, no ghostface. hurry up, my feet are freezing."

jude followed you to the sink, leant up against the cabinet and rubbed a tired hand down his face while you searched for a glass. glancing at him you watched him hide a yawn, his eyes already starting to droop and you weren't surprised when he abandoned leaning on the counter in favour of wrapping his arms around you from behind. tired jude always got extra clingy, was over come with the need to hold you close, seeking comfort in your warmth.

silence engulfed the kitchen as you filled your glass, movements a little awkward with your boyfriend clinging so tight to your body but his hold was comforting in the dark. the soothing back and forth brush of his thumb against your skin making sleep rush back over you. you were leaning into each other for support, your head tipped back a little to sip the cold water, jude’s cheek resting soft against your hair.

“watch no one’s standing in the back garden.” he teased, voice light with amusement but slightly muffled by the top of your head. he met your gaze in the reflection in the window and grinned at your frown.

“you’re being awfully brave for someone who hid behind a pillow for all the films.” you pointed out, watching his reflection over the rim of your glass. you finished that drink and poured another, ignoring jude’s huff of annoyance because you were clearly taking too long. he reached around you to turn the tap off when you left it running.

“i know ghostface isn’t real, i don’t need to be brave.”

“burglars with knives are real though.”

“babe, we’ve lived here for like three years and we’ve never been burgled.” he pressed a loving kiss to your temple and tightened his arms around you, held you as close as possible while still allowing you to finish your drink. “but y’know i’ll always save you from the big bad killer, you’re too pretty to die.”

you wanted to hit him for his taunting but he was holding you too close so you settled for another glare at his reflection. he wasn’t looking at you anymore though, had dropped his chin to rest against your head and closed his eyes, his features already soft with sleep again. he looked ridiculously pretty, plump lips parted on soft breaths and if you weren’t so sleepy yourself you would’ve turned around and kissed him stupid.

downing the rest of the water you went to put the glass in the sink, palm rubbing lightly over the back of jude’s hand to get his attention. “i’m fini-“ you were cut off by a crash at the front of the house, a startled squeak slicing your words as you jumped. the glass clattered loudly into the sink and you’d jolted just enough to bump your head a little aggressively against the boys cheek.

he broke out in a fit of tired giggles, quiet ones he tried to muffle against the top of your head as he gently spun you to face him. large palms rubbed soothingly from your shoulders to your elbows and back again, his lips settling soft against your forehead. he left behind little kisses between breathless laughs.

“baby, it’s just the wind.”

“how do you know?”

“just trust me.” he was grinning at you, all soft and adoring with just the smallest hint of amusement as he raised his hands to cup your cheeks. he pulled you in for a kiss, a quick press of his mouth to yours. “you’re banned from watching horror movies before bed from now on.” it was a promise as he pulled away and squeezed your hip, started to usher you back out of the kitchen.

“are you sure it was just the wind? maybe you should check.” you peered up at him, neck craned to meet his gaze and he pulled a face while flicking the light off, washing you both in complete darkness. you wrapped your fingers around his arm and he pressed his chest to your back, kept the two of you plastered together while moving you to the stairs.

“i’m not gonna check.”

“why? incase there’s someone there?”

“no,” he deadpanned, urging you up the stairs with a hand on your back. “because i’m tired and my toes are about to fall off. i want to go back to sleep.”

“but what if-“

“stop it.” from behind he circled his hand around and covered your mouth with his palm, kissed the side of you head as you finally reached the top of the stairs. the rain was louder up here, pounding against the windows and the rational part of you knew the noises were down to the storm. “get in bed, idiot.”

jude let you go with a soft tap to your ass, followed you into the bedroom, kicked the door shut and practically threw himself back down onto the mattress. on his back he opened his arms, motioned for you to crawl back into his warmth and you did with a soft smile, tried not to think about what could potentially be on the other side of the door. it took a few moments of shuffling to get comfy again, jude spooning you from behind while he tugged the duvet high up around you and tucked you snug against his chest.

he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, lips curving into a grin. “watch your ankles when you get out of bed in the morning, dunno what’s hiding under here.” your elbow landed in his ribs as a response.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham one shot

964 notes · View notes

heartsforvin · 2 months

Note

watching a scary movie w vinnie and your laying on your stomach on his chest and every time you get scared you dig your face in his chest and he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever

HOLD ME CLOSE

this is soo cute, thank you for the request !! <33 gonna be just a lil blurb since i couldn’t think of a way to make it a whole imagine !!

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; cussing ??, use of pet names, fluff

summary; scary movies are not for you, luckily, you have vinnie to protect you

scary movies were never your thing, yet you loved to watch them. that’s only because you had vinnie to protect you, even if you knew the films weren’t real.

vinnie made popcorn as you chose the movie. you immediately smiled when you saw your boyfriend enter his room with the big bowl of the delicious snack.

he placed the bowl on his side of the bedside table before getting into his bed. taking off his sweatshirt to get comfortable, you did the same, only getting comfortable in a different way.

you scoot down the bed just enough so you’re laying on your stomach, head laying on his chest.

vinnie wraps his arm around you and kisses your head. “comfy, baby?” he asks you.

you nod your head followed by an ‘mhm’. vinnie grabs a blanket so it can cover the both of you before grabbing the popcorn and putting it where both of you can reach.

he looks down at you with a smile and asks if you’re ready for the movie to start. once you give him the go-ahead, vinnie grabs the tv remotes and starts the movie.

vinnie knows you’re not too big of a fan of horror movies, so he holds you close. his arm is around you, hand resting gently on your waist as you still lie on your stomach.

a jump scare appears about twenty minutes into the movie and vinnie feels you jerk against him as you hide your face in his chest.

he rubs your back gently as he kisses your head. “it’s okay, sweetheart.” he comforts.

you peak your head out to look at the tv screen again, fully giving it your attention when you realize the scary part is over.

“scary part’s over, baby. you’re okay.” vinnie soothes you as he continues to rub your back.

he finds it adorable how you hide your face in his chest everytime you get scared by a scene.

vinnie hears you mutter an ‘oh shit’ under your breath when another part you don’t like comes up.

you feel him squeeze your waist a bit to let you know he’s here and it’s okay. you dig your head more into his chest, hugging him tightly as the scene passes.

the two of you stay like that until you both eventually fall asleep. you didn’t intend to fall asleep during the movie but the two of you were so comfortable it was hard not too.

you’re just lucky you have vinnie to help you feel more safe and secure during times like these where horror movies scare you.

hiii i hope you liked this !! it was so cute to write (: im sorry if it was so short 🥲 wasn’t sure how else to make it without it being kinda like a run-on thing yk ?

taglist: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @forevergirlposts , @slvthrs , @bernelflo , @leqonsluv3r , @kriissy4gov , @louloulemons-blog , @st4rswrld , @visualbutterflysworld , @hallecarey1 , @violet0182 , @lovingsturniolo , @kayleiggh , @supabhad , @laylasbunbunny

#vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinniehacker #vvhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinniehackerfanfic #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie x reader #vinnie x y/n #vinniehacker headcanons

273 notes · View notes

tojisbbg · 7 months

Text

𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚

❝nothing in the world belongs to me, but my love, mine, all mine.❞

♡ gojo satoru ♡

a/n: gojo nation, how we doing after chapter 236? 🤧

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: gojo satoru x fem!reader, chapter 236 SPOILERS!!, fluff, angst, hurt with comfort, not edited.

...

"ugh.." you groaned in pain, as you put your weight on your arms to help you lift yourself up. your vision was slightly blurry, your fuzzy brain trying to piece things together and figure out just where the hell you were at.

it looked like an abandoned building, the lights were dimmed and slightly flickering. jesus, it was like something straight out of a horror film. the smell of the air was dusty like piles of rubble along with a stomach churning putrid scent.

your legs were wobbly, holding onto the wall for support as you stood up. cautious eyes scanned the area for any signs of potential danger, your heart beating aggressively against your chest wall as fear washed over you.

what is this place?

why are you here?

you found signs and arrows which pointed to an exit. so, you decided to follow them and sweet relief hit you when you felt a gust of wind hit your skin, you were outside. suddenly, a loud roaring sound followed by the crashing sound of rubble nearly deafening you shook your heart. you paused your steps, trying to breathe from the shock.

what the fuck was that?

as you walked further forward, you noticed a group of people standing and sitting in a gathered area, observing something. were these people not scared or worried? is this place even... normal?

"um... excuse me?" you meekly called out, not drawing much attention as only the lady in the white coat turned her head towards you. she had a lit cigarette in between her lips, eye bags dark and heavy.

"huh? and who may you be?" the brunette asked you, eyes scanning you top to bottom, making you grow slightly nervous.

"i don't know how i ended up here, but, i think i might be lost." you truthfully admitted, watching her eyes narrow as she stared into your soul.

"you must be one of the civilians that got sucked into the culling game then. have a seat here, it'd be dangerous for you to wander by yourself." she sighed, pointing to the empty chair next to her. you hesitantly nodded your head, thanking her before sitting down.

"your name?" the lady asked, not bothering to look at you.

"y/n. and you?" you fiddled with your fingers, your nerves nearly setting you off the edge.

"shoko." she dryly responded, making you nod your head.

you were about to ask her something, only for your thoughts to be interrupted my more thunderously loud noises, crashing and crumbling, followed by bright lights of all colors like blue, red and purple.

"what the fuck is going on here?" you mumbled under your breath, palms getting sweaty.

"a match between the king of curses and the strongest sorcerer." shoko answered your mindless words, catching you off guard.

your eyes were focused on the cloud of dust, making out two figures. after a few seconds, the air cleared up. one of the figures was a man who had black hair spiked up, strange tattoos decorating his face and arms. your eyes widened when you saw the second person.

the familiar snowy locks of hair peaking through the brown dust, gorgeous cerulean eyes that glowed, and the towering height.

your heart sank into your stomach.

what was he doing here? why... why was your boyfriend here?

shoko observed you and your reactions, confusion bubbling inside her.

"do you know them?" she suddenly asked, making you look at her.

"uh, no. sorry, am i supposed to?" you lied, making her shake her head.

"didn't expect you to. the guy with the tattoos is the king of curses and the guy with the white hair is the strongest sorcerer in the world." shoko enlightened you with her words, making you nod.

"i see. what's the sorcerer's name?" you asked, praying to god that it wasn't the name of your boyfriend, that perhaps it was his doppelganger or something.

"that's gojo satoru." she replied, your breath hitching at the familiar name. oh, how sweetly it rolled off your tongue every single time that you called out to him.

satoru.

that's right, he was your gojo satoru.

you quietly watched from the sidelines as the match continued, occasionally hearing the low tone chatter and side comments from the people near you. both opponents were strong as hell, you watched gojo confidently smirk and throw in some witty insults towards the king of curses, sukuna.

it was almost as if this was a mere game for the two.

suddenly, you watched sukuna open his domain before launching a serious of violent attacks on gojo, slicing him with no mercy. you gasped, standing up from your seat as you tried to run into the ring like it was the first instinct that you knew of.

but, you felt a hand tightly grip your wrist. you looked back with furrowed eyebrows.

"he'll be okay." shoko assured, making you scoff.

"okay? are you blind, shoko? he's literally sliced up everywhere and bleeding. he'll die!" you yelled in her face, your voice trembling with fear; making the other's turn their heads to view the commotion.

"gojo can use something called rct to heal himself, so, he won't die. trust me, he's survived worse than this before." she explained, sensing your panic as she patted the back of your thigh before ushering you to sit back down.

you glanced back at the fighting scene, gojo on the ground bleeding nonstop. suddenly, he turned his head to face the crowd watching him, locking eyes with you. the sudden eye contact made your heart stop, watching his own ones widen.

did he recognize you?

is this also just as confusing to him as it is to you?

gojo sent a soft smile towards you, making your heart leap and you could swear that you would've run into his arms by now if shoko didn't have you on a leash.

it seemed like you were stuck in a place where time didn't exist. the match felt like never ending and you just wanted to swoop in and steal gojo from the scene, running away together to somewhere much safer.

a place where your boyfriend wasn't getting violently beaten and slashed.

"gojo-sensei has won! he won!" a boy with pink haired screamed excitedly, jumping up and down as he high-fived the surrounding people who showered your boyfriend with praises.

you clapped along with them, a huge smile tugging on your lips as you wondered how your approach with him would go. would he embrace you? let you kiss his scars?

your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden deafening silence, followed by worried gasps. you turned your attention to where they were so invested, to which you wish you didn't.

"no... no... NO!" you let out a bloodcurdling scream, the sight in front of you was enough to make you want to puke your organs out. without any hesitation, you pushed past the people who were blocking your way, hearing their cries of protest but you were too hurt to care about your safety anymore.

"satoru!" you cried out his name, your vision was blurry with your tears as you ran to him. the love of your life... the man who swore to love you until his last breath, the man who stayed up late at night watching you finish your work, the man who'd cook you meals to make sure you weren't skipping them, the man who'd spoil you rotten.... the man who looked at you like you hung the moon and stars for him was now on the ground; sliced in half.

you kneeled in front him, watching how blood poured out of his mouth as his tears streamed down his face. with a weak turn of his head, he looked at you while you stroke his cheek.

"y...ou..?" gojo breathed out, making you sob harder as you nodded your head.

"it's me, satoru. oh god, why did you do this, satoru? i-i don't know what to do. please.. don't leave me. please, baby, i love you so much." you cried helplessly, grabbing his hand before pressing kisses on his knuckles.

he watched you with that same lovesick expression before giving you a gentle smile.

"..y../n.." your eyes widened as his final words was your name, watching his eyes roll back before his breathing came to a stop.

"satoru? s-satoru?!" you desperately called out, even though you knew that it was no use. a menacingly deep laughter came from besides you, making you look up as you glared at the man who murdered your other half.

"i never knew that blue-eyed freak had a woman. how pitiful." the tattooed curse snickered. you got up to your feet, grabbing him by the collar.

"kill me. i don't want to stay here for a second longer and see your evil face. so, kill me!" you screamed, making him scoff before shoving you to the ground besides the lifeless gojo; a wince escaping your lips.

"foolish little girls like you are the reason why humanity will never progress further. what a shame." sukuna cackled, watching you with amused eyes.

"please... satoru. don't leave me!

"wake up! please, i love you, wake up! satoru!"

"satoru!"

...

"satoru!" you shot up from your bed, breathing heavy as bullets of cold sweat ran down your temple. your mouth was dry, trying to process what the fuck you just dreamed of. you quickly patted the side of the bed in search of the other body who's supposed to fill it, only to find a cold empty space in return.

you felt panic rise inside of you, scrambling to get out of your bed as your knees felt like jelly. you harshly opened your bedroom door, running down the hall as you screamed your boyfriend's name.

"satoru? satoru!" it sounded more like a series of desperate cries and you got nothing but silence in return. you collapsed on the carpeted floor in the middle of the living room, loudly sobbing into your palms.

maybe... maybe that dream was real and gojo was truly sucked into that alternate reality. god, why did you escape?

"baby?" you suddenly heard the soft familiar voice you were aching to hear call out for you, a gentle hand on your back. you look up from your wet palms, your fuzzy vision making out the figure of your boyfriend as his snowy peaks of hair and beautiful cerulean eyes shone through the darkness.

"satoru?" you breathed out, hiccuping in between your cries. without wasting another second, you launched yourself forward into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck; hugging him as tightly as you could.

"i'm right here, baby. i just went to the bathroom. it's okay, you're okay, sweet girl." gojo whispered in a comforting manner, rubbing your back as you cried into the crook of his neck.

"i-i... oh my g-god.. jesus, y-you—" you tried to formulate proper sentences to explain everything to him, but the words kept getting stuck in your throat.

"shh... it's okay, baby. just breathe in and breathe out... yeah just like that, good girl." he praised as you followed his words, kissing the side of your head as he helped you calm down.

the room was silent, your gentle cries were the only thing that could be heard followed by the sweet reassuring words of gojo. about ten minutes has passed, you were still clung onto gojo as if he would run away if you were to let go. so, gojo decided to take you to your shared bedroom since it was getting late.

with you still in his arms, he got up carefully and held on to you tight; so that you don't fall. gojo walked inside the dark bedroom, turning on the dimly lit lamp before sitting down, with you still straddling him.

you pulled away to look at him, seeing the worried expression lingering on his face as he examined your state. you looked utterly traumatized, eyes puffy from crying and face pale.

"talk to me, honey." gojo gently encouraged, holding your hand as he rubbed small circles on the back of your palms. you took in a moment to savor the sweet relief of your boyfriend in front of you, in one piece; safe and sound. no painful scars sliced onto his skin, his hair was neat and his eyes were full of life. you placed one of your hands on his chest, feeling the soft beat of his heart.

tears pricked the corner of your eyes, looking down as your tears fell onto his shirt. just by your reaction, gojo had an idea of what this might be.

"bad dream?" he guessed, and without a word, you nodded. a heavy sigh left his lips, before bringing a strong arm to your back as he pulled you towards him, so that you could lay down on his chest.

"my poor sweet girl. we're okay, baby, nothing's gonna hurt you or me. you know i hate to see you cry, y/n." gojo rubbed your back, pressing soft kisses on the top of your head.

"it was awful, i wouldn't even wish that kind of nightmare on my worst enemy. god, i hated every second of it to the point i wished death on myself." your body shook as you reminisced the event. gojo quickly wrapped his arms around you, intrigued to hear more about what you saw that shook you up like this.

"it was in this strange world where sorcery existed and curses. you were the world's strongest sorcerer who was fighting against the king of curses, sukuna. it was an intense match, you both were strong as hell. but, in the end..." you harshly swallowed, not finding it within you to say it.

"i died." gojo completed the sentence for you, confirming it from your silence. suddenly, you felt the heavy vibration of his chest as he chuckled. you lifted your head up, glaring at him through your glossy eyes.

"stop laughing, satoru! this isn't funny, you were literally sliced in half!" you scolded him, slapping his bicep, but your words and actions made him laugh even harder.

"sliced in two? what am i, a watermelon? oh my, what an impeccable way to go." he continued to joke around, making you scoff as you ripped yourself away from his hold.

"asshole." you grumbled, rolling away from him to your spot on the bed. gojo's lips curled into a smile, immediately following after you as he scooped your body to scoot you close to him.

"sorry, baby. i just wanted to lighten the atmosphere up a bit." gojo honestly admitted, kissing your shoulder. you sighed, turning your head towards him.

"i was so scared, satoru. i felt like i was gonna die, i swear. it felt so real, so fucking real. i could still smell it and feel your blood against my palms." you shook your head at the though of experiencing that ever again, breath hitching in fear.

"it was just a nightmare, baby. it's not real and it'll never become real either. i'm here right in front of you, breathing and alive, in one piece. we're safe, y/n, nothing's gonna happen, okay?" he stroked your cheeks, wiping your tears away before leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

you snuggled against his chest, breathing in his scent which smelled like home.

"i love you so much, satoru." your voice was muffled, but clear enough for him to hear.

"i love you more, my sweet girl." gojo replied, fingers raking through your hair while his other hand rubbed your back.

"i don't know what sin i committed to see something as horrific as that." you pulled away from his chest, shuddering.

"it's probably 'cause of all those sci-fi horror movies you watch." he giggled, making you hum in response.

"maybe." you shrugged with a sigh, tightening your arms around him tighter as you wanted your space, body and mind to be engulfed by gojo and only him.

"y/n?" gojo suddenly called out your name.

"hm?" you hummed in response, looking up at him with anticipating eyes.

"we'll find each other no matter what universe or lifetime we enter. that i can promise you, baby. so, listen carefully to me, okay? the universe could strip me of everything; my brain, my heart, my breath, my life... but there's one thing it could never take away from me." he spoke with tenderness, looking down at you with affectionate eyes that twinkled with nothing but love and adoration for you; the woman who made his heart feel alive with life.

"no one could ever take away the love i have for you. my love for you is only mine and it will always be all mine." gojo said, making your eyes soften as you looked up at him with a smile.

"i hope that in every universe and lifetime that i exist in, you're just a regular person. maybe a barista or bookstore keeper... just not someone who's strong and powerful." you commented, making him laugh.

"wouldn't you want a strong and powerful boyfriend to protect you?" he questioned, making you shake your head.

"not when he has the risk of being sliced in half, absolutely not!" you quickly disapproved, making him chuckle.

"whatever you'd like, baby." gojo smiled, leaning his head down to find your lips. his kisses were like oxygen, it felt like you could finally breathe again. the sweetness of his soft lips combined with the warmth of his body transferring to yours made your heart swell with love.

you cupped his face, kissing him with more need as his hand rubbed your back. gojo knew that you needed this and he could honestly do this all night. eventually, you both pulled away for air.

"i love you so much, satoru." you breathed out, placing a small kiss on his chin, a boyish grin etching on his lips.

"i love you more, my sweet girl." he began to pepper your face with kisses, making you giggle.

the sound of your laughter was like music to gojo's ears and your smile was like a piece of art that he'd see in those big fancy museums. god, you're so beautiful that it made his heart ache.

gojo stared into your eyes, finding nothing but warmth and love for him. a smile painted his lips, happy that he found you in this lifetime. you both were truly destined for each other and gojo satoru died as a happy man on that cursed day when he met your eyes, to which he was reborn to find you and hold you in his arms like this.

547 notes · View notes

mrs-weasley-reid · 1 month

Text

Speed of Light

bau!team x bau!reader

Summary: speed is one of the BAU team's special skills. Traveling from one state to another, one address to the next, catching unsubs in the blink of an eye. So when one of the members was put in danger, bau!reader didn't hesitate to prove that she belonged in the team.

Warnings: cursing

A/N: a short, silly draft I wrote a year ago :)

— ★ — ★— ★★★

"We'll be there," Spencer flipped his phone, turning to you and Derek with a horrified look.

Derek raised his brows, "What is it?"

Spencer gulped, "The unsub is Mary, and JJ's with her." He couldn't hide the worry in his voice.

You felt the same sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You had to get there fast, or JJ would be in serious danger. None of you wanted that.

Derek was about to jump on the driver's seat when you stole the keys from his hand. "What are you doing? This is not the time to play games."

"I'll drive, hop in." You stated and claimed the seat, buckling yourself up.

Spencer said your name in panic, "We don't have time for this. We need to hurry!" He argued, all while hopping on the backseat.

You rolled your eyes. Men. You sighed in your head, starting the engine. It was ironic enough how they continued to complain yet still glued their asses on the leather seat of the SUV.

"Then buckle up and shut up. Derek, either you strap yourself on your seat or get out of the car. The clock is ticking." Your voice vibrated authority, which was rare, much less nonexistent in their vocabulary of your personality.

Derek didn't say anything but still reluctantly sat on the shotgun seat. He gave you the address, and as soon as his seatbelt clicked, you slammed the gas pedal.

Their bodies automatically hit the back of their seats. The speed of the black SUV you're in seemed impossible to reach. Its engine growled loudly.

You loved car racing, finding yourself on race tracks every time you had a chance. You loved the high, the thrill of speeding down the asphalt burning at the touch of your tires.

On the contrary, you never drove during cases, letting Derek or Emily or Dave or Hotch or JJ, basically everyone—Spencer was no exception—get a hold of the wheel. They never questioned it, more so, assumed that you were a horrible driver. And maybe your driving skills at the moment would only prove their assumption, but you paid no mind.

Spencer and Derek watched in fear as you earned angry honks from the poor patrons. You had the badge and gun to reason in case any of the civilians had the guts to block you.

You had one mission: get yourselves to JJ's aid, fast.

"W-watch, watch out!" Derek stammered in fear for his life. He had never experienced such speed before, feeling his skin stretched off to the back of his head.

Spencer fell silently dead in the backseat. His skin was pale, lips sealed from utter anxiety. He could feel his stomach dance into knots, mocking him. He gripped his seatbelt tightly, turning his knuckles white. He could've sworn his ass was holding onto his seat.

In a matter of seven minutes, which was supposed to be a normal thirty-minute drive, you parked the car with a screech.

You got out of the vehicle, fishing your gun from your holster. You made your way into position, unbothered by the 150 mph drive.

"What happened to you guys?" Emily hushed at the two gentlemen behind you.

Derek's eyes were watery, and Spencer's hair looked like he just emerged from a tornado.

"Our lives flashing before our eyes," Spencer exclaimed in horror. "You wouldn't know how it feels." He was staring into the distance as if he was watching some kind of horror film on the air.

"Sure," Emily shrugged, "Not like I faked my own death and had a funeral or anything."

Hotch was approaching when Derek and Spencer tiptoed away from Emily. "Did something happen?" He interrogates.

Emily only stared at the two with a weird look, "That's what I want to know too." And your small stature came into her sight, "I think she broke them... somehow."

Derek may have acted cool about the entire thing, but his stomach constantly shrunk, making him gag every three seconds. "I'm never going to complain about your driving," He whispered to Spencer as they settled themselves in position.

Spencer nodded and gulped the vomit he was holding in his throat, prompting Derek to do the same. "Yeah, yeah, me too."

And that day remained a mystery to the entire team... plus you were officially banned from driving.

#criminal minds #criminalminds #cm #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #david rossi #penelope garcia #ssa spencer reid #ssa emily prentiss #ssa aaron hotchner #ssa jennifer #ssa derek morgan #ssa david rossi #criminal minds x reader #bau x reader #bau team

278 notes · View notes

wol-fica · 10 months

Note

Brom. I just had the perfect idea for a oneshot but idk how to write it so I'm gonna ask you 💪

Ok, so Jenna x gp reader where she recorded us having sex one time and she was showing someone some pictures on her phone and she accidentally scrolled to that video 😭

gotchu bby @deep-fried-egg (ik this is old don’t remind me)

“And that is when Aliyah slipped face first into mud.” Jenna chuckled, showing the photo to her older sister.

“Damn I wish I could’ve gone hiking with you two, looks like you had a lot of fun.” Mya said, smiling at the photos her younger sister kept showing her.

“We would’ve been so chaotic.” Jenna replied, her mind wandering back to when she went on that trip with her younger sister.

While lost in thought, she completely forgot she was scrolling for more photos and accidentally stopped a few seconds too long on a video no one should have ever seen.

Jenna wasn’t one for watching porn or anything of the sort, but she won’t lie saying she doesn’t get horny missing you when she is across the country. So, she sat down with you and asked if she could take a few videos to keep her awake and alive whenever she is filming far away from home.

This was one of those videos, what you liked to label as a sex tape. Jenna were on her back, her hands handcuffed to the headboard behind her. With her arms up, her chest was on full display, breasts bouncing beautifully to each thrust from your hips. Farther down on the screen, her legs were spread wide open with you in between, your cock buried in her soft heat while you fucked her and stretched her thoroughly.

Jenna remembered that time like it was yesterday, because it was. After her day trip with Aliyah, she was exceedingly desperate for you, hence why she came home and asked you to film another video for her folder labeled away-from-home-collection. She remembered how you handled her, rough and straight to the chase when she politely asked you to rail her.

The video played for only 3 seconds, but that was enough for one to see the way your cock slid back and forth easily through Jenna’s cunt. How her abdomen muscles tensed when she came, and how your dick got covered with a new layer of her cum. One could also see how Jenna was being practically manhandled, her wrists cuffed, her legs forced open by you while you pounded into her. What a sight to see.

“Oh my god!” Jenna almost yelled, pressing her phone to her chest.

Mya looked aghast, eyes wide with disbelief while her stare followed the phone. The audio was still playing from the video, Jenna’s moans filling the now quiet kitchen. Jenna quickly shut her phone off, staring straight ahead in pure embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, clutching her phone like it was a bomb.

Silence.

Then a wolf whistle from her right.

Jenna snapped her head to her younger sister, gawking when she saw how she was laughing.

“Oooo Wee! I didn’t know you and Y/N filmed porn!” Aliyah yelled, cackling while clutching her stomach, “Is that your new genre? Can’t get enough of horror?”

“Aliyah.” Jenna said through her teeth, face flushed red.

“Maybe she had to take a step up from X.” Mya said from her left, causing Jenna to now look at her with the same gawked expression.

“Who’s the church mouse turned bad girl now?” Aliyah joked, laughing and slapping her knee at the reference.

“Good one Ali.” Mya quipped, sipping her drink daintily, “You already know Jenna has more of those vidoes.”

“Guys!” Jenna cried out, letting her head fall into her hands, “This is so embarrassing.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about ReeRee.” Aliyah said, wiping tears from her eyes, “I’m sure Y/N is great in bed anyways.”

“You should’ve seen how big she is. Jenna is lucky.” Mya mumbled loudly enough for both girls to hear.

“Mya!” Jenna shouted, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “Cmon!”

“Don’t get mad at us, you pulled up the video.” The oldest sister said, smiling behind her wine glass.

“Bet it was in the away-from-home folder.” Aliyah snorted, giggling like a school girl.

Jenna groaned into her hands, a small smile on her face from her sisters laughter filling the room.

“I’m never going to show you anything on my phone again.” She said, stuffing it safely into her pocket.

What a story it will be to tell you when she gets home.

———————

#jenna ortega edit #jenna #ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega fluff #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jennaortegaedit #jenna x reader #jenna marie ortega #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday adams imagine

908 notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝑴𝒆

pairing: javi gutierrez x fem!reader

genre: smut, romance, minors dni

word count: 2.9k

summary: living in a small town has its perks, watching a movie completely by yourself in the cinema being one of them. however, this time, you meet a charming stranger willing to comfort you during a horror movie.

warnings: strangers to lovers, very explicit blowjob, public blowjob, soft dirty talk, praise kink, horror movie,brief male masturbation feat. spitting, I say public but no one is really there

Living in a small town can be boring in many ways. There aren’t enough places to visit, you risk seeing someone familiar every time you go out but…it also has its perks too. One of your favorite things to do is to go to your favorite mall. You’ve been going there since you were a kid, it was a constant, comforting presence in your life and it might be dramatic to say, but you had a connection with it. It’s an open mall, which means there’s alot of sunlight and crisp air going around.

But the best part of it, by far, is the movie theaters.

It’s almost always empty, sometimes it’s just you in the theater, or a couple more people. It was like a private screening and you loved that. You can’t imagine another place on earth where you could go into a cinema only to view an entire movie by yourself as if you were at home. It’s the best.

You step into the lobby of the theater, greeted by the familiar sight of movie posters and ticket booths. The air conditioning hits you immediately, providing a refreshing break from the heat of the day outside.

The smell of fresh popcorn wafts through the air, making your mouth water. You take a moment to peruse the concession stand, eyeing the candy, soda, and various snacks on offer. However, you’re not really feeling up for snacks today so you head to buy your ticket. It’s for a horror film and it’s from one of your favorite directors. You’re feeling giddy, excitement rolling in your stomach. As always, you don’t need to pick a seat because there’s only one other person that’s going to be in there with you, so you can sit wherever you want to.

After sitting in the lobby for a little while, scrolling through your phone, the kind man you often see (and you presume runs the place) approaches you and says you can head inside now. Thanking him, you do exactly that.

A chill settles across your skin. In typical fashion, you were fooled by the heat and forgot to bring a jacket for this exact occasion. You shrug it off, eyeing the seats as you step in. This is one of the smaller theaters, which you find even better because it’s cozier. Just as you were told, there was only one other person inside. A man. Your eyes lock for a brief moment. You swear your steps slow, he has kind brown eyes, long lashes that touch his cheek with his every blink. He smiles at you and you find yourself smiling back. In that brief moment, your eyes linger over his broad chest.

Embarrassed, you quickly avert your gaze and take a seat. Coincidentally you’re sitting in the aisle right behind him, he’s not directly in front of you but across, his gaze fixated on the blank screen. You drop your bag to the side of you, another thing you love about this particular cinema, they have “couple” seats so you basically have a couch you can lounge about for the next two hours.

There’s a minute of silence before the lights go out and the soft glow of the projector fills the room.

You smile and settle in. You hug yourself, ignoring the gooseflesh of your skin. Right as the commercials begin, you glance at the handsome stranger one last time. Some childish part of you wants to lean over and touch the honey-traced brown locks. They just look so soft.

You take a sharp breathe. Thank god this isn’t the type of horror movie that has needless sex scenes in it.

You find yourself getting increasingly sucked into the movie. The sense of unease and foreboding that permeates the film is palpable, and you can feel your heart racing in your chest. Your nails biting into your cold and clammy palms. There are scenes of family dysfunction and grief, of supernatural occurrences that defy explanation. The cinematography is hauntingly beautiful, with shots of the sprawling family home and the surrounding woods that give you chills.

At one point, a particularly gruesome scene plays out on screen, and you let out a gasp of horror. The man in front of you turns around. Thinking that he must be annoyed, your lips move to form an apology but then you notice the look of concern on his face. Your lips form a kind smile instead, and lifting your hand, you whisper an apology.

Then it happens again—fuck this movie was really going to make you see nightmares tonight—and he turns around, again. Before you can say anything, he beats you to it.

“If you're scared, I would be happy to keep you company.”

You're momentarily taken aback by the offer. Your lips part, a soft noise echoing from the back of your throat. He’s staring at you with amusement now, the corner of his lips twitching. You swallow, wet your bottom lip. You’re about to give him an intelligent answer.

And just like that the intermission starts, the movie comes to a sudden halt, and soft lights flood the room, hurting your eyes.

Oh god, he can see your face now—shit.

You look away and wave your hand in dismissal, “Ah, thank you but that’s okay. I’ll try to keep quiet. I usually don’t get this riled up.”

He smiles. You sweat that you melt into the cushiony seats at the sight of it. You swallow thickly around the know that formed in your throat. His eyes soften, his smile nothing but kind.

“I am quite scared too,” he informs. He has a soft baritone, a melodic lilt to his voice. “It is embarrassing to admit.”

Your eyes flit across his face, then drops to his neck. His sun-kissed skin looks delectable. Heat settles at the end of your spine, a shudder coursing through your veins. He’s too kind to be from here, so he’s likely a tourist.

You push out your bottom lip and then down to your lap where your fidgeting hands rest.

“Well…if you’re scared…you can come and sit with me.”

Your lips draw a tight line as you lift your gaze and meet his eyes. You’re pathetic. Even if he was scared, It’s obvious he was making an excuse on your behalf so you won’t be embarrassed.

“Thank you, princesa. I am forever in your gratitude.”

You’re highly aware that he’s humoring you. But it’s hard to care about that when he stands up. You watch as he walks down the aisle, his figure silhouetted against the light from the lobby. He’s much broader and taller than you expected him to be. He reaches your row and with heated cheeks, you quickly pick up your bag to make room for him. The cushions dip with his weight and your mouth floods with saliva.

You’re not sure you can focus on the rest of the movie like this.

“I am Javi by the way,” he says, voice low. He extends a hand as you introduce yourself, the inside of his palm is soft and warm and you’d be lying if you didn’t say that you’re fingers lingered.

For the rest of the film, you're acutely aware of Javi's presence next to you. Every time you jump or gasp, he leans in closer, as if to shield you from the movie itself. You find it rather charming. Javi's arm brushes against yours, you feel a spark of electricity shoot through your body. You try to ignore it and focus on the movie, but you can't help stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye.

Before you know it, he has an arm around your shoulder, fingers feather-light against your bare arm. A loud noise echoes and your breath hitches. Upon hearing you, Javi pulls you closer.

Javi whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Don't worry, I've got you."

Normally, you wouldn’t dare to get this close to a stranger—and that was what he is; a stranger—but it’s really hard to see him that way when his presence is like a pillar. And it feels rather good to be held during a horror film. Most of your friends don’t enjoy them so you often see them alone, coming out of them needing a hug.

With another jarring scene being reflected on the big screen, you find yourself seeking solace in the crook of his neck, your nose pressed firm against the thick column. His arm tightens around your tense frame. You might be imagining it, but you think he’s shushing you. It’s not in a cruel way. It’s soft and comforting. His hand moves up and down your arm, spreading warmth along your skin. You jump again when a fleshy sound echoes. This time your lips touch the skin. You feel his pulse and his scent floods your nostrils; a mixture of bergamot and cinnamon— and something so undeniably him.

“Are you alright?” he asks and you nod, your lips brushing along and following the ridges of a vein that lingers underneath. He’s so warm. So secure. You’re melting against him, forgetting completely that you just met this man and that you’re in the theatre.

The kiss happens unexpectedly. You have no idea where it comes from, but your lips press into his skin. He feels so soft under the plush of his lips. Javi doesn’t say anything but his body stiffens. A sudden burst of embarrassment warms your cheeks and you start to pull away, only for him to hold you there, his hand coming up to gently cradle your cheek and a part of your neck.

“It is okay,” he whispers as if someone might hear. “Your lips are very soft. It feels very soothing.”

You continue to kiss him. Your lips dusting over his neck as you inhale him, engraving him to memory. He shudders. And with a sudden boldness, you lick a stripe down and gently nip the sensitive flesh. He jumps a little, his hand moving to your scalp to softly tug on your hair. The sounds and moving pictures fade into the background. All you can focus on is the heat growing between your legs and the beat of his heart under your tongue.

Your hand moves to the front of his pants, you cup his length through the fabric and slowly stroke him.

“Can I?” you ask.

Your gaze lifts when you hear the whimper that echoes from the back of his throat. Shadows dance along his face, eyes sockets looking deeper than they were. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip and he swallows with a nod. A wolfish grin spreads across your face as you sink down to your knees. He gets comfortable, spreading his legs and allowing you to nestle between his thick thighs. In all honesty, a horror movie doesn’t make for the most romantic backdrop, however, the sight of him cheating his hand down his pants and grabbing himself makes up for it.

Your breathing short paced and frantic, you help him out of his pants along with his boxers. His cock bobs heavily between his legs, precum smearing against the fabric of his shirt. With shaky hands, Javi unbuttons his polo, only to reveal that his white top underneath has ridden up a little, exposing the swell of his stomach and the soft curls that trail down his belly button. He’s definitely thicker than you imagined. Slowly, you wrap your fingers around the base and give him a firm stroke. A moan that’s a mixture between pain and pleasure hits the back of his teeth.

“Hermosa,” he says, voice barely audible over the movie. “Let me help you a bit.”

You draw your brows together, not quite sure what he meant by that. Javi doesn’t give you a moment to put the pieces together. Your eyes still glued to his cock, he spits in his hand and coats himself. You hold your breath and your lungs burn. Without much thought your own hand unbuttoned your jeans, sneaking a hand under the waistband, you stroke between your clothed folds. You’re soaked for him already.

Javi touches himself gently, his cock glistening under the changing lights of the movie. His length twitches, growing bigger. Again, you swallow. You press two fingers to your aching clit. You gasp a little, which makes his eyes glimmer with amusement.

“You like watching me?” he asks, palm swiping over the head. “Are you wet? Tell me.”

Everything about this feels like a fever dream. You’re hald sure you fell asleep during the movie and dreaming all of this. But you’re not. Because when he lets go of his cock and gently cups the underside of your chin with wet fingers, your skin prickles so fast that it almost hurt. You exhale the breath you’ve been holding, your mouth dry like sandpaper.

“Yes,” you whisper. “I’m soaked for you, Javi.”

He hums with approval, “Good. That makes me very happy.”

You’re not sure why hearing that makes your pussy throb, but it does. His smile never fades as he guides you to his cock, his hand sliding to the side of your face to cup your cheek. You part your lips and take the bulbous head of his cock into your mouth. With a pointed tongue, you taste him, and a groan trembles within his chest. You take a deep breath. Despite the hand on your cheek, he’s not forcing you to take more of him. Instead, he looks down at your patiently. His length throbbing on your tongue. Then, when you feel ready, you swallow more of him. Javi’s head falls back, his hips slightly raising off the seat. You purr at the way his blunt nails scratch your scalp

“Your mouth feels amazing,” he gasps and swallows. He follows the praise with a string of Spanish words that you hope have the same sentiment.

Looking up between heavy lashes, you part from him and drag your wet lips down the side of his length. A thick vein meanders down, twitching with your every move. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss the curve of his testicles. You flatten your tongue between them, feeling the weight while his cock lays heavy on your cheek.

“F-Fuck,” he moans, gently grinding and dragging his length down.

Pulling yourself back up, you take him between your lips once more.

You're lost in the sensation, the taste of him on your tongue, the weight of him in your mouth. You savor the taste, the musky and slightly salty flavor making your mouth water. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, teasing and licking him, feeling him pulse and throb against your lips. You take him deeper into your mouth. You love the way he responds to you, the way his nails bite into your skin and his breath catches in his throat.

With a wicked grin, you pull back and watch as he groans in frustration. "Tease," he breathes out, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice. You just smirk and run your tongue over your lips, giving him a show that is, hopefully, worth missing the movie.

You use your tongue to trace the veins along his length, feeling the texture of him under your lips. Sliding your mouth up and down his shaft, you feel the heat building between your legs. You're getting wetter and wetter, your body responding to the sounds he’s making. You suck him deeper into your mouth, taking him all the way to the back of your throat, feeling him hit the back of it over and over.

Javi's hips start to move, thrusting gently into your mouth, his cock sliding over your tongue. You love the way he tastes, the way he feels in your mouth. He pulses over your tongue. His breathing growing more ragged and loud. As Javi's thrusts become more urgent, you know that he's close to the edge. You keep your lips wrapped tightly around him, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, urging him on. And then, with a strangled groan, he starts to spill into your mouth.

You feel the heat of him spreading across your tongue, the taste of him making you moan. Your jaw aches, but still, you keep your mouth wide open for him, swallowing over and over, until he’s dried out. With a gentle tug, Javi signals you to let go and pulls you up onto his lap.

Before you know it, his lips are on yours, tasting himself on your tongue.

You moan into his mouth as he slides a hand between your legs, feeling how wet you are for him. He chuckles softly, breaking the kiss to trail hot kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. Your head falls back, your body arching into his touch.

“You weren’t lying,” he says, hot breath fanning your neck. “You are wet for me.”

You nod frantically, grinding to meet the sinful touch of his fingers. But just as you’re getting used to it, the lights slowly flicker on and when you turn, you notice the credits rolling.

“Shit,” you hiss, rolling away from him and letting out a breath. Javi is by your side in an instant, the curve of his nose snug against the side of your face. You can’t help but smile.

“We should buy a ticket for the next one,” he whispers, lips touching your cheek. “Since we missed the ending.”

a/n: So, this was actually inspired by an actual mall we have here. And honestly, the empty cinemas are probably the biggest thing I'm going to miss about this place. It's seriously the best. Sadly tho I never had a javi to comfort me fgbgfbg

Normally yesterday I wanted to see beau is afraid but apparently it's not out in our country yet and is going to be in theaters on june 9th--I'll probably end up watching it online. Anyway since I oculdn't watch beau is afraid, the movie that's actually playing in the background is Hereditary which didn't spook me the first night but def spooked me the second night. And the more I think about it the more I wish Javi si with me lmaodfvdf

Hope you guys enjoyed the cinema filth! sending you all love xx

#javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x f!reader #javi gutierrez x fem!reader #javi g x reader #javi g x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #tuwomt fanfic #tuwomt fanfiction

720 notes · View notes

sundrop-writes · 6 months

Text

Ghosting

Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Mike has been in love with you for as long as he can remember. For about as long as the two of you have been best friends. He always thought he would have more time to work up to confessing those big, dangerous feelings for you - until something more dangerous swooped in and stole any time he had left with you.

Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader. Star-Crossed Lovers. Pure Angst. Set during the events of the movie (and features spoilers for the plot).

Word Count: 3,700

Horror Characters Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic contains major spoilers for the film - so if you haven't watched it yet and you're just here for Josh Hutcherson being sad and beautiful (and if you want to watch the film unspoiled) be warned; this fic does use Y/N; this fic is almost pure angst - the beginning is fluffy, but that only exists to make the angst hurt more; this fic does not have a happy ending; hurt, no comfort; this fic has mentions of Mike's past traumas and him having symptoms of PTSD; the reader is a mother figure to Abby; Mike refers to the reader as his 'wife' (in his mind, not in dialogue); Mike is in love with the reader (and it's implied that she knows this/can sense his feelings) but he doesn't get a chance to actually confess to her and they aren't in a romantic relationship at any point during this fic; (uh, kind of spoiler for the fic but this was in the prompt/request) - major character death: the reader character dies after being stabbed by Springtrap/William Afton/The Yellow Rabbit (gotta love fnaf - when a character has that many names); mentions of blood; descriptions of violence - descriptions of the fight between Afton and Mike, descriptions of the reader being stabbed by Afton; Abby is there to witness the reader's death; idk what the other warnings are aside from major angst - this will be an emotional gut punch. Anyway, please enjoy it lmao.

A/N: The title of this fic comes from the song Ghosting by Mother Mother. I was listening to different songs trying to pick a title, and I really like how this one fits. How their romantic love was like a ghost in their lives - not discussed, but felt between the both of them, and after she's gone, she becomes a ghost in his life.

...

Mike woke up to the smell of pancakes.

Typically, mornings were his least favorite time of day. Seeing as he was the kind of person who didn’t sleep well, didn’t sleep at all, or found himself consumed by nightmares when he did - most mornings, he was too tired to comprehend the world around him. Mornings were a chaotic mess for him as he tried to pull himself back from the brink of insanity while operating his sluggish body with far too little energy until he got some coffee into his system. He came to resent mornings, as for him, they existed only in a dreadful haze.

And he rarely ate a proper breakfast because of it. Most of the time, his ‘breakfast’ consisted of a large cup of coffee and a few pieces of Eggo waffle that he would snag off of Abby’s plate going out the door as he scolded her for not finishing it all.

The second that the pleasant smell of freshly cooked food reached his nose, his stomach growled.

Through the sleepy fog of his brain, hearing voices - multiple voices - coming from down the hallway, he realized that it wasn’t just Abby and some muffled cartoon characters from the TV.

“Which one?” Abby posed, her voice bright and curious as ever.

“Personally… I like the red sweater. It matches the red laces in the shoes you picked,” You replied, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the sizzling of the pan.

You were helping her pick out her clothes. Abby would have never wanted Mike’s help on the subject. So often she scoffed at him if he suggested that he could help her put her hair in a ponytail or if he told her that she should put on a jacket if it was cold outside. But she asked you for your advice about clothes because she admired you. She thought you were pretty, as she had told Mike on multiple occasions (not so subtly hinting that he should date you).

Mike heard footsteps thundering down the hallway as Abby rushed to her room to get dressed, likely carting along the clothes you had helped to pick. He distantly wondered how you had gotten into the house before he was even awake.

And then, he remembered - a few weeks ago, he had given you a key to his place.

It was something that had come after he had accidentally locked his own set of keys in the car, his mind jumbled and forgetful after not having much sleep the night before. And with the evening ticking on and the takeout you had picked up for the three of you quickly getting cold in your hands (everyone eager to simply get into the house and eat) - Mike had been hit with the realization that any solutions to unlock the car - the spare key, a metal coat hanger, a phone to call a mechanic - were all locked in the house.

So he had hoisted Abby in through her bedroom window (after scolding her for not locking it) and gotten her to unlock the front door. And shortly after that, he had given you a house key, because generally, you were better with things like that.

You were much more organized - your mind a clear, calm palace compared to the chaos that Mike often found himself swamped in. You were someone who worked incredibly well under stress, and that was why Mike valued you so much in his life. Right from a childhood where the two of you had pulled pranks together and he had been copying your homework, to the time he had leaned on you during the initial stress of Garett’s disappearance - up until now. When he was a messy, disorganized adult who still needed you far more than he was ever willing to admit.

It was just one of the many reasons he admired you so much. You took care of him in ways he couldn’t even put into words.

He smiled to himself as he heard more of your chatter with Abby. Previously, he had remarked that the key was for ‘emergencies only’ - but he couldn’t bring himself to care all too much about the breach of that rule as he tumbled out of bed. Especially when the smell of bacon also reached his nose as he walked to the bathroom.

It was when he was pulling on his pants that he glanced at the clock and realized he was already running on the late side. Not too late yet, but he had to put some urgency in his step. He had somehow forgotten to set his alarm, today of all days, when he would be meeting with a career counselor after the disastrous incident that got him fired from the mall.

He rushed down the hallway struggling with his tie, bringing his usual air of chaos with him. His heart instantly warmed at the sight of you and Abby - you had her sitting at the table, somehow so much more polite and cooperative for you, with a glass of juice beside her plate while you scooped freshly made pancakes onto it.

“You know, usually when most people break and enter, they don’t make breakfast,” Mike commented, his voice cool and jovial as he grew increasingly frustrated with his tie.

He thought he was forming the knot correctly, but it kept falling loose in his hands, causing a deep crease across his brows as he frowned at the fabric.

You giggled at this - both at his words and at his obvious struggle. You put the pan on the counter as you walked toward him, leaving Abby to pick up the bottle of syrup and begin thoroughly drowning her pancakes while you weren’t looking. You knocked Mike’s hands away in that wordless kind of care and began calmly tying his tie.

“Well, I considered going the traditional route, but there’s nothing worth stealing here.” You remarked, playing off the banter that was only built between the two of you after years of friendship. “Plus, The Breakfast Burglar has such a nice ring to it.”

“That makes it sound like you steal people’s breakfast.” Abby giggled.

“I would, if certain little girls didn’t drown their pancakes in syrup.” You replied, not bothering to look over your shoulder at her to know what she was doing. “That’s enough, Abs.”

She rolled her eyes harshly at this, but put the bottle of syrup down and picked up her knife and fork.

Mike grinned widely at this. You were more like a mom to her than their own mother ever was. And the fact that you knew her so well and took care of her without question always brought him joy.

His smile only widened when you smoothed a warm hand down the front of his chest, and he looked down to see a perfectly neat knot in the front of his tie. He felt a tingling swarm of butterflies in his stomach at your touch - something that threatened to spread through him and turn him into a dizzy, lovesick fool. Urgently, he needed to distract himself with something else.

His eyes shifted over to the side table, and he realized that his keys weren’t where he usually threw them down when he got home.

“Have you seen my-?”

Once again, you were two steps ahead of him. More organized than him.

“Keys.” You said, turning around to the counter and holding the key ring up on your fingers. “Your resume, formatted and printed.” You held up a folder that contained this as well. “Your wallet, and breakfast burrito.”

You gathered up his wallet and a warm bundle wrapped in tinfoil - his breakfast. The small notion of caring, the fact that you thought ahead to make something he could eat while rushing out the door - it caused that dangerous tingle to overtake his stomach once again. As you crossed the room and placed all the items in his hands, he had the intense urge to lean over and kiss you - he knew the domesticity was crippling.

You had been his best friend for years, you had helped him take care of Abby for as long as the little girl could remember. You felt more like a wife to him than anybody else ever would.

And yet, you had absolutely no clue how he felt about you. It would have felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to lean over and kiss you goodbye before leaving - just like a husband would do with his wife. But the two of you weren’t married. You weren’t even dating. You took care of him because you were his best friend. Because you had always taken care of him the way a best friend should.

“What would I do without you?” He said, knowing that the pure fondness in his voice could have easily given him away - if he didn’t talk to you like that all the time.

“Hmm… probably run around naked and starving,” You chuckled, shrugging as you walked back over to Abby and sat down beside her at the table. “Now get going. I’ll take Abby to school.”

“Have a good day, Abs.” Mike said, wishing his sister well - only to receive a mindless nod in reply before she went back to chatting with you about something, excitedly telling you a story involving one of her imaginary friends while you watched her with absolutely rapt attention.

He moved toward the door, but he found himself caught up in the sight of you. You were a hero in their little world as you rushed to save one of Abby’s drawings from some syrup that dripped off her plate. When you complimented the picture, she glowed with a smile he hadn’t seen in days.

That was a huge part of it, too. The love he felt for you that grew more agonizing each day. You brought out all the best parts of Abby, as well as keeping Mike himself from going truly insane.

For a single moment, he wondered if he should tell you. He wondered if he should just blurt out the words before running out the door, leaving you to simmer in it. Giving you time to think about it - to yell at him about it later.

It hovered on his tongue.

I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years.

But when you looked over and saw him still standing by the door, he locked eyes with you, and suddenly it was gone again, swallowed up inside of him like a nasty ache that would live there forever.

“Go, Mike! You’re gonna be late!” You said, your voice edging with casual laughter.

You picked up one of the couch cushions and swatted him with it as you walked by to get Abby a paper towel from the kitchen.

No. He would tell you some other time.

Perhaps he wouldn’t work up the courage to tell you at all.

…

He was going to die. He was going to be killed.

And he wasn’t going to get the chance to tell you that he was in love with you.

Strangely enough, that was the one thing Mike was thinking about as he laid on the cold, dirty floor of Freddy Fazbear’s condemned pizzeria. His stomach burned with searing pain as he received another kick from the large, intimidating monster that he knew only as the Yellow Rabbit.

He was going to die. He wouldn’t get to tell you how he felt. He would never get to see you ever again.

He was going to save Abby. He was going to make sure that she got out of here, escaped somehow. And you would take care of her. That thought was a singular comfort to him as he felt one of his ribs crack from the metal (poorly disguised by the foam and fabric around the edges of the suit) colliding with his torso.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The Rabbit mocked him. “I killed your brother, now I get to kill you. Symmetry, my friend!”

“Get away from him!”

Mike almost thought that the intense pain had caused him to hallucinate, or that he had hit his head on the floor hard when he had been thrown down - it couldn’t actually be you.

But he heard your voice, fierce and fiery as ever, defending him as you had so many times before. He struggled to get his head up to look, but he caught a glimpse of the Yellow Rabbit as the strange animal collapsed.

You had picked up one of the chairs, and brought it down over the Rabbit’s head, perfectly imitating something that would have been on Monday Night Raw. Except this was pure wood, not a collapsing chair, and all the pieces that splintered and fell in front of Mike as the Rabbit collapsed were because of the pure force of your hit. The fury of which you defended him and his life.

“Y/N!” Abby yelled your name from across the room.

She rushed into your arms as you stepped over the Rabbit’s prone body, and you swept her into a tight hug.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?” You rushed to ask, brushing her hair out of her face to inspect for any injuries.

“I’m fine.” Abby told you. “Mike-” She then turned to her brother, frantic, and pulled away from you to fall to her knees by his side.

“Mike, what the hell is going on?” You asked, on your knees at his side just as quickly.

You turned him over on his back, inspecting him for injuries now - definitely not liking what you found.

Abby held his hand and he grasped it right back, his head still dizzy from the thorough ass-kicking he had just experienced.

You gasped when you saw blood leaking through his shirt. He grunted in pain when you pressed your hand into the wound, clearly trying to lessen that bleeding.

“What - what are you doing here?” He croaked out.

As much as he was thankful for you swooping in and saving him, he wished that you were safe somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

“Abby left her jacket in my car, and when I went to return it, I saw your Aunt Jane passed out on the floor, and - and, I just had a bad feeling.” You rushed to explain. “Somehow, I figured you’d be here.”

Mike hadn’t exactly told you the details of what was going on.

As close as the two of you were, he wasn’t sure if you would be entirely receptive to the concept of Abby being ‘friends’ with robots that were controlled by ghost children, and Mike somehow feeling connected to his own missing… dead brother by being in this place. He had simply told you that his new job was a night shift at a creepy old abandoned pizza place.

But of course, you were two steps ahead of him. As always.

You pulled back your hand to inspect the bleeding, and Mike groaned again.

“Should I call an ambulance?” You asked, and Mike shook his head furiously.

“No, we have to-”

We have to leave. You have to leave. You have to get Abby out of here, to safety.

All of those words dissolved on his tongue as he watched with utter shock. He wanted to scream as a big yellow hand clasped onto your shoulder from behind, and soon, a pair of large rabbit ears rose up from the floor.

He wasn’t down for the count.

Before he could speak, before he could move, Mike’s throat became choked as he saw your expression shift from the kind concern that you had worn for him many times - to pain. A brutal shock of your own.

The Rabbit had shoved his knife into your back.

A bright pool of red began to form in the middle of your shirt as the tip of the knife just barely poked through the center of your chest.

“No!” Mike shouted, rushing to sit up despite the pain screaming in his body.

He put a shaking hand to the middle of your chest as though it mattered, as though he could save you from this. He hated how warm your blood felt underneath his fingers.

Abby let out a scream beside him. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he felt a pang of guilt that she had to see this. That she would spend the rest of her life trying to get over this.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” The Rabbit mocked him. “It always hurts more when you love them!”

The Rabbit let out a brutal laugh and then yanked his knife from your back, and you released a sharp breath as the Rabbit shoved you toward Mike, causing you to collapse into his lap in a bloody heap.

Somewhere far away, in another world, Mike heard Vanessa shouting from the doorway. Maybe he felt some sense of relief, thinking she would shoot the Rabbit down and this would all be over. But as the Rabbit’s attention was drawn away from him, he turned to where you were draped across his lap, the small pool of red on your shirt now soaked into a large puddle as you sputtered and some of that harsh bright red blood came out the corner of your lips.

“Mike-” You choked out, reaching for him.

“Tell me what to do,” Mike choked out.

His mind was miserably blank. He felt your fingers clutching at his bicep, like he held the key to saving you, like he could restore your life - but his mind was screaming and his chest collapsed in on itself.

You were always the one that guided him. He didn’t have an idea if you didn’t plant it in his head first.

“Y/N,” Abby sobbed.

“It-it’s okay.” You told her, struggling, gurgling, choking on your own blood. You took your grip off Mike, extending the hand weakly to her, and she took it. “It’s g-gonna be okay.”

She let out another harsh sob, and Mike felt his lungs fill with stone.

“Tell me what to do,” He said desperately, not realizing how thick his own voice was, how close he was to breaking down. He ran a trembling hand over your face, brushing away some stray hairs - he hated how cold you felt to his touch. “Please, tell me what to do.”

He thought you might suggest some first aid. An ambulance. Tell him where your car was so he could carry you there, cart you away, get you to safety.

“You-re g-gonna take c-care of her-r.” You told him, shifting your eyes distinctly from him toward Abby, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re gon-na m-make it ok-ay.”

“Y/N.” Abby cried, thick tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Abby. You’re gonna b-be s-strong.” You grinned at her - your teeth were covered in blood, and it looked as menacing as it did fond. “You’re g-gonna be good for-r M-Mike, right? My little a-artist.”

Abby nodded, more tears leaking from her eyes.

And then, with some gears turning in her head, these words seemingly having triggered some line of thought, she looked up and spotted something across the room. She muttered something about the drawings and leapt up before Mike could stop her. He didn’t have the strength to chase her - he only hoped that she was leaving, escaping while the others were distracted.

When he looked back down at you, your face was falling more limp, and your shirt was somehow even more soaked in blood. His jeans were wet, and he couldn’t even process why. He pressed a hand to the front of your shirt, trying to cover the wound as you had done with him - his muscles shook even harder when blood gushed out between his fingers and seemed to leak from you harder, as if to spite him.

“Y/N,” He sobbed, leaning down. He cradled the back of your head and touched your forehead against his own.

For a moment, he dreamed about putting his lips against your own and bringing you back to life with a kiss. Like some stupid fairytale.

“Y/N, I-”

I love you.

“I - I know.” You croaked quietly, cutting him off. “D-don’t w-waste it on me now-w.”

He felt the puff of your last breath as it expelled out against his cheek - he felt you go completely limp in his arms.

“No-” He choked the word off in his throat, swallowing down sobs.

No.

He held you tighter against him, and feeling how cold you were, he let out a shuddering howl of a sob. He clasped your lifeless body against his chest - somehow believing that he could use the power of his grief to inject more life back into you.

The rest of it was a blur. The deadly snap of springlocks, Vanessa shouting at him to abandon you - to abandon your body as the building collapsed in on itself.

Mike didn’t truly break down until he was scrubbing his blood off your face in the bathroom sink that night. Seeing the red washing down the drain and knowing that it was the last traces of your life he was washing away - that was what truly did it. He collapsed onto the floor and stayed there for hours, sobbing more than he breathed, unable to move.

When his cries finally died down, Abby slowly crept in and asked him how he was feeling. He lied, telling her that he was feeling fine. She raised up a shy hand, offering him one of your sweaters that you had accidentally left on their couch a few days prior.

He thanked her and then finally peeled himself off the floor. He tried to make pancakes and Abby remarked that they weren’t as good as yours. It felt impossible, but her words made him smile. It was a small, dull smile - but it was a smile, nonetheless.

A few days later, when he finally fell asleep for the first time after you had died in his arms, it was with that sweater wrapped around his pillow, wafting your faded smell into his nostrils. It was the first time in years that he didn’t dream about Garett. The dream he had about you was just as haunting.

...

A/N: Also, I don't know if Afton's knife would actually be long enough to go through someone's back and pierce out the front of their chest but - one, it's a cool imagery, and two, the knife looks pretty large when compared to the scale of the Springtrap suit hands. Anyway, I don't actually care all too much if it's accurate or not, I had fun writing this lmao.

#sundrop writes #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #blood tw #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie fanfiction

296 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for going to see horror films behind my mother's back?

I (15F, Autistic) have been fifteen since March, but I've only just started realising what that means in October. A lot of content I previously couldn't consume because of my age is now consumable, and I've started branching out, and being less bored because I get to read and watch new things.

I've never delved deep into horror. I know about slasher lore, but only through Tumblr, Dead Meat kill counts and pop culture references, though I think I'm still pretty smart by all means. While strolling through Netflix, I saw Freddy vs Jason, rated M15 and wanted to watch it because Freddy has always been my favourite (alongside Pinhead, but I know I wouldn't be able to stomach the gore). My mum, sitting right next to me, told me absolutely not. I've already watched both of the Dead Meat summaries of it, and nothing triggered me, and you can't really be hyper empathetic to characters who exist to be canon fodder. So, when it was nighttime, I got on my IPad and watched it for myself. I could easily tap out because of it being an IPad, and I thoroughly enjoyed the film.

Now that FNAF is out to theatres, I asked my Dad if we could go see it. My mum, sitting right next to my dad, said no. I've enjoyed FNAF lore thoroughly and the film looks good, but mum wouldn't allow me to see it. So, if I can't get my dad to bring me, I'll try and watch it anyway via Netflix or some sketchy site or whatever, which I think is piracy, but we all love pissing on corporate here, so,,,,

I feel horrible for going against my mother's back twice, and I know a theatre is less easy to exit then watching it on an IPad, but I'm fifteen now, both movies were rated M to M15 and she's the only one prohibiting me to see it. I don't have friends, much less friends that drive, so unless dad's more lenient, I'll have to wait for who knows how long until I can see it. Still, I feel like after everything my mother has done for me, I can't go behind her back and watch another horror film.

TLDR: AITA for seeing a M15 horror film behind my mother's back and wanting to see another horror film in theatres she's disapproved of, when I'm 15??

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

262 notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 1 year

Text

Enemies to lovers

Robin x reader

So maybe if you could write an enemies to lovers with robin and there is a rivalry between them but then something happens and the dynamics completely switch but they're still kind of bitchy to eachother

I was thinking maybe 9,11,14,23,32 and 40 from the angst list and then 4,18,21,28 and 34 from the fluff list and then to top it of with 14,19,25 and 35 from the smut list

Requested by @seasonofth3witch

Reader is very open about her sexuality

Y/N never understood why Robin had an issue with her. When she first met Robin, she honestly thought she was one of the hottest girls she has ever seen in her life. She was sarcastic and sassy.

Y/N can't lie, seeing Robin screaming at her just aroused her even more. The way her face turned red. Her lips would puff out. Her eyebrows scrunched together and her nose followed. She was breathtaking.

So when Robin decided to hate her guts, she couldn't deny that it stung. It was like she hated her before giving her a chance.

But Y/N wasn't a push over. If Robin was out for blood, she'd put up a fight.

When Robin first heard about Y/N it was from Steve. She was his latest obsession. Robin easily got annoyed when Steve could freely talk about women. If she were to do it, people would judge her. Shame her.

She hated it even more that Steve could be with any girl he met. He didn't have to worry about her sexuality, or hiding their love. She found herself easily jealous over Steve.

And when she met Y/N, jealously planted it's roots in her heart.

She was gorgeous. Easily the most beautiful girl she's ever seen in her life. And she was into Steve, go fucking figure.

She watched as Y/N threw her arms around Steve's neck and how he spun her around.

Robin felt her eyes roll, blushing slightly when Y/N noticed her action.

Y/N smiled anyway and place her hand out to Robin.

Robin hated how her smile made her even more gorgeous. A gorgeous girl for Steve.

Robin faked a smile and shook the girl's hand. Trying to ignore the sparks she felt and butterflies flying in her stomach.

It's been months since they met and Robin still feels jealousy. A burning monster that takes over her mouth and body.

It's like whenever she's near Y/N, the monster makes an appearance.

Robin later found out that she wasn't actually into Steve. They were old childhood friends, and she recently moved back home.

But that didn't matter. Robin couldn't turn the tables on her now, then she'd have to admit why she was so hostile at first. And she was not going to admit that.

In the beginning Y/N tried to brush off Robin's attitude towards her. Maybe she wasn't good at meeting new people. Y/N vowed to always be nice and give her time to warm up.

"Steve and I are going to see the new horror film, do you want to go? I could pick you up?" Y/N smiled sweetly at her but Robin didn't soften up.

"I rather do literally anything than sit in a movie theater with you."

Unless it was them alone, where she could sneak her hand up Y/N's skirt

"I heard you loved chocolate and I got so much for Christmas, do you want to share?"

"I don't need your regifts."

But she'd love to melt chocolate over her skin and lick it off

"Rob! This color blue would look amazing on you."

"I don't remember asking for your opinion."

Robin did secretly buy every clothing item in that color.

Sooner than later Y/N began to bite back. Robin clearly didn't warm up to her after months of knowing her so she gave up.

"Hey Steve don't forget, party at my house tonight!"

Robin looked up, party? Why wasn't she told?

"what about me Steve?"

Y/N overheard the question. With a smirk she snapped back to Robin.

"Sorry. Friends only. Don't really care to have you around."

"Well I vote to watch comedy" Robin stated out loud to the group, as they sat at Steve's for a movie night.

"No one wants to watch your shitty picks Rob."

Robin could feel her blood boil at the sound of Y/N's voice.

After so many comments to one another, they couldn't breathe near each other without fighting.

"ROB ACCEPT THAT YOU ARE WRONG!"

"I AM NOT WRONG!"

"what are they fighting about now?" Steve sighed as he watched the two girls practically go at each other's throats.

"I have no idea." Nancy said. Confusion as to why these two girls always but heads.

The more Robin got to know Y/N, the more she began to fall for her.

But she couldn't, it would only lead her to be heartbroken.

It was easier to hate her than to love her.

The more they fought the more Y/N felt herself craving Robin.

She wanted to swallow Robin's hot words down her throat.

For once shut her up as she fucked her.

The only problem was, if she fucked her, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop.

Their next big blowout ended very badly. A lot of damage was done that Robin wasn't sure she could come back from.

Robin remembered her blood boiling as Y/N had a girl pressed against the wall, her tongue down this girl's throat. Y/N's hands were running down the girls body, hiking a leg around her waist.

Robin could hear the girl moan over the loud music in the living room. She tried to move away but ended up seeing them from a different angle. From here Robin could see Y/N's fingers working themselves into the girl's cunt.

Robin felt herself grow wet as her eyes trained on Y/N's fingers skillfully working this girl to an orgasm. It wasn't her first time. She had to be gay in a sense. Robin watched as the girl fell apart, orgasm washing over her as Y/N swallowed her moans with a kiss. She left the girl panting and shaking in the corner of the living room. No care to the party going on around them. No care to watchful eyes.

Y/N removed her fingers from the girls cunt and sucked them clean. As she cleaned them off she looked to the side to see Robin staring at her.

A dark look took over Robin's eyes. It was a look of heat, lust and desire. She could see Robin clenching her thighs together. The movement caused her small blue dress to move up. Y/N could feel the drooling filling her mouth as she looked at the new skin available.

When she caught Robin's eyes again she smirked at the glare Robin was sending the random girl.

Jealous? She thinks so.

Y/N excused herself to the kitchen, needing another drink. She was already definitely drunk. Not usually the type to finger a girl in public at a party sober.

"You'd think you would have more respect for yourself than to be just a slut in public." She heard Robin hiss from behind her.

She quickly turned to see the girl close, practically chest to chest at this point.

"me a slut? I don't know Rob. From where I was it seemed like you were enjoying the show. What does that make you?" She smirked as Robin blushed underneath the low lights.

Even if she couldn't see her fully in the party lights, she knew Robin looked gorgeous tonight. Delicious enough to devour.

When Robin didn't answer, Y/N stood closer. Now basically nose to nose. If she leaned in an inch more their lips could touch.

"So quiet now baby. What is it? Are you a little bit jealous? Do you wish you could fuck me Rob? Or want me to fuck you?"

Robin wanted to smack the smirk off of Y/N's face. She hated how right she was. She hated that Y/N could read her like a book even when she tried to hide herself with a cover.

But Robin couldn't let herself sink into the game. Y/N was testing her and she needed to come back on top.

"You know Y/N, not everyone wants you. I certainly don't. I don't want you. I don't even fucking like you. I can't stand you. You're selfish, stubborn and such a goddamn bitch. How people even care about you is beyond me. I will never be jealous over anyone you fuck. Because I wouldn't touch you even if you got on your knees and begged me."

Y/N felt like she was sobering quickly. Embarrassed and hurt filling her bones. All this time she thought maybe Robin disliked her because she was attracted to her. Some type of sexual tension that she would feed fire into.

But no, Robin came with a bucket of water and threw it on the fire. She made it clear, and Y/N had to accept the girl she secretly was in love with, would never like her.

"Damn Rob. And all this time I thought it was just sexual tension between us. But I'm glad you told me how you really feel. I'll make sure to leave you the fuck alone." Y/N threw her full drink to Robin's feet. Pushing past her with a hard shove as she ran out.

Robin knew she fucked up. She knew she hurt Y/N and she couldn't come back from that.

It's been two days since the party, and she hasn't seen her since.

It was like she disappeared in thin air.

She wanted to ask about her, but she couldn't let anyone know she secretly cared. She hated that she could see the exact moment Y/N's eyes changed into hurt.

She was supposed to hate her.

And hating someone never felt so hard.

When the gang got together for their next movie night, it was Robin's pick.

She nervously looked over at Y/N the whole night. She didn't say a word to her. Not like they talked every second but something was usually said by now.

When she picked a movie she knew Y/N hated more than anything, she turned to her for a reaction, as did the rest of the gang.

But she sat there silently, picking at her nails.

The gang eyed her weirdly but no one said anything.

Robin quickly put in the movie and went back to her seat.

Radio silence has never hurt so bad before.

Every time Y/N saw Robin or even heard her name, the embarrassment filled her again. She didn't want Robin to know how bad her words affected her but she had to distance herself.

It hurts too much to sit there and act like nothing has changed between them. Like Robin didn't tell her that she could never care for Y/N, even as a friend.

She was never insecure but now she second guessed herself about everything. What if her other friends thought she was a bitch too. Do they think that?

They were Robin's friends first, maybe they all thought the same thing but Robin was the only one that had the balls to admit it.

In a silent agreement Robin and Y/N simply ignored each other.

The gang questioned what happened between the two but neither spoke about it.

Robin felt guilty but was too proud to admit that.

Y/N was embarrassed and didn't want her friends knowing how hard she fell for Robin. She didn't need the pity looks.

She knew Robin would never love her. She doesn't need to hear everyone say it.

Robin came down with chicken pox. She was itchy everywhere and constantly annoyed.

Her parents were gone so she had to somehow take care of herself. Which was hard since she had to tape mittens to her hands so she would stop fucking scratching.

She called Steve and begged him to help. He said he's never gotten the chicken pox and he wasn't going to get them now. But he'd send over help.

And when help showed up at her door, she wished she never asked.

Y/N nervously rocked on her feet. This was a bad idea. Robin would not want her here. But she was the only one in the gang that apparently has had chicken pox before so she was sent to help the girl out.

Help the girl who hates her guts.

She swears God is being cruel on purpose.

But the love she held for Robin took over and she wanted to nurse her back to health.

Once she got enough courage she knocked on the door with her free hand. The other hand is holding a bag of food, drinks, movies, and books. If Robin allowed her to stay, she needed something to entertain her.

When Robin opened the door a big frown took over her face.

Great, Robin thought.

She's sick, covered in red dots, no make up and hair not even brushed. Old pjs of a T-shirt and small shorts with fuzzy socks.

Not how she wanted to look when she saw Y/N again.

God was being cruel on purpose.

Y/N thought the opposite. She thought Robin was somehow even cuter sick. Her no make-up face was still breathtaking, her freckles really stood out. Her crazy bed hair had Y/N thinking of what her sex hair would look like. But she quickly shook that thought behind.

She was her because Robin was sick.

"I brought chocolate." Y/N said with a small smile and shrugged shoulders. Fully expecting Robin to slam the door on her face. To her surprise, Robin opened the door wider and stepped aside.

Her smile got bigger as she walked through the door. Removing her shoes and following Robin's lead to her bedroom.

"sorry for the mess." Robin blushed as she cleared off her bed.

"no worries. My room is definitely worse." She laughed. Her heart warmed when Robin let out a small chuckle.

"alright which film first?"

Around three movies later, Robin was close to falling asleep.

Y/N noticed Robin's eyes getting heavy. The clock read it was near 10 pm.

"You seem tired. I'll get out of your hair." Y/N said quietly as she began to move from the bed. Cleaning up the snacks and drinks around her.

She began to grab her keys when Robin's small voice stopped her.

"Could you stay a little bit longer?”

Y/N didn't know what to say.

She wanted her to stay? She turned to look at her, hoping to read her expression.

Robin's eyes were red and heavy. Just blinks away from falling asleep.

"Yeah Rob, of course." She smiled softly and Robin's lips turned into a smile.

Y/N went to sit at the edge of the bed, where she was sitting before, when Robin scooted over to her wall and patted the space next to her.

"You want me to lay next to you?" Y/N asked. She was confused. Robin wasn't anything like how she usually is when it comes to Y/N.

Robin felt her body flush in heat. Maybe she shouldn't have asked her to stay. Maybe she shouldn't have asked her to lay down.

She feels like an idiot. Right as she was about to tell her nevermind, Y/N took off her jeans.

Robin blushed at the sight of her legs and thighs. Her shirt covered her panties, thankfully otherwise Robin might actually burst in flames.

Y/N crawled in next to Robin and turned her head to face the tv, away from Robin's eyes.

Robin couldn't watch the movie, her eyes kept landing back to Y/N body laying next to her. The tv highlights the sides of her face. She was so effortlessly gorgeous. Laying there with no makeup, full attention to the film.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it was soothing. It was relaxing. And it somehow felt right.

Robin couldn't help herself as she slowly itched her hand closer to Y/N's that rested on her own stomach.

Once she felt her hand made contact with Y/N's she quickly shut her eyes. Fake snores leaving her mouth.

"Rob? Hey Rob? Are you asleep?" She heard Y/N softly whisper. Her breath hitting Robin's lips.

She kept her eyes closed, pretending to sleep.

Robin tried not to smile when she felt Y/N lace their fingers together and her body scoot closer.

"Sweet dreams Rob." Her heart warmed as she felt a kiss to her nose.

She kept fake sleeping until she truly fell asleep, her heart slowly beating in rhythm with the girl that laid next to her.

Robin groaned as she felt the sun shining in her eyes. Throwing an arm over eyes to block out the disturbance.

She rolled over to hide her head into her pillow when she smelled a shampoo that wasn't hers. She opened her eyes fully to see her bed empty but the scent still lingered.

That's when she remembered, she asked Y/N to stay the night.

Robin felt herself frown as she looked at the empty bed. Her room is now a tad bit more clean than last night. Her tv was shut off. The silence in the room felt like it was suffocating her. She removed herself from her bed and changed into new clothes.

She made her way to the kitchen and froze when she saw Y/N standing there in front of the stove, nothing but the same shirt and panties from the night before.

Robin clenched her thighs when Y/N reached up to grab plates from the cabinet. Her shirt rose up and she could see how her panties shaped the globes of her ass so wonderfully. She wanted to come behind her and grip her ass as she rutted herself against her.

Robin decided she needed to speak up, not keep staring at her.

"I thought you left."

Y/N jumped at the sudden voice. And turned around.

She smiled at Robin, looking adorable in her huge blue sweatshirt and small shorts. Hair thrown up in a messy bun, pieces that couldn't fit laid against her neck. Her small red bumps are mostly gone.

"Nope! Just making pancakes." She smiled brightly.

"you know, you wear that color blue a lot. It's nice on you." She complimented as she turned back around.

Robin blushed, silently remembering why she bought this color blue in the first place.

After that day Y/N thought things were going to be better between them. Robin seemed to have opened up around her, and wanted her to stay.

Y/N hoped at least a friendship was forming.

But she was wrong. She was reminded once again that Robin did not like her.

The gang was at another party, trying to have every bit of teenage fun they could manage.

Robin has been avoiding Y/N at all costs. Refusing to look in her direction during group conversations, purposely standing the furthest away.

She did a whole 180 on her. She wanted her to stay and now she doesn't seem to care if they know each other or not.

But Y/N wasn't going to dwell on it. This behavior from Robin shouldn't shock her anymore.

Y/N spent the night dancing with the prettiest girl she could find. She wanted to feel things for someone else that she felt with Robin. She wanted to feel that heat and desire.

She let the girl grind herself all over her. She placed her hands on the girl's hips and moved with her. The girl had her head thrown back in a moan as Y/N slipped her leg in between her thighs. Now grinding her clothed clit against Y/N's thigh. Y/N could feel herself biting back a moan as the girl sucked on her neck, definitely leaving a hickey behind.

"how does she find a girl every single time?" Steve whined as he watched Y/N and this random girl basically dry hump each other in the middle of the living room.

"She's hot Steve." Nancy said as she laughed at his displeasure.

Robin didn't seem to be enjoying it either. Racing breaths coming from her body. She doesn't know if her face was full of heat from the drink in her cup or from what her eyes had to watch.

Watch the girl she's been trying to ignore feelings for, once again give another girl an orgasm during a party. Robin remembered last time this happened she said things she shouldn't have. Before she made that mistake again she headed for the kitchen for some water, hoping to cool down whatever is making her body hot.

"Hey you are Rob right?" A breathless voice came from beside her.

It was the same girl from the other party that Y/N messed around with.

"it's Robin." She corrected, no friendliness in her tone.

"Oh sorry. Y/N always calls you Rob, speaking of her I was wondering if she has said anything about me? I gave her my number but she never called." The girl asked nervously, her fingers twiddling.

"Um no. But her and I don't really talk." Robin shrugged, softening the blow just a bit.

"oh really? She talks about you a lot like you guys were friends. But nevermind then. I guess I'll have to find her or something." The girl quickly went to run off. Jealousy and a sting of guilt filling Robin, Y/N talked about her all the time. In front and to other girls.

With a sigh Robin headed back to the living room, seeing Y/N now talking to the girl Robin ran into. Smiling and laughing. Robin rolled her eyes. She hated how easy it was for every other girl to talk to Y/N so freely. Not initiated or scared by her.

She watched as Y/N kissed the girls cheek and headed to the bathroom. The girl smiled after her, in a daze.

Robin tried to act as it didn't bother her when Y/N walked right past her. Not even a slight movement in her eyes.

"Hey did you see where Y/N went?" The girl from the dance floor asked as she walked up to Robin.

Another one really?

"no." She snapped. Why was she forced to be an Y/N expert all of a sudden.

"well I really need to go so if you could give her my number. That'd be great!" She handed Robin a piece of paper.

" I wouldn't bother, Y/N has this thing where she acts like she cares. She'll fuck you no doubt. Make it so good your head will spin. Then when you wake up she'll be gone. And I promise you she won't call you again. She doesn't settle down. Kind of a one night stand type of girl. Guess she got too used to people not wanting more than sex from her so she became best at it. " Robin declared as confident as she could like she would know.

But Robin truly didn't know. She had no idea what Y/N was like in bed. If she hooked up once and left. If she stayed to hold whoever it was. She wished she knew.

The girl wasn't sure what to say so she awkwardly laughed and slowly walked away.

“Everytime something goes well, I momentarily forget how much I despise you.” Y/N spoke up. Robin's head quickly turned to see her standing there. Arms crossed and eyes a tad bit watery.

Robin felt her expression fall, yet again she fucked up.

"Don’t look at me like you’re sorry. You’re not sorry.” Y/N scoffed.

Robin quickly stuttered out, "no that's not... that wasn't...I didn't...I am sorry."

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned around. Once again running out of a party because of Robin.

But this time Robin followed her.

Racing out to the front yard, "Y/N JUST WAIT!"

"NO ROBIN. I'M FUCKING DONE!"

"Don't call me that please. It's Rob remember? And I am sorry."

"Sorry for what Robin? Hating me before you even gave me a chance? Treating me like shit when we are hanging out with our friends? Slut shaming me? Telling me you could never care about me? Telling girls that I'm just a good fuck and that's all I have? So what part?" Y/N asked. .

Maybe hating Y/N wasn't the right way to go with things. Maybe she should've been honest. Maybe this is now the time.

"do you want me to fuck you, Robin? Is that what this is? Sexually frustrated from being near me all the time?" Robin gulped as Y/N got nose to nose to her.

A weak nod from Robin caused Y/N to smirk.

"Then let's go." Y/N demanded as she began to walk to her car

Robin had no idea what Y/N had planned. She had no idea why she followed Y/N to her car with no hesitation.

And now Robin found herself in her own bedroom, and not alone.

Y/N had Robin right here she wanted her.

"Strip." She demanded.

Robin's body heated as Y/N checked her out.

Robin slowly unzipped her dress, letting it fall to her feet. She bent forward to pull down her tights.

Now she stands in front of a fully dressed Y/N, in nothing but her matching underwear.

Robin felt her self grow self conscious as Y/N stared at her. Subconsciously covering herself with her hands.

Y/N quickly walked up to Robin and removed her hands.

"Stop. You are beautiful." She said.

After months of back and forth, Y/N finally got to kiss the girl of her dreams.

Robin was panting hard.

She was on her back, completely naked and at Y/N's mercy.

A vibrator buzzing on her clit, that Y/N has refused to move for minutes.

"you are going to hold that vibrator on your clit until you cum. Do you understand?" Y/N demanded as she lowered her face towards Robin's cunt.

Robin nodded fast and grabbed the vibrator. Pressing it harshly against her clit. Moaning at the feeling of vibrations shooting through her body.

"OH FUCK!" Robin screamed as Y/N plunged one finger into her cunt.

"look at you. One finger in and you are screaming for me" Y/N mocked as she began to pump two fingers inside of her. Fingering as deep as she could.

"So warm and tight Rob." Robin felt her pussy clench hearing Y/N call her Rob as she fingered her.

Robin's moans grew louder and closer together. Hips bucking up to match the pace of Y/N's fingers. Her clit pulsing from the vibrator.

"I'm gonna cum." She whispered. Moans leaving her mouth in a higher pitch.

Y/N smirked as she watched Robin fall apart.

"I only came because of the vibrator." Robin said as she turned it off and moved it to the side. Y/N smirk got bigger as she thrust a third finger into Robin's cunt.

'oh fuck" Robin gasped.

" are you saying I can't make you cum by myself with no toys involved? You are going to regret that, I'm going to fucking ruin you."

Robin should have kept her mouth shut.

Because now she was three orgasms in and Y/N hadn't removed herself from between Robin's thighs.

She was sucking and licking Robin's thighs. Fingers are still slowly pushing into her. It was messy and wet. Y/N's tongue was thrashing against Robin's clit harshly. With each orgasm Robin grew more sensitive. It became way easier to keep her cumming and screaming.

"I can't...I can't give another." Robin whimpered as she tried to pull her hips away from Y/N's assault.

"Aw Rob. That was like two orgasms without the vibrator even near you."

Robin wanted to kiss the smirk off of her face.

Before she could say a word, Y/N climbed up Robin's chest.

"Put your mouth to good use for once and eat me like a good girl."

Robin moaned as Y/N straddled her face. Her delicious thighs smother her into Y/N's cunt. Robin inhaled Y/N scent. Feeling her abused cunt dripping.

Y/N was soaked from watching Robin orgasm after orgasm. No shame as she rode Robin's face desperately. She was working for an orgasm and that was it.

Robin hasn't tasted a woman as well as her before. Y/N tasted delicious, and sweet. Robin could die happily being suffocated by her thighs.

Robin slowly flicked her own nipples as Y/N rode her face, fast and harsh. Y/N's hands were digging into Robin's hair. Yanking her head even further into Y/N's cunt.

She was screaming above Robin. The sound slightly muted from how tight Y/N was keeping her thighs locked around Robin's head.

Y/N was cumming in seconds. Practically fucking herself on Robin's tongue.

Robin licked up the mess Y/N created. Humming at the sweet taste. Robin wished she could taste her forever.

Y/N slowly crawled down Robin's body, her bare cunt moving out of Robin's view. Robin whined at the view she got of it before it was taken away.

Y/N's pretty pink and soaked pussy would forever be imprinted in Robin's mind.

Robin once again woke up to the sun shining in her eyes. She quickly rolled over to see her bed empty once again.

Robin got out of bed fast and threw on a shirt to cover her naked skin.

Tip toeing down to her kitchen with a smile on her face.

But when she reached the kitchen so saw no one. It was empty and hasn't been touched in hours.

Robin's smile slowly fell.

A little piece of paper was taped to the fridge so Robin quickly read the note:

"I guess you found out what happens after I make a girls head spin, turns out I do leave. Wouldn't be expecting a call anytime soon :) "

That's it for part 1!

I hope whoever read this long ass fic enjoyed it!!

I love writing for Robin :)

There will be a part 2 and hopefully won't take me too long to put out

#robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley stranger things #robin buckley angst #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley smut #robin buckley smut x reader #Robin Buckley angst x reader

926 notes · View notes

1dmonthlyficroundup · 28 days

Text

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for March 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Why Don’t We Start Writing The Story Of Us by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa [T, 6k, Louis/Harry]

Immediately after the words left his mouth, Louis wanted to face palm himself. Nerves always brought out joking as a deflection technique, it was almost an instinct.

Harry only looked up long enough to reply with a flat, “no,” before turning back to his book.

“Alright,” Louis said, rocking forward on the balls of his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll, uh… leave you to it.”

OR Alpha Louis and Omega Harry get off on the wrong foot, Louis has the worst timing, and Harry believes in second chances. Three times Louis asks Harry on a date and the one time Harry accepts

＊ The Room Thief by @2tiedships2 [NR, 12k, Harry/Louis]

Louis: Can I come over? Need your help.

Niall: Did someone die? I don’t need to help you bury a body do I? Wait, did you behead one of your alpha flatmates? I hope it was the one that smells like cherries. That is such a weird scent for an alpha. It’s disturbing. And I can’t even smell it.

Louis: I’ve just been kicked out. Can I crash on your couch?

Niall: Zayn’s in class. I’m here so get over here NOW.

Louis: Thanks mate. Gonna pack a few things and will head over. Be there in about a half hour.

When Louis comes home and is confronted by his knothead alpha flatmates, he knows it won’t result in anything good, but he didn’t expect to be left homeless, effective immediately. He definitely didn’t expect to fall for the specific knothead who stole his room.

＊ Half Agony, Half Hope by asphodelknox / @iamasphodelknox [E, 33k+, wip, Louis/Harry]

Harry had never believed the rumors of the beast at the manor on the hill. They sounded like something from Twilight or an old Hollywood horror film, a beautiful man who turned into a beast once a month and killed anyone who was unlucky enough to be stuck on the manor’s grounds.

Yeah, right. The manor was probably just creepy and old. Besides, it’s not like he had anything else to do.

Harry's had enough of his shit year. Had enough of his shit ex and the fact that he graduated from university with no idea what to do next or what to do with the grief. Ed dares him to spend a month at the crumbling Tomlinson manor, and Harry goes cause what else do you do when your life's fallen apart?

It's not really haunted anyway... is it?

＊ when the time is right by refusethyname / @refusethyname28 [E, 146k, Harry/Louis]

“Do you live in the cabin by yourself?” Louis then decided to ask.

“I do, well sort of, I have a cat.”

“A cat?” Louis then asked and Harry nodded happily.

“She’s a precious thing, but she always leaves me for this one customer who is staying at one of the cabins. His name is Tomlin-something, I can’t really recall,” Harry said, causing Louis to chuckle this time. The singer shook his head at Harry’s comment and smiled brightly at him. Harry was truly something else and Louis’ heart fluttered.

“He sounds like an absolute arse if he steals your cat,” Louis chuckled and Harry shook his head at that.

“On the contrary, he is extremely thoughtful, didn’t even mind it too much when I spilled my hot tea over him, how is your stomach by the way?” Harry then asked.

“If this is your way of trying to get me to undress again,” Louis joked and Harry’s cheeks grew bright red. The younger man started stammering some incoherent things and quickly averted his gaze, which Louis thought was absolutely adorable.

Or the cabin fic where falling in love underneath the northern lights only leads to heartbreak.

＊ I Found the Earth (Not Leaving Now) by mmaree / @zqua1d [M, 34k, Zayn/Liam]

Liam watches the ball of light as it traces the sky then starts to dip below the tree-line. It’s larger than any shooting star he has ever seen before.

He makes a wish.

Alien Zayn + Human Liam | A love story inspired by the song “If I Got You”

＊ Your hand in my hand, so still and discreet by flamboyo / @riverswater [E, 4k, Louis/Harry]

“It was about how cold he was under me. How still. It was knowing that even if he had died, even if he was already dead, he would still be mine.”

Louis thought he knew each one of his boyfriend’s stories, secrets, and kinks. Turns out Harry was keeping a crucial one hidden away.

＊ Scared That My Worst is the Best That I’ve Got by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [M, 5k, Harry/Louis]

So while Louis’ proposition is preposterous, it’s also the only compromise his brain seems willing to make at the moment.

Harry slowly raises his head to look at Louis. He’s standing on the other side of the kitchen, elbow resting casually on the edge of the counter next to the sink. His expression is soft and patient, and there’s delicate morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows behind him, setting his outlined silhouette aglow. He looks like an angel.

An angel in an old oversized adidas jumper with tattoos on his knuckles, but an angel all the same.

Harry’s voice comes out mumbled and much smaller than he’d like, but it is what it is. As Louis always says.

“Just shampoo?”

(Or five times Louis saves Harry from himself, and one time when Louis is the one that needs the saving).

＊ I’ll tell you something (I hope you’ll understand) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Louis insists that Harry stay off her phone and in the safety of Louis' room rather than risk moping in her own texting her ex-boyfriend. When Harry agrees on one condition, Louis' safe night in could become something else entirely.

＊ sunshine, baby! by staybeautiful / @harruandlou [E, 106k, Harry/Louis]

Louis was the first one down the row for their group. If he hadn’t been they would have never met.

He was turned around, walking backwards and saying to Liam, “No, I’ll get you to a real footie match next,” when he bumped into someone.

“Oops,” Louis laughed, tripping over his own feet. A hand curled around his upper arm as he nearly fell over the seat in front of him. “Sorry about that, mate.”

He turned around, still teetering in his vans, to apologize again, but the words dried in his throat. Another hand gripped his other elbow, steadying him, but all Louis could see were green eyes and dimples.

“Hi,” the man laughed, a bright, bubbling sound. “Are you okay?”

Or Louis is in his first year of law school, Harry is a junior on the swim team dreaming of the Olympics, and they both agree that they don't have time for anything more than friends with benefits... right?

- Podfics -

＊ Truth or Drink by @kingsofeverything read by @podfic-pals [M, 6k, Louis/Harry]

Truth or Drink | Exes

Harry and Louis broke up years ago, and they're seeing each other again for the first time to play Truth or Drink. On camera.

#28th appreciation #hlcreators #hljournal #hltracks #trackinghome #trackinghappily #tracksintheam #1dficvillage #1dsource

78 notes · View notes

pricescancerstickk · 3 months

Text

Yandere Scream Drabble. Stu (1)

You were so sure ever since you moved to woodsboro no one showed- or hinted signs of having a crush on you. You weren’t all that interested into dating aswell. Still pure.

And you were lucky enough to make friends along the way despite all the various attacks you heard about all over the news, following the death of Casey, Sydney must’ve taken it the hardest. And it showed how it made her so paranoid. Her mother passed away, she knew what it felt like to lose someone. But you were just as paranoid.

First week in woodsboro at the start of high school you met Tatum, and you did see her rather goofy boyfriend, he was very unserious. Stu, and after a while you got well acquainted with the female until you eventually got into the friendgroup, you would think that Tatum were the one who helped to convince them to include you but it was actually Stu.

But the way he had been acting was getting weirder by time passed, he’d only have his eyes on you the entire time. The way he constantly, but subtly was getting all friendly with you and hugging you all the time made you flustered. Squeaking whenever he pulled you into those bear hugs. Chubby cheeks filling with a pink hue all over, he’d smirk at that. It only amused him how you were jumpy. But he knew his plan was working.

“M’not sure, parties aren’t really my thing?..” You chirped, on the other side of the phone with Tatum, your eyes darting, resting on watching outside the window. Parties aren’t really my thing. You always said that. But the truth was you were just reserved and didn’t feel comfortable lingering and drinking all night. She shifted on the other side of the phone.

“Come on Y/n. Please?” Her voice cracked a little, she laughed slightly. “It’ll be fun I promise. We got Randy to bring some movies to watch too,” Your ears perked. You were closest to Randy probably. But not as much as Tatum. He was horror-movie obsessed. You liked them just as much it was only natural to get along with Randy, but the constant teasing of them telling you that you could date Randy just kind of embarassed you.

You weren’t dating and that was that, “But-“ “Also bring your pajamas. I just know you’re gonna pass out mid way through the film on Stu. You always fall asleep.” She teased. And you felt embarassed, you bit your fingers a little, cheeks reddening. “Shut up Tatum..” you pulled your knees to your chest.

Y/n packed a pair of some pastel pajamas. But extra sweater and some pants if she threw up. The poor girl had stomach problems, Slipping the sweater off over her head as she changed into the pink tank top which Stu always told her she looked cute in, she hesitated to wear it infront of him, feeling a bit guilty. Out of pure loyalty for Tatum, she didn’t want to seem like some side chick and seem like she was trying to flirt or seduce Stu, that was wrong. Instead just setting another pink t shirt she wore along with her blue shorts. It was cut short as she got a phone call. But she did know. She’d only realize the next morning that she fell asleep during the movie.

Her finger twirled the cable as she picked up. “Tatum im coming stop calling me—“ “The blonde you hang out with all the time?” A distorted voice mused. You heard a little bit of static. She smiled a little. Giggling “It’s not funny anymore Stu I..I know it’s you” she hesitated.

Y/n was confused. “Is that you s-Stu ? This prank isn’t funny.” She plopped carefreely onto the couch. Kicking her legs softly. “Oh well I don’t know? Cute pajamas you have there. Headed to a party or whatever. Huh? You know..” He paused.

The poor girl’s eyes welled with tears. She couldn’t even choke out a sob. She was scared, she looked frantically out the window and tried to shake herself out her thoughts. Her bare feet tapped the floor. She stood up. “Why are you doing this?” Her whimpers filled the other side of the phone, she shook and turned her head and immediately hung up the phone, she put on her shoes and tried to call anyone. Stu. Billy. Tatum, but no one answered the frantic girl. She immediately knew who this was. She was getting viciously attacked as the week went on. It didn’t help that.

She couldn’t contact anyone

Tatum was already drunk. Sydney was god knows where. Dewey was busy, Randy wouldn’t pick up, she was hopeless. But even if she tried to contact Stu or Billy. She didn’t have their number. Flocking on her pink shoes she immediately stepped out the front porch. Dumb decision

Ghost face was already out there waiting in the dark. The mask’s ‘eyes’ bore into Y/n. She shrieked when he ran. Shutting her eyes tensely and screaming as she shut the door and the figure ran into it, with a low grunt they fell annoyed almost. But their movements were mocking.

Immediately trying to run up the steps pulled back and thrown against the wall. Y/n landed against the hard wall with a squawk. Sinking against the wall descending onto the floor. The figure held the handle of the knife. With a desperate look she tried to hold onto anything for dear life but landed down onto the floor after a harsh throw. Hitting her head on the steps she went limp for a moment. And a grin filled behind the cold mask of the killer

Blood oozed a little from the side of her forehead. Ghost face took her by the ankles. Turning her onto her back. Straddling her snug before he took her face and turned it to the side. Wiping off the blood. Tears were still sliding down her cheeks like a waterfall. He couldn’t. Her chubby cheeks were just so adorable. But it wouldn’t be long before she woke up, his hands which were covered by gloves gripped her cheeks and moved down. Lifting the mask to press a kiss to her chin. If anyone were this gentle with Y/n she would melt at the gentleness. But she sworn. No one at the high school showed signs of a crush.

But this was coming from a killer.

#horror #horror movies #Stu macher #Stu macher x reader #stu macher x you #stu macher x y/n #yandere stu macher #Yandere #Scream 1 #Scream #Scream 1996 #scream x reader #scream x yn #scream x you #self insert #yn #x yn #you x scream

75 notes · View notes

dadsbongos · 1 month

Text

possession

6.5 k words // warnings - suicidal ideation/tendencies, gore/blood + body horror (miscarriage imagery), vomiting, implied cannibalism, geographical errors, not beta read, you wear skirt, not in canon

summary - Grief is ugly, you knew that. The hole where your husband used to be just keeps growing until you can't take it anymore.

@ghostlykeyes i finally finished the possession fic!! like months after talking about it!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve seen the funny things that grief does to people. Your father refused to rise from bed for five days when your mother passed. Your kitten would search the house for her mother every day when the older cat was no longer around. Your aunt bleached her hair and moved to the states when her husband served divorce papers. Your baby cousin faked ill for a whole week when his dog ran away. Your best friend admitted that when her brother died, she drove far out to the country and parked over train tracks… She admitted that she waited for an hour before driving home.

Yes, you’ve seen the bizarre and stomach-churning behaviors that grief can bring out from a person, but you’ve never seen something like this. And the most stomach-churning thing about it, is that you’re the one behind this.

It isn’t someone else you can psychoanalyze or rant about -- it’s your hands settling over the chilly doorknob. It’s your hands twisting around the knob. It’s your guest room that’s occupied by this… thing.

You release the metal as its cold exterior burns a hole in your palm. You step back, and you stay away.

…

When you were younger, you liked to draw yourself far into the future. Where your crayoned head would scratch at the sky, and you would have a car with a lumpy hood and mismatching tires. And, of course, your very own house with a grand front door: a welcoming, circular window, and a lemony handle meant to be gold, and thick mahogany wood. You used to be embarrassed by the squiggly lines and uneven shades when your mother would keep and display the dog-eared pages, but Mahito would insist. Mahito pressed the contractors how dire it was that the entryway to your shared home matched your childhood depictions.

So how strange it is that Mahito’s mission partner and close friend, Kento Nanami, stands in this grand, gaping doorway with a firm downturn of his lips. Tingling wells from the bottom of your gut, tangling with your intestines and latching onto each rung of your ribs. Thick knots lodge in your throat -- your questions choking you. You swallow them. You spit them back up.

“How…?”

Kento blinks, honey eyes dripping to the floor and sticking there, “I can’t tell you.”

Chunks replace the words in your throat, spittle wetting the inside of your mouth. You try to suck it all back, suppressing the bile, “Can I see the body…?”

Kento shakes his head, hands curling into fists at his sides, “I can’t show it to you.”

“Is there anything you can give me?”

“I have nothing,” Kento mutters it, gaze finally flicking back up to your face, “Only my word.”

You’re uncertain of how to respond to Kento. Thoughts swiped off your brain, like a dreary mother clearing her counter of kitchen scraps into the garbage. There’s a thin film of powdery flour clinging to the surface, remnants of things you wanted to ask. Information you’d beg for. Details of the mission. The dreary mother blows hot air over the counter, scattering flour up into the air.

Kento reaches into his front shirt pocket, the azure material stretching around his hand. He pulls out a thin, bleached cloth with tattered edges and extends it towards you, “Well, I do… have this.”

It was once purple. The shade of sweet raisins. It was once part of his uniform.

“It was all I could grab,” he watches your face as you focus on the cloth being pressed into your palm, “If you need company, or the house is too quiet…”

“I know, Nanami.”

You survey the cloth, it barely takes up your palm with a stretched, floss-like texture at each side. So worn the purple is churning into gray. Or is it marinated ash? Or dried curse’s blood?

“I’m here for you.”

“I know, Nanami.”

Kento sends himself on his way, stepping back from your doormat with dirt clots following after. He crunches over them again on his trek down the front steps. Your stained mahogany door clicks shut gently, golden handle nipping cold at your flesh. The sound of the lock sliding into place echoes through your home’s foyer.

Mahito’s frayed uniform strip is rough in your hand. Slim. Thin. Hardly protective at all.

Just as the door shutting, and the lock pinning it, your gasp makes rounds through the empty house. Quiet. It’s already too quiet.

You used to like that. Peace away from Mahito’s missions and cursed humans and terrible spirits and even…

Gaze falling across the vase displayed on a frail, dark wood end table, you’re suddenly overwhelmed with contempt. Every bright sunshine sheen and painted pastel flower petal aches like a knife in your back.

As you lift the ceramic vase, it’s thunking off the table fills your ears in the silent house. Too big. Too quiet. You hurl the decorative vase into the farthest wall and cringe at how overbearing the song of its shatter is. After the offending art piece is out of sight, the cloth in your free hand regains sensation. You can feel the tile under your feet again. You can hear the birds chirping outside like there’s something to hope for this spring.

Legs shaky and thighs burning from the stress, you rush towards the vase’s new graveyard and cradle the shards you’re certain won’t tear your hands apart. You feel your heart burn a hole through your chest. Its fire blares and feeds until the hole extends far into your viscera. Guilt seeps into place -- molding around your organs to keep them from collapsing into each other.

Kento’s gift vase is scattered around your knees. And you cry into the pieces you hold.

When the only surviving shred of Mahito cannot dry your face, you cry harder.

…

“I don’t know when,” you answer honestly. Shaking your head. Your nails rake into the stretch of skin over your thighs. So sharp it's as if you’re ripping right through your tights, but you don’t hear the telltale popping of fabric.

Though it’s louder in your boss’ office than at the house. That, you suppose, is one good thing here.

“I understand,” she nods slowly, hands folded calmly over her steel desk. A glass vase, tinged like precious jade, holds white lilies. You think they used to be yellow. You wonder when they changed, “Take your time. And drive safely, please.”

Wallowing eyes trail after you. Shame bleeds into that guilt pothole inside you as your coworkers watch you exit the building. For what, you couldn’t answer reasonably. Because, reasonably, there is no cause for such shame. You’re unfit to return to work. Your boss sympathizes. Yet, you feel that humiliation of eyes squinted and narrowed and curious all the same. It doesn’t sink when you’re in the parking lot, nor when you climb into the driver’s seat of your car.

You never liked taking public transport without Mahito to keep you company. And even then, he would often drive you home when he wasn’t sent away with work.

So you needed to adjust the seat upon initially settling in.

The memory of your clueless fiddling, unfamiliar with the layout of your own vehicle, makes your hands shake against the wheel. Your knuckles twinge at the stretch, and perhaps when you release your grip the leather of the steering wheel will have left indents. Your foot feels heavier than it used to, you think it drags the gas pedal down.

Surprisingly, the road is not clogged with cars. Vast asphalt paints the scene ahead, lined by inactive streetlamps and sagging telephone cables. You and the road.

You could let your foot sink. Find out how far down the pedal goes. You could ease the tension in your hands and let the steering wheel go altogether. You could turn on the radio and fall into a blissful, noisy sleep.

Slowly, you slip a hand off the wheel and reach for the radio knobs, slowly swerving the dial far right. You leave that hand off the wheel. Your foot slumps into the gas and your car jolts down the road. Waning wires transition into beams of black rod separated by blurry lamps. Tires jerk to the left and your heart bumps out of your skin, you now notice how unsteady your hand remaining on the wheel is.

But peeling that hand away seems impossible. No matter how you lift or pry, as though you’ve been suction sealed to the leather. A weight pressing your final tether firmly into the real world.

Your foot lightens on the pedal until you’re below the speed limit, and you return both hands to the wheel before gliding it over and off the side of the road. Between two street lamps, your car rests -- you keep the radio high. Better that than droning silence occasionally interrupted by birds and crickets wailing for carnal attention.

With the car immobile, you’re left to stare across the clear azure sun. As spotless as it had been days before Mahito left, and, perhaps foolishly, you’d taken that as a good omen. Now it just burns your eyes, leaving you to blink back welling tears: the tears do not stop, though.

No matter how hard you blink, they will not stop.

…

You no longer eat at the table. A shame because it was crafted by hand at Mahito’s pocket’s expense, but everytime you eat there you think of that fact. And you think of breakfasts ruined by his crude humor. And you wish you hadn’t let such minuscule words dictate those mornings. So, to avoid that chain of thought, you consume your measly meal at the kitchen island in the dark. And in the trash can immediately to your left is a crumpled sheet from your calendar -- the month of May.

(You’ve discovered your days go smoother this way.)

A collection of harsh thuds vibrate against the kitchen counter. Masamichi Yaga’s stern face igniting your screen, underneath are two buttons; one ruby and one emerald. Having never been a sorcerer yourself, the only reason Yaga ever had your phone number was for trivial matters. Occasionally, he’d use it if Mahito hadn’t answered his own phone. A sharp sting eats away even more of your insides at the thought. So, you swipe the ruby button.

You decline Yaga’s call.

Stubbornly, he redials your number. Again, you decline.

He calls again, so you decline.

He calls once more, so you decline.

When he calls for the fourth time, you blindly throw your phone through the kitchen doorway. The absence is bliss for a short-lived second before the silence is interrupted by a bang and shatter. You jerk against the counter, hesitation anchoring you there for longer than the quiet’s lifespan before you explore the living room. Finding your phone’s grim resting spot takes no effort.

It’s surrounded by ceramic that glints in the few, thin ribbons of sunlight poking through your slatted windows. Shards you should’ve picked up weeks ago, but the shame of having an unkempt home fails to inspire any cleanliness. You merely retrieve the cracked phone (screen flickering with a pale greenish glow at the bottom) and ignore the jagged pieces.

…

3:34PM

“What even happened?” Utahime cradles your extended hand between hers. Thin, cardinal lines are split into the delicate skin of your fingertips. Some are lighter in color, and some are much, much darker. She frowns and curls her fist around yours as if to melt the wounds back together with the warmth of her palm.

“My screen’s broken.”

Her deadpan stare slackens as soon as it arrives, she bites her tongue and quietly sighs through her nose, “I know that. I meant: how did your phone even break?”

Slipping your hand out from her grasp, you pick up the display phone to your right. Roughly the same size as your current one, but a cursory glance at the tag confirms it’s a (moderately) more recent model. Therefore, apparently, it must be double the price.

Before you can replace the phone on its stand, Utahime snags it without so much as a glance at the price, “I’ll get it for you. Save your money.”

“I hope that’s not pity.”

“You’re my friend,” she insists, but her words don’t make you feel any better, “So was Mahito.”

You nod slowly. Her oxblood eyes linger over your face, the attention spurs nausea gurgling through your throat. Saliva wells along the velvet walls of your mouth, throat burning, “What?”

“Are you sleeping well?”

“Yes,” you blink away the faint throbbing in your stressed eyeballs, turning your head away towards the front of the store, “Yeah, I’m fine, don’t… just buy the phone, if you’re sure you want to.”

“‘Course I am,” she hushes herself, solely to avoid frightening you off. Like you’re some abandoned kitten soaking in a cardboard box under rain, “I can always come over, too.”

“Utahime.”

“I’m sorry.”

You let it go rather than try explaining the sore, tender, exposed nerve away. You cannot fathom how you would even begin telling her that you don’t sleep in your bed anymore. And, furthermore, you don’t wish to share the couch. Can’t even consider the notion.

Utahime bites her tongue harder.

5:30AM

The digital clock sitting beneath your television has lighting like olive’s skin, making it easy to stare at even in the pitch black of your living room. Without the hum of the air control, your dismal little makeshift sleeping quarters are even more still than in the day. Silence makes it hard to sleep. Thinking about how little you’re sleeping makes it harder to sleep. Thinking about how Mahito would usually wake you in two and a half hours for breakfast before he went to work made it impossible to sleep.

Maybe, if you squeezed your eyes tight enough then you could slip into an alternate timeline where you get to rest in your own bed. And after breakfast at 8:30, there is the shopping excursion to a marketplace you two frequent at night when he gets home. He likes to carry your bag.

But, oh, you will have to go alone in this timeline, won’t you?

And, oh, everyone will ask where your Mahito is, won’t they?

Sweetly, they will tease that he’s making you carry all the groceries home. Curiously, they will titter about his whereabouts. You will be forced to answer.

Will you lie? Or would that be too pathetic?

The alternate timeline is making your head hurt. The pit inside you gnaws further on its surroundings until you’re sure that your entire stomach is swallowed and torn and burned into sickness. You open your eyes again.

5:31AM

…

With how mousy your appetite has been lately, you barely notice when the back of your pantry becomes more apparent than its contents. Utahime, you’re sure, would be giddy to run such a tedious errand simply because it would mean that you’re still alive and capable of speech. Her current location across the country in Kagoshima argues back, though.

So you found yourself on the long trek to a new store with new faces at midnight on an otherwise abandoned railway. Nothing in the store roused much inside you, except for the ever-growing rot in your gut when you’re ashamed by how you wander to the alcohol. One of few things you’re certain you can keep down now is, ironically enough, wine.

You were never much of a drinker when-

You swallow hard and make for the selection of breads.

At least now you can hopefully rest in the night, however unorthodox the methods may be.

Does it matter at all? When you really, truly think about it -- as long as you’re sleeping, does it matter what puts you there? With a full night’s rest, you could finally be motivated to look through the piling mail. Or return Yaga’s missed call. Or get more bountiful groceries.

Will it be from this new place? Or your usual?

You could be energized enough to go anywhere, you suppose.

Anywhere tomorrow. Moving forward and upward and without Mahito.

Do you want that?

Does it matter?

It’ll happen anyway. Time will move anyhow, your only real choice is whether or not to fight the flow. You can be without Mahito and struggle or be without Mahito and scrape by.

Either way, you will be without.

Until you die yourself, potentially decades from now.

And suddenly, you wonder what you will do when May comes. The thought brings you to a full stop. Your heels click their final echo in the empty train tunnel.

Nothing, you suppose.

When May comes… you’ll be at home. Maybe? Or work.

Yes, you have to go back to work eventually, right?

But you won’t have friends over.

But what if they insist?

Because they want to drink and play games and be loud, and you’re their friend and it isn’t like you have any other plans. So why wouldn’t you have friends over?

(It’s not like you’ll be getting married.)

Your shoulders go lax, the glass wine bottles rattle together like dice, the haphazardly packed bread is crushed. Your eyes refocus, the little stick figures of men and women and the arrows and the directions plastered on tall boards hit you. They don’t leave. Your gaze drifts to the tracks below.

(You could jump in.)

Why wouldn’t you have friends over? It isn’t as though anyone will have an important mission the next morning.

You blink. You can hear yourself breathe. It’s obnoxious. It’s too loud and too soft at the same time. You feel your heart pump between your ribs. You feel each fiber in your bag’s strap pull on the soft skin of your hands. Burning away at your flesh.

Mahito usually carried your bag.

Your shoulders jerk back to life, the wine bottles clink and the plastic wrap over your bread squeals for mercy. You stumble on the height of your heels. The fibers nip sharply at your tender fingers.

Your breath is too loud. You hold it. You need to breathe.

Your breath is too loud.

So you scream to cover the sound. You wretch your eyes closed, your hands tighten around the bag and it burns again.

Mahito never told you that holding the bag hurt his hands.

You double over, suddenly nauseous.

You open your eyes and stare down at where the bag peels your skin. There is no blood; you think there should be.

(You could make it so.)

You stumble back again, but this time, when you regain your balance you let the motion sweep you away. The momentum carries you in a circle and you stretch out your arms to swing the irritating bag into the wall at your side. You hear the glass clang and chip apart. You see the dark plum stains blossom along the bottom of the bag. You watch the wine pool and drool from the seams, but you cannot hear the droplets over the shuddering, ragged breaths you suck in. And each exhale rings out as more of a throaty, feral groan than human huffed dioxide.

Swirling the other way, you bang the remaining glass bottles into the wall again and when the grapes have soaked halfway up the bag, you find yourself grinning.

A groan is interrupted by a giggle.

So much for a warm buzz. Alone.

(Alone.

Home alone.)

The giggle stops suddenly.

Alone now. And alone tomorrow. And alone in a week. And alone in a month. And alone in May.

And alone after May, too.

The festering rot carving into your guts claws up and up and around until you fear that all of your meat has been shredded through. Tighter and tighter, even squishing high into the shell of your skull. Bubbling, the rot consumes until finally -- it bursts. A sharp cramping in your stomach that shoots through your hip bones and all down your thighs.

You harshly drag the bag up above your head before hurriedly slamming it back down. The scattered glass shards tink and crash, only faintly dulled by the squished loaf. The wine leaks onto the floor.

You watch it seep out and you watch how the fabric plops with a wet little splash as you release the handle. You watch it dribble out on the smooth, albeit spotty floor. It soaks into the grouts and rolls smoothly to the toe of your heels.

You watch it merge with another tinted liquid.

Red. Mulberry, almost.

Your fingers dip into the secondary substance, and you note how thick it is. Yet slippery. Tracing your fingers through the puddle, you find it leading to your ankles.

Heart thundering up into your throat, you graze your fingers up the divots of your socks and along the plain of your calf. The red liquid is pushed into your skin, smearing along the smoothness. You continue to follow the trail up to your thigh and under your skirt, your hand is enveloped by warmth as you finally make contact with the source.

Your underwear is wet.

Your fingers are shaking when you unveil them to your eyes, they are shaking and coated in that thick, yet slippery, red hue.

The puddle grows under your feet. The mulberry overtaking the grape.

You aren’t due. You don’t…

You don’t think…

No, you weren’t sick. You weren’t aching. You and Mahito

It isn’t

It isn’t, no, not at all

You aren’t due at all

Your nausea swells and the sound of your own hurried breaths is quickly overwhelmed in your ears by the sound of your blood. By the cinching, hard drum of your pulse.

Suddenly, your knees buckle and your hands lurch forward with the rest of your body -- shooting out to the ground to keep you standing. Jagged glass scratches through the material of your grocery bag, raised incisions slowly blooming red. Your mouth is hot, and wet. Too wet.

Your stomach squeezes, throat loosening uncomfortably. It stretches around nothing, and the roof of your mouth tingles unpleasantly. You belch. Your palms burn worse than your fingers now.

(This never would’ve happened if Mahito had carried the grocery bag.)

Your stomach tightens again and your jaw snaps open, throat squelching as a rush of bile gushes through. It lands in the mulberry-grape mix, tainting it with a murky, pale swirl. The scent burns your nose and sends you rocketing back onto your feet. You stumble for the third time in your heels, but this time you do not catch yourself. Floundering on uneven footing before slamming your back harshly into the wall at your side.

Another groan shreds your throat, dredging up more acidic fluid to the full of your lips. You spit onto the ground. You can hear your breathing mix with the push of your blood.

Mahito would’ve held an arm out for you. He would’ve taken the bag. He would’ve gone instead. If he knew what was bound to happen in this tunnel, he would’ve just gone instead and you would’ve insisted he didn’t go alone and he’d pretend to put up a fight before you both would have decided to stay in and he would sleep next to you through the night and he would be there again when you woke up.

The mulberry juice has trailed after you. Trail thickening as it heads for your twitching legs. Your socks are red and squishy in your heels.

Both legs now engulfed with the bloody trickle.

For a moment, you forget yourself. You bring your hands to your thighs and cup the inside softness, blood ponds in the wrinkled depths of your palms. You scoop the blood upwards, as if to shove it back; return it to its place and erase this terrible night altogether. Somehow that makes perfect sense.

All you succeed in is staining your skirt.

A sharp twinge spikes from the joints between your legs through your abdomen, it pulls a rippling scream from the base of your chest. You crumple to your knees, skidding them against the floor. The blood beneath you is cool and sticky, quickly overtaken with the fresh flush leaking from your underwear.

Your hands shake, previous cuts bubbling with crimson of their own, as you curl them into the material of your skirt. When you subconsciously twist your feet at the siege of pain, that squelch of blood filling your shoes infests your ears again. Fitfully, you kick out your legs, flinging off your heels, before tearing your hands down the sides of your legs and ripping off the bloody socks. In their wake, you sear your nails over your skin and the path continues to burn even when your hands return to your pelvis.

Briefly, you consider the possibility that you could be crushing your own bone under the hefty pressure in your hands. When another wrack of cramping wagons over your pliant insides, all concern is tossed aside.

Mulberry vines its way up your body, clinging to your skin.

And later in the night, when you’re scrubbing ruthlessly against your skin -- attempting in vain to rid yourself of this catastrophe, you will give birth in the guest bathtub. A pulpy mess of blood and muscle strands will writhe and wail for you by name. It will call to you with Mahito’s voice and you will run because the familiar warmth in your chest at his song is overwhelmingly horrifying.

Yet, when you sit against the closed bathroom door, you hear nothing. For a moment, you’re certain you hallucinated during a genuine emergency.

But you creak the door open again, just enough to get an eyeful of the cornish yellow room before slamming it shut. A malformed creature resembling the top half of a medical dummy is wrapped in lashing strips of steaming intestine and exposed muscle. You wretch and scramble out to where you’d haphazardly thrown your purse over the couch in your rush to the nearest bath.

Wisely, you call Utahime over the police.

It rings and rings and rings until it boops and beeps into voicemail. You dig for Yaga’s number, when suddenly you hear your name again. More clearly. More enunciated. More obviously him.

So, you let the phone slip from your palm and ignore how it buzzes loudly and beams with Utahime’s contact.

The golden glow seeping from under the closed bathroom door slices your home’s darkness -- it flashes over your skin and illuminates your fresh, changed socks. Sweeps over the hollow of your open palm against the golden knob. Which jiggles noisily under your unsteady hold, rattling in its socket. You can barely hear the sound of your name repeated, smoother. More careful.

Deeper. Kinder. Sweeter. Lovelier.

You squeak the door open, just barely pressing the side of your face into the crack to glimpse upon the creature in the tub.

Soft powder blue hair that stretches down to a pale, naked chest. One icy blue eye and one coppery fire. Clean face bisected both ways by silvery, glittering stitches -- otherwise unmarred. Blood splatters and hand print smears still decorated the rim of the bathtub. You’re sure there’s a draining pool of crimson at the bottom, too.

But there’s Mahito.

He grins at you. His right front tooth sits slightly over the left, just like you remember. And he has an unnerving lack of dimples, like you remember.

“Are…?” you squint your eye into the bathroom -- the old bulbs buzz vaguely overhead, “Mahito? Are you real?”

Slowly, he nods. Inoffensively blue tresses gliding like silk over his shoulders, “I’m real, honey.”

Your knees shake, bones smashed into paste. The door opens wider with how you lean into it.

“Can I touch you…?”

Again, he nods.

Creeping across the frosty tile, you kneel against the porcelain tub before crossing one leg over the other into the wide bowl. Blood soaks into the padding of your fresh socks and hem of your oversized shirt. You skim your hand over the expanse of his chest, fingertips dipping over the divots and raises of his new stitches. Soft lashes of hair tingle under your skin. His muted chuckle rumbles through his chest at your glazed over, mesmerized state as your caressing moves to his arm.

Below his chest and arm are mush and guts tethering together with peachy, pink sheets of fat and muscle forming over the innards. You pinch yourself. It stings.

Mahito chuckles again, “See, honey? I’m real.”

It’s over half an hour later that you’re finally redialing Utahime’s number.

“Sorry, I was just missing Mahito, but… I went onto the porch and got myself together. I think I’m okay now.”

Utahime inhales sharply, and she’s speaking, but your focus is solely on the guest bathroom door.

Mahito waves at you sweetly.

You don’t sleep that night, but you don’t visit the bathroom either. You sit on the couch and ignore the voice of your dead fiance singing your name until sunrise. Only then, does the Siren song lure you back.

Mahito’s legs remain stumps, pulpy at the knees and sharp, jagged bones barely poking out from the mess. So, he remains in the tub -- where rot and iron are thinly masked by the sickly floral scent of cheap, generic brand air-freshener. Dried blood crusts against the bath with gushes of fresh, oozing crimson consistently re-wetting the porcelain bottom.

“Honey,” his fingers dance over the apple of your cheek, lids low over eyes that singe straight through your chest, “can you give me flesh?”

As if he can see every twinge in your heartbeat, he’s grinning at you as soon as you look into his face.

“What…?” your brows furrow, his own draw sympathetically -- grin snapping into a gentle frown, “What do you mean?”

“I want to be a full man,” he coos, “Just the way you remember. And I need flesh.”

“Okay.”

He nods sternly, “It’s exactly what you think.”

“Okay.”

,,,

You’ve seen the funny things that grief does to people. Your father refused to rise from bed for five days when your mother passed. Your kitten would search the house for her mother every day when the older cat was no longer around. Your aunt bleached her hair and moved to the states when her husband served divorce papers. Your baby cousin faked ill for a whole week when his dog ran away. Utahime admitted that when her brother died, she drove far out to the country and parked over train tracks… She admitted that she waited for an hour before driving home.

You release the metal as its cold exterior burns a hole in your palm. You step back, and you stay away.

Away, and nervous. So nervous it makes your limbs shake and twitch.

Kento hovers a gentle hand over your shoulder, “Are you sure you’ve been well?”

“I’ve just been… out of it.”

“I can understand why. I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, “I’m sorry,” you wonder if that’s all he can say, “I can… Is there anything more I can do? Change the lights? Clean the glass in the living room? Replace your vase?”

“Just this,” you turn away, facing the turquoise of Kento’s button up. Physically incapable of staring him in the face as you continue, “There’s something wrong… seriously wrong with the bathroom… Just checking this will be okay, Nanami.”

“Anything,” Kento whispers softly, stepping around your cemented body to grasp the golden handle. He smiles down at you, despite the way you’re still unable to look him in the eyes -- he opens up to speak, but decides against whatever additional sympathies he felt indebted to, “Anything.”

You can’t so much as squeak out a ‘thank you’ before he slithers out of your life.

…

“I’m worried. I don’t want to pretend I’m calling for any other reason, or that I don’t notice something wrong. You’re worse than ever, and I… I just don’t know…” Utahime sighs loudly over the phone, “I’m so worried.”

“I’m okay,” you’re itching to hang up, to more thoroughly monitor Mahito’s growth.

“Nobody’s seen or heard from you!” she cries, “And Nanami- we still don’t- !” she stops abruptly, “Nothing’s been the same since…” Utahime sighs again, quieter, “You have to be running low on money now.”

“I’m okay, Utahime.”

“Do you want me to stop by? I can come with more groceries…”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m coming by.”

You’re opting to refuse when two fingers poke into your side, Mahito grins brightly with a thumbs up. For a moment you’re left stammering into the phone, staring into scorching eyes. Ice and copper, like burning flame. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss into your cheek, just as he used to before leaving for work. Just as he did that morning, before you never saw him again.

Not until now.

Mahito kisses you again, skimming his hand over your temple and brushing back hair so he can soothe his lips there, too.

“Ah, okay…”

Utahime, much more excitedly, responds, “Oh! Yeah, okay! I’ll be there soon. With groceries!”

“With food,” you murmur back dumbly. Mahito nods against your face, soon after nuzzling into your neck, “Okay…”

Hours later, you will be on the other side of the house, desperately trying to scrub the sound of wet slurps and chews from your memory.

…

“Why do you stay in the bathroom?”

“It’s comfy,” he teases, stretching out his bare legs over the rim of the tub, “Why? Are there comfier places?”

“Our bed,” you should probably be more alarmed that he cannot recall that, but he tilts his head so pretty.

“Why don’t you show me then?”

Your eyes drift to the clots of blood and matted hair by the bath drain, blonde and raven black tangling together with crystals of bone flecked over the mess. You try not to look or think about it because you’re not so delusional as to think you can justify this.

Mahito tilts his head, grinning, “Hm?”

Or maybe you are.

“What’ll you think of the house…?” you murmur to yourself, “It’s different now.”

Mahito laughs and kisses your cheek, right below where tears well against your lashes, “When have I asked anything of you except yourself?”

He nuzzles into the warmth that spreads over your face and flows down your neck. When you grasp his hand and lead the man -- naked and rich with the scent of iron -- out of the guest bathroom to the dark hallway, he’s delighted. Down the hallway, are multiple gaping doorways with similarly unlit rooms. Both hands bite around one of Mahito’s as you take him into the master bedroom -- the one you used to share.

“It’s hard to see you in here,” Mahito makes no effort to lean away from your touch, though he does search for a source of light to flick on.

“Sorry…” you frown, dragging Mahito to the bed -- sheets messy and yet frozen cold to the touch. Shakily, you reach out for the drawstring of your bedside lamp. You clench your eyes as the bulb clicks to life, digging your nails into Mahito and praying, silently, that he’s still real. That the darkness hadn’t somehow fooled you so thoroughly into believing your Mahito returned.

His hand squeezes in return, you open your eyes. Mahito stares back. Ice and copper burns straight through your chest.

“Mahito…” his face creeps closer at your whisper, voice liquifying into a soft coo, “Mahito...” your eyes inch below his navel, to where any possibilities of him being a mere curse die, “You’re real? You’re back? Mahito’s back?”

“Mahito’s back,” he parrots, less affectionately than you said it, but he nods calmly nonetheless. He backs you against the mattress, your knees buckling so your back meets the springs. His eyes close and you’re tempted to claw them open again, “Don’t you want me back, honey?”

“Of course!” you cry hopelessly.

“Don’t you want to be happy, honey?” he slips both hands up your shirt and the ruthless buzzing in your heart numbs you to how cold his fingers are over your ribs. You open your mouth to question him, but he slots his lips over yours before musing into the sweltering air, “I want you to be happy.”

Beneath the raw blood, you can pick up hints of cedar wood -- how Mahito’s clothes smelt until you sucked the life from them, too.

“I want you to be happy, too,” you mumble against Mahito’s cheek. He’s so close you can’t breathe without inhaling him alongside oxygen. Your gut twists unpleasantly, and you will the knotting sensation down as Mahito nods into you.

“Of course, honey, I know you do,” he rolls his lips against the nape of your neck and sucks harshly where your shoulder begins. His teeth are sharp, you almost feel them stinging into your bone.

His teeth were never so lethal before, and yet you feel the indentation that revokes Mahito’s status as a curse. A penis.

As juvenile as it feels to have something of brainless flesh hold so much weight, you recall Mahito’s own words on the matter years ago.

“So, are curses like… naked?”

“Yeah,” he’d shrugged carelessly then, yawning soon after, “But they don’t have any,” he grinned at you, apparently eager, “Genitalia: to put it nicely.”

“None at all?”

“None at all. So it isn’t weird that they’re naked.”

(But his new stitches are so…

And, well, the teeth…)

His body itself is much colder.

The pit in your stomach returns as Mahito sears his teeth over your skin until he’s pointed over the ripe point of your pulse. Juicy and fat with hot blood. Mahito slips his hands over your sides again, as if to remind you of the softness he intends. It eases you.

“Will you -- well -- if you’re back…” you swallow, you suppose there isn’t a gentle way to ask this, “Will you ever return to sorcery?”

He shakes his head, long hair webbing over his shoulders and netting onto your chest, “I need to stay home. It’s safer at home.”

“Ah, okay,” you regret the question, momentarily fretful you may have offended him, “Will you be okay like this? Can you eat- can you eat food? I don’t think there’s anybody… else.”

His hands squeeze your sides, a soft sigh breezing over your neck, “That’s okay. As long as I stay with you, I’ll be okay.”

“Good,” sharp teeth pierce your neck shallowly, and this time Mahito’s hands do not rush to remedy the ache. But you push down the budding nerves and string your fingers through Mahito’s hair. It’s still as soft as you remember,

“Good,” he copies, with much less love than you said it with.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #mahito x reader #mahito jjk #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #mahito angst

55 notes · View notes