#it's just sitting lifeless next to my tv :(

[risingsunresistance]

i have no idea what i'm doing but i have an snes soundfont pack and some of shinkonet's midi files and i just needed to know what that might sound like. i am in love

the rest of it isnt great (bc i have no idea what im doing) but i LOVE this part

[missnxthingg]

Gal I need lando fluff as well could u do taking care of him when he’s sick and he’s all tired and clingy

needy | LN4

pairing: Lando Norris x Female!Reader summary: After a busy month, all Lando needs is his girlfriend to take care of him words: 1 K - warnings: Sick Lando and lots of cuteness (also not proof read, sorry) author’s notes:  I'm so sorry for the delay, it was a busy & unplanned week at work. But here we are, just in time to celebrate our favourite boy's birthday

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Triple headers always hit quite hard on Lando. Since he joined Formula 1, he doesn't remember a single time he didn't end up sick after almost a month travelling around the world. And this time it wasn't different; he started having a fever the morning after he arrived from Brazil and stayed in bed all day.

Y/N found it odd to not find him in his usual state of relaxation after a full month of work: locked inside his dark gaming room, full of snacks and laughing with Max. Instead, he was wrapped around three blankets in their living room, body almost lifeless on the sofa as he watched a boring movie on TV.

“Oh, baby boy, are you feeling okay?”, she asked, putting her things down so she could check on him.

Lando smiled tired at her and shrugged, too tired to even say something. She knew he was getting sick, especially after he spent the entire flight home – and their night of sleep – coughing. She just didn’t expect for it to be that bad, to the point where the most chatty boy in the world would go speechless.

“Have you eaten?”, she ran her hands through his face and he nodded tiredly. Then she found the empty yogurt cup beside him and rolled her eyes. “A yogurt isn't eating, Lando”.

“Come cuddle, baby”, he mumbled, wrapping one of his hands around her wrist.

“I'm worried about you, my love”, she ran her hands through his curls, making him open a tired smile. “I swear to God, every triple header is the same. I won't let you go anymore”.

“It's just a way my body found of telling I'm tired”, he assured. “If you come cuddle, then I'll be fine”.

“Later, baby. I have to make lunch for us”, she pressed a kiss on top of his head and Lando whined loudly. “Stop being a baby!”

“You're evil”.

Y/N started taking things out of the fridge to start cooking their lunch, and Lando suddenly appeared behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist from behind and resting his head on the crook of her neck. She smiled at the gesture and cuddled into his touch as she cut some onions.

“Ouches my eyes”, he cried, making her giggle just before she stopped cutting the onions, to put it in the hot pan. “What are you doing?”

“Caramelized onion and creamy cheese pasta”, she revealed, making him open a big smile. “A favourite for my sick boy”.

“You're the best, baby. I love you so much”, he pressed a kiss on her shoulder, but didn't let go off her, choosing to stay glued to her side as she cooked.

“Lan, it's a bit hard to cook with you clinging onto me”, she chuckled. “Maybe sit right there and keep me company. Then I'll give you as many cuddles as you want”.

“Mmm, okay”, he smiled tiredly, finding a spot to sit close to her, as he observed her cooking. Travelling the world is nice, but he loved coming home to the love of his life, who always took the best care of him.

Suddenly, he was taken back to the early dates of their relationship, when she’d invite him over for dinner and cook him the easiest pasta that, in time, became his comfort food. That’s exactly what he needed after a long month away from home, and away from her, since she only came to the first race in Austin. His heart felt at ease when she served him a plate and found a spot next to him.

“Thank you”, he mumbled before attacking the food. “It’s so good to be home. It’s so good to be with you”.

“I was counting the seconds until you were back to me”, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and cuddled to his side as they ate in silence, just feeling each other’s presence. He learned to appreciate silence after loud days as he rested next to his favourite girl. “Are you feeling better?”

“My throat is sore, and it feels like I was hit by a truck”, he joked. “The headache is gone, though”.

“I’ll use my super healing powers to make you feel better”, she sprinkled kisses through his face, making him open a genuine smile for the first time that day. But just before she kissed him on the lips, he backed away.

“You’ll get sick, baby”.

“It will be worth it, then”, she declared, before sealing their lips into a sweet kiss. Lando had missed those lips more than anything, and if she was willing to take the risk of getting sick, then he’s not arguing about it. “I love you, my sweet boy”.

“I love you too, beautiful”, he pecked her lips once again and took a second to analyse her face from up close; the face he adored so much. “Now, can we please cuddle?”

“Yes, my whiny baby, we can”.

Lando wanted to sweep her off her feet and take her to the couch, but felt too weak to do so. Y/N almost had to do this to him to get him to stand up and walk. He collapsed onto their couch and was too tired to open his arms to invite his girlfriend to join. She still found her spot next to him and pulled him closer, until they were tangled together between the blankets.

She pressed soft kisses all over his face and watched his lips tiredly curve into a smile, just as he felt a little better to have her taking care of him. They didn't even notice they forgot to turn on the TV.

“I'm so glad you're finally home”, she whispered. “This place is too quiet without you. I don't like it”.

“I'm happy to be back with my home”, he pressed his fingers to her skin and she smiled at him. “You're the best. I missed you so much that I might as well take you with me next time”.

“Anything so we can be together”, she said. “Sleep, baby, I'll be here holding you”.

“I love you so much. You're my everything, the love of my life, the sweetest…”, he continued to list various things about her and fell asleep mid-sentence.

“I love you more, Lan”, she pressed one last kiss on his forehead before falling asleep too.

⤿ add yourself to the taglist!

[ladylokianna]

My favorite hello, my hardest goodbye

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader (use of Y/N). Aegon is involved (in a good way).

Warnings: okay, what can i say... angst for first instance. The one shot contains mention of blood, trauma, child death, torture and violence. Please don't continue if that's uncomfortable for you, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: Ok, i have to admit that the whole idea of this one-shot was totally different in the beginning: it started out angsty with the what if? in which Blood & Cheese kill Aemond's son and not Aegon's, and i had also sketched out something more angsty, but i left it out because i didn't want to make my beloved boy suffer more than he had to. So, that draft posted a few days ago following a request i developed it better and out came a tragicomic piece, with Aegon as a master of torture helping his sister–in–law vent against her son's murderer.

Ah, i'd like to specify one more thing: the relationship between the Targtower siblings is not based on the TV series, i prefer to think of them as any pair of brothers, sometimes quarrelsome, capable of teasing each other (raise your hand if you haven't teased your brother/sister at least once in your life, come on) but absolutely willing to have each other's back.

Word count: 2798.

English is not my first language, please be kind.

It always started like that, with your breathing slowly becoming shallow and scattered, with your hands moving quickly trying to grab –or stop– something. Aemond notices immediately, as soon as he hears your breathing change suddenly in the middle of the night: one minute you are sleeping relatively peacefully, the next you are breathing as if you were drowning. He knows that shortly afterwards will also come the shakes and screams, a witness that that night continues to haunt you.

"There is nothing at all you can do about?"

Orwyle shook his head, contrite: there was nothing that could soothe the mental pain as poppy milk did to the physical one.

It was not the same pain.

Aemond shifts more towards you, slipping an arm under your neck and one around your waist, drawing you to himself just in time, before you could gesture in your sleep, lest you hurt yourself, whimpering as if what you are dreaming about you were re-experiencing again, in that very moment.

"Y/N?" he whispers as you start to cry, leaving him undecided on what to do. You call out for him several times in your sleep, your voice increasingly full of anguish. "I'm here!"

He realises he has no idea what to do, whether to wake you up or to leave you to sleep, waiting for the nightmare to fade on its own: Orwyle has recommended that he should not force you to wake up, but at the same time he cannot watch you suffer without doing anything to help you.

You call out to him once more, frightened, and this time he sees you laying a hand on your heart, your breathing increasingly shaky, as if you were ranting.

The hell with it.

He sits up and takes you back into his arms, cradling you like he used to do with your son.

"Y/N, wake up. It's all right, i'm here!" he tells you. "I know you can hear me, wake up!"

You blurt out something he can't understand and open your eyes wide, glassy, almost lifeless. He grabs your shoulder, shouting your name and shaking you out of your sleep. You finally wake up after so many interminable seconds, with a gasp that reminds him of a person who has been underwater too long and resurfaces a few moments before the end: your eyes return awake and bright, your heartbeat almost regular.

His own, much less so.

"Aem?"

Full of relief, he strokes your head, letting go a sigh.

"Tell me."

"Blood, Aem. It's everywhere. I can't get it off of my hands." you say, with an hoarse voice.

Its metallic stench seeps into your nostrils, forcing you to hold your breath and turn to him, sinking your nose into his tunic: one more second of that smell and you throw up, you're sure.

He takes your hand in his and shows it to you.

"Nothing's there, look." he tells you. "Look at me: it's all gone, it was a nightmare."

You look around, discovering that you are not in your son's room, but in yours, patrolled day and night by guards. You are safe.

You hear Aemond respond to Ser Criston, ordering him something you cannot understand, as flashes of the nightmare that tortures you since that night return to your mind.

"Oh gods, again?"

"Yes, and i should have consulted the maesters much earlier, because it gets worse every time. I'm so afraid you would never wake up again."

The bandage on your arm is still in place, your nightgown is still pristine white and your hands are clean. You shove your face into Aemond's chest, sighing a plea.

"No more, Gods, please, no more."

"I'll send for Orwyle."

"No, please, i'm not going to chug another one of his nasty sleeping concoctions... and i don't want to be considered crazy."

"We are two grieving parents, no one would dare think that."

You sigh. Every court holds a nest of vipers, and yours is no exception.

"Not in our presence, Aem, that's for sure. But i can assure you they speak widely about us. People's tongues can be far sharper than their swords." you reply. "I'm doing everything i can to move on even though it may seem insensitive from me, but it's so hard."

"I would never think that." he replies.

"You wouldn't, but i hear the voices of the whole court behind my back, to them i am now the crazy, childless mother and..." and something you cannot repeat, not in front of Aemond.

"Who said that?"

"Some women, i don't really remember who, nevermind." you try to cut it short, aware that you already talked too much and especially aware of what Aemond might do if he found out who was responsible for those rumours.

"And they were women amongst noble women or the servants?"

"You can punish them, but, you will not stop those voices, you know how it is. I just have to wait for their quacking to move on to the next topic, until then i will resist. It's nothing, really."

He returns your embrace, but deep inside you know he is already thinking about what to do to flush out whoever started the rumours and you also know how damn difficult it is to change his mind if something directly affects you: once he has set his focus to something, nothing can stop him.

"I almost forgot to tell you that Helaena tried to distract me, she helped me with a new embroidery and showed me some insects i'd never seen before, you know? I love strolling with her and the twins in the gardens, but i have a strange feeling in my stomach since it happened, like i have a knot i can't untie. I feel like i'm burning up inside and i don't know what to do." you murmur. "And in all this i have to ask for your forgiveness: i haven't asked yet how are you doing, i'm selfish."

His breath quivers a little before he answers you.

"I live with the memory of that night: i should have been here instead of patrolling King's Landing with Vhagar. They wanted me, and they took our son. You want to know how i come to terms with what happened? I spend my mornings in the dungeons, executing the death-row prisoners... my sword has never seen so much blood since it was forged."

".... and does it work?"

"Not in the way i would like. When i plunge my sword into their flesh i imagine sinking it into Daemon's throat." explains. "Even if he deserves a far worse death for what he has done."

Aemond didn't tell you that he still see every little detail. The rough stitches around your son's neck, his corpse, his bed soaked in blood.

You stroke his cheek understandingly, like you do every time you hear him crying in the safe space of your bed.

"I miss our little boy."

"I know. I would like to have another child, i know i owe you one but i'm not ready yet."

"Listen, you owe me nothing. If more children will come, fine. I will not put pressure on you, i'm already happy to still have you here. Do you understand what i mean? Don't get me wrong, i loved our son, i really did, and i mourn him every day, but to me you're the most important person i have."

As he is for you. You smile lovingly, but suddenly your gaze changes.

"I want them dead. Both of them. They must suffer. I must see their blood spill onto the ground. Maybe then i will begin to find peace."

He looks at you a little, before clearing his throat.

"I'll help you get dressed." he explains. "I'll take you with me to the dungeons."

Aegon greets you with a wide smile, in his own reassuring way, amazed to find you there.

"Imagine the uproar if our mother found out."

"It's either this or me burning the whole realm to the ground."

"Dragonstone alone would be enough... imagine burning the whole castle down with those bastards inside them."

"Don't tempt me. You told me you would do anything to ease the anger i feel, and you're still doing it." Aemond says. "Now i ask you to do the same thing for Y/N. You know to whom i refer."

"I want those two." you murmur.

"Yes, there were two, but i already had one hanged." Aegon explains. "I had all the fucking rat-catchers hanged. But if you wish, i will give orders for their families to die as well: all i need is your yes, and within an hour i will bring you the heads of their children."

That offer goes straight to your brain, piercing it like a dart and insinuating a dangerous temptation. It is frightening how you even allow yourself to think about it, to indulge in the idea of inflicting the same pain on other women, like yourself wives, sisters, daughters, mothers. Probably the same women you saw during the funeral procession, the ones who threw flowers at your son, who wept as you passed by and cursed the name of Rhaenyra, women who were already living under difficult conditions. But then, you think back to all the blood spilled that night, the blood that had soaked your hands and your son's tunic, the blood that dripped down from the wound they had inflicted on your arm, in a vain and desperate attempt to save your child.

You think back to Aemond and his burning guilt, to the way he threw that little tunic into the fireplace, to the way he clutched your hand when he ordered Vhagar to light the funeral pyre, to his desperate weeping smothered against your shoulder after the funeral when, embraced in the comforting privacy of your rooms, you could no longer tell who was consoling whom.

You can't.

Considering how hard you struggled to change Aemond's mind, when, lost in the pain of both of you, he had been on the verge of burning down the whole town.

"And once we've set everyone on fire, what are we going to do, Aemond?"

You shake your head, and the answer that rose to your lips to Aegon's question was the same one you gave Aemond.

"No. Smallfolk of King's Landing are not to blame, and killing their children will not bring mine back." you look instinctively at Aemond, standing next to you, with the awareness that they would both only need a nod from you, and place your hand on his chest. "Responsibles must die, but there are women and men out there already struggling every single day to survive with their own problems without having to pay for ours as well. Don't do anything more against the poor people, Aegon, please. Aemond, i beg you."

He scrutinises you attentively, and cannot ignore your eyes glazed with tears.

"If that is what you wish, so be it." he replies in a whisper, rubbing your hand with his own. "I won't do anything you don't want."

"You are far too generous, my lady." Aegon finally sighs. He leads you out of the guards' cabin, towards an isolated cell where Aemond unsheathes his sword, and the prisoner winces, knowing full well what is about to happen: he has heard the screams of the other inmates, the sinister sound of that sword, and the precise and lethal manner in which the prince uses it. He knows that Aemond shows no mercy, and that that rage will now fall upon him.

"I don't want to suffer." he whimpers, looking at the blade: Aemond has a habit of twisting it in the throat of the unfortunate, he has heard so many choke like that, in their blood, with that blade buried in their flesh.

"He is not going to execute you." Aegon replies, smiling. "It all depends on her."

He remembers you well, he remembers your voice, your face transfigured by horror, he remembers that night as much as you do.

"Please..." he begs, and after this, you can smell the stingy smell of the urine that dampens his filthy trousers.

"Not yet, Aem. I might need it later." you say, declining his sword.

"Oh, fuck." Aemond mutters, catching a glimpse of the long wooden plank on which a varied array of tools, lined up in religious order, make an eerie display: he certainly didn't plan for something like this.

"You don't like it, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't like it too."

Aegon shows you a rack with a few weapons, some too heavy for you, while others useless for the purpose, carefully explaining what each was for and what damage they could inflict.

Aemond remains aloof, focused on you, ready to take you back to your shared rooms at the slightest sign of discomfort.

"Let's make it simple before someone here decides to use something on me. May i suggest this spiked mace? Simple yet effective, you'll see. Here, take it. Joints first: ankles, knees, elbows... and don't forget wrists. Then, the small bones like those of feet and hands. Though, be careful not to hit vital points first or you'll miss all the fun. When you'll have enough you can decide whether to finish him or letting Vhagar do it, okay? It's up to you." says Aegon.

"Vhagar doesn't eat shit." protests Aemond, looking at the prisoner.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea." observes Criston Cole in a barely audible whisper, watching you weigh the spiked mace in your hands, looking for the best grip on the handle. It's heavy, way more heavier than Aemond's sword.

"Keep your hands more apart on the handle or you will end up hurting yourself. Good, like this."

"Your Grace, you know she is so out of her she won't be able to kill him on the first blow, right?"

"Of course i do. That's the beauty of it: Vhagar will be a relief in comparison to her rage."

Your first blow hits the prisoner's left knee, smashing it with a loud grunt: his scream leaves you wanting to hit harder. Both Aemond and Aegon take a step back, letting you do what it pleases you without saying a word to stop you.

There's no turning back now. Not that you want it.

They look at you in silence for a few minutes in the disturbing atmosphere of the cell, a silence interrupted only by your grunts and the prisoner's screams, Aegon with a certain smile on his lips, Aemond with a look somewhere between worried and surprised, as if he found impossible that a woman like you, capable of compassion and love, the same woman who birthed your son and whom he watches playing with his nephews, could be the same fury that is mangling a man three times your size.

"You know Aemond, contrary to what you think, i also used to make a few trips to the library."

"In between wanking? Amazing."

Aegon ignored his teasing, focusing on another blow you're about to inflict on the prisoner's lower limbs.

"Hey hey hey... enough with the knees, honey, may i suggest you the shoulders, now? ...great, right there, that's it... see how the mace smashed the joint? Brilliant, isn't it? I may not have studied philosophy and history, brother, but you have no idea how many books banned by our Septon i have read. I'm sure that book about torture might interest you too."

"I'm not fond to torture, for too much can be counterproductive: once one gets used to pain, the whole thing became pointless. Hence i have to admit sometimes is quite useful."

"If this is her way of not going mad, let her. Let her vent."

A metallic clung interrupts them both: you have dropped the mace to the ground, exhausted, after inflicting one last blow. You look at what remains of the murderer's head with a soft "what the hell? " and wonder at what point in your murderous outburst he is dead, and how many blows you have inflicted on his corpse.

"Holy shit, Y/N." Aegon says looking at you almost covered in blood, like the stone floor and the wall behind the corpse strewn with human remains, blood and cerebral matter. "Oh wow. Look at it, it was awesome."

"Aem?"

"Yes darling?"

"I think i won't need the sword after all. Thank you, by the way." you say. "I'm done."

"Well sure, there's nothing more left to hit, sweetie. We're so proud of you." Aegon praise you, with glowing eyes. The dungeons are now more like a slaughterhouse than a prison, but you don't mind it. "Fine Aem, got it: never piss off your wife."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 17

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: It's friday again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Once Leslie leaves, you lock yourself away again. Your father's taken to the cold shoulder over his previous aggression. You don't mind, it assures you of a tenuous peace. So long as you don't draw his attention, you're okay.

Your anxiety remains piqued. Not only by your father's stewing ire but the thought of what looms both behind and ahead of you. With all that happened at work, you have little hope of tomorrow being better. There is also the question of Mr. Laufeyson's surprise... you can't even begin to guess what he has in mind.

Another test, no doubt. Like today. You're certain you failed that one too. You took his kindness and showed yourself to be ungrateful. You questioned him when you should have just accepted it with a smile on your face.

It is not your place to worry about his intentions, as he has made it clear, you are not on the same level. He is your boss and you do what he says. So you will do that and nothing more.

Is that his voice in your head?

You sneak out for a shower but it doesn't do much to calms your nerves. You spend another night tossing and turn, kept awake by the television set a top volume and the dissonance of your anxiety. Even with the extra hours granted, you find yourself painfully awake at the same splitting hour.

You get up to make your tea. Your father's snoring on the couch at the TV continues to blare. You don't disturb either as you put on the kettle and ready a mug. You rub your eyes and yawn. Leslie will be here soon. You should wake him and get breakfast going. It will lighten her load.

When you have your cup steaming, you stay at the counter and sip tentatively, weighing your next steps. You leave your father as he is and return to your room, dressing and cleaning up before you descend again. You have your phone in hand, almost hoping a notification will pop up. Maybe Mr. Laufeyson will change his mind and you can be off before you have to face your dad. The phone remains lifeless. 

You sigh and shut off the television, hoping the sudden silence might rouse him. He continues to snort loudly. You bite down on your cheeks as your skin buzzes and itches. He's not a morning person. 

The memories of him exploding to consciousness in a furor of hollers and kicks keep you from shaking him. You back away as the doorbell rings and does the job for you, your father grumbling as you go to answer it.

Leslie enters with her usual blustering brightness. She greets your father and stops short, hands on her hips as she tuts.

"Now what is the meaning of this?" She huffs, "Charles, you can't sleep down here."

"I'm not," he sits up and hacks into his hand before sliding the oxygen tube back into place. "You woke me up."

"What's gotten into you?" She accuses, "I told you yesterday I'm not here for your attitude. You're not some teenager, you're a grown man."

"Bah, I need coffee," he snarls.

"You need a cold shower," she retorts as she goes around the couch and snatches up the pack of smoke on the cushion beside him, "and a swat on the snout. What're you doing with these things?" She pauses and looks at you, "he can't be having these in the house."

"I don't... know where they came from," your murmur.

"Don't matter, if you see them, you toss them," she reproaches, "this is a team effort, alright? Now yesterday, this place was a right mess. I'm here to help, not play maid."

"I'm sorry, I..." you snap your mouth shut. You did clean up, as best you could before work, but you'll have to do better.

"Not her fault she's useless," your father quips.

"Charles," Leslie warns as she points at him.

"Sorry, hon," he puts his hands up, "was only a joke."

"Not a very nice one," he rebukes.

"I know, I know," he chortles.

"So don't apologise to me," she flicks her finger towards you.

Your father stops his laughing and quiets. He crosses his arms and slumps his shoulders as you stare at the back of his head. You wait as Leslie tilts her head dangerous and cross her arms.

"Charles," she girds.

"Don't worry about it," you croak, "it's fine. I'll... I'm going in late so I'll get breakfast started."

"Oh yeah, she don't gotta go polish that man's silver early," your dad growls.

"Charles," Leslie snips again, "I mean it, be nice."

"I am nice, hon, I'm being funny."

"You are not," she insists.

"Come on, Les," he lowers his voice as you pad towards the kitchen, "I'll be good, alright? Don't give me that look."

She sighs but you don't look back, "alright, no more smokes."

"I'm tellin' ya, honey," he speaks so softly you barely recognise his voice, "I didn't touch 'em. Found them in the couch but I didn't smoke any. Don't be mad at me."

You shake your head and try to roll the tension out of your shoulders. She's been here just over a week and he talks like he's known her forever. He's actually nice to her. He cares about what she thinks, what she feels. But you, his own daughter, you get the blame for it all. You're the reason he hates himself and his life. Maybe if you'd never come along, he'd still have the woman he loved. 

🧹

You set off just after eleven, the bus due not long after. As you come down the overgrown walk with its cracked pavement and uneven tilt, your eyes are drawn up by the snap of a car door. Footfalls scuff on the pavement as you look over the curb to the shiny car parked there. It's an unusual sight in the rundown neighbourhood.

Mr. Laufeyson proudly steps up as the window on the passenger's side rolls down. A pair of similarly green eyes peer out as she takes in the sight of the yellow duplex. You want to run and hide. You can't imagine either of them ever had to dirty themselves in a place like this.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you rush towards him, "I--- you said noon."

You pull the phone out and check the time. He puts his hand on the roof of the car calmly as you stop a few feet away. He chuckles, amused by your panic.

"It's so quaint," Frigga remarks as she remains firmly in the front seat, "dear, how are you?"

"Um, I'm well, Frigga," you answer with a tight gulp.

"Good, good, you look well," she praises, "a bit tired. Tell me he's not overworking you."

"Mother," Laufeyson shoots a glance in her direction.

"Er, it's fine," you clutch the strap of your bag, "I... did I do something?"

"No, no," Frigga waves off your suspicion, "I simply insisted my son bring me to see you while I'm in town."

"Oh, I was just on my way..." you look at Laufeyson confused as he gives an expression you can't quite read. He's expecting something but you're not sure what.

"We have lots to do so no sense in waiting around," she trills.

"Oh?" Your lips part. "Did something-- is the house okay?"

"The house is just fine. That old place only needs a little light, but see if my own son hears me," he rambles, "Loki, don't be rude, get the door."

He flinches and drags his hand away from the top of the car, "yes, mother."

He moves to open the back door, gallantly opening it for you. You feel like you've been dropped into an alternate universe. This can't be happening.

"Get in," he says. 

You blink at him and he tilts his head, gesturing to the back seat. You obey with some reluctance and sit the large leather bag beside you. You slowly pull the seat belt down and click it into place. Laufeyson strides around the bumper as you peek in the mirror at Frigga's silvering curls.

"Right, then," Laufeyson opens the driver's door and lowers himself into the seat, "there we are."

"How are you feeling, darling?" Frigga's eyes meet yours in the rearview before you quickly look away, "are you very hungry or can you wait a bit longer for lunch?"

"I... Lunch? I'm okay," you assure. You can't figure this out. "Thank you."

The car whirs and rolls into motion. You're uneasy as you watch the street pass by. If he takes a left, he can get back to the main roads and-- no, he's going right?

"Mm, alright, the boutique first then," she orders her son, "I'm wondering if perhaps they could squeeze us in at the spa. It has been a while since I had some clay done. Oh, and my nails are ragged."

You try to connect the dots as your brows stitch together. Is this his surprise? His mother? Why are you there? You should be figuring out what's going on with the squeaky hinge on the closet. 

"I can't wait to see the new season's colours," Frigga carries on as you tune her out, lost in the riddle of her presence and your own.

Surely, you're being brought along as some sort of valet. Of course, Laufeyson would offer you to carry her bags as she splurges on her pretty dresses. And she is always dressed so nicely whenever you see her. And make up, her lips are a pleasant shade of rose. She would likely spend even more on shoes, don't forget the silver sparkling at her throat and the gemstone dangling there... 

Right, you see. Another lesson. He wants you to remember what you don't have. After your slip-up yesterday, he has to remind you of where you belong; squashed under his sole.

"Oh, is Eliana still at the salon, I should stop in and say hello," Frigga's voice once more punctures your distraction. "She was always so sweet."

"Mother, I... don't know about that. Maybe a different salon."

"You are such a pessimist, what are the odds we run into her?" 

"Don't even tempt fate," he warns.

"No one said you were invited, hm? You said you had business down at Heimdall's."

"You are stubborn, mother," Laufeyson tisks.

"It's where you got it from, dear," she taunts, "so, darling," she peeks in the mirror again and you shy away, "how about it, you and I? It will be so nice. I haven't gotten a day out in so long."

"Oh, you haven't? Should I ask father about that?"

"Let's not mention your father," she rebuffs him smoothly and his shoulders slump.

"Um, well, that's nice, but..." you protest meekly

"It's my treat," she insists, "please. You're doing me a favour."

"I really don't know--"

"I don't mind," Laufeyson interjects, "and it won't affect your hours."

"I did soften him up a bit," she purrs.

"Mother," he hisses again.

"Oh you are so serious," she chides, "she needs this more than I do, I'm sure, with a stickler like you."

He twitches but says nothing. You sense he wants to say it again, 'mother', in the tone of please be quiet. It would be laughable if you weren't so perplexed by it all. Maybe it is a dream. Maybe you didn't wake up and you're oversleeping your alarm, having stress dreams about what will happen when you wake to reality.

"He's a good little chauffeur," she pats his arm playfully, "so he will drop us at the salon, won't you, dearest son?"

He grips the wheel tight and you see his knuckles turn almost translucent, "yes, mother, whatever you wish."

🧹

Mr, Laufeyson drives through the downtown area. You don't come there much, or at all. You passed through on your way to the hospital and on occasion to sort out a billing issue with the bank, but there wasn't much for you there. Along the west side, the nicer shops reside and several buildings with businesses you could never figure out.

Laufeyson pulls up into a marked spot beside a meter. As you stare out, still puzzled by it all. Everything's going so fast and you just want it to slow down. You look at your boss and feel a pang in your chest; how many times had he mentioned your clothes? This isn't a favour, this is him saying you're not good enough.

"Come, come," Frigga gets out and opens your door for you, "let's not drag our feet."

You undo the seat belt and go to grab your large leather bag. As you get out, Frigga catches you by the shoulders. "You won't need this," she takes the bag and reaches past you to put it back in the car, "only your pretty self."

"Oh, uh, sure, okay," you look again at Laufeyson but you're not sure why. He isn't going to help you. He's plunged you into this situation. He only arches a brow in response.

"Just going to give you a nice refresh," Frigga pulls on your elbow and shuts the door, tugging you onto the pavement. "You would do wonderful with some highlights."

You stumble along beside her, overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. She directs you to the shining transparent windows of a salon, a sign overhead with a curled iron bar across the top. You peek over your shoulder again as Mr. Laufeyson lingers another moment before steering out into traffic.

The door chirps as it opens and you're ushered inside to the sound of jazzy pop covers. You can't choose where to focus as the sleek shelves of colourful bottle behind the pure white counter refracts the lights of a spindly chandelier. Velvet chairs are arranged around a table in the little waiting area as stylists gab with clients in chairs.

"Frigga," a woman with platinum locks flutters over with the clacking of heels, "oh, it's been so long."

"Eliana! It has, look at you," they embrace and part, Frigga playing with the tall woman's pin-straight tresses, "what happened to the black?"

"Got a few grays and a divorce," the woman, Eliana you presume, cackles, "and who's this?"

They look at you as you're ready to fade into the black and white stripes on the wall.

"Oh, a friend, she's lovely," Frigga comes back and takes your hand, drawing you forward, "she just needs a little touch-up."

"Oh, she's a natural, she won't need much at all," the stylist approaches you, "I know just the woman; Luciana," she claps and looks back, "I have someone to fill in that cancellation.”

[notthefirstfallenangel]

Hello 👋 👋 do you take requests cause I had this idea in my mind but I suck in writing

how bout a ghost x reader where he had a bad day and takes it out on his beloved reader who he's been in a really long relationship with, by starting an argument and maybe saying some really mean and bad things that break the reader. Like the reader is only a shell of herself and completely ruined by ghosts words and just crying or sitting completely still staring off the wall or just staring at nothing just being numb.

What would be interesting is Simons reaction when he realizes the damage that he's done, maybe he would cry/break down idk when he sees the usually happy reader being so dull and almost lifeless yk

But Pleasee don't do this to our hearts and write some comfort and a happy ending please I couldn't handle too much angst😭❤️

I really enjoyed writing this! I hope you like it and that's close enough to what you had in mind.❤️

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn reader

Warnings: established relationship, argument, swearing, fluff

Summary: Simon had a hard time today and lashed out, hurting the one he loves.

Words: 3.2k

Having known Simon for years, you knew him to be rather reserved in regard to expressing his emotions. This was not merely an observation but something you had come to grudgingly accept and respect over the years.

In nearly all things, he exuded an overpowering stoicism that was difficult to penetrate. However, there were moments when you saw flashes of his emotions that were connected to you; they came to you like brief glimpses of lightning through storm clouds. His eyes would burn with intensity, and his voice would simmer with passion. When the two of you fought, it was like watching a tempest arise from the depths of his soul. His body would tense up, and his fists would clench as he struggled to contain the turmoil within him. It was at those moments that you knew you had touched something deep, something primal within him.

His raging anger was so unusual to you; it was almost as if his love for you transcended to the heavens, making him incapable of showing anything but adoration.

But exceptions make rules, and this time, It all started with the lightest touch and an apparently simple question.

Simon was in one of his peculiar moods recently, completely detached and unable to have a simple conversation that didn’t imply a sarcastic tone, a short answer or an annoyed look. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in a bizarre maze with no exit and surrounded by millions of strange thoughts.

But that night was worse than any other; he was in an intense state of anger, tension and anxiety.

When he got home from work, the night was thick and black, and the lights of the city spilt into the sky in front of him. The streets were deserted, save for a few scant cars that cast dull reflections on the wet pavement.

He put his keys down on the kitchen counter and poured himself a strong shot of bourbon. Settling into his favourite chair in the living room, he flipped on the television and watched football.

The sound of the TV echoed down the hallway and caught your attention. You were lying in bed with the covers pulled up to your chin, drifting in that hazy place between awake and asleep as you tried to wait for him. You sat up and threw off the blankets. The sound grew louder as you stepped out of your room and walked toward its source.

The pale blue glow of the television cast a faint light into the living room. It bounced off the walls and covered Simon’s face in a pale blue hue, his stern features barely rendered in the dim light.

You watched him for a moment, noticing the way his chest rose and fell with each long breath. You knew him well enough to understand when he needed space and when he needed a comforting presence, and right now, it seemed that he needed both. You sat down next to him, close enough that your thighs brushed against each other but far enough that he didn’t feel suffocated by your presence.

“Dinner is in the oven,” you said.

He grunted in response, not taking his eyes off the screen. You knew that he was not in the mood for small talk, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly hurt by his dismissal.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft and gentle. You placed your hand on his thigh, not expecting a response but just offering a touch of comfort. You watched his face, saw his jaw clenched tightly, and knew he was holding something back.

He met your gaze with an expression void of emotion. His stare was heavy and unfamiliar, and you felt as if he was looking right through you.

“I’m fine,” Simon muttered, his voice as flat as his expression.

He made no move to reciprocate the touch, not wanting to risk being drawn into any sort of conversation right now, especially not the dreaded ‘How are you, darling?’ talk that seemed to have become inevitable between you.

Your gaze travelled up his strong frame, and the broad shoulders now slumped with a heaviness you had never seen before. You had known him for years and, in that time, had become familiar with his habit of self-reliance; he rarely asked for help or confided in anyone. But the strain on his face was clear—you could only imagine how much he must be enduring.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” you ventured.

“I just need a bloody drink,” he said, his tone becoming more irritable.

You knew that he was hiding something, but you didn’t know what it was. You reached for his glass, taking it from him before he could react, and set it on the coffee table.

“It might be better if you didn’t drink right now,” you said gently.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he muttered, his voice raw and tired.

You understood his need to escape, to push all of his problems away and bury himself in something mindless. Still, you knew he needed to talk about what was bothering him.

“Simon, please talk to me,” you said softly, your voice a gentle caress. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but I want to know what’s going on with you.”

"There's bloody nothin' to talk about.”

The words tasted like poison on his tongue. He could feel the liquor burning down his throat, washing away all reason from his mind with its fiery embrace.

His response to any emotional vulnerability was immediate and instinctive, like a reflex of a broken heart. It seemed easier for him to face a wild animal than to show his vulnerable side to the person he treasured most in this world. He was determined to keep all thoughts and feelings under wraps- a habit of self-preservation, his biggest weakness. But you were different. You were the only one who had ever been able to breach that barrier, the only one who had ever been able to see past the tough façade that he had built to protect himself.

You moved closer, your hands gently cradling his face. His bristly beard tickled your palms as his warm skin heated up beneath your fingertips. The faint scars were like old stitches holding a piece of fabric together. You could feel the ridges and curves of those white lines.

“Simon,” you whispered, “Please let me in. I won’t let you go until you do.”

He moved his head away from your touch. His jaw tensed, and his brows furrowed as he looked to the ground. He crossed his arms tight over his body as if the tension of his arms was necessary to protect himself, to conceal his vulnerability.

He was so big, so intimidating. But you knew that beneath that tough exterior was a man who was hurting, a man who needed to let it out. You didn’t give up.

He looked away. He was always a man of few words, direct and to the point. His movements were controlled and precise.

"You fockin' know I hate it when you do this,” he muttered.

“Do what? I just want to help you.”

Your voice was gentle, but he could hear the determination in your words.

“I don’t need your help,” he said stubbornly.

“Simon, please don’t do this,” you said, “I love you, and I want to help you.”

“I don’t bloody need your help,” he growled angrily under his breath. “Can't ya just leave me alone when I come home for once, love?.”

His tone was venomous as he said the words, a coldness in his eyes that you had never seen before.

He gritted his teeth together to prevent an outburst of anger. The atmosphere was charged with tension, like a thundercloud about to break, and he exhaled deeply.

“You can’t keep pushing me away like this, Simon. We’re a couple, and we need to be able to talk about things and work through them together.”

“You’re the one not listening,” he hissed, his fists clenched tight in anger as he prepared to unleash the fury that had been boiling beneath the surface. “ All you do is talk, and I can't be bothered to deal with yer constant bullshit, 'specially when I come home from work and I get fockin' interrogated by you all the time. I'm sick of this nonsense. Can ya stop with your constant neediness!?”

“I’m just trying to help,” you protested. “I care about you!”

“You wanna know what's wrong with me? Fine, ” he snapped, his voice quivering with anger as he stood up and turned to face you.”You think you know what I want. You think 'yah know what's best for me. Well, you don't. You haven't a bloody clue. I'm just sick of all of this... sick of you!”

You watched as Simon’s chest heaved, his eyes wild with fury. You had never seen him like this before, and it scared you. It was as if he was a stranger, a man who had disappeared into himself and returned changed, unrecognisable. Your hand reached out to touch him, but he swatted it away with a ferocity that made you flinch.

Tears pricked at the edge of your eyes, and you refused to let them fall. You refused to give Simon the satisfaction of seeing you broken by his words. Instead, you stood up too and looked him straight in the eye.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you said, your voice steady despite your heart racing.” But you don’t get to treat me like this. I won’t be spoken to like I’m an inconvenience. Especially since I’ve been there for you through everything, every high, every low. I’m always here for you-”

“You were there for me? Ha! Please,” he said, laughing harshly as he rolled his eyes. “It's 'cause you need someone to need, and that's the only bloody reason you're still 'ere with me! You thrive off all this fockin' attention! Ya keep bloody tryina fix someone else 'cause ya can't look at yourself!”

“That’s not true,” you argued.

“Oh, but it is,” Simon sneered. “You’re nothing but a manipulator who’s gotten too good at playin' the victim.”

He had finally crossed the line, his words hitting you like a truck. This was by far the worst argument you had ever had, his words cutting far more profound than he intended if he wasn’t so consumed by anger.

“I won’t stand for this,” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get to talk to me that way. Not after everything we’ve been through. I’m the one who loves you, and I will always stand by you.”

“You don’t know anything about love,” he said stern;

His voice was so icy, devoid of any emotion or warmth. It carried no trace of familiarity-just an unfamiliar chill that made it sound like somebody else talking.

He grabbed his jacket and turned away from you, walking off into the night without another word.

Your heart feels like it’s been crushed as you watch him go. You knew he was angry, but this was far beyond anything he had ever said to you. His words felt like a physical punch to the gut, and you can’t believe how easily he managed to shatter your heart.

You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, trying your best to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. Simon’s words repeated themselves over and over again in your mind, each one feeling like a stab to the heart. You couldn’t believe that he thought of you like that, and it hurt more than anything else ever had.

Time blurred together, yet you stayed planted on the couch. You were a mannequin of despair, too petrified to move or think. It was almost comical that someone so devoted could hurt you this badly.

You recalled the good times you had shared, from laughter to tender kisses. You felt your stomach churn as you remembered him claiming he loved you and that it would last forever. Now you questioned whether any of those feelings were real or if it had all just been an illusion.

You ran your fingers across your cheeks, wiping away the tears and salt water. As the truth sank in, you felt the goosebumps rising on your skin that the person you loved more than anything else was starting to despise you.

It felt like your body was burning from the inside out, like you were being eaten alive from the inside.

You felt your eyelids droop under the heavy burden as you lay on the couch, racked with an unbearable weight of sorrow and guilt. The room was still and oppressive. No other sound filled the air but a distant TV playing a commercial about an extravagantly priced product no one could possibly need, emphasising the complete silence around you. It felt like a thousand-pound weight on your chest as you sat alone in the emptiness.

-

The sun had barely crested the horizon when Simon opened the door, yet the living room was already aglow with a faint light that cast shadows over your figure. The light refracting off your bright blue sweater made it look almost electric in the low morning light. It felt like the air of an autumn morning when the wind carried a chill, and the sun was still rising.

He hesitated at the threshold, unsure whether to step inside or not. He knew he had deeply hurt you with his words, and the guilt weighed heavily on his conscience. Simon had never intended to lash out at you like that, but at that moment, his emotions had gotten the best of him, and he couldn’t control the venom that had spewed from his mouth.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, making his way towards the couch where you lay. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he could feel his palms growing sweaty with nerves.

When he reached the couch, he stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. You looked so small and vulnerable lying there, and it made him ache with regret for what he had done. It had been so long since he’d seen you cry he’d forgotten what it looked like. You were always the strong, optimistic one, but this . . . this sight was new to him.

He knelt before you, his hands shaking as he slowly reached out to brush the tips of his fingers through your hair. His eyes were full of emotion and desperation as he silently pleaded for forgiveness.

You jolted backwards as if an electrical current had just run through you. His heart sank, and he dropped his hand to his side; his vision blurred with tears, realising his attempt to push you away finally came back to haunt him.

His lips parted, but no words came out. His eyes were glassy, and his brow furrowed in anguish. He glanced down at the ground, searching for the right thing to say, trying to make sense of all the emotions bubbling within him. He knew it was his fault; he had been too stubborn and scared to let you in. Now, he was in a moment of despair, not knowing what to do or how to fix it.

You watched him in silence, feeling the weight of his guilt and regret like a heavy burden on your chest. He hurt you, but you still loved him, and the thought of losing him was unbearable. You sat up slowly, still unsure if you wanted to forgive him or not.

Simon looked up at you, his eyes locking onto yours, and he saw something he had never seen before. He saw the pain that he had caused you, the hurt and the heartache, and it was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Simon’s eyes were brimming with tears, and one teardrop crept its way down his cheek and onto his chin before falling onto his shirt. It lay there for a moment and then absorbed into the fabric of the cotton garment, leaving behind only a damp spot.

Those tears were nothing but a mirror of your own. You were both sharing the same feeling, both experiencing the same anguish.

You felt his strong, warm hands on your face. He used his thumbs to brush away the salty tears that trickled down from your eyes. He kissed each teardrop away with a soft press of his lips on your cheeks, chin and eyes.

You heard his voice crack ever so slightly as he whispered, “I’m so sorry, love.I'm so goddamn sorry.”

You closed your eyes, feeling his lips on your skin and the warmth of his breath on your face. His touch was gentle, and you could feel the sincerity in his apology as he continued to kiss away your tears. A part of you wanted to push him away, to make him suffer like you had, but another part yearned for his touch and love. You were torn between anger and forgiveness, between hurt and love.

Simon pulled back, his gaze still fixed on yours as he searched for any sign of forgiveness. You looked at him, and for the first time in a long while, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes. You saw the pain and regret that he was feeling, and it moved you. It made you realise that he wasn’t invincible, flawed, and needed you just as much as you needed him.

“Didn’t mean any of that shite I said… I was angry, ‘n took it out on you. The job I’m on right now… It’s… rough.,” He blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears from flowing down. “But you don’t deserve this.”

You felt your heart swell with emotion. You wanted to forgive him, and you knew that if you could do it, it would be a fresh start for both of you. You took a deep breath and nodded in agreement, finally finding the courage to tell him how much his words had hurt you.

You told him about all the sleepless nights spent worrying about what he was thinking and feeling, all the moments when loneliness had taken over your life, and how scared you had been of losing him forever.

But as you spoke, something inside of you changed. The pain slowly dissolved away as forgiveness crept into your body like the sun’s rays on a cold winter morning. Simon listened intently without interruption while tears streamed down his face; he held your hands tightly as he apologised again before pulling you closer to him in an embrace.

At that moment, everything seemed to fall into place.

He buried his face in your neck and whispered how much he loved you over and over again until all traces of sadness had dissipated from you.

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s arms, and you knew right then and there that no matter what happened in the future, he would always be your home.

[verysanebsdfan]

𝕸𝖞 𝖋𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 - 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖘 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! SO!! I personaly LOVE christmas, so my own opinion will probably show in this buttt nothing weird??

Also if you question why there is such a difference in the characters age....im just a girl... (im a minor im not a pedo <33) but reader with a similar age to the character is intended in each of these!!

cw: teeth rotting fluff, short, some are probably ooc

Characters Included: Saiki Kusuo (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K), Muichiro Tokito (Demon Slayer), Ciel Phantomhive (Black Butler), William James Moriarty (Moriarty the Patriot)

𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚒 𝙺𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚘

The oh so cheery christmas holidays were definitely not his favourite. Everyone was looking happy on the first glance, yet he knew its not always true, the only ones happy during these festive holidays were children and cheesy couples. And the second category was definitely not far from the two of you. It hasn't even been so long since you two got together, but you had feelings for each other for quite some time. Even though he might not look excited at all, he knows you enjoy these holidays, not only because its cheery, but because it's mostly about spending time with the people you love the most. Which is why you two are currently sitting in his room, eating coffee jelly and {favourite snack} while watching a christmas special of some random romcom on tv, and also wearing the matching hoodies you bought you two <3

𝙼𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚘 𝚃𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚘

All the light illuminating the streets of the village close to the Mist hashiras estate have been a constant reminder to him, that the Christmas holidays are nearing at a very quick pace, and he didn't even have anything for his beloved yet. With your job, it might be the last christmas you spend together, and he has been putting the present buying off for so long! In the end, he did end up buying you a cute little trinket from a market in some bigger city he has been on a mission to, and you spent the evening reminiscing about the past, thinking about the future, and building a cute snowman!! <3

𝙲𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝙿𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚎

We all know very well that Christmas time is definitely not his favourite, considering what happened in that time. The manor was without decoration, and it was as lifeless as ever. You were in the kitchen with Bard, trying to make some Christmas cookies, and of course it did not end up well. You might or might not have ended up with blowing up the whole place, your dress was all stained, and Sebastian was forced to basically put you on time out. While sitting in your room, you wonder. Of course you know Ciel does not like Christmas...but would it hurt to give him something small? Surely not!! And so you decided to make him a cute little drawng, of what you might ask? Flowers, pure white lilies. You also did add some of the christmas cookies that somehow survived the explosion to the pack, and here you go, a perfect present for your fiance...now just to figure out how to leave your room, since Sebastian locked you here

𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚖 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢

During all of the pain and suffering his life has brought him (albeit most of this was sort of his doing), there was one thing that he treasured over everything and anything. And that was you. You would always help him with anything, both emotionally and physicaly, it is no wonder he grew so attached. Which might be why you are laying together in bed, the sun already peeking through the curtains, your bodies close together, yet none of you is getting up to go open the presents. While Christmas wasn't really celebrated much in the Moriarty household, you did bring a certain cheery atmosphere there, and suddenly even William encourages everyone to celebrate it. Nothing big, just a good dinner and presents the next day!! However, the presents will have to wait, since you are not escaping his embrace anytime soon.

[i-like-ratsssss]

Scream

Chapter 1; Sandy’s dead.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” The strange voice said, leaving Sandy in a state of nervous. “Why you wanna know?” She answers back, walking to her kitchen. “Just for fun.” The voice admitted, he sounded genuinely curious to Sandy’s ears. “Alright. Hmm, how about Halloween?” She grabs a popcorn tray, putting it on the stove. “Hm, a nice choice.” He chuckles softly. “What about yours?” Sandy asks, smiling. The moment fell silent. Of course, only for a moment before the caller answers back. “What about that one with Freddy Krueger? Is that his name?” He asks, chuckling. “Yes! He’s on Nightmare On Elm’s Street.” She walks over to the living room, smiling still. “So what’s your name?” The mysterious caller asks, his tone eerie and soft. “Why?” She answers back quickly, seeming this could be a prank. “I wanna know who I’m looking at.” The moment quickly freezes, Sandy looks around. Her tone nervous, her body shaking. “W.. what did you say..?” Sandy asks, her eyes widening. She continued looking around, going to every window she could find. “I wanna know who I’m talking to.” He says. That isn’t what he said, Sandy knew it. “That.. that’s not what you said,” her voice cracked, she was more nervous than ever. Who was this man? Why did he call her? Her parents were out for the week and she didn’t want to deal with anything like this. Not when she’s still in high school; young, pretty, practically a child still. “Aw, scared? That’s alright. Maybe you’ll calm your nerves, seeing your little boyfriend and all.” The man cackled loudly into the phone. Sandy’s eyes darted everywhere, checking if she was being watched again. “What do you mean?” She asks, running over to the back door. “Turn the light on, and you’ll see.” His tone eerie and quiet. She was afraid to do what he said but she did it. She squeezed her eyes closed as she saw her boyfriend tied to a chair, fabric in his mouth to make him quiet. “So here’s the little thing, Sandy,” he says, his tone excited. Sandy’s eyes opened, going wide. He already knew her name. She was terrified. “Finish my quiz correctly, and he’s free. Answer wrong and.. well, you should know.” He chuckled quietly, waiting to hear her reaction. She stood quiet, not knowing what to say next. She gulped, quickly moving behind her TV. “You.. fucker! You’re insane!” Sandy exclaims, tears forming in her eyes. “I prefer mentally unstable.” He cackled loudly. “Now for my quiz. Would you like a warm up?” He asks, giving her time to think. She gulped again, sliding down the wall to sit down. “Fine, fine..!” He claps in excitement. “Great! Now, who was the killer in Halloween?” She knew this question. She just didn’t have the right moment. She wanted to answer. She needs to answer. “I.. I don’t know!” She exclaims. She knows. She knows. But yet… she doesn’t. “Oh come on, this is your favorite movie, you should know.” He sounded disappointed. Tears fell from her eyes, a sniffle escaped her nose. “Michael..! Michael Myers!” She says, quietly sobbing. “Good! Now for the real question…” he says, chuckling. She mentally pictures him with a grin on his face. Taking pleasure in this. “Who’s the killer in Friday The 13th?” She definitely knew this one. Again her voice got stuck in her throat. She tried choking the words out, “Jason.. Jason Voorhees!” She yells, sobbing. “Wrong! The killer in the original was Mrs Voorhees! Even a baby would know this. But I guess an arrogant bitch like you wouldn’t know!” He was practically yelling. He was mad. She quickly stood up, looking out the window. She took a step back, seeing her boyfriend’s lifeless body in the chair, covered in blood. She let out a scream, running towards the kitchen. She grabbed the largest knife she could find. “Trying to run? What a shameful trick. Fun, but shameful.” She practically forgot he was on the phone. She ran towards the front door, quietly opening the door. As she closed the door behind her, she saw a man dressed in a ghostface costume. Sandy ran off the porch, expecting to run away from this mysterious killer.

part 1. Sorry I’ll add more 😭

[jumpedthenfell-13]

Thinking about Nancy in my au where Robin dies post-s4 and oughhhhh

It’s around a month or so after she breaks up with Jonathan that Nancy realizes she’s in love with Robin. So, naturally, the next step is to subtly flirt with her, right?

Except that Robin doesn’t get it right away. So Nancy pulls her aside one day and, very firmly, tells her that she’s wanted to kiss her for a long time. Robin is flustered but eventually admits that she reciprocates the feelings, and they get together.

And things are good. Nancy hasn’t been this happy in a long time. They’re doing it all in secret, of course — not even Steve knows yet, which has been a struggle for Robin since the start of their relationship. But the two of them love each other, and they kiss behind closed doors and hold hands under the table and smile softly at each other when the others aren’t looking.

Things are good. They’re happy.

Until Nancy goes on patrol with Steve, Robin, Mike, Dustin, and Joyce. Until they split up into pairs; Nancy with Mike, Joyce with Dustin, and of course, Steve with Robin.

Two out of three pairs head to their meeting spot after they all take a look around. Steve and Robin are missing.

They go looking, and they hear sobbing. Mike sees the body of a demogorgon, and nearby Nancy can see Steve sitting on the ground. She approaches, and—

And Robin lies lifeless in his arms.

So, okay, cool, her secret girlfriend is suddenly just dead. Awesome. That’s definitely what she needed.

She tells Steve, eventually, that she loved Robin. Not that they dated. Not that Robin was anxious about telling him. Just that she loved her. She tries not to laugh a little when he says that Robin loved her, too; she knows that.

She can’t bear to be the one to tell Max, when she eventually wakes up. But she feels guilty when the group leaves Steve to do it — although not guilty enough to do it herself.

Max tells her, eventually, that she saw Robin. A few times, actually. That she was a ghost, sometimes. But eventually she just sighs and admits that she’s pretty sure she was just dreaming.

Three years pass, each one as agonizingly slow as the last. Nancy and Steve and Dustin spend the anniversaries of Robin’s death together. They grieve, and they grow, and they fight, and by November 5th, 1989, they have their plan fully formed.

Nancy sees Steve sneak off to Robin’s memorial space that night. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t follow him, doesn’t try to stop him. But she sees him.

They kill Vecna the next day. It all ends on November 6th, 1989. Nancy thinks it’s ironic.

Finally, she leaves Hawkins. She ends up with an apartment somewhere else, most likely a big city where she can be a reporter. Of course, she still calls everyone and visits Hawkins and lets them visit her. And she still meets up with Steve and Dustin every year, on the anniversary of Robin’s death, the way the whole group gets together for the birthdays she never got to see.

She grows, and she lives, and she loves. But nothing, none of the people she meets, none of the experiences she has, will ever compare to the one she never got to keep.

It’s in her apartment one night, watching some bad TV show and eating fast food, that Nancy feels a presence. It’s familiar, in a way. It feels like Robin — it feels like home.

But Robin is dead. So obviously it isn’t her.

But later that night, she finds an old photo of her and Robin. It’s not where she left it, much more out in the open. But, again, Robin is dead and gone and buried. So it isn’t her.

(But if Nancy is wrong about that, she’ll never know. If Max seeing Robin was real and not just a series of dreams, she’ll never know. If none of them have been alone this whole time, they’ll never know.

And if Robin watches over her now with a fond smile, forever eighteen and warmer than she ever thought she would be, Nancy will never know.)

[anechomirrored]

Prompt:     "Honestly, why would I care?"

Fandom: Fnaf Security Breach, The Other Side of Justice AU

Rating: T

Warnings: implied violence, animatronic aproximation of gore, mild body horror (broken limbs, wounds), panic attack.

You were just sitting down to watch this evening's tv programs when something heavy struck the apartment door with enough force to rattle the dishes.

You dropped off the battered sofa and reflexively reached for the bat beneath it.

"Darling, open the door!" Eclipse's voice called from the other side, "Quick!"

His words spurred you to action. Taking the bat with you, you hurried to the entry. Unbolting the door, Eclipse's name died in your throat as you took in the scene on your step.

Eclipse was standing there, his coat disheveled but it was the state of the two animatronics with him that made your eyes go wide.

From the moment you opened the door, red optics were locked on you. The animatronic they belonged to was slouched against the doorframe, left hand gripping his right shoulder which hung in an unnatural position in the sleeve of his grey trenchcoat. The coat in question was smeared with oil. The familiarity of it made your stomach turn. This only worsened when you realised that it wasn't his.

The smears of the animatronic lifeblood belonged to the broken figure cradled in Eclipse's arms. Their limbs were slack and their face lifeless, say for the sickeningly reminiscent flicker of pale optics.

For a moment you were bathed in moonlight, breath pluming in the frigid air, the grit of the back alley and the slick of that oil uncomfortably real as the sight of your mangled Eclipse threated stop the rapid race of your heart entirely.

Taking a strangled breath you willed the memory away.

The rays, the faceplates, you remember Eclipse mentioning once that his model was classified as celestial. These two strangers were undoubtedly the same. You looked to Eclipse, beseechingly.

"Hurry, love. Help me get him onto the table." Eclipse grunted, voicebox staticky.

You step backwards into the kitchen, allowing him and the one on the doorframe inside.

"A-Are you hurt?" You manage, finding your tongue.

Eclipse shot you a smile, you were sure was meant to be reassuring.

"Just a bit roughed up. Some small minded morons with shock batons." Eclipse, expression turned deadly, then he caught himself, "Scared 'em off. They weren't ready for a third, I got the jump on them." He waited patiently for you to finish hastily clearing the table before easing the broken celestial onto it. Eclipse ripped open the oilsoaked trench and button up in one swift motion. Buttons pinged off the tiled floor and rolled away. You focused on where each may have landed to distract from the mess in front of you.

"Alright, I need my kit. The big one. Here-" Eclipse grabbed the elbow of the conscious animatronic and pulled him forward, "Put you hand here." Eclipse instructed, taking the stranger's good hand and guiding it to where the damage was worst, "feel those? Keep 'em pinched or he's lost."

Hissing as his broken arm hit the table with a thunk the red eyed stranger did as he was told.

Like the buttons, you found the blue and silvery whorls of his faceplate facinating as his good hand dipped into the growing pool of darkness in the other animatronic's chassis.

Eclipse turned to you next.

"You too, darling. Hands here and here, okay?" He reached over the table, taking your wringing hands in his, staining them instantly, "This wire? Keep it slack so it don't pull out. Steady hands, I know you got those." He winked and released you.

The action elicited a choked laugh from you as his back retreated to down the hall.

You took a breath and then another. Both hitched at the end. You closed your eyes, fighting the panic threatening to build.

"Hey, it'll be alright." Red eyes watched you worriedly.

The softness of his voice contrasted the violence you were both wrist deep in. You hummed shakily in acknowledgement. His grimace twisted into an attempted smirk.

"Trust me, Sunny here is a lot tougher than he looks."

You risked a glance down at the animatronic on the table. His optics had gone out and you had to remind yourself he wasn't gone. The same had happened in that alley two years ago and your yellow eyed trouble was still with you.

"His name is Sunny?" You asked, the name matched his colour scheme.

"Sun, actually. Though, he probably wouldn't mind you calling him that."

A clang and a curse echoed from the laundry room.

"Second shelf up, Clip!" You shouted on reflex, he always forgot it was stored at your waist height since your last move and the mudanity of it was oddly grounding, "W-what's yours?" You ask, returning to the conversation.

For a minute the stranger was motionless, red eyes fixed on you. His faceplate turned one way, then the other. A rough chuckle tumbled out of his voicebox.

"It's Moon."

"So, Moony?" You teased, weakly.

"Don't get fresh, doll. Now ain't the time." His smirk looked less forced this time.

This was the moment Eclipse chose to come rushing back into the kitchen.

"Flirting over your mate's scrap pile?" He sat the large metal toolbox down and the table creaked, "for shame." He chided, moving the kit to one of the kitchen chairs instead.

Moon shot him a look

"He ain't scrap! Besides, your girl started it." The last part was mumbled.

Eclipse, busy with the kit, shot you another wink.

The next hour went by in a blur. Eclipse kept you grounded by testing your knowledge on each of the tools he pulled out of the box. Whenever you struggled with one he'd turn it into a lesson, all the while working meticulously to stabilize Sun.

The batons had packed a punch, between that and a lucky stab the punctured a weak seam in Sun's chest panelling, the damage on him was extreme. To the point that moving him more than a room over was a bad idea, until they were able to get a professional.

"He'll need a new chip, darling. It's gonna take a few days before anyone can even look at him." You halted his pacing, offering him a cloth.

"Here, for your hands." You looked down the hall where the guest room held it's first guests ever. One charging and the other in a stable but forced saver mode.

"Are you okay with that? With a tech coming in to look at him?" You asked.

It would be the first time outside of tonight that the two of you had let anyone over the threshold that wasn't eachother. Laying low and moving around had meant you had few connections and government techs weren't exactly the kind of company you could see Eclipse getting along with.

Still, he shrugged.

"Honestly, why would I care?" Eclipse answered, lifting you up to sit on the counter, "They won't be here long and no one's recognized me so far." He murmured.

Without warning he leaning in and nuzzled your cheek.

You squeaked in surprise before leaning in to kiss his faceplate in return.

"I'm glad you stopped to help them, even if it was dangerous." You brushed a thumb along the inner edge of his sunrays.

"You know me, darling. I've never been one to turn down a bit of danger."

[thegirlwiththeblush]

Love & Sriracha

Yelena Belova x Fem Reader

Summary: Yelena takes care of her gf after a long day (so basic i hate myself)

Word Count: 1.1k

Special thanks to @vorsdany for proofreading once again and fixing so much, one of my favourite humans ‼️

I step outside into the blazing heat, shielding my eyes as I make my way to my car. I clamber inside, wincing at the hot leather of the seat and glaring pathetically in the direction I had just come from. The college classroom doesn’t glare back, but I huff regardless, tossing my satchel onto the seat next to me before driving home.

Trudging into my apartment on the last dregs of my energy, I accidentally slam the door behind me. I hear movement from the living room and allow myself a small smile when my girlfriend pops her head around the corner.

“Printsessa”, she says softly, reading my lifeless demeanour. “How were your classes?”

I grunt softly in acknowledgement. I love Yelena dearly, but after the events of today I can barely bring myself to form words. She seems to understand this as she nods, her eyes softening sympathetically.

“Come here,” she murmurs gently, and before I can protest in any way, she’s lifted me, bridal style, leaving my satchel on the floor by the door. “I’ll come back for it,” she assures when I flounder for it. “Just relax, detka.”

I smile again, obediently laying back in her arms. She carries me gently into the living room, setting me down on the sofa where she’d been watching one of her favourite thrillers. Swiping the remote from the arm, she changes it to an episode of one of our favourite sitcoms and pecks me on the cheek before shuffling to the kitchen.

I sit up as she leaves, my curiosity piqued. “You all right, love?”

“Of course,” she replies, peeking her head back around and grinning cheekily at me. “I’m just putting a little something together for you.” She winks before returning to her secret task and I raise an eyebrow, the corners of my mouth raising slightly.

I lay back while I wait for her, chuckling softly at the TV as she continues to work mysteriously. Eventually, she peeks around once again, eyebrows furrowed.

“How do you feel about sriracha?” she asks, her tone suggesting that my response is of utmost importance. I laugh a little. “I guess it depends what it’s with.”

She looks unimpressed by this. “It shouldn’t matter. All is the same. Sriracha is sriracha.”

I laugh even harder and she smiles, slipping out of character for a moment. “All right, then,” I concede. “I love sriracha.”

She smirks in victory, before striding over just to kiss my forehead. “You passed the test,” she says, caressing my face with both hands, then disappears once more into the kitchen.

I shake my head, still laughing softly, and as if by magic, I feel my energy slowly being restored to me.

Finally, she emerges, carrying two steaming bowls with a proud posture. Sitting down gently beside me, she sets the two plates on the coffee table in front of us, and I sneak a glance at her mischievous smirk before peering into them.

“Lasagna?” I say. “You put sriracha in lasagna?”

“I told you,” she replies. “Sriracha is sriracha.”

I raise an eyebrow once again at her logic but shrug, smiling slightly as she gestures to one of the bowls and I take it. Still dubious, I accept the fork she offers me, taking a hesitant mouthful. Immediately, I regret my mistrust.

“Lena, this is amazing,” I mutter, my mouth still full.

She smiles softly, before taking a forkful from her own bowl. “I know,” she responds.

“How humble of you,” I chuckle, eagerly scooping up more.

“Exactly, it’s what I’m known for,” she agrees sarcastically. “Taking down bad guys and my incredible humility.”

She stands and disappears into the kitchen again, but returns shortly with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She pours herself one, before offering one to me and pouring it for me as I nod gratefully. She hands it to me before grabbing the TV remote, turning down the show, and sitting back with her plate in her lap and wine glass in hand.

“Now,” she says, “tell me all about your day.”

I’m surprised to find that I have enough mental strength to pour out my frustrations while she nods and hums when necessary. She rolls her eyes in mutual annoyance when I complain about some of my selfish peers, and bites her lip when I express my anxiety in regards to my upcoming exams. As much as she tries to portray herself as invincible and unfeeling when she’s on the job, Yelena is one of the sweetest and most empathetic people I’ve ever met. As I finish venting to her, I meet her gaze and realize for the millionth time how grateful I am to have her by my side.

Finishing off my lasagna as I talk, and I don’t even realize it’s all gone until Yelena takes the empty plate from my hands and sets it back down on the table. Lifting me by my underarms, she twists me round to face the other way, and lays me back on her chest on my back. Gently running her fingers through my hair, she buries her face in it as she murmurs, “I’m proud of you, detka.”

I snort softly, expressing confusion. I’ve barely done anything worth being proud of.

“I mean it,” she continues. “Not everyone has the strength to keep going in your situation, but you do. You work as hard as you can, and that’s as much as should be expected of you.” She kisses my head, and I close my eyes, relaxing into her touch. “So I’m proud of you.”

I can’t help but smile now. “Well, thank you,” I murmur back appreciatively. “I’m proud of you, too.”

“Oh, for the lasagna?” she asks. “Understandable, it was fantastic, I am an amazing chef. I’m proud of me, too.”

I giggle and reach round to poke her ribs playfully, which only brings more trouble on me as she grabs my knee, and I cry out as she pinches around my kneecap.

I turn over onto my stomach, and beam down at her. “Thank you,” I whisper. “You make all of this nonsense very worthwhile.”

“I’m glad,” she says. “You should have shitty days more often, so I have more opportunities to spoil you.”

I roll my eyes, before kissing her tenderly, her fingers weaving further through my hair. She smiles against my lips before her eyes widen in excitement.

“And even better than the lasagna, we haven’t even had dessert yet!” she points out proudly.

I smirk. “Don’t tell me this one somehow involves sriracha, too.”

Her eyes roam aimlessly as she attempts an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she murmurs, before scrambling out from underneath me and racing to the kitchen, snatching up our dirty dishes on the way. I giggle quietly to myself before laying back and relaxing once more, a smile still spreading over my face contentedly.

[miikishii]

To Hold the Sea | Ch. 16

main masterlist

series masterpost | previous chapter | next chapter

synopsis: Decisions are difficult, and so is holding yourself together.

warnings: angst :(

Waking up in the evening wrapped in Dazai’s arms as the TV plays gives you deja vu. You couldn’t count how many times you’d done this. You couldn’t always describe how it felt. Some days, in the now-distant past, it felt like being smothered by a ghost. It was effortless how lifeless he felt hovering over you, always giving that pale stare as if you were the empty one. Later, he warmed up, seeming to look through you with the intent to prove something; You’d never know what. But now, you don’t know how it feels; you don’t know what to think. It’s fine. It always has been. Even so, when something shifts, you’re prone to being cautious. You love Dazai. He’s always been important to you, but is it like that? You’re not sure. It makes you want to cry.

“Awake?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah…” your voice breaks a little as you say it.

“Everything okay?”

“No.” your voice breaks again, “I’m just… so confused.” he sits up and begins to rub up and down your arm soothingly.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” you cry, “Ango… and you. And me! Us! All of us!” you drag your hands down your face with embarrassment, “I haven’t the words to describe how any of this feels; they all contradict themselves,” you begin to laugh, a little bit concerningly, “It's hilarious! It doesn’t matter what I choose I just have to change my life forever. I just have to make a decision that might ruin my fucking life!” Dazai looks down, trying to gather himself, but, when he looks at you, you find his intent stare again; it makes you want to scream, so you do a little bit,

“That- God- that face! What are you looking for? You look at me like you’re searching for something, what is it? What do you want from me?” You shake with your sobs, not wanting to stop, trying to let it all out. Dazai barely says a word for what feels like forever, simply keeping his position behind you, a hand on your arm.

“I hate this. I hate us,” you say, the words bitter on your tongue.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t. I wish I could.” you whisper, “Things would’ve been so much easier that way.”

“Even so, you spent all that time living for my sake; living for someone who couldn’t find value in their own life. And you never called it a waste.”

“Because you’re not a waste,” you choke out.

He looks vulnerable. He looks different.

“I'm not. You taught me that.” he smiles. You cry even harder. When you look at him through teary eyes, you swear you catch a tear fall; just one. You try to gather your thoughts,

“I just wish- I can’t make a decision like this. I feel like I’m choosing to let go of so many things. I don’t hate change; I’m just not ready for this one.”

“Then take your time. No one’s forcing you to make decisions. I’ll be here when you need me, I’ll be here when you don’t.”

“It’s always easy to say that, though, isn’t it?” You laugh bitterly, “But you want a decision and you want it fast. And I don’t want to decide.”

“But you do, it’s just hard; that’s why I’m here now, that’s why Ango is back in your life. You want to narrow it down, find something one has that the other doesn’t, but we’re completely different. That's what makes it so difficult; we’ve barely a thing in common.”

You hate that he understands this all too well, that he’s probably thought about it a thousand times over, just like you, and no doubt Ango’s done the same.

“I love you. But… I don’t know if it’s like that; let alone if it’s right. For you or for me. You’ve always said things like that aren’t for you. How can I know if you’ve really changed your mind?”

“It’s up to you; you’d just have to trust me, and so would I.”

“I trust you, but I know you.” he looks dejectedly to the side,

“I know me too.” He looks disappointed.

“You promised me we’d stay together either way. I trust that; I trust you.” he smiles and leans his head into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist,

“You’ll make your decision in due time, it’ll be what’s best.” 

you look up to the ceiling, trying not to let gravity pull more tears down your cheeks. He holds you, his hands wrapped around your torso, his face in your chest. Your moments together are Renaissance paintings. Each as beautiful and devastating as the next. Each encompasses a different kind of love that makes the both of you think and then laugh, look at each other only to smile and look away. If God exists, it doesn’t love you. 

When he goes home, leaving you with your thoughts, a certain clarity washes over you. Tomorrow is a new day. You have time to think.

note: goddamn chapters have been short. sorry!

[bettyweir]

Three Vamps and a Movie

Sarah and Erica like each other but neither of them have the guts to confess, will they find love at this movie night between three fangy friends? Or will it end in a disaster?

Serica week day 3: Trust

Warnings: Slight spoilers for Wild Child (2008) and an animal being killed and eaten </3

Word Count: 1.8k

[SericaWeek] [Read on Ao3]

"Thanks again for coming a long Rors." Sarah said, turning the steering wheel nonchalantly.

"Hey its no problem!" he smiled, excitedly squeezing his plushie. "And I know you couldn't last a second w/out me!"

"Oh I'd just die!" she dramatically flailed, smile spreading across her face.

"Are you sure you wouldn't want it to be like, a solo thing between you and Erica?" He fidgets with his Vampire Sasquatch, "I thought you'd wanna be alone."

"Haha, um, nooo! OMG." Sarah said, forcing herself to concentrate on the road to mask her blush, "I um, just like hanging out with all my gal pals. Even the part time ones."

She nudges Rory, who could only roll their eyes knowingly.

"Uh huh, totally not because you have a huge crush on Erica."

"AUUGH!"

Sarah screeches the car to a halt. And a thump.

"OH MY GOD."

They get out to look at the poor remains of a run over raccoon.

"Oh my god, its totally dead." Sarah holds back tears in her eyes.

"Oh my god, yum!" Rory starts picking the lifeless corpse off the ground, trying to brush off the tire tracks.

"WHAT are you doing, hasn't he suffered enough?"

"Hey, you said you'd pick up lunch!"

"THIS ISN'T WHAT I MEANT!!!" Sarah looks on with horror as Rory starts snacking on the creatures tail.

"Pleasseeee, I'm hungry and I've never had raccoon before," he gives her puppy-dog eyes, "If we just leave it here, some other animal will eat it."

"AUGH! Okay, fine! Just don't eat that in my car!" Sarah huffs, slamming herself back into the drivers seat.

"Hehe, yay, thank you Sarah!!" Rory follows her to the passengers seat, "It smells sooo good. Well, besides the burnt rubber."

"Stop…" she groans.

"Okay, okay I'll stop!" they giggle, sniffing his delicious snack.

They soon arrive at Erica's place.

"Hey whats up losers, come on in." Saying the magic words, the two walk in taking a look around Erica's place. This was Rory's first time ever entering her lair.

"This place is awesome!" He jumps up and down, running to the large couch next to an even bigger TV screen. He speeds past the kitchen, checking the fridge, and is amazed at the amount of blood stored in her fridge.

"OOOH, CAN I HAVE A PACK?" he squeals, replacing a blood pouch with the raccoon.

"Yeah go for it," she responds, slightly amused, "Can I take your things?"

"Oh, aha, of course," Sarah smiles, giving the tall blonde her purse, "Thank you."

"Anything for you." Erica heads to the living room and neatly puts her stuff down.

"Did ya think of a movie you two wanna watch?" She says, leading Sarah to join Rory on the couch.

"Oh yeah," Sarah settles down, Erica sitting right beside her. "Rory suggested Wild Child, right?"

"YEAH! I have it in my bag!" Rory starts rummaging though their backpack, tossing aside all the snacks, toys, and goodies he brought; finally pulling out a white DVD case with a pink border.

"Okay, where do I put this in?"

"I got it," Erica gets up from her spot, snatching the dvd from his claws "don't want you to break anything."

"Hey! I wouldn't break it!" Rory pouts.

"Yeah whatever." She hits the eject button and takes out the previous DVD, the Princess Bride, and replaces it; but the TV remained off.

"Oh hey, can you guys look for the remote?" she asks, heading to the kitchen, "I'm gonna make some popcorn."

No, vampires did not need any human food, but movie night just isn't the same snacking on only blood. It's so much more nostalgic for Erica to share a bowl of salty, crunchy, buttery popcorn with her friends like back in their dusk marathon days.

She gladly reminisced while waiting for the popping to start.

Meanwhile, Sarah and Rory are searching for their lives. Digging though the couch, checking every table, and looking under every-

Sarah pulls out the large dusty remote from underneath the couch.

"Found it!" she waves it above her head, crawling back to her seat.

"Yippie!" Rory cheers, bouncing in their seat.

He dives to the couch while Sarah clicks the "ON" button. He was so freakin' excited to watch this movie, neither of the other vamps have seen it yet and they Never get to pick the movie at Ethan's house. It's not his fault he flew into the satellite dish.

Erica returns with a large bowl of popcorn in hand.

"You ladies want anything else before I get comfortable?" she hands the bowl to Sarah.

"Oh! Could I get a blood pouch too?" she taps her fingers together.

"Sure thing."

She quickly returns with two glasses filled with blood for the both of them.

"No one died for this right?" She hesitantly takes the glass.

"No Sarah," she sits down "the guy was already dying, don't worry about it."

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?" she's taken aback.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, don't worry it's from a blood drive. Relax."

"You are so mean to me!" she whines, staring at her lack of a reflection in the glass of blood before taking a small sip.

Her life still wasn't what she expected, but shes really glad she can still spend some time watching movies with her friends. Even if they're all doing so while drinking blood. At least she'll have the time to catch up on a centuries worth of old movies with them.

"Are we gonna watch this thing, or what?" Erica asks, hovering over the play button.

"Wait!" Rory interjects, "Can you turn on subtitles?"

"Why? Don't you have super vampire hearing?" Erica questions.

"Wellll yeah, but doesn't mean I have super vampire comprehension!"

"Plus, they doesn't need to justify anything!" adds Sarah.

"Alright, alright," Erica complies, "I just wanted to know why."

The movie starts up and Rory cannot stop bouncing in place. Erica pushes down on his head, making them only shake with excitement.

Sarah notices Erica's annoyance with him and starts rummaging though her purse.

"Hey Rory check it." Sarah displays her small collection of fidget toys to Rory, a tangle, fidget controller, squishy animal and a marble maze.

Rory softly gasps, looking at the wonderful toys in front of them. He points at the purple and pink tangle.

She tosses it over to them and moves most of the items back to her bag, keeping the squishy duck in her left hand.

He smiles at the squiggly plastic and channels all of their excitement into turning and twisting the toy to hell and back.

Erica finally gets settled in her seat and rests her arm around Sarah. And follows up by putting another around Rory too to not seem suspicious. They both cuddle into her arms.

The three vamps enjoy their watch though of Wild Child, snacking on blood and popcorn, cracking jokes and enjoying the movie in their own little ways.

As the credits go by, Rory turns to ask the girls their favorite parts.

"I love when she flipped that girl off, and the arson." Erica smiled.

"I like how in the makeover, she dyed her hair brown!" Sarah cooed, looking down at her own dark brown locks.

"Also those two girls that followed the antagonist were, like, so gay?" Erica adds.

"So gay." Sarah and Rory agree.

"AAAH, but that's Awesome, Fangtastic, Amazing, I'm so glad you guys enjoyed it!" they clap their hands together.

"Thanks for recommending it Rory," Sarah beams at him, "It was perf."

"Yeah you can have some good taste."

"Alright, sooo now what do you guys wanna do?" Rory asks, reaching for his Vampire Sasquatch to hold.

"Oooh, I know!" Sarah sits up in her seat, "Truth or dare!!"

"Alright, Truth or Dare?" Erica asks to Sarah.

"Truth."

"Of course…" Erica slumps into her seat. "What's on your mind Right Now?"

"…I really have to pee."

"Oh come on, gimme something good."

"…I hit a raccoon coming over here."

"And I ate it!" Rory cheers.

"Woah, holy shit? Like, just today? That explains the fridge."

"Yeah I haven't driven in a while, and AUGH I FEEL SO BAD ABOUT IT!" she cries. "CAN I GO?"

"Okay okay, you're good to go." Erica motions her to leave. "Sorry for keeping you, Little Ms. Roadkill."

"AAUGH!!" Sarah throws her hands up and leaves.

"Do you wanna keep going?" Erica asks.

"Sure! It's your turn right?" Rory rocks back and forth. "Truth or dareeee."

"Hmm… I'll be lame, truth."

"Okaye, OH!" a wide smile spreads across their face "Do you have a crush on someone right now? Who is it?!"

"Alright, yeah, I have a crush," she shakes her head "But that's all your getting out of me."

"WHAT! Oh come on now, you have to tell me!" Rory begged, "Can I at least guess?"

"Sure." She sips on her fresh soda.

"Is it meee?" He flutters his eyes.

"No."

"Benny?"

"No."

"Ethan?"

"No."

"David, Hannah or Stephanie?"

"Bruh, we haven't seen half of those people in like, a year?"

"Not true! Hannah works at the movie theater now."

"Okay, well, I haven't seen her." she rolls her eyes. "Isn't there someone you're forgetting?"

"Hmmmm." Rory puts their hand under his chin. Oh they had a good guess the entire time, but it was a lot more fun annoying the shit out of Erica then getting an easy answer.

"Nope! Can't think of anyone!" he smiles.

"YOU IDIOT! ITS SARAH! I LIKE SARAH!"

A floor board squeaks and their heads turn to Sarah standing at the door way.

The two girls are frozen in their place, eyes locked and faces hot with embarrassment.

Rory can't hold back their laughter and starts giggling "Haha! You two like each other!!"

"Rory," Erica says in a calm yet strained voice, "I'm gonna fucking kill you."

"AWE, YOU LIKE ME?" Sarah squeals, running up to her. "LIKE, FOR REALZ?"

Erica sighs, looking at the ground. "For realz…"

"AAA!!" Sarah grabs Erica's hands, "I like you too, silly!!"

She cannot stop jumping up and down, begging for the blondes attention.

"Wait, really?"

"YEAH!"

Erica doesn't know what to do with herself. She never thought she'd get this far. She awkwardly puts out her arms and Sarah squeezes herself into a hug, waddling them back and forth.

She looks up at Erica, "Hehhe, you love me!"

"OH, shut up!" Erica places her head on top of her, spotting Rory looking at their phone.

"Hey are you bored or something?!" Erica hisses.

"Nope! Just updating Ethan and Benny on the gay ass situation happening right now." He lifts up their phone screen showing a picture of the two girls holding each other, with text messages following it.

"Omfg what are you saying." Sarah walks over to read the messages aloud.

"Damn these bitches gay! from ethan. Tell them congrats 4 me!" she repeats, "Finally! Laughing emoji, laughing emoji, laughing emoji. from Benny. With two heart reactions."

"Did everyone else know we liked each other besides us?" Sarah asks after reading.

"Yea." Rory answers meekly, hiding behind Vampire Sasquatch.

"Ouuughh." Erica shoves her face into her hands.

"At least you guys know now!" he giggled.

[ghoulbutler13]

“Not everything is fake…”

CC x My OC, Dabi x Snowy, Gay OC, Somewhat Angst, BnHA, Quirkless AU, Fake Death, Boyfriends

This is my first time posting this fanfic tho

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

Genkan Shima was supposed to be a police officer just like his father wanted but instead, he didn’t become a police officer because this wasn’t what he wanted.

Touya Todoroki was a police officer because he wanted to impress his father Enji Todoroki but it wasn’t always working the way he wanted.

Genkan and Touya became boyfriends through dating apps but Touya didn’t know his boyfriend was hiding something from him. Something dark.

“I’m home, babe.” A cold voice called out as the door closed. He took his shoes off and then placed them down before heading to the living room. He eventually got no response so his lover must be still on his duty. He shrugged his jacket off and tossed it onto the chair across the couch. He plopped himself on the couch and lazily grabbed the remote from the coffee table. He pushed the button, turning the tv on.

The image of a blurred masked man appeared on the screen of the tv as if he was about to punch the camera. The reporter was beside the image, speaking up.

“It appeared he had escaped. Again. His latest victim had been found dead near the alleyway. His face was currently deformed. He had a single shot to his chest. I advise you to be safe and contact 911 if anything happens.”

The tv was turned off, only to see a pair of piercing electric blue staring back at him. He placed the remote down once he heard the door opening. He barely flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut. The grumbling was all he heard as a figure entered the living room.

“That bastard always slipped through my fingers!” A white-haired man complained, dropping venom in his tone. When he approached the couch where his boyfriend was sitting, he straight up sat on his lap and rested his head on his shoulder.

The cold fingers ran through his hair to ease his anger and another arm snaked around his waist, pulling him closer. “But you are Touya Todoroki. You can catch that bastard, kitty.” Genkan said, looking down at his grumpy lover.

The said man sighed slowly and looked up to meet the usual glare that didn’t bother him. He changed his position so he’d straddle his hips. He pecked his lips and placed his hands around his neck lovingly. “You always know how to wipe my worries, babe.” He whispered against his lips.

The black-haired man stared into his turquoise eyes and traveled his hands to his lover‘s hips. “That’s why you have me.” He whispered back, smirking a bit.

Touya chuckled and nuzzled his nose against his lover’s. He was glad that his boyfriend still encouraged him no matter what.

On the other hand, he didn’t notice Genkan was acting strangely.

As night came out, the shadowy figure stepped out of the shadow and stared at his client. “Good job on hiding your evidence just like you promised. Now I want you to…kill the next target of yours. Touya Todoroki.” The older man spoke, handing the picture of the police officer talking to the citizen. The hitman stayed dead silent after taking good look at the picture. “Well? You better—.”

He got cut off by the gunshot echoed. His eyes widened at his hired assassin as he held the gun in his hand, a smoke emitting from the hole of the gun. The bullet had lodged into his forehead.

The man’s body became numb and fell backward. The hitman glanced down at the lifeless body with a blank expression and lowered his gun. “I’m sorry but I can’t eliminate the love of my life.” He whispered lowly.

Suddenly the doors got kicked open as the police officers burst inside and aimed their guns at the hitman. One of them was Touya Todoroki. “We finally got you, bastard! There is no way out for you. We have S.W.A.T around outside.” He warned, smirking but it dropped when the hitman threw something at them. Turned out to be smoke bombs. The smoke filled in the room, causing everyone to cough. Touya caught a glimpse of black when it dashed past him.

Touya clicked his tongue and then chased after his killer, leaving his partner and others. The hitman seemed to head to the rooftop and slammed the door open. The police jumped onto his back, tackling him to the floor. The gun slipped out of the hitman’s grip and slid away from him. Touya rolled him on his back and grinned. He snatched the mask away.

However, his grin faltered away and his eyes went wider as his heart sank to his stomach. “G-Genkan? No…it can’t be…why…?” He whispered above the breeze.

Genkan calmly stared at his lover’s shocked expression. “I’m sorry that you had to see me like this…congrats. You got me.” He spoke.

After standing up, Touya barely proceeded and held his head. He avoided eye contact with his boyfriend. Genkan was standing on the edge of the rooftop. “He ordered me to kill you…but I killed him instead…if you want me to—.” He stopped when something lodged into his shoulder, forcing him to fall off the rooftop.

“No!!” Touya shouted, running over. He tried to reach out to grab his hand even though their fingers brushed against each other. Touya’s eyes got blurred with tears while Genkan stared at him. The blood spilled out of his wound.

Blacknette fell down from the rooftop and disappeared into the ocean within a big splash. Touya was left on the rooftop, devastated for his boyfriend.

His partner rushed over to him and placed a hand on his back, shouting but Touya couldn’t hear everything due to shock.

A month later

Touya got promoted for higher rank and bowed politely to the audience. He spotted someone familiar from behind the audience when he straightened his back up. He thanked his chief and team before heading to his…boyfriend.

“Congrats, kitty. I’m proud of you.” Genkan spoke in soft tone, pecking his boyfriend’s lips.

“Thanks to your fake death, I learned some moves from you. Since you are now unemployed, I’ll help you find job—.”

Genkan cut him off and said, “I don’t need your help…I can do it myself…”

Touya felt offended in playful manner but he smiled and interlocked their fingers as they walked away.

[themculibrary]

Oblivious!Bucky Masterlist

Adventures in dogsitting (ao3) - Call_Me_Kayyyyy (Cheeky9274), Coriesocks , Twindragons bucky/clint T, 53k

Summary: Bucky doesn’t panic. Or, more accurately, he doesn’t allow himself to panic. Not if he can help it. He can feel the first threads of it clawing at his throat now, though. He walks as fast as he can without jostling the whimpering mass of fur in his arms too much, squashing down the images of Barton bleeding out on the floor, of his lifeless body being carried away, no idea whether he or the dog are going to make it.

When Bucky finds Clint and his dog bleeding out in an alleyway, he doesn’t expect his life to become all about dog-sitting duties, instagram, and shitty daytime TV gameshows. He also doesn’t expect to get drawn into Clint’s latest drama. He really should have known better.

and here, my love, we linger (ao3) - glittercake sam/bucky M, 9k

Summary: "You're an idiot," Sam says, suddenly very serious.

Bucky swallows and brings his hand up to trace along the hem of Sam's untucked shirt.

They're looking each other dead in the eye. So so close.

Sam's eyes flick up to Bucky's, and he says, "I haven't laughed like that since… Since he—"

"Since what, Sam," Bucky pleads. He wants to know this. He wants Sam to be okay again, to be able to talk about Riley.

But Sam never talks about Riley.

An Excellent Match (ao3) - hulkling616 bucky/thor E, 1k

Summary: Bucky is convinced Thor doesn't like him but he might just be wrong about that.

but baby i'm a fool for you (ao3) - livingincolors sam/bucky T, 3k

Summary: After several attempts at getting back in the dating game, Bucky bites the bullet and asks Sam for dating advice. Chaos ensues.

(Or, Bucky and Sam are dating, and they're the last to find out about it.)

Captain America Appreciation Day (ao3) - lavenderbucky steve/bucky M, 6k

Summary: "Fine," Tony shrugs. "I'm just surprised that as Steve's boyfriend, you don't know about his big day."

Bucky pauses. "Big day?"

When Bucky is informed of the existence of Captain America Appreciation Day, a national holiday centred around celebrating his boyfriend, he's determined to give Steve the best Captain America Appreciation Day ever. Even if it doesn't actually, well, exist.

Dancing (ao3) - periwinklepromise bucky/natasha T, 1k

Summary: Bucky's in love with a lesbian.

It's fine. He'll get over Nat eventually.

For the Birthday Boy (ao3) - steeeve sam/bucky G, 3k

Summary: All things considered; Bucky is fine. At least, he should be. Birthdays are supposed to be fun, right? It should be, unless it involves Sam Wilson. Then in which case, you’re fucked.

OR This is Bucky trying to impress Sam on his birthday, and his attempt of getting Sam the best birthday present ever with the help of their friends.

Heavy Heart (ao3) - neowitcher steve/bucky G, 6k

Summary: After Bucky has a bit of a misunderstanding when meeting up with Sam for the first time in a while, he opens up his heart. Over some beers, he shares his earliest memories of Steve, and how he came to fall in love with him.

Keep on Truckin' (ao3) - Mystical_Knight_Dragon steve/bucky E, 19k

Summary: Truck driver Bucky stops during a storm to give a hitchhiker a ride to the next town. But the loneliness of the drive, and the fact that Steve has nowhere to go, means he's willing to let him stay with him as long as he needs to. After two months together, they part ways. Bucky thinks about him all the time but assumes he'll never see him again.

Excerpt:

It was quiet for a while, apart from the sounds of crickets and other night inhabitants. Even though he'd only known Bucky for a few hours, he felt safe. "Thank you," he whispered into the darkness.

The mattress squeaked as Bucky rolled over. "We should reach Chicago tomorrow evening. Are you…going to be okay?"

Steve choked back a sob. He didn't want this stranger to know he was crying. "No," he answered truthfully.

"Then stay with me for a while, until you can come up with a plan."

lost in translation (ao3) - imposterhuman bucky/tony G, 1k

Summary: bucky pines in russian about tony, sometimes to the man's face. but its fine, because tony doesn't speak russian.

right? (wrong)

My Own Floor? (ao3) - Moonlitedancer steve/bucky, clint/tony E, 9k

Summary: Steve wants Bucky. Bucky wants Steve. They both want to keep their secrets. Neither wants to talk first. Will they ever figure things out so they can be happy?

My Therapist Taught Me How to Flirt (ao3) - Cobrafantasies sam/bucky M, 8k

Summary: Bucky seeks dating advice from his therapist. Together, they navigate the world of modern dating and Bucky's gradual realization that he might be in love with Sam.

She recognizes him since Bucky's been visiting this coffee shop religiously every morning.

Today is the final step of the plan except the plan wasn't supposed to take two weeks. He was supposed to ask her out on day one but that didn't happen. Didn't quite work out the next day either or the following twelve. This is it, try fourteen and Bucky is going to ask Alice out today just as he and his therapist discussed.

Nobody thought to tell Stucky the world isn’t homophobic anyone (ao3) - madysonrose steve/bucky, peter/wade T, 805

Summary: Spider-man makes a comment about his sexuality while on patrol Steve Rogers sees this and thinks he’s saving him. Misunderstandings ensue.

Nobody knows that Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers are out of the ice yet.

Oblivious Dumbass Bucky Barnes (ao3) - IkkeDu bucky/gamora, bucky/steve, bucky/johnny storm T, 28k

Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn't know what he feels for his new university friend, Steve Rogers. But it is not a crush!! He is his friend. A really nice friend that always goes out of his way to make Bucky feel welcome.

But what is that feeling in his chest whenever Steve is near him??

Undercurrent (ao3) - NachoDiablo steve/bucky T, 4k

Summary: Bucky might be more than a little smitten with a certain cute, blond lifeguard, but there's no way his feelings are reciprocated... right?

[saltygirafe]

Fandom:

Wednesday (TV 2022)

Relationships:

Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair

Wednesday Addams & Enid Sinclair

Characters:

Wednesday Addams

Enid Sinclair

Buzz.

12:03, Unknown: What do you think you’ve won?

I was laying on the bed, head hanging off the side to look at the books from a new angle. 

Buzz.

I turned off my phone. There was no point in listening to the stalker’s attention seeking behavior. They would whine and distract me until I had enough of it. I was simply above such fussiness. 

Leaving the device to be lost among my covers, I returned my attention to the pages of the 1861 yearbook. I read it wrong the first time, admittedly. Patrick didn’t become dean in 1861, he had already been in the position for years by then. It led me to conclude somewhere between Martin Oliveri’s death in 1855 and the publication of this yearbook in 1861, something happened to leave the post vacant. Just like a weed, Patrick wrapped his roots into the school.

My necklace slid out from under my collar. Struck the page over a picture of Patrick with winners of a spelling bee held at the school one year. It hovered there, heavy. I could feel the pull on the back of my neck, the chain ripping some of my hair. I stared longer at the picture. Turned the book upside down. 

“What about it?” I asked, waiting for the necklace to designate the next clue. It did nothing of the sort. Kept hovering in place above the same picture, back to its normal weight. Lifeless. I groaned, sitting up.

(more on AO3)

[rosysdreamjournal]

dream about the apocolypse

it started off, it was the apocalypse. for some reason, despite the world literally ending, radio stations were still up and running, but they were playing some weird music. one was playing sonic drive, the intro music from the japanese version of sonic x. next, we decided to turn on the tv. that's when i saw, on one of the channels, someone was playing all the cutscenes from sonic forces. however, i noticed they were completely different from how i remembered them. it was like a movie. sonic and friends were walking around in a grassless gray field. it looked like the moon. as they passed little rocky hills, some of the rocks turned the glitchy red of the phantom ruby's power and little pictures of infinite watching them appeared in the rocks. it was creepy. eventually they reached what looked like a small cemetery. all the graves were freshly dug and were waiting to be filled. all around them on the ground were characters i recognized from satam sonic and underground. they were all just laying there lifeless, their eyes closed. one of them was some sort of mammal, maybe a mouse or a gopher or something, with long pink hair and wearing a light green dress. i, for some reason, recognized this character as being "sonic's step-mom from underground". apparently, sonic and his siblings had eventually given up their search for their mother, and this person had stepped in as their step-mom. infinite finally appeared in physical form, and sonic asked what he was doing with all of these people. he said that he was "putting them to rest" and that sonic and his friends would be next. his friends included amy, tails, knuckles, rouge, and shadow. infinite caused a rockfall and sonic and the group were buried by large boulders. that was the end of the cutscene. next, i was at my grandmother's house, and there was a boy maybe my age or older with him mom, dad, and baby sister. they were her new neighbors, and the boy was showing off his cool new t-shirt when we got there. the boy had a crazy theory that his sister was an alien. we watched her over the back of the couch. she sat down with her legs bent in a really weird way, which was his evidence that she must be an alien. she then fell asleep sitting up and planted her face in the carpet.