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awearywritersworld · 4 months

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the day of my execution

sukuna x reader summary: gojo, yuuji, and sukuna discuss what happened at the store. sukuna begins to consider your mortality like never before and takes care of you when you're sick. w/c: 2.7k tags/warnings: fluff. mentions of attempted kidnapping. banter. reader has the flu. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: sorry for disappearing for so long, but here is the long awaited next chapter. i've put a second a/n at the end, so i hope you'll read it. please excuse me talking out of my ass trying to rationalize my application of jujutsu, but if gege does it, so can i. i hope it kind of makes sense though. series masterlist // masterlist

truthfully, yuuji expects his wednesday morning to be as uneventful as any other, but when he stands in front of the bathroom sink to brush his teeth, his eyes are not the only ones staring back at him.

"what d'ya want?" he groans. "it's too early for this."

"we need to talk."

sukuna doesn't give his vessel a chance to respond before he begins recounting the events of the previous night, a story which has yuuji's face cycling between surprise, worry, and dismay. "the man claimed someone sent him?"

"that's what i said," sukuna responds impatiently.

"why would anyone be after her? i don't understand."

"would it kill you to use your brain for once?" sukuna questions, having had the entirety of the night to ponder the situation. "think, idiot. who would be interested in using her in some ploy? against you. against... us."

yuuji's eyes widen. "the higher ups?

"no one else would be so brazen."

it strikes sukuna as ironic that just days after he relayed the cruelness he endured at the hands of jujutsu society's higher ups a millenia ago, you too almost became one of their victims. it's a reality that he despises.

"i should call gojo—"

"that is out of the question."

"do you want to keep her safe or not?"

sukuna scoffs. "this is how we keep her safe. if the higher ups are after her, we can't trust other sorcerers."

yuuji almost seems offended on gojo's behalf. after all, he's known him for the better part of a decade. "i'd trust gojo with my life."

"well this isn't your life we're talking about. this is much more important."

yuuji chuckles. "i know. that's exactly why we need help."

before sukuna can protest, yuuji's dialing his old sensei and asking to meet somewhere they can speak privately.

that's how they end up at a small bakery on the outskirts of tokyo, sukuna relaying the story for the second time that morning.

once he finishes, gojo leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "well, i don't think you're wrong about the higher ups being involved."

"so what are we supposed to do?" yuuji asks. "they might use her to get to me, but you don't think the higher ups would actually put her life in danger, do you?"

though yuuji's question is directed toward gojo, it isn't him that answers.

"you're as naive as ever," sukuna scoffs. "they'll stop at nothing to achieve their own ends."

gojo grimaces, a silent agreement with the assertion. "i can do some poking around, see who ordered it to be done."

"and what exactly is that going to do? there's no reasoning with them."

"a fact i am well aware of," the white haired man narrows his eyes at the king of curses. "but there is leverage in power, something i happen to have more of than anybody—"

"almost anybody—"

"so as the strongest, i'll take care of this as soon as i can."

"hey, um, so as productive as all the dick measuring is," yuuji interrupts. "it doesn't keep her safe in the meantime."

"i have an idea in that regard," sukuna says. "it's an ancient practice, and while it doesn't offer any protective measures, it will allow me to find her if they make another attempt like last night."

gojo leans forward, clearly interested to hear more.

"i can imbue a talisman with a part of myself and if she wears it, it will act as a beacon for her location."

"with part of yourself? as in, your cursed energy?" yuuji speculates. "wouldn't that do more harm than good? attract cursed spirits and whatever?"

"no, i'm not a fool. it's not cursed energy."

sukuna is hesitant to clarify further. he'd done something similar when creating his fingers, but it was different then. it was a selfish endeavor to preserve his life long after it was his time to die. it was a dark sort of jujutsu, one meant only to bring destruction.

but intention is important in sorcery. it can change the very essence of the practice.

for the first time in his life, sukuna is acting selflessly, concerned only with your protection. it's a pure sort of jujutsu this time around, one that allows him to impart a piece of himself that isn't tainted by cursed energy.

and because of that, that part of him would be unprotected. it'd leave him uniquely vulnerable. it's a steep and dangerous measure. that's why the practice had been forgotten long before the modern age.

"then what could it possibly be?" it's quiet for a moment as yuuji's question hangs in the air.

"it's your soul, isn't it?" the disbelief lacing gojo's voice is quite plain, but he's heard whispers of such techniques. "you'd give her a piece of your soul."

sukuna's never been one for unfinished business, so it's no surprise when he finds himself on the couch, intent on finishing the stranger. besides, it had become clear he'd been focusing on the wrong aspects of the book when he first began reading it.

he's three chapters from the end when he hears a loud shatter from the kitchen, followed by a sharp gasp. the broken glass hasn't even finished sliding across the floor before he's at your side.

"what happened?" the alarm in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"nothing, nothing," you assure him. "i just dropped my cup."

crouching down, you reach for one of the bigger pieces before your hand is swiftly smacked away. "don't."

"it's fine. it's only a little glass."

when you reach for it again, he grabs your wrist. "you troublesome little thing. do you ever listen?"

"i don't make a habit of it."

"i know. the question was rhetorical."

sukuna's already noticed the shards of glass surrounding your bare feet, so he wastes no time in picking you up and placing you on the countertop.

"don't move." he says it in such a way that, for once, you don't even think about disobeying him.

he all but stomps out of the room, returning moments later with a broom and dust pan. there's a small smile playing on your lips as you watch him gather the larger pieces before sweeping up the rest.

and you know, it's really not fair. sukuna could even call it a cosmic injustice, the way he has to worry about broken glass and fragile fingertips.

but he likes you and he likes the pads of your fingers, particularly the way they feel against his skin and run through his hair, so he swallows his pride.

it's been consuming him lately— the fact that you are just as easily broken as the glass that littered the kitchen tile. he never considered just how many ways there are for a human to die until you were nearly taken from him.

so once he's done, he rests the broom and dustpan against the wall and stands in front of you, his hips situated between your knees.

reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a necklace and your mouth falls open in shock. a delicate chain is threaded around his fingers, while its ruby pendant dangles in the air. "i want you to have this."

"what.. what is it?"

he snorts. "you don't know what a necklace is?"

you let out a breath of a laugh. "of course i do. i'm just surprised."

you hold up your palm and he places the necklace there gently. inspecting the gem, you notice it bears a striking resemblance to the color of his eyes.

strangely, it's almost as if it's heavier than it should be— like it's weighed down by some importance beyond your comprehension.

"it's beautiful," you tell him honestly. "are you sure?"

"sure of what?"

"that i should have it."

he pauses before responding, taking in the way you're so gingerly holding it. he's scared you've realized what he's actually giving you. that you're repulsed by it.

he's hesitant when he asks, "why would you think otherwise?"

"i didn't do anything to deserve something like this."

sukuna breathes a sigh of relief. "you are ever the fool."

his hands find your hips, pulling you off the counter and onto your feet. he plucks the necklace from your hand, then shifts to stand behind you.

moving your hair to the side, his fingers brush lightly against your skin. "the necklace is undeserving of adorning your neck. not the other way around."

and he knows it's the truth. a piece of him, attached to a creature so lovely she should be out of his reach... well, that's just unseemly, isn't it?

"but promise me something anyway."

"anything," you say without delay.

he situates the chain around your neck, the pendant lying in the space where your collarbones meet, and fastens the clasp. when you turn to face him, you're met with an alarmingly grave expression.

"promise you won't ever take it off."

you fiddle with the ruby somewhat nervously, feeling as if you're missing some important piece of the puzzle.

you nod in response to his request, but it isn't enough for him.

"say it."

"i promise."

he can see that you're biting back questions, so he explains, "if you're wearing that, i'll always know where to find you."

it finally dawns on you, for the first time, how much the incident at the store truly affected him. it's not the way he ended those men that clued you in, nor is it the way he pleaded with you to forgive him.

it happens in this moment. it's the gentleness of his voice, despite his underlying desperation. it's the way he's watching you carefully, as if you're likely to disappear. it's the fact he wouldn't let you clean up a mess of your own making, because he can't stand the thought of seeing you bleed.

"i... i don't know what to say."

"well, that's a first."

"shut up," you punch his shoulder. "you're ruining the moment."

"right, my bad," he chuckles and glances down at the gemstone. "do you like it?"

you let out a breath. "of course. i love it."

he smiles at your words— soft and genuine— truly a rare sight. "good."

you notice that he's looking at you. really looking at you. his eyes shift away from yours and over to each of your temples. then down to your nose. your mouth. even your chin.

he takes in every detail and he feels like he's in your debt simply for gazing at your countenance.

you almost regret it when your hands curl around the collar of his shirt and pull his lips to yours. you should have savored his smile, spent time committing it to memory.

although, that's soon forgotten as you feel the curve of his mouth deepen while his lips move against yours.

it isn't until day three of your ceaseless coughing and sneezing that sukuna adds them to his list— broken glass, fragile fingertips, coughs, and sniffles.

his concern is clear from the way he dotes on you. he brings you cold cloths, makes you tea, massages your neck, runs you baths.

now he's on his way to a twenty four hour pharmacy to pick up more medicine to reduce your fever, and while it's only a block away, he's still doing it alone.

but not even for a moment does he consider running off to burn the world's largest city to the ground. the streets are crawling with people, but he finds himself avoiding them more than anything.

he has to get back to you after all.

the only thought on his mind other than you is the ending of the stranger. the main character, while awaiting his beheading from his prison cell, conveys his final words to readers:

for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, i opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. finding it so much like myself— so like a brother, really— i felt that i had been happy and that i was happy again. for everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, i had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators on the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

in sukuna's first life, perhaps this line would have resonated with him. it was a life where he had resolved himself to the idea that nothing really mattered, because the alternative was too painful. it didn't matter that jujutsu society betrayed him. it didn't matter that he stole people's lives out from under them. it didn't matter that he was alone.

and while he would have never surrendered himself to execution, if that had been his fate, he would have preferred to go out surrounded by living reminders of all he had accomplished. surrounded by all the people he had ruined.

however, when he imagines such an occurrence happening in his present life, there is only one face throughout the entire crowd and it belongs to you.

the very thought makes him sick with grief.

looking up, he realizes that there are no stars in tokyo anymore, that there is no feeling of indifference when it comes to you, and that there is no happiness to be had when you are not by his side.

he knows he'll never shed another drop of innocent blood if it means you'll always have that look of adoration in your eyes when your gaze falls on him.

so his trip to the pharmacy is short and hurried.

opening your apartment door, he's careful to be quiet in case you're sleeping, but he finds you peering at him from the couch.

your hair is disheveled. there's a sheen of sweat across your forehead. your eyes are beyond tired. your shirt is wrinkled.

you're still the most pleasing thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"you're back," you rasp.

"i'm back," he affirms, slipping off his shoes.

you sit up and quickly regret it, your hand coming to rest against your stomach. "god, i feel like i'm gonna puke."

"charming."

you use all your strength to throw a pillow at him, which he easily catches before tossing something small in your direction— a ginger chew to help with the nausea.

you unwrap it and pop it in your mouth. "thanks."

he hums in response, settling down in the spot beside you. once he pulls the medicine from the bag, it's followed by two bottles. "got you these, too."

recognizing them as your favorite drink, your exhausted and delirious brain makes your eyes well up with grateful tears. "you're so sweet."

"yeah, whatever. don't get used to it."

"but you are. you're sweet and kind, except i'm the only one who knows it," you pause before continuing, your head falling onto his shoulder. "why is that?"

he contemplates denying that he possesses any such quality, but decides against it. "you're the only one who's ever cared to know."

he can feel the heat of your temple through his shirt, so he opens the box of fever reducers and pops out two tablets before handing them to you. "take these. you're burning up."

you do as he says without protest. standing up and stretching your arms above your head, sukuna's eyes wander to where your shirt rides up and reveals your stomach.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you yawn.

he follows after you wordlessly, carelessly pulling off his shirt and climbing into bed beside you. curling up against his side, your head comes to rest on his chest and it's quiet for a few passing moments.

"you can't see the stars from tokyo anymore."

"what?" you ask sleepily.

"the stars. there's too much light to see them from here."

"oh, yeah. we can take a trip to the mountains soon. you can see them pretty well from there."

"i'll hold you to that."

and so with the promise of a beautiful night sky, with the company of someone who means the world to him, and with the feeling of your body pressed against his— sukuna feels that he had been happy and that he was happy again.

a/n 2: hey! so i'm sorry again for stopping updates without really saying anything. i think i just needed to step away from tumblr and writing for a while because i was getting a bit overwhelmed. i was also a little unsure about the direction of this chapter. i was struggling to incorporate the necklace part without it seeming cheesy or weird. that being said, thanks as always to everyone for your support of this series. it's really heartwarming and much appreciated. if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear! i'm not sure when the next update will be, but i'll do my best to keep you guys posted. all my love - m<3

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celtic-crossbow · 2 months

Note

Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

I Might Change Your Life, I Might Save My World

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre/early)

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Mentions of canonical character death; Some verbal aggression

A/N: I had them on the run alone. I hope that’s okay!

The run had so far been uneventful. You’d even dare say boring. That was a word that wasn’t used carelessly. Life in the apocalypse was rarely boring and usually consisted of running for your life while scrounging up anything possible to ensure you could just survive. At least you were out with Daryl. He was your best friend and could usually keep you at least mildly entertained whether or not it was intentional.

You were a survivor of the Governor’s insanity at Woodbury. It had seemed safe enough, but he had fooled everyone. Or maybe he had at one point been a kind, reasonable man that was just pushed too far by the cruelty of the end of the world. Regardless, it was there that you had met Merle, the right hand man. You had always teased him about that. Right hand? Get it? To most people, it would have seemed cruel, but not to Merle Dixon. He would ruffle your hair with a gentle shove and tell you to get lost.

You never did.

When Merle left, you had followed and he had allowed it. He even held your arm and dragged you out behind him. That’s when you actually met Daryl. You had seen him in the fight pit, eyes wide as the Governor revealed he was Merle’s younger brother. He had never mentioned having a brother. Maybe he had thought him dead. Most would say Daryl was everything Merle was not, but they just didn’t know the elder Dixon like you did. Merle was crass, sometimes downright unkind, but below that rough exterior, he had a big heart. He was learning, little by little. You would have liked to take some credit for that.

Daryl had left his group that day, following Merle, just as you did. You remained quiet, watching the younger Dixon watching you. He looked almost wary, but there was a naked curiosity there too. When the two butted heads, you trailed behind while Daryl led the way back to the prison. Where he belonged, he had said.

You had fit in easily. Merle, not so much. It made your heart ache for him when you could see the poorly hidden love he had for his little brother. He was absolute shit at showing it, sometimes selfish, but it was there. When he proved it by trying to be better, trying to show Daryl that he could do the right thing, it had cost him his life. You blamed Daryl for the longest time. You knew it wasn’t his fault, deep down, but you needed someone to catch the fury of your grief. The archer had taken it willingly.

When the prison fell, you had tried and failed to save Beth. Grieving yet again, right on the heels of losing Merle and then Hershel and then your home, you found a way out with Daryl, leaving the two of you stuck together on the road, alone and with a dense cloud of animosity billowing between you. It wasn’t until one night in a rundown home that Daryl had said reminded him of where he grew up, moonshine was flowing and then so were the emotions. You had both yelled, thrown things, killed the walkers that the fight attracted while continuing the verbal onslaught. In the end, drained and resigned, the two of you had talked.

And the rest was history.

Alexandria had been a saving grace. It had taken a while to adjust. For Daryl, he had never lived in a community like that. He slept on the porch most nights, fleeing the confined spaces that left his chest heaving and his skin damp with sweat. You felt as if it were Woodbury all over again, destined to crash and burn and leave the group nothing but ashes. So, you slept on the porch with him, if for no other reason than to keep a fellow outsider close. You both knew it was more than that.

Months had gone by. You had both finally moved inside a house and were even closer now than you had once been to Merle, which was surprising. Rick was confident in sending the two of you out together. You got shit done. That day in particular, things just weren’t moving in your favor.

For one, it was cold. The seasons were changing and you hadn’t adequately prepared for the chill in the air, especially when on the bike. The two of you were scouting for places that could possibly still have necessary supplies. Daryl had—as always—been quick to notice your discomfort. Though he had usually sewn the sleeves of jackets right onto his sleeveless shirts, that day, he had actually worn a leather jacket.

“Here.” He shoved the article toward you, prompting a raised brow in response.

“What for?” You queried. It was a stupid question, but useless banter always kept things light between the two of you, comfortable even if Daryl would always claim the opposite. The space that lingered was never oppressive, not anymore.

“You’re cold, idiot.”

“Daryl Dixon is being sweet to me. This is one for the record books!” You chuckled while slipping on the jacket. The hunter scowled and bumped you with his elbow.

“Stop.”

“Didn’t hear you disagree.” You would have continued to tease if he hadn’t held up a fist just in front of you, the signal to be still and silent. The telltale groans, snarls, and shuffling feet were growing closer, blocking the two of you from the bike. “Aw, crap.”

“Yup.” He agreed, leaning around the corner of the building just enough to see the sizable herd. “Need a plan.” He mumbled, unclipping the sheath of his knife for a quick draw when needed.

“Got one.”

“What?” When Daryl turned, you were already rounding the opposite corner of the building with a quiet shout of get the bike. “That fuckin’ woman’s gonna be the death’a me.”

There were a great deal more undead than you had anticipated. “Well, hell.” You grumbled. It was too late to turn around, several of the milky yellow eyes already landing on you. As you walked backward, keeping a safe distance but close enough to hold their attention, you could see Daryl peeking out from the corner. You exchanged nods before you began to wave your arms. “Hey! Over here! Keep your eyes on me!!” The noise ensured that Daryl’s already near silent footfalls would go unnoticed. He would get the bike, circle the herd, and you’d jump on. Piece of cake.

Until you bumped right into a walker that led the other half of aforementioned herd.

“Oh, fuck!” Quickly grabbing its throat to hold it back, you pivoted, walking backward toward the open area at the edges of the corpses. Daryl was shouting your name, the bike roaring to life. You just happened to choose the wrong time to glance in his direction in an attempt to gauge the distance between you. The next walker had fallen somehow, levering clumsily to its feet just beside the one you were grappling with, your knife having just sank into that one’s skull. There was no time to react. You could only watch the blade slip free as the teeth came together on your arm. It was painful but nothing like you had expected, more pressure than anything. Still, it was too late. You were bit.

“Y/N!!” Daryl shouted, grabbing you away from the dead man, your arm slipping free from its jaws to throw it off balance. That gave you a chance to climb on behind Daryl, the injured arm cradled to your chest while the other wrapped tightly around his abdomen. “Just a minute, just hang on. We’ll take care’a this.” He was rambling anxiously, the cool wind whipping and stinging as the herd grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

“I’m bit. I’m bit. I’m bit.” You chanted against Daryl’s back, only barely holding back your sobs. The bike slowed to a stop, the kickstand lowered roughly before Daryl was scrambling off when you should have been the first to move.

“Lemme see.” When your teary eyes met his, he growled through the sting at his waterline. “Lemme fuckin’ see!” He wasn’t as gentle as he could have been but he didn’t hurt you. Pulling your arm away from your chest roughly, he grabbed the shoulder of the jacket and yanked it down, ripping one of the seams in the process. You were both greeted with bruising flesh, the slightest indents of where teeth had vehemently pressed, but no broken skin. No blood. No scratches. While you stared in a shocked relief, Daryl wasn’t so graceful. His legs buckled and he went down hard to his knees. “Goddamn it, Y/N!”

“I’m okay.” You blinked, eyes transfixed on your arm. It hurt but it wasn’t a death sentence. You weren’t going to turn. “I’m okay, Daryl.” You smiled through the tears, now falling for an entirely different reason. “Daryl?” He was trembling fiercely, his shoulders moving in a way that suggested he might have been crying. You started to throw your leg over the seat to comfort him when he drew back his arm and planted his fist into the asphalt with a crunch that made your stomach turn.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid!” He roared, barreling upright to stand with his nose nearly touching yours. You were too shocked to react properly. “Ya couldn’a waited for a actual plan, just had to go balls to the wall an’ run out there like a fuckin’ lunatic!” Your eyes followed anxiously as he started to pace.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get us out there in one piece. I didn’t even see the—”

His uninjured hand grabbed your wrist, tight and firm but not without care. He’d never hurt you. Not intentionally. Not physically, at least. “Ya call this one piece? I woulda had to take your arm, ya fuckin’ useless idiot!” That sent you reeling. Daryl had been angry with you before, but for things like keeping the squirrel over the fire for too long or kneeing him in the groin while trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. But that? That was different.

If Merle Dixon had taught you anything, it was to never show how you really felt. When you began to laugh, Daryl dropped your arm and stepped back, eyes wide and full of disbelief. “My god, you’re dramatic. I’m fine, Dixon. Let’s just chalk this up to a shit day and get the fuck out of here.”

“A shit d—are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“Stop it. Get on the bike and let’s go.” You pulled the jacket back onto your arm, your red flannel peering through the tear in the shoulder. Now adjusted once again and ready to go, you looked back to find him still staring at you with the same incredulous expression. You chuckled and shook your head. “Stop being ridiculous. Let’s go.”

“Nah.” He was stepping backwards with his own head twisting back and forth. “Take the bike and go home. M’gonna walk.”

“It’s at least fifteen miles and it’s cold. Now who’s being stupid?” When he turned his back, leaving his crossbow strapped to the motorcycle, you actually began to panic. You could drive the bike, sure. He had taught you a few months back, just in case. Still, leaving him behind with nothing but his knife was not something you would do without a fight. “Daryl! Seriously, please, let’s go.” He ignored you, stalking off into the trees until the wings of his vest disappeared.

Chasing him wasn’t a good idea. You knew him well enough to know that much. Or did you? It had been a long time since an argument like that, one where both of you had shut down in one way or another. You started the bike, toeing up the kickstand before propelling it forward, your chest constricting tighter and tighter with every mile.

It had taken him far longer than necessary to make the walk back to Alexandria’s gates. Granted, he’d stopped for several smokes to calm himself down. He’d slide down the nearest tree and sit there—flexing his throbbing fingers—until he had drawn the cigarette down to the filter or he heard the incoming growls of the walkers that had been tailing him. He had to take an extra half hour to put down the ones he could and lose the ones he couldn’t. By the time Sasha pulled open the gates, Daryl was bone weary and more than a little ashamed of how he’d reacted.

“Seen Y/N?” He asked in lieu of answering when she questioned where he’d been.

“She came back a while ago. Haven’t seen her since. Sorry.” She patted his shoulder and returned to her post. You were back, so that anxiety was at least remedied.

Still, he needed to talk to you. The way you had laughed in the face of his anger had unnerved him. It reminded him so much of his brother that it hurt. That type of behavior didn’t suit you. Then again, who was he to tell you how to behave? He had spoken to you so harshly instead of just telling you that you scared the shit out of him. He should have hugged you and been thankful that you didn’t lose your arm, didn’t lose your life. But emotions and Daryl weren’t exactly on speaking terms. When he didn’t understand why or how something made him feel a certain way, he lashed out at it. He was conditioned that way, it was in his blood. He had been trying so hard to be better. He actually thought he was getting better. Boy, he couldn’t have been more wrong. He was still a work in progress. He needed you to know that. He needed to apologize, even if it burned coming out of his mouth to admit he was wrong, to admit to feeling anything at all.

Damn you for wiggling your way into his useless heart. He thought he had crushed and buried the thing years ago. Then you came tagging along on his brother’s heels and challenged everything he thought he knew about himself. He chose not to acknowledge it, even when people like Carol and Rick did. Often.

Sighing, he stopped on the porch of the home he shared with you and Carol, lighting up a cigarette and leaning over the railing on his forearms. He would have assumed that you’d already spilled everything to Carol but when she didn’t barrel out of the house with a rolling pin aimed at his head, it was easy to figure out that you hadn’t. Maybe you hadn’t even been home yet. He trampled that worry down quickly, not willing to let it compound into another wave of anger he’d have to answer for eventually.

The streets were quiet with the sun now completely gone, replaced by the waning crescent moon. There was enough light for him to see, of course. His eyes were trained from years of hunting and surviving out in nature. He could hear frogs close to the pond, even hear the paper of his cigarette sizzling with each drag. But then he heard something else. Something that shattered him to his very core because he knew immediately what and who and why it was.

He didn’t bother to keep his steps light. It wouldn’t do to surprise you. You’d just be even more upset without time to even try and compose yourself. Even so, it was possible you still didn’t hear him approaching. Your sobs and sniffles continued, probably barely audible to anyone who didn’t know how to listen and not just hear.

You were perched on the bench beneath the gazebo, knees drawn up to your chest with your face hidden behind them. Even in the dark, he could see your shoulders shaking. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching you but once it was clear that you hadn’t noticed him, he cleared his throat. Had it been any other day, any other situation, the way you unfolded and nearly climbed over the back of the bench would have been comical. Maybe it still would be when the two of you looked back on this, but that was only if he could make things right.

“Hey.” He rasped, still rooted to the same spot.

You sniffed, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your flannel. The leather jacket was nowhere to be seen. “Hi.” All the confidence from earlier was gone, leaving your voice but a tiny echo of the woman that had called him dramatic. “I’m glad you made it back safely.”

“Ya alright?” He chanced a step toward you, pausing after one when your eyes darted down to his boots and back up. God, he felt like an asshole. Were you afraid of him now?

“Mhm. I’m okay.” You sniffed again and settled back onto the seat, pulling your knees against you once again. “I hung your jacket on the doorknob of your room. I fixed the sleeve.”

Great. You fixed the thing he tore. Now he felt like a major asshole. “Listen, Y/N, I—”

“It’s okay, Daryl.” You interjected, offering him a small, feigned smile while your eyes betrayed you. “Carol has dinner ready. I put your plate in the oven.” It was just getting better and better. You had still thought of him enough to make sure he had something to eat when he got back. And the award for Asshole of the Year goes to: Daryl Dixon.

You stood so quickly that he nearly flinched. “I should—I have a new job assignment tomorrow. Need to get some sleep.”

That threw him. “New—ya ain’t goin’ out anymore?” You shook your head.

“I’m gonna work in the pantry, dabble in the armory too. Give Olivia a break sometimes.” Your tone wasn’t cold but bordered on emotionless. You’d asked Rick to take you off the run list, and you’d done it because of him.

“Y/N, don’t do that.” He watched as you approached, your head down. If you hadn’t seen his boots when he stepped into your path, you surely would have slammed into him. “Shouldn’a talked to ya the way I did.” Even while you looked off to the side, he could see the way your face screwed up like you were about to cry again, but after a moment, you settled.

“No, you were right. I should have waited. Things could have gone a lot differently. I didn’t stop to think about how you would have felt if I had been bitten.” Daryl deflated at the utter dejection in your voice. “Anyway, goodnight, Daryl.”

Watching you walk away, your arms wrapped around yourself so tightly, he let himself think about it; allowed himself to think about what he would have felt if you had been bitten. It wasn’t anger then. It was loss, despair, guilt. Whether he’d had to have taken your arm or not, the prospect of possibly losing you was more than he could even think to bear. What was more terrifying was that he realized that your loss would devastate him more than his own brother’s had.

“Y/N, wait!”

He couldn’t let you think he had acted that way out of anger alone. Yes, he had been angry but he had been scared. He couldn’t say you were his closest friend. That spot was taken by Carol. You were something else entirely. Something that he would never get the chance to explore or define, fear and awkwardness be damned, if something happened to you.

His feet were carrying him toward you at a brisk pace, your eyes wide at his approach but you didn’t move. You didn’t flinch or cower, even when he grabbed your shoulder and pulled in against his chest, wrapping both arms around you to hold you there.

“M’sorry.” He whispered into your hair. You weren’t hugging him back but that was most likely because your arms were pinned between the two of you. “Ain’t no reason for me to ever talk to ya like that. Ya ain’t stupid. You’re quick on your feet an’ it ain’t fair’a me to fault ya on that just cause m’too scared to lose ya.” He felt your sharp inhale while his face and neck flushed at the admission. “I—Christ, ain’t no good at this talkin’ an’ shit.” When your shoulders shook, he knew he’d made you cry again and took a step back, his hands sliding up to hold your shoulders. While that was true, the movement was from the laughter bubbling up from your chest instead of the tears falling down your cheeks. “The hell ya laughing at?”

“I like you too, Daryl.” Goddamnit, you had a pretty smile. He’d make a fool of himself ten times over if it meant you’d give him that smile just once.

“Ain’t a thing ‘bout likin’ ya.” He swallowed hard and looked away, the pink hue on his cheeks deepening. “Don’t know what it is, but, uh—well, maybe we can try to figure it out together?” He sounded like a lovesick teenager and was two seconds away from rolling his eyes so hard that they would relocate permanently to the back of his skull.

“I’d like that.”

“Really?” He straightened, expression embarrassingly hopeful.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, not feeling like he’d entirely lost the right to call himself a man. “So, uh—Guess we should tell Rick that Olivia can get Spencer to help her. Maybe he’d stop oglin’ ya all the damn time if he’s cooped up in the pantry.” You reached for his hand and he let you take it. “Maybe I could talk her into lockin’ him in there for a while.” The walk back to the house wasn’t a long one and all too quickly, you were climbing the porch steps just in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Don’t want other guys checking out your girl?”

Daryl almost missed the top step. “My girl?” He didn’t mean for it to come out quite so breathlessly. He was mostly definitely losing his man card that night. You were blinking at him, your smile slowly faltering.

“I—I misunderstood, didn’t I? Jesus, Daryl, I’m—”

“Nah.” He quickly derailed that train of thought. “Just liked hearin’ ya say it s’all.”

“Are you—”

“Yup.” The smile was back and Daryl could breathe again. Somehow, standing there with you on the porch and him on the top step, just staring at one another was more comfortable than he could have ever imagined.

“So,” you began, twisting your upper half back and forth, “you walked me home. Are you gonna say goodnight and kiss me now?”

Daryl’s face contorted in confusion, a dark brow arching. “I, uh—I live here too.”

“Does that really matter?” You asked, stepping a little closer.

“Guess it don’t, really.” When you leaned forward, he didn’t stop you. Found that he didn’t want to. Even as new and undefined as whatever this was, this felt right and he’d be damned if he’d let a chance like that pass him by.

Inside the house, Carol swirled the wine around in her glass, watching the kiss happen with a sigh of relief. “Finally.” Picking up her book, she took a sip and placed the glass down on the table before opening to the dog-eared page. “Now I don’t have to lock them in the pantry together tomorrow.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #daryl angst #daryl dixon angst

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dixonsgirl93 · 8 months

Text

Smoke

Daryl x Reader Requested by @deansapplepie Warnings: a little angsty but with a happy ending.

I hope you enjoy!

Daryl sucked in his cheeks, filling his lungs with the smoke from the cigarette in between his finger and thumb. He breathed it in deep before letting the plumes out again in a long exhale.

I watched him as he looked out at an uneventful Alexandria, elbows resting on his knees.

"What ya starin' at?" He drawled and turned to glance at me. I looked away, embarrassed at being caught.

"Sorry. I was just thinking..." I couldn't decide how to put it into words.

"'Bout what?" He took another long drag of his cigarette.

"About you, smoking those things."

He scoffed gently and looked down at his hand, ash dropping onto the wooden steps.

"What? Gonna tell me to quit? Ain't happenin'." His voice was deep, amused.

"My dad and uncle both died from chain smoking, you know. I'd hate to see-"

"Cigarettes'll be the last thing that kill me." He cut across me.

"You don't know that!" I argued.

Finally, he turned to face me. He waved his arm out, gesturing at everything. "Look around, we're in an apocalypse. After all the shit I've been through, if anything's gonna end me, it ain't gonna be no damn cigarette." His voice was raised in annoyance, leaning toward me to make his point.

"Sorry for giving a shit about you and your health, Daryl." I yelled back. I stood and went into the house, feeling tears sting my eyes. He didn't get it, of course he didn't. Watching the people closest to you slowly kill themselves was worse than if they had cancer or got into a car accident. You can't convince someone to stop hurting themselves, especially if they don't realise or don't care.

I heard footsteps approach from the front door and then felt as Daryl sat next to me on the sofa.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice soft. "I didn't mean ta snap at ya."

"I get it. It's fine." I couldn't look at him still, sat with my arms crossed, staring at the rug.

"It's not." He turned his body to face me. "I didn't realise ya cared so much. Listen, I don't even know if I can even quit at this-"

"It's okay." I finally look up at him. "You aren't gonna quit because you don't want to and no one can make you."

He watched me and nodded slowly. "It won't kill me." He assured. "I've been through hell and back so many times. I'll die by walkers or getting murdered, not by smokin' or cancer or anythin'. It'll be an accident or a fight."

"That's how you want to go, isn't it? You wanna go fighting for something or protecting someone."

"It's how I'm meant to go." He said softly.

"No, you're meant to die an old man, in a comfortable bed, peacefully in your sleep."

He looked up from his hands, eyes wide and then a smile broke out over his face. He chuckled. "Nah, sounds boring." He smiled at me and I couldn't help but return it.

"You never did want a peaceful life, did you?" I amused.

"Don't know how else ta live." He admitted, looking back down at his hands, picking at his fingernails.

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juunobox · 8 months

Text

──★ ˙ ̟ "PERFECT TIMING!"

you're nikolai's intimate friend (nikolai gogol x gn! reader) and he wants to 'free' you

summary : you're nikolai's friend and he wants to give you a taste of freedom (which of course means, he wants to kill you) ur like fyodor to him in this fic, kinda warnings : implied mental disorders, graphic depictions of violence, suicidal ideation, assisted suicide. you have a complicated relationship w him please do not take this seriously, fr i wrote this for coping purposes lol and sorry if it's kinda OOC this is the first ever nikolai x reader i wrote... dont beat my ass and english isnt my native i suck at grammar

Your days has always been mundane. You woke up and work on your laptop all day, then go back to sleep. However, there was a moment when your days became a bit more colorful, thanks to Nikolai's presence. He's an eccentric man who dressed like a clown and spoke theatrically. How did you meet someone like him in the first place? That's a story for another day.

With the time you both had, usually in the evening, he had developed a habit of visiting your place. By that hour, you'd be done with your day job, and you'd have the time to focus all your attention on him. It started as something casual, but as time went by, the two of you realized just how much you understood each other, at least to some extent.

His philosophy about freedom. The belief that being human itself is akin to being in a prison, it speaks to you. And the moment you expressed to him that you too shared the same belief, something changed between you two.

“Because you’re my…

Dear, intimate friend.”

He was fun to spend time with, so much so that it made you forget that he's a terrorist, a member of DOA. He brought colors to your uneventful, colorless life, and you didn't understand why.

“I guess you're sane in an insane way, Kolya.”

The clown laughed at the way you worded it. “Hilarious way to put it, [y/n]! You’d make for a talented comedian. You shouldn’t let this talent of yours go to waste! Don’t you think so?”

You sighed at his remark. “I’m way too anxious to do that. I can't stand in front of the stage and speak in theatrics like you do.” You eyed him playfully, and he giggled at that.

“Is that so? My dear friend can't handle the stage? How adorable, you’re intimidated by your own kind!” He scooted closer and cupped your chin in his hand. Your cheeks warmed up a bit at his touch, and you attempted to hide it. “You talk as if you're not a human yourself,” you said in return.

Nikolai’s grin grew even wider at your comment. “But I am one, I am a perfectly sane human being.” He tilted your head slightly to the side as he leaned even closer, his hot breath caressing your cheek. You swallowed nervously and darted your gaze away, unable to bring yourself to meet the silver haired clown's mismatched eyes.

And then he kissed you. It was a tender, loving kiss. Nikolai attempted to deepen the kiss, but you managed to push him away. He didn't try to force himself on you; however, he simply stared down at you with a smile. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Did you just kiss me? What was that even for?”

“Because… I’m looking for an answer.”

“What?”

“I’m looking for an answer.”

You didn't quite understand what he meant at that moment.

This wouldn’t end well, you knew it. Yet, you couldn't resist him.

The relationship between you two was something that words couldn't quite explain. You two weren’t exactly lovers, but you weren’t exactly friends, either. An undefined one, dancing between the lines of friendship and romance. But did you want it to end? Of course not. You never questioned it, despite the uncertainty gnawing at you.

You had always been good at hiding your emotions after all, or at least, that's what you think. Good at fooling others into believing that you were okay when you were not, because you felt far too shameful to express them freely. You beat yourself up inside your head. You couldn't feel things normally, you either feel nothing or everything at once. It's too much. Nauseating. You hated those feelings. But one day, at the worst possible moment, the clown appeared before you. As you were grappling with your breakdown, you found yourself pouring out your thoughts and feelings to him. Nikolai was present with his vacant facet, silently listening to every word.

"I just want to be free. I hate feeling things. I hate this. I hate everything. I want everything to stop!" Your voice was laced with desperation, and you continued, "If I had a gun, I probably would've done it already. I'm so tired of all of this. My mind is telling me to stop, but I can't do it! I keep doing it, I can't stop myself. I wish my body would just give up. All the things I've done to my body, I've tried inflicting all sorts of damage to it, yet somehow, the heart still tries to beat, and so I remain alive."

In the midst of your distraught state, Nikolai's face held sympathy for a moment. He approached you and pulled you into a tight embrace. He didn't say anything, he kept silent— only his grip gradually tightening as if he wanted to crush your pain away.

—

Just like any other evening, you were in your room with Nikolai. He had brought you something new - a small variety of Ukrainian sweets. He said he wanted you to taste a piece of his homeland. It was unusual because Nikolai had never brought you food before despite his frequent visits, but he seemed eager, so you decided to show your appreciation by giving it a try.

In mere minutes, your stomach began to twist and turn, forcing you to curl up in pain at the edge of the bed. “Aren’t you going to help me?" you cried out, struggling to make sense of the situation.

"...."

"Oh, wait." "You're not going to help me because you intended to do this, right?” You managed to say as you writhed in agony.

Nikolai seemed momentarily disconnected from reality but soon snapped out of it and burst into laughter. “Oh, dove! Does it hurt? Yes, you’re a smart one, aren’t you? I did slipped a liiittle bit something into this dessert,” he placed his own food aside and peered over you. “But I didn’t use enough to kill you, what do you think!” He exclaimed loudly in his usual antics. You always thought you understood him, but there were moments when you couldn’t quite wrap your head around his thinking. This was one of those moments.

“After all we've been through, you’re trying to kill me now?”

For a moment, the silver-haired man appeared taken aback. “Why do you ask? That's precisely why I want to kill you. To prove my freedom. Don't you yearn for the same?”

"You wish to be liberated from your emotions, don't you?"

It didn’t take long for you to grasp the meaning of that. You both shared the same understanding, after all. That emotions made you feel imprisoned, but you never thought Nikolai would express it this way. Before you could respond, he continued.

“Because you’re my... intimate friend… it pains me to witness your struggle to break free, just as I am.” He mumbled, his eyes empty and distant. “You’re my dove. My dearest. My angel.” By each words spoken, his voice turned softer, and he sounded genuine for once.

After a trail of endearment terms rolled off his tongue, you spoke. “Perfect timing,” you whispered, managing a grin despite the aching pain in your stomach.

“Then, why don’t we find freedom together, Kolya?”

—

"Nikolai,” you whispered, caressing his cheek. You knew this would be the last time you'd see him. “How do you feel right now? You look happy. If you were to look in the mirror, your grin is so wide I didn't even know someone could smile like that.

“Hahahahahaha! I am indeed feeling ECSTATIC!” He pulled colorful balls out of his coat, along with a couple of knives, and began juggling them in his hands. “Now, it's time for a quiz! Which weapon will I use to end your life? I have knives, guns, bombs, oh, a wide variety of choices! This is going to be super thrilling! So exciting that words couldn’t do justice!” You could only manage a faint chuckle at this. “All of those weapons, because you like torturing people to death. Right?”

Nikolai took a couple of steps closer to you, continuing to speak in his theatrics. “Ding dong! You are—” He reached for a small knife and aimed it at your throat. “WRONG! You're wrong! Thought you answered that right, didn't you?! Gotcha!” He giggled to himself, his eyes not leaving your figure as his other hand reached into his overcoat, pulling out another knife.

“Because you are my dear friend, [y/n], I will grant you the honor of receiving special treatment. I'll make it quick for you because I want you to be free as quickly as possible!”

You had agreed to Nikolai taking your life.

You saw it as a two-way street, a mutual exchange. He could attain the sense of freedom he so desperately sought, and you could be liberated from your thoughts, emotions, and feelings.

Your miserable existence.

“Ready to take off, my dear?” Nikolai questioned, his grin stretching from ear to ear. He was smiling, but it appeared more like a manic one, instead of genuine happiness. It made you wonder what sort of expression you were wearing. A whirlwind of emotions are surging within you.

You are going to die. In Nikolai’s hands.

Slowly, you nodded. “I am.” Nikolai's grin widened even further, it appeared almost unsettling. Before you could utter another word, Nikolai had already plunged two knives deep into your chest. Your eyes widened, and you collapsed to the ground. Nikolai swiftly straddled you, and he didn't cease his stabbing. “Scream! Shout! Let me hear your cry of freedom, granted by the great Gogol himself! Hahahaha!” Laughter consumed him as he continued to relentlessly stab your neck and chest.

The pain was unbearable, but you couldn’t quite scream properly. Everything happened so quickly. Only disjointed sounds escaped your lips, drowned out by Nikolai's increasingly intense laughter as he continued to stab you.

"Freedom! Oh, this is what I've been searching for! I feel nothing!" He yelled hysterically. His mismatched eyes locked onto yours, your vision starts to blur, yet you could still see Nikolai wearing the same grin and glaring eyes. "My dear friend! Tell me! You feel free as well, just as much as I do right now, correct? Don't let my effort in killing you be in vain! You are free! Free from that prison you've been in! Say yes! Say yes!" He continued his rapid speech, almost matching the rhythm of the stabs.

Feeling your body growing cold, you could only muster a faint smile in response, sensing your blood seeping from your chest and neck. It felt oddly calming. The pain had lessened. Your body turned colder and colder, but the blood oozing from your wounds felt warm.

With the last bit of your strength, you managed to touch his cheek. You weren't sure if it was a hallucination or not, but Nikolai appeared to flinch in surprise when your hand made contact with his skin. Your body temperature was plummeting rapidly.

“...Kolya..” you managed to croak out, before closing your eyes and falling limp.

The floor was now painted red. The silver-haired clown’s once monochrome attire had almost turned crimson; stained with your own blood. There was a moment of silence, so profound that Nikolai could hear his own breathing. But then his breathing quickened, and his smile broadened once more.

“Hahaha!” He laughed out loud, “Oh! My dear friend is finally free now!” He picked up his knife again and lunged over your lifeless body. You were no longer breathing, but Nikolai continued to stab you. “The freedom we've desperately sought! Liberated from this thing called brainwashing!” The clown's eyes remained wide with trembling irises, an impression of madness. Unlike before, his voice now bore a subtle crack, as his gestures also became unsteady.

The same expression remained on his face, but tears started streaming down his cheeks. Nikolai seemed unaware of his own tears. “My dear friend! Tell me that I've achieved this freedom! You can confirm it because you understand me, right? You're the only one who understands me, after all!” His tone grew almost frantic, and his voice continued to break with each word. He pulled the knives from your chest and threw them aside, squeezing your cold, lifeless hand tighter in his warm ones.

“Because you’re… my dear friend… and you’re the only one who understands me…”

#vent writing #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #nikolai x you #cw violence #nikolai bsd x reader #nikolai gogol bsd #nikolai bsd

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niki-phoria · 1 year

Note

hii would like to request chishiya x reader who is his spy, i just saw this tiktok https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMY2d6rFA/ and i need to read something about it asdgfjdkd

he looks so annoyed sklens

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff (??) word count: 1.0k

warnings: mentions of blood, canon typical violence, i have never written anything canon compliant in my life, chishiya is a little ooc, the end is a little weird but i cannot write anything that isn't a happy ending romance lmao, guy in orange is karube btw

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i kinda struggled with the spy aspect of this ngl so reader is more of his informant lol i hope you like it :))

requests open !! read my rules first

chishiya smirks at you from across the balcony he’s leaning on. he brings his hand up to wave at you, watching the other players from above like a hawk. you wave back at him before slinking through the building.

the first few minutes of hiding are somewhat uneventful. you wince at every string of gunshots that rings out, keeping yourself hidden in the shadows of the darkness.

“let’s all team up!” a man yells. his voice is frantic as he yells down from somewhere above you. “come on, we can all win this together! please!”

he’s cut off by another string of gunshots that are too close for comfort. you make your way up through the staircase, away from the noise. you flinch when the tagger passes by the stairwell you’re standing in. they pause when someone behind you gasps. you frantically pull them away from the light, pressing a hand against his mouth and pushing him down the staircase. a man in a blue t-shirt stares at you with wide eyes as the tagger slowly begins to walk again.

slowly, you pull your hand away. “thank you.” he whispers. you nod, following him down the stairs to the second floor. “i’m arisu,” he says, bowing quickly.

“y/n,” you reciprocate. “we need to keep moving. the tagger will find us eventually if we just stand here.”

“right,” he nods, looking down the hallway behind him. “i’ll go left.”

you don’t get a chance to respond before he starts rushing down the hallway, testing doors along his way. following his lead, you make your way back into the stairwell, going back up to the third floor. above you, you can barely hear the sound of the tagger’s echoing footsteps through the hallway. two women gasp before the familiar sound of gunshots ring out.

“aya!” one of them yells. “you’ll pay for this! i’ll kill you!” she cries before a second round of gunshots rings through the building.

a woman jumps down onto the balcony in front of you before climbing back over the edge. she crouches down, bringing her hand up to her face is a ‘shh’ motion. you nod, gesturing for her to follow you into the stairwell. “what’s your name?” you whisper.

“usagi,” she replies.

“don’t worry, the tagger won’t find us here. we’ll hear them coming.” she anxiously glances back at the hallway again before letting out a little sigh. “i’m y/n.”

usagi freezes when someone starts yelling. “there are two buttons!” his voice is frantic. “it’s room 406! i need someone to press the other button!”

“406?” she whispers.

“that’s close by. i’ll go up the stairs, you can climb up the balcony.” usagi is quick to follow after you, rushing up the stairs before throwing herself up onto the outside of the building.

chishiya is holding the door shut when you get to the room. “i sent a girl in there,” you whisper.

he nods, cracking the door open a little. “i’ll give her the taser.”

“you called?” usagi pants, hoisting herself up over the edge and into the room. the timer continues to count down, only a few seconds remaining.

“here!” chishiya slides the taser across the floor to her. she’s quick to grab it, pressing it against the tagger’s side. the woman falls to the floor, body convulsing.

“the buttons!” arisu gasps. he scrambles to his feet, throwing himself at the button on the left wall. usagi follows after him, pressing the right button.

after a few tense moments of silence arisu lets out a sigh of relief. you glance over at the timer. 00:01. a small sigh escapes you as well as arisu collapses onto the ground. usagi pants, leaning back against the wall.

chishiya subtly pulls you away from the tagger. the terrified woman sits up, looking at you and then up at the timer. she frantically pulls at the collar around her neck before you turn away, grimacing at the noise of it exploding.

blood coats the walls and floor around you. some of it is splattered on your clothing. “y/n,” aguni calls from behind the cracked door, gesturing behind him. next to you, chishiya crouches down beside the woman’s body. you nod, following aguni out of the room and to the car back to the beach.

your shared room is dark when chishiya enters. the curtains are opened, exposing the lights shining from the party still raging on below. “anything new?” he asks, sitting across from you on the bed.

“not much,” you sigh, leaning back against the headboard. “the climber’s name is usagi. she’s friendly enough but seems like a loner. and the guy in orange isn’t a bad fighter. he’s stupid enough to try to kill the tagger but smart enough to bring a knife in.”

chishiya hums. “good to know.”

“the guy in blue who pressed the button is arisu. he could be useful.”

“you think so?”

“he was immediately willing to work with me and he made a call to action that we could win by all working together. i’m sure you could convince him to do some dirty work.”

“hm.”

“what did you take off the tagger’s body earlier?” chishiya pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to you. it’s hard to make out in the dim lighting. you squint, leaning in a little closer. “what is it?”

“that’s what i’m trying to figure out.” he sighs.

you hand it back to him, moving to sit behind him. you run your hand up his back, gently squeezing his shoulders. “you’re tense.” you whisper. chishiya lets out a quiet groan. “you don’t have to do it all by yourself, you know. i’m here. you can talk to me.”

“don’t want you to get hurt.” his voice is quiet, almost like he’s embarrassed. you press a kiss against his temple, continuing to massage his shoulders.

“i know you’ll protect me.” he stifles a laugh, further relaxing against your touch. “you’ll be okay.”

chishiya leans back, pressing a peck against your jaw. “with you here, i always am.”

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likeabulldigidigibombombombom · 4 months

Text

Open Window (Part 1)

Pairing: (non threatening) thief!Hyunjin x fem!reader

Trope/Genre: Non idol au, fluff

Summary: You’re nearing the end of your gap year, and you decided to spend your last month of it at your aunts house. Unfortunately, a very stupid criminal has struck your house many times and you need to figure out who they are and why they did it.

854 words

Warnings: Hyunjin LITERALLY ROBS YOU. DO NOT DO WHAT Y/N DOES SHE IS A DUMBASS. Usage of pet names, swearing.

Lee know is mentioned

You were so bored. So extremely bored. You had completed your third walk around the block, which you normally would be too tired to do, but you had to do something that didn’t include death-scrolling on your phone and making small talk with your aunt.

You thought that taking a gap year would include traveling and spending time with your close friends, but it was really just a whole lot of nothing.

When you were preparing to unlock the door to get into the home that you were staying at for a month, you noticed the weird gnome on your doorstep was missing. ‘Eh, whatever’ you thought to yourself. The next day, while going on another walk around the block, half of the garden decorations were gone. You just brushed it off, because who the fuck would steal garden decorations.

A few hours later, you had gotten ready for bed because ‘if you can’t entertain yourself it's better to just sleep’ you thought, but you had left the window open. It was extremely hot and you were lying on top of your bed sheets, trying to get to sleep when you heard a noise. You looked up to see a person, halfway inside of your room.

As soon as you realised what was going on, your hand flung to your bedside table to turn the light on. But the shadow of a man was gone. Thinking it was just a dream, you slept peacefully.

“Did you hear anything last night Y/N?” your aunt asked, while washing dishes by the sink. “No, I don’t think so. I think I went to sleep immediately after getting upstairs.” “Oh, I must have been imagining things then.”

The nights were uneventful for a while, until you slept with your window open again.

Tossing and turning, you couldn’t sleep. It was around 3 am when you heard a noise again. This time, you were sceptical and terrified. The fear was so intense that you felt like you couldn’t move your hand to turn on the light.

“Who are you?” You said. It came out quieter than intended, but it was audible. “Uh, a ghost. This is all a dream.” You could see a silhouette of a man wiggling strangely and you couldn’t help but laugh. He looked about 5’11 and his voice was strangely attractive.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on? Because I’m weirded out at this point.” He shrugged. “Yeah, that’s fair enough.” You could hear someone take a deep breath and then blurt out. “I’m robbing you.” “Sorry, what?” “I’m robbing you, well, attempting to.”

Your fear was slowly melting away as you realised how stupid the criminal was. “What do you want me to do with that information?” “Whatever you do, please don’t tell the police, Minho will kill me.” “Who?” “The guy who organises this shit, whenever I fuck up, he stuffs tissues in my mouth.”

“That seems pretty civil for a robber.” “Well, we don’t usually hurt people. Unless they want us to.” “Was that meant to be a threat, or an attempt at flirting?” “Flirting, but it obviously didn’t work since you didn’t even realise I was trying to flirt.” He said, sounding slightly embarrassed. “Well, maybe you should try harder.” “We can save that for another day angel.” You felt your face flush a little after hearing that.

“Another day?” “Well you’ve left your window open these past few nights, so your house is the easiest to rob.”

“Oh this isn’t my house, I’m just staying here for a bit.” “Are you sure you should be telling me that?” “Honestly, you don’t seem that much of a threat so I don’t really care.” “You don’t seem like much of a threat either.” “What do you mean?” “You haven’t attempted to kill me yet. I mean, someone has chased me down a road with a guitar before, so compared to that…” You cut him off with a giggle and sat up a little bit.

“You also haven’t called the police yet, unless you’re planning to.” You thought to yourself for a second then looked back at the robber. “I’m actually enjoying this.” “Damn, you must be really bored.” “Yep.” He rocked back and forth awkwardly for a bit and then finally spoke up.

“Well, I’ll just take this.” He held up an item. “What are you taking?” “I genuinely don’t even know, I can barely see.” “I think-” You squint trying to figure out what the object is. “that’s an empty bottle of Mountain Dew?” “Ah. Valuable!” He picked it up and started climbing out of the window.

“Wait! Are you gonna tell me your name?” “I’ll tell you next time, as long as you leave your window open again.”

And with that, he was gone. You began to berate yourself for the absolute stupidity of what you just did.

‘You let a burglar into your aunt's house!’ ‘What would she think!’ ‘What if he comes back and gets violent?!’

But with all of that, you couldn’t help but feel excited for the next time you leave your window open.

Author note: Thank you so much for reading! I seriously appreciate it. This was actually based off of a dream I had! (which was a lot more chaotic but whatever)Like always, constructive criticism is wanted! I'm planning to make a part two to this so if you found it interesting stay tuned! If you liked this, please follow me for more fanfics like this one <3 Thank you!

Masterlist

#skz imagines #skz headcanons #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #hyunjin x reader #straykids fanfic #stray kids x female reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #skz hyunjin x reader #likeabulldigidigibombombombom

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skaikruswan · 2 years

Text

The words in your heart and on your tongue

WC: 1,4 k

Relationship: Morpheus x reader

For the person who requested this prompt: Hi when you take request Can I request reader x dream. Where the reader loves dream & hide 🙈 felling because they fear that dream will say no. Thanks

There you go :)

Notes: reader in love, soft Morpheus, happy ending.

If you liked this story, i have written others.

Having a crush on someone can either make your heart soar or drown it in agony. You somehow managed to lose your heart to a person who will never return your feelings.

You let out a sigh as you fall on your bed, clutching a pillow for comfort. You still remember how you met Morpheus.

You rarely remembered your dreams, only fleeting images at best. Your sleep had always been uneventful, which is why this nightmare hit you so hard.

You had woken up in a blur, skin covered in a sheen of sweat, your heart racing as your body was ready to run, to flee. In the nightmare, you hadn’t seen the creature hunting you, if it was beast or man, you only heard its unhuman growls and you caught glimpses of the glowing red eyes.

“This was terrifying,” you thought to yourself, trying to shake off the terror, and hoping that this would be the last of your subconsciousness delving into horror. It wasn’t.

The nightmare kept going on. You could never convince yourself to stand down and find out what exactly was chasing you; your imagination was cruel like that. Your urge to survive, to outrun this monster was strong, and you and your pride didn’t want to lose. You managed to change your surroundings, to run through a lush forest, to hide in a crowded city, to even fly through the sky, but you never managed to shake off your monster.

It continued for days, and sleep started to become your enemy. You became exhausted and moody, trying to fight off sleep as long as you could, basically turning your blood into caffeine. In the end, it didn’t matter, and the nightmare always found you.

You had had enough. Exhaustion had worn you down, and tonight you would simply face your demon. If it killed you, then at least you would wake up and be hopefully done with the nightmare.

You turned off the lights, shuffled to your bed and closed your eyes. The nightmare came quick.

You stood still, waiting for the demon to reach you, dread coiling inside your stomach as the red eyes came closer, as the growls turned into a vicious, thundering laugh. The creature approached, and you still couldn’t discern what it was. You just saw a massive dark shape, and the suspense was killing you.

“Stop,” a deep, male voice demanded, and your heart skipped a beat. A man dressed in dark clothes had appeared, giving the monster a withering glare, equal rage and disappointment. His pale skin was almost glowing, his hair as dark as the night, and his blue eyes as eternal and cool as glaciers.

“My lord, I was simply performing my duty,” the monster spoke, its voice shaking you to the core, twisted and snarling, making a shiver run down your spine.

“You are tormenting this mortal. You know the consequence.” The unknown man suddenly became more frightening than the monster as you heard the latter howl before disappearing in an instant. Who was he?

“At ease, dreamer,” the man said to you, his voice suddenly as inviting and soothing as a blanket of velvet. You felt the tension leave your body, your shoulders sinking as you let out a long sigh.

“I will guarantee you that you shall only have nice dreams for a while,” the man continued, and crossed the distance between you and him. He brought his thumb to the middle of your forehead, the touch featherlight, and you felt this world change. “This nightmare is over.”

----------------------------------------------

True to his word, you had surprisingly nice dreams. You swam with dolphins and mermaids, you met your favorite celebrity, you ruled over your kingdom as a benevolent monarch, and you even met people you had lost and longed to meet again.

While the dreams were nice, they couldn’t compare to the mysterious stranger. Your curiosity was relentless, and you wanted to meet him again. For a moment, you even wondered if one could force themselves to have nightmares, but then you reprimanded yourself. You weren’t that curious or desperate.

In the end, he returned to one of your dreams. You were sitting cross-legged in a meadow, cuddling a baby wolf, giggling as its rough tongue slid over your cheek.

“I am glad that you’re having nice dreams,” a familiar voice said, and you looked up from your very excited wolf pup to see the mysterious stranger look down at you, his eyes holding a glimpse of amusement.

“I am. Thank you very much,” you replied, gently shooing the pup from your lap so you could stand up.

“I still don’t know your name,” you continued, fighting the urge to nervously bite your lip. You just knew that he was more than just a part of your dreams.

“I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, king of dreams and ruler of the nightmare realm,” he explained, and your first reaction was to bow and incline your head. Was this smooth or just awkward? You felt a flush heating up your cheeks and the back of your neck.

This certainly explained why he got rid of the nightmare so easily and why could promise you nice dreams. You somehow managed to get the dream lord himself to rescue you as if you were a damsel in distress.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, extending your hand, before realizing that this may not be appropriate. You felt yourself freeze, only to defrost immediately when you felt his long fingers wrap around yours.

“Can I see you again?” Go big or go home, you decided.

“An odd request. I cannot make any promises, but I will try.”

------------------------------------------------

Morpheus did more than try, and thanks to him, your dreams have become tangible, a refuge and a place you long to return to.

You take a sip from your cup, sitting in front of your tv. This is only half the truth. Morpheus has made your dreams better. Every time you close your eyes, you hope to see him again in your dreams.

You’re a fool with a lost heart.

Every time you see him, your heart seems to swell, but every time you manage to channel the courage to finally tell him about your feelings, the words don’t come.

You like to believe that you’ve grown close. Morpheus has shown you his palace, has introduced you to Matthew and Lucienne. You have spent many dreams in the library, discussing books and stories, or letting Morpheus’ marvelous voice enchant you. And yet...

You’re a scared fool with a lost heart.

-----------------------------------------------

You’re waiting on a warm beach, the salty breeze tugging at your hair, your toes digging into the soft sand. You somehow know that he will come. Your heart can feel it.

“Are you afraid?” Morpheus asks, and you turn around to face him. You wish you could say that you’ve become used to his otherworldly beauty, but it still takes your breath away sometimes.

“Why are you asking?” You try to give him an innocent look, while screaming internally. What if he knows? Morpheus is kind of omniscient when it comes to dreamers, right?

“Your heart is racing.” Morpheus slowly takes one step towards, then another, until he stands right beside you. He gently places his hand on your shoulder, his fingers resting on the pulse point of your neck, and you feel hot and cold at the same time. Your heart had been racing when you met him, but these were very different circumstances.

“I…” Your mind is blank. You wish you could tell a joke, or change the subject, or finally tell him your feelings, but you just stand there, your mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Say it.” His voice is deliciously soft, and you feel yourself drowning in his endless blue eyes. Your skin tingles with electricity.

“You make my heart race.” It is done. For a brief moment, you feel overwhelming relief, before your eyes widen in realization that you actually confessed your feelings. Oh no.

Morpheus gives you a smirk, and then takes your hand, placing it on his chest. You feel the steady drum of his immortal heart.

“I feared that I would never hear you confess,” Morpheus says, almost teasing you, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

With unexpected bravery, you stand on your tiptoes and press your lips to his, the kiss as gentle and warm as the sunset. Morpheus chuckles as he moves his lips with yours, cradling your jaw, and you feel your heart sing with glee.

Who knew that a nightmare could result in such a fairytale?

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #my writing #my sandman fics #please be in the tags

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oftenwantedafton · 6 days

Text

the new hire | steve raglan x female reader

rating |explicit

part 5/?

words | 5k

cw | dom/sub, oral sex

ao3 link

Three more nights at Freddy’s.

Three uneventful evenings, three boring shifts where you sit and stare at the monitors in the security office and see nothing unusual. You know you should feel grateful that there are no intruders. No sign of the rabbit.

No sign of Steve Raglan, either. It still hasn’t occurred to you that those two might be linked. For now, they are separate phenomena.

Friday morning you return home from work and shower and lie in bed, willing your eyes to shut. Sleep is still evading you, even though you’re tired. Your phone rings and it startles you. You rarely got calls. You have no friends. Few living relatives, and those few don’t care to contact you.

You answer and you know, before he even speaks, that it’s Steve on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello. It’s me. Just checking in,” he says, using that same deceptively cheerful tone he’d had when you’d first met in his office. “Doesn’t sound like I’ve woken you up.” You doubt he’d feel remorse if he had. “How have things been going at Freddy’s?”

You sit up, your fingers fussing with the comforter. You can’t imagine he’d call just to shoot the breeze. So what did he want now? “Everything has been quiet.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. Listen, you’ll need to swing by the office to collect your wages today. I am booked solid for the weekend and won’t be able to stop by like I did last time.”

“Um…okay.” You wonder what’s going to be keeping the social worker so occupied. Of course it’s none of your business, but still. The lack of attention you’ve received these last few nights has been unpleasant. Even Raglan’s strange company is better than none.

You squint at the alarm clock beside the bed. It’s not even nine yet. “I guess I could just head on over now.” You fling the blanket back, preparing to slide out of bed.

“No, that won’t do. I’ve got a full schedule of clients to see today, and you need to get some rest before your shift tonight. Can’t expect you to function properly without it. It’s really best if you came later. Say, around six?”

You can’t imagine that it will be that big of a deal to hand you cash. That should take all of several seconds. But of course he’s going to make this complicated. “Doesn’t the office close at five?”

The friendly tone slips a bit. He doesn’t like being questioned like this. You know it. You know better than to argue. You wonder if you don’t secretly enjoying bringing out the darker side of him. Spread over his lap. God, you’d been absolutely soaked…“Yes, it does. Which is why you’ll be arriving after hours. I’ll be getting caught up on paperwork until then.”

“How am I going to get into the office?”

A heavy, exasperated sigh. “I’ll let you in, obviously. Be prompt. I’m not going to stand at the door waiting forever.”

“Okay. I’ll be there at six.”

“Excellent. See you then. Sweet dreams,” he adds, and those two rough words make you feel warm and aching all over again.

***

If you have any sweet dreams, you don’t recall them.

You debate about getting dressed for work before heading back to the DSS office. You’ll have several hours to kill. Maybe you could come back home and squeak in another nap. In the end, you decide to wear something casual. It’s not like you were going for a job interview. You’re not trying to impress Steve.

Except that’s not entirely true, is it? Because you spend a little longer getting ready, making sure your appearance is tidy, applying light makeup and body spray and earrings. You choose a v neck tee that clings to your figure, draped over dark wash jeans and you tell yourself, as you look in the mirror, that you are strictly going there to collect your pay, and that is all. There’s no reason to expect anything else might happen.

You hate how you have butterflies in your stomach. You hate that you’re so eager to see the older man, so eager to please him. By the time you leave your apartment, your anxiety is through the roof.

There are still cars in the parking lot when you arrive, so apparently the social worker isn’t the only straggler in the building. Not a lot, though; it was Friday night, after all.

The entrance to the office is framed in glass. You can see the tall man waiting for you on the other side, arms folded. You check your watch. You’re on time. A little early, even. Which meant he’d been waiting early, too. Anticipating…what, you don’t know.

There’s a bruise on your hip from your last encounter with this man; a bruise on your soul and you don’t know which is worse, the physical harm or the emotional manipulation. Why do you crave him so much?

Raglan opens the door once you reach it, the narrow wedge you’re allotted no longer surprising you. You brush past him, eyes downcast, that brief touch of his body against yours like lighting a match, heat blooming. You hear the snap of the door being locked behind you and then without a word he begins walking down the hall, leaving you to catch up.

When you reach Steve’s office he shuts the door behind you. He could have already handed to the cash and been done with you. So why bring you here? Why shut that solid wood barrier?

He drops into the leather chair behind the desk, much as he had in the cloth one in the security office, with that same careless abandon. The seat rotates back and forth and you wonder if he ever just spins around like a child would, just for fun. There are little details in the room that you hadn’t noticed the first time you’d been here. The many framed awards lining the walls. The wire rabbit with its slotted ribs to organize and tuck mail into. A map of the local district and some generic looking nature scene that was probably mass produced, something the company had provided. There’s an eyeglass case and some change and a set of car keys on the desk, the rabbit’s foot now a familiar sight. A lot of keys on that ring. Some of them for Freddy’s, most likely.

Raglan runs his index and middle fingers over his moustache, then strokes the facial hair covering his chin. Whiter there than other places. He looks at you like he might a puzzle piece, trying to discern where you fit in, which way he needs to align you to make you slot properly into whatever grand design he’s orchestrating; his secret, meant for none but him alone to enjoy.

The money is curled in his other fist. You notice it now, when he relaxes his grip and reveals it. You imagine it is warm from his body heat. He stretches the arm out and you walk towards it. His wrist turns and the bills land in a pile on the carpet. You descend to your knees, reaching again, but his foot shifts and swiftly covers the currency, leaving your fingers empty. Your lashes lift and you see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Your hand curls around his calf. You press your lips to the inside of one knee. His breath hitches.

You stare up at him. Still wrapped around one leg, still watching him warily. Wanting. Waiting. His hand reaches for you face, fingers curling under your chin. Thumb spread over your lips and then speared between, pushing past your lips and teeth and stopping when he’s nestled against your tongue. Your eyes linked as you suck that digit, curling around it with the wet muscle and stroking, clutching it against your palate, feeling creases and whorls, joint and nail bed. Discovering the taste of the currency he’d clutched, that odd metallic flavor sunk into cotton and linen blended threads.

It’s not enough, you want to taste more of him, reaching for the button fastening his shirt sleeve. A small alarmed sound when you succeed, catching another glimpse of that pink scar you thought you’d seen during your interview. Was he ashamed of it? You don’t mind it, tongue darting out to lick along the pulse there, and the sound he makes, that deep groan, echoes in your core.

“Stand up.”

Your mouth abandons his skin. You frown a question at the older man. You’d thought he wanted you at his feet, on the floor, between his legs, worshipping at what dwells at the apex of them.

“Up,” he grates again, and you hastily comply.

“Why didn’t you wear something easier to remove?” The chair creaks as he leans forward, fingers at the button fly of your denim. “Surely you had some inkling…” The zipper is yanked down and his fingers curl around the waistband, dragging the jeans down until they’re resting midway across your thighs. “The scent of your depraved fantasies…oh.” A little huff of surprise when he shoves the hem of your shirt up and you scramble to hold it out of the way—why had you worn something so awkward, honestly—and he sees the discoloration he’s left. The ecchymosis has faded a bit, shifting from dark blue and purple to a fainter shade of maroon. He strokes over that bruised patch of flesh with a soft caress, completely ignoring the lace panties you’ve chosen to wear (yes, you’d had an inkling, as he’d called it, hopeful and lusting but you don’t want to admit it, not to yourself nor to him) keeping his attention solely focused on that injury he’d previously inflicted.

Then he kisses the spot and you think you might just die then, just spontaneously combust, because it’s so awkwardly tender and so near the area you really want his mouth at, feeling that brush of facial hair stroking your mound, between your thighs. He pulls at the damaged skin with his mouth, sucking, and a fresh sting erupts there while his fingers curl around and knead one cheek, another reminder of where he’s been before, meting punishment to balance the pleasure he’s about to gift you now.

The crotch of your panties is dragged to one side—a tight strain, the fabric isn’t very giving—wedging against your groin, digging into the crease while his tongue delves over the exposed pink flesh, the tip curling and thrusting between legs you wish you could part better, but you’re restricted by those stupid jeans you’d decided to wear that he clearly has no intention of removing further. So you stand on legs that are already trembling like a newborn foal’s, this older man seated in front of you with his nose digging into your mound and his tongue trying to collect whatever essence it can, scraping and prodding while the beard you’d imagined to be coarse and abrasive is instead a soft textured brush that only heightens everything. His glasses are knocked askew and you pull them off with your free hand, setting them on the desk beside you, the other still occupied with keeping the hem of your shirt out of the social worker’s way, letting you see the glory of him ravaging your cunt even in this limited fashion and it’s the single most erotic thing you’ve ever seen or felt in your life.

You’re touching his hair now, sifting through the layers, and you realize it is many, many colors, not simply gray and white but every shade in between, silky ribbons shading from dark to light, stormy sky to bright daybreak. The fervor with which he consumes you only intensifies, sending your hurtling through the path of ultimate bliss, your twitching bud finally surrendering to the relentless lashes of Steve’s tongue. You cum in his mouth and you hear the strangled inhale through his nostrils, your body mashed against his face, the fingers on his head cupping and shoving him closer and closer. A hum of sound and the hand on your ass tightens and the hypersensitivity that makes you want to recoil and push him back for respite transcends into something else. He’s got you there again, right on the brink, and you bite your tongue to stifle the wail when you climax a second time, still unsure if anyone else is left in the office to hear you.

Raglan eventually moves away, slouching against the back of the leather chair, looking disheveled and this, this is what you had envisioned when you’d called him, asking him to come to the restaurant that night. Climbing out of bed, hair tousled, clothes rumpled, that careful, neat appearance suddenly wild and raw and natural. You’re still trembling, still caught in the turbulent throes post orgasm, managing to lean over and capture his lips and he allows it, allows you to smooth back the slightly curled lock of hair that’s descended across his forehead, lap at the damp mouth that tastes familiar, like your own sex, while you reach down for his crotch and find him hard and straining.

Your descent to your knees is less than graceful—your thighs are still effectively shackled—but you manage the task, just as you manage to open his fly and shove the waistband of his briefs down. There is a lot there for your mouth, for your throat; daunting, but you’re determined. You want to take this man apart, enjoying this sudden shift in power, where he’s allowing you to direct the course of every action. You tease a few licks before you properly take his cock in your mouth and suck and the noise this elicits is one you know you’re going to savor again later, when you’re alone and you remember this, a backdrop for self pleasure. It’s a needy sort of whimper, a surprised sort of pleading sound. You can feel the tremors wracking his thighs already. He’s not going to last long. Your mouth is as relentless as his own had been, working up and down, straining with a lewd, wet slap each time he collides further and further back. He spills so deeply in your throat you don’t even taste it at first, until the pulsing head rests on the base of your tongue, when he jerks your head back so he can see your depravity, blown pupils meeting blown pupils, white cum still staining your red mouth and that breathy little moan hummed through his lips betraying just how much he’d enjoyed it.

You swallow the rest of his load down—bitter, as you’d known it would be—and sit back on your heels, realizing the two of you are still panting, still struggling to recover. You watch him shove himself back into his pants and you take that as a signal that you’re to do the same, grabbing up the cash you can finally reach off the carpet—and damn if that doesn’t make you feel like more of a whore than collecting your wages at the diner ever had, like he’d insinuated—before you push yourself upright, shimmying back into your jeans after tugging the crotch of your panties back towards the middle where it belongs.

You have absolutely no idea what to do now. He had started this, whatever this was, and you’d finished it, and now you’re struggling not to feel used and empty. In the heat of the moment everything had been perfect, but now you want all of that stupid, sappy stuff that you believe should come after intimacy. You want cuddles and pillow talk and of course this is hardly the time or the place for that. This isn’t anything even remotely resembling something like that; it’s not a relationship, not anything really, just the release of pent up tension between the two of you, but you stare at his face and you crave those lips and you want his arms around you. You know he’s going to tell you to leave and you’ll do it because he told you to but you wish, for one silly little moment, that he’d request the opposite instead. Ask me to stay. Tell me you want more. I want more than this.

Raglan’s refastened his shirt sleeve and slid those ill fitting glasses back into place and he almost resembles his usual tidy self. Some of his hair is still mussed and your fingers itch to help straighten it (or better yet make it messier) but you resist the urge. It had been okay, before. You know it wouldn’t be now.

“I have to finish my work. You should try to take a nap before your shift.” His voice is quiet. He’s not meeting your eyes. You follow him out of his office. Everyone must be gone now. It’s dimly lit and quiet.

There are a million things you want to say as you wait for him to unlock the door. Instead you remain silent. You force yourself to walk away, knowing he’s watching every step you take.

***

You don’t sleep.

Can’t, not after what’s happened in the career counselor’s office. His mouth on you. Your mouth on him. Taking each other apart. Those memories alone are going to be enough to fuel your next rounds of self pleasure for a long time.

The first hour of your shift passes without incident.

Then you see movement on one of the screens. Not the rabbit. A human. Male. Dressed in dark clothing. It looks like he’s climbed in through some vent on the outside.

The security door is unlocked, as Steve had instructed. You’re already dialing his number, keeping a wary eye on the stranger. He’s brought a flashlight, shining the beam around. Thief? Thrill seeker? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

The phone keeps ringing. Come on, Steve. Nothing. You redial in case you’ve hit the wrong numbers, even though you’re certain they’d been correct. Even try the office, thinking maybe he’d fallen asleep at his desk. No answer, just voicemail.

Police, then. You don’t have any other choice. You’ll deal with the consequences later. Surely pissing off Steve couldn’t be worse than letting this guy do whatever it was he was planning on doing.

You lift the receiver again and hear nothing. No dial tone. Complete silence. The phone is no longer working.

The threads of panic that had begun to squirm through you earlier now writhe, demanding attention. You don’t even have any kind of a weapon to defend yourself.

You should really lock the door. Again, Steve be damned.

You stand, intending to do just that. From the distance you hear the sound of glass shattering. Shit. Not just a casual explorer, then.

The lights go out.

You’d completely forgotten about the warning you’d been issued about how the electricity tended to be fickle. You normally just switch it on at the start of your shift and back off again before you leave. The office is completely dark. No more monitors. The emergency lighting in the hallway glows red. You’ll have to reset the breaker if you want full power restored. Which means leaving the office. That pitch dark room you no longer want to hide in.

Another crash. This sounded like something heavy. Metal striking another object. You’re still hovering in the open doorway. The switch for the power isn’t that far away. You could make it there and back again, surely. You take a step forward, your fingers still hooked around the doorframe. Another step. Now you hold only air. You keep walking. Your chest feels tight. It hurts trying to breathe so shallowly. You try to keep your tred light. It couldn’t be much farther. Just a few more steps. You think you can make out the shape of it, the box jutting out from the wall.

You’re not alone in the hallway.

The intruder has found his way here. He starts towards you and you jerk to a halt, taking a step back.

From the depths of the service room, the figure of the decaying rabbit animatronic emerges.

You don’t see the silver eyes. Its back is to you, facing the other man. You hear the sound of something striking the mascot, the clatter of that object as it hits the floor. The human male’s body is lifted and flung against the nearest wall. You can hear bones snapping.

You’ve lost your footing in your haste to back up. You scrabble backward on hands and feet, the soles of your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. You’re no longer trying to quiet your breathing. It comes and goes in a harsh, desperate whine. The rabbit’s bulk does nothing to slow it down. It’s right in front of you. Those strange glowing eyes focused on this vulnerable prey. You can hear it breathing, a dry, rusty sort of drag. There’s a roaring sound in your ears. It’s getting harder and harder to see, to focus. You’re blacking out. Darkness.

***

You awaken to feel something cool and wet being pressed against your forehead.

You blink rapidly, struggling to get your bearings. You’re no longer in the restaurant. You’re in a car. Steve Raglan’s car.

There’s a blue flashing light nearby. Police cruiser? You catch a glimpse of blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. The young female officer gets behind the wheel of the vehicle and drives away, the tires screeching as she peels out of the parking lot.

“What…”

“You’re okay. Look at me.”

You try to focus on the social worker’s features. His hair looks a little damp. He’s still dressed in his office attire. “What happened?” You lick your lips. They’re so dry. You can barely get the words out.

“Someone broke into Freddy’s. The police just escorted them away.”

“I didn’t call them.”

“I know. I did.”

“I tried to call you. There was no answer. I even tried the office. Then the phone went dead.”

“The line was cut.”

“By that man?”

“Yes.”

“So how did you call the police?”

“I didn’t call from Freddy’s. I called the police as soon as there was no answer here. I knew something was wrong.”

“You’ve never called me at work.” You frown, shaking your head. Things still seemed fuzzy. You feel like you’re missing pieces of the puzzle. “What did that guy want, anyway?”

“That’s for the authorities to sort out.”

“Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

Steve stares at you for long moments. “I was unavailable.”

“At midnight? What were you doing?”

“That’s not your concern.”

“I could have gotten hurt. Seriously hurt. You realize that, right? This is so asinine. You’ve got me guarding this place with no training, no weapons, you tell me just to call you when I need you, and when I needed you, you weren’t there.” The words spill out in a rush. Fear and anger, betrayal and hurt coursing through you.

“I apologize.”

“You apologize? No, that’s not good enough, that’s—” He cuts you off by leaning over to kiss you. Your brain short circuits instantly. Why does he always feel so good? “You can’t just do that and expect it to make everything okay,” you manage when you part for air.

“It makes it better though, doesn’t it?”

Kiss it and make it better, Daddy. Oh, fuck. How can you be thinking about sex at a time like this?

“Where did you find me?”

“The hallway in the back. Why?”

“The rabbit was there again. It was fighting with the man. I think it was trying to help me. Don’t tell me I didn’t see it. It was there. I heard it breathing.”

“The animatronics don’t breathe. They’re not alive.” His voice is surprisingly gentle and patient, as if he’s explaining to a child how the Easter bunny isn’t real.

“This one is,” you insist stubbornly. “You can think I’m delusional. I know what I saw. Something is happening here.”

The older man turns his attention to the steering wheel, reaching to turn the key in the ignition. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day, I think. I’m taking you home.”

“What? My shift isn’t over.” You look at the digital display that glows green on the vehicle’s dashboard. It’s barely two.

“You won’t be docked for not completing the shift.”

“I’m capable of driving myself home.”

“I’m taking you,” he repeats, the firm disciplinary tone taking hold once more.

“I don’t want to leave my car here.”

“No one is going to touch it. The police are keeping watch for the rest of the night in case the intruder had an accomplice. They’ll be doing frequent patrol sweeps to make certain.”

“There wasn’t anyone else. Just him.”

“That you saw, until the power went out and you lost the monitors.”

You fold your arms across your chest, trying to think of a comeback. “Do you ever sleep? How come you’re always so wide awake in the middle of the night?”

He glances over at you and smirks, flicking a finger over the tip of his nose before returning to view the road. It’s deserted at this hour. “Coffee. I tried to tell you.”

“It tastes awful.” You’ve never admitted it out loud before.

“I never said it doesn’t. It’s much like alcohol in that regard. It has to be tempered to make it palatable.”

“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” you realize out loud.

“I’m not taking you to your place. I’m taking you to mine.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

“Any more complaints?”

“No.” You stare hard out the window. You hadn’t been expecting this. Any of this. How was it possible for this man to keep disarming you at every turn?

“Good.”

A house. He lives in a house, you silently answer the question you’d wondered previously. Two stories. Two car garage that he neglects to use, pulling into the driveway. You realize suddenly you’ve never once asked if he was married or had children. You’d just assumed.

Just assumed he was alone and waiting for you to fall, quite literally, into his lap.

It seems like a big living space for one person, but you don’t dare question it. You follow him meekly inside. He tosses the keys onto a table by the door, flicking on the lightswitch and then turning the deadbolt.

So far today you’ve gotten eaten out in the career counselor’s office, sucked his dick, almost gotten hurt by a trespasser at your job, possibly rescued? by a monster rabbit that doesn’t really exist and now you were in said career counselor’s home. All in the span of less than twelve hours. Unbelievable.

“I’m sure you’re ready to knock out. The master bedroom’s up here,” he invites, ascending the nearby stairs.

“What, I’m not going to spend the night on the couch?”

“You’re getting awfully mouthy. I’m not certain I like this new brashness,” he tosses over his shoulder as he continues climbing the stairs.

“You liked the mouthiness earlier,” you mutter softly, thinking he won’t hear you.

“I can see I’ve been too lenient.”

Oh, he’d heard.

You both reach the top of the stairs and he leans, reaching around you to flip the hall lights back off. Suddenly you’re in the dark again. Listening to breathing.

His hand finds yours. You’re pulled into one of the nearby rooms and a lightswitch is flipped, partially alleviating the tense moment. You watch him rummage in a dresser for a shirt, tossing it at you and pointing as you hastily clutch it to your chest. “Bathroom’s that way. Get changed.”

As if you’d want to sleep in the security uniform, especially after being on the floor of the restaurant. You wouldn’t mind a bath or a shower but you think that’s asking for too much. You duck into the other room and quickly get changed. It’s just an undershirt, solid white. You stare at yourself in the mirror. What, exactly, are you doing? Spending the night at this man’s house. In his bed.

You run your tongue over your teeth. You want to brush them. “Hey, Steve, is there a spare toothbrush? I don’t want to rummage through your stuff.” You open the door to find him standing just outside. Your mouth goes dry again. Fuck, you want him so bad it hurts.

“Here.” He steps inside, crowding you slightly against the sink as he reaches to open the medicine cabinet, withdrawing what you’d requested. “Don’t squeeze the toothpaste in the middle. I hate that.”

You glance, bemused, at the tube with its neat, empty curl at the end. “What will happen if I do?” You murmur.

“Don’t tempt me.” His hand grazes your ass and then he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You don’t spend too long cleaning your teeth. There’s too much want in you, want for what’s behind that closed door. You open it and find him waiting his turn, leaning against the wall. You discover the comforter and top sheet are now pulled back. Slate gray. Masculine. You have pastel pink at home. Full. Not a King size like this. Luxurious. How many thread count in these sheets? Your head sinks into the pillow. Perfect. Not too firm, not too soft.

Steve exits the bathroom. Watches you get comfortable. Sits on the other side of the mattress and reaches for the light. Darkness again. You hear the sounds of fabric shifting as he gets undressed. You wonder why he doesn’t want you seeing him bare. Are there more scars? The springs creak as he changes positions, standing again to remove his pants. Back down, now lying beside you.

Your face turns in his direction. Your heart is pounding. His arm reaches, dragging you against him. Spoons laid together. His breath by your ear. “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

You don’t want to behave. You want to turn over and touch and taste. But you obey. You close your eyes and try to soothe your racing pulse. You concentrate on the crisp feel of the bed linens beneath you and Raglan’s warm arms around you and you find yourself enveloped in slumber.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #william afton smut #divider @cafekitsune

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smallchaoscryptid · 6 months

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Smallchaoscryptid QSMP Fic Masterpost

A masterpost of all my QSMP fanfiction I had to throw the links under a cut because it was getting too long.

Your Hands Protect The Flame Cellbit wants to make Roier happy and he thinks bringing Bobby back could do that. (Two-Shot, Complete)

In Every Other Universe Roier and Cellbit are Vigilante partners and their lives are more intertwined than they thought, (Multi-Chapter, Complete)

QSMP Magnus Archives AU Adventures of Cellbit looking into the oddities that happen all around him and even to him and his family. (5 Fics, Incomplete Series)

Sálvate Para Mí Roier dies in a Zombie attack and Cellbit has to move on without him, or does he? (One-Shot, Complete)

What A Blessing To Meet Someone Like You Roier and Cellbit are both dragons but are unaware that the other is also a dragon and they both have to find out about the other at some point. (One-Shot, Complete)

Let Me Taste The Blood From Your Lips Roier protects Cellbit from a vampire attack and Cellbit finds it attractive. (One-Shot, Complete)

Right Where You Left Me Cellbit comes back after dying in Purgatory and Roier is very upset with him but at least they still love each other. (One-Shot, Complete)

Darling I'll Do It All Again Forever forces Cellbit to make a new friend and that friend happens to be an android. Surely nothing could be wrong with that. (Multi-Chapter, Complete)

We Were Supposed To Find This Cellbit thought his soulmate had left his life but he had to face the fact that that isn't true. (One-Shot, Complete)

My Soul Is Yours Cellbit tries to summon a demon to see if they are even real and the ritual ends up geting a new house guest instead of a demon. What happens when he finds out his guest isn't as human as he thought? (One-Shot, Complete)

Um Documentário Cellbit goes into the woods to investigate his friend's disappearance and ends up finding more than he had bargained for. AKA A Spiderbit Found Footage Documentary AU. (One-Shot, Complete)

Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe Roier wants to kiss his husband under the mistletoe but Cellbit is playing hard to get. (One-Shot, Complete)

We'll Just Screw It Up In These Trying Times Roier manages to save Cellbit from purgatory but the aftermath leaves them both lonely and hurting. Can communication save them or is their marriage doomed? (One-Shot, Complete)

How Do I Know It's Time To Let You Go Roier gets stuck in a time loop and the only way out might be to let his son die. How far would Roier go for his son and how far will the universe let him choose his own path before it lets fate take over?(One-Shot, Complete)

Our Sons' Faults Cellbit has been dreading meeting his soulmate for years but decides that he needs to stop living in fear. It's not like the first time he makes an attempt to move past his fear that he would meet his soulmate... right? (One-Shot, Complete)

Oh So Haunted Cellbit is looking into haunted attractions as a way to find new stories to help his son sleep but an attractive man ends up distracting him. Will something more come of this meeting or will Cellbit just have a new friend who drags him to supposibly haunted places? (Multi-Chapter, In-Complete)

Guilty Is The One Who Consumes The Blood Cellbit entered The Games to get a step up to try and make a change in how The Federation ran things. But before he can change The Federation, The Games will change him. (One-Shot, Complete)

To Kill Or Not To Kill Roier meets a vampire in an alley and it doesn't go exactly as he expects it to go. (Multi-Chapter, In-Complete)

Drag Me In With Just A Kiss Cellbit is spending the day with his son Pepito out in the woods. He planned for it to be an uneventful day but unfortunately his son and the fae that live within the woods have other ideas. (One-Shot, Complete)

Um Encontro e Um Beijo Cellbit’s son is sick and he needs to buy him medicine but unfortunately his soulmate is also in the store shopping and Cellbit needs to get in and out before fate distracts him from what he needs.(One-Shot, Complete)

#william writes #william whispers #i saw atthebell do this and thought it was a good idea #ill try to remember to keep this updated

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uh-velkommen · 9 months

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Scandinavian Things to Watch

Somebody asked me for some recommendations in regards to Swedish and/or Norwegian T.V. shows so I figured I'd scour the internet for every show and movie I've ever seen and compile a list.

Now I will note that half of these I wouldn't really recommend. A thing about Norwegian shows, you'll always end up in one of these genres: Crime-Drama, A show about an awkward person or immigrant family navigating Norwegian culture, or an uneventful slice of life adult/family show and somehow, more often than not, some environmentalism plot line is threaded throughout each genre. I'm very used to fast paced dramas featuring teens so Norwegian series are quite the opposite. This is me admitting that I think most Norwegian shows and movies are so slow and boring. Also I hate Crime-Dramas. With that being said, I do try to get through the first couple of episodes/minutes and can recognize when a show is potentially good but if it requires my full attention to keep up, I'm not finishing it. I can't say if this crosses over into Swedish shows and I'm only just starting to get into Danish shows. Some of these are still on my To Be Seen and I definitely forgot to list others but it's been years since I've seen them so...🤷🏽‍♀️

Where To Watch: Most of these are on Netflix. Some were and are now gone, others have been added once I moved to Sweden. Some are on NRK which I used mostly when I was in Norway. You could get by with a VPN but NRK knows when you're using one and you'll have to restart it every two episodes. Viaplay is a Nordic streaming service that's only like 5 bucks a month, accessible anywhere but again, the selection varies depending on location.

Norwegian Movies:

Blasted (Netflix) TBS - Comedy, Two dudes fight aliens

Royalteen (Netflix) Drama, An average girl gets a prince to fall in love with her. In Royalteen 2, we follow the prince's sister who's working through personal issues.

Thelma (Netflix, Viaplay) TBS GAY - Horror, Something about romance and magic powers?

The Man Who Loved Yngve (Idk) TBS GAY - Drama, Romance

Norwegian Dream (Idk) TBS GAY - Coming of Age, Drama

The Trip (Netflix) TBS - Comedy, An old couple fights to see who can kill each other first instead of just getting a divorce

Troll (Netflix) - Drama, Action? A government team and Archeologist(?) try to stop an old troll from destroying the town

Troll Hunter (Netflix) - "Found Footage" People chase a troll idk

The Wave (Netflix) - Action Drama, People run from a massive wave

Battle (Netflix) - Drama, Featuring Lisa Teige who played Eva in Skam as a ballet dancer battling for the top spot I think, I never finished it.

Disco (NRK) - Drama, Which features Noora's(Skam) actress Josephine Frida Pettersen as a dancer juggling religion and passion.

Det Norske Hus (Netflix) - Comedy, A man crosses the boarder to attend a school that will teach him how to be Norwegian

The Lion Woman (Used to be on Netflix) - Whimsical Drama, A man protects a young hairy girl from being the town freak

The Affair (Viaplay) - Dark Drama, featuring Tarjei Sandvik Moe or Isak from Skam, A student gets dirty with a teacher and then stalks the teacher

Kitchen Stories (Idk) - Comedy? I had to watch this for school. I found it boring but Norwegian people like it. An Anthropologist(?) watches over a Norwegian man to study how Norwegians use kitchens

Norwegian Shows:

SKAM GAY for a season- Come on, you can't be on Tumblr and NOT know this show. This listing includes EVERY remake. Especially the American one (it's on NRK you nords) Every non-American only hates it because our culture is so different from Europe's, its giving xenophobia. Find the shows yourself, it's a rite of passage.

Ligga (Discovery+) TBS GAY- Comedy, featuring Ulrikke Falch, Vilde from Skam, A girl gets dumped and discovers casual sex. To be seen because I think it's only on Discovery Plus in Norway.

Ragnorok (Netflix) GAY for like 2 minutes - Mythology, featuring sexy babes from Skam Magnus, P. Cris, and my gf Sonja. The story of Thor versus the Giants. Fun Fact I actually don't care about this show, mainly this genre of show, but I challenged myself to watch it entirely in Norwegian without subtitles since season one and it's done so I win.

Post Mortem: No One Dies in Skarnes (Netflix) TBS - Dark Comedy, Funeral directors get up to some morally corrupt shenanigans. I got half way through the first episode and gave up.

Øyevitne TBS (Eyewitness U.S. version on the USA Network) GAY- Crime Thriller, I haven't seen the original yet bc I can't find it anywhere. Also I said I didn't like this genre but the Scandis do know how to make 'em. Two boys witness a murder that could solve a massive crime ring but are too scared to come forward bc they don't wanna be outed as ~lovers~ The acting in the American version is a little rough but don't let that stop you! This is the only English speaking show on this list.

Ida Tar Ansvar (Viaplay) - Ironic Comedy? A girl who is just terrified of the real world befriends an Incel in hopes of changing him/saving women. The main actress is also in Royalteen and the main actor is actually Kasper from Skam!

Lillyhammer (Used to be on Netflix) - Crime Comedy, An old American gangster moves to a small part of Lillehammer, Norway to hide and life ensues. This was actually the first Norwegian series I watched post-Skam. There's speaking parts in both Norwegian and English but it's an American show. I still recommend it.

Norsemen (Netflix) - Mockumentary, It kind of feels like a Viking Version of The Office. I've seen a few episodes but the humor is very Norwegian and it didn't stick for me.

Beforeigners (Amazon Prime Video) - Drama, Time travelers from the Viking/Stone Age era end up in Modern day Norway. We follow a Detective Traveler Woman solve crimes. I never finished it bc I forgot it existed lol.

Exit (Viaplay, NRK) - Drama, We follow as a bunch of rich people be absolutely terrible human beings. Tbh, I only got to like episode 3, they're just too long.

The Architect (Viaplay) TBS - Drama, I couldn't tell you shit about this show. I got through the first episode and had no idea what was going on but it's filmed very stylistically and I can see it being enjoyable for someone out there.

Delete Me (Viaplay) TBS - Dark Drama, A sex tape gets out and causes problems for many students at this school. I haven't seen it yet bc the plot doesn't interest me but someone else highly recommended it.

Lik Meg (NRK) - Teen Drama, Two girls' friendship gets tested when they enter the 7th grade. I tried watching this when I was in Norway to fill the Skam void but it's definitely geared towards younger audiences so I didn't get far.

19 (NRK) - Same as above, Each season follows a character of a different age so the title of the show changes too I think. I don't know, here's the Wiki. This show focuses on third culture kids.

Skitten Snø (NRK) TBS - Dark Drama, again featuring our child Tarjei Sandvik Moe as he struggles with friendship but in a creepy way? It's hard to find a good description of this one.

Peppa Gris (NRK) - I literally just watched Peppa Pig in Norwegian for language learning purposes. That, Shrek(DVD), Frozen(Illegally) and also Vivo(Netflix).

Klassen (NRK) - Teen Drama, again really geared towards younger audiences. It's a very Disney-like show. I never finished it.

Pørni [or Pernille] (NRK, Netflix, Viaplay) GAY for like 2 minutes - Family Drama/Comedy following a social worker and mother navigating life after her sisters death, her father coming out, and her kids getting older. The characters are all genuinely funny in an endearing way to watch, and it shows genuine/sweet love between older people.

Swedish Movies: (I haven't seen these but they look good)

Black Crab (Netflix) TBS - Dark Drama, A solider has to cross a frozen sea with precious cargo to stop an apocalyptic war.

Låt Den Rätte Komma In (It's online free somewhere & on Swedish Netflix) TBS (Let Me In U.S. version) - Thriller, Something about a vampiric killer kid. I really like the American version so I wanna give the OG a shot.

A Man Called Ove (Netflix, Viaplay) TBS - Drama Comedy, A grumpy old man is mean to his neighbors after the death of his wife, he learns how to enjoy life again, I think.

JJ+E (Netflix) TBS - Teen Drama/Romance, A third culture boy and a Swedish girl fall in love. Will they make it?

Kyss Mig (Viaplay, Used to be on Netflix) TBS GAY - Drama, A young woman who is engaged begins an affair with her future stepmother's lesbian daughter (Can we consider that incest?).

Swedish Shows:

Sjukt (NRK) - Drama Comedy, Loosely based on the life of Young Royals Creator, Lisa Ambjörn. A young women finds a new lease on life after beating Ovarian Cancer. I enjoyed half of it but would rather finish it on a site that isn't NRK.

Young Royals (Netflix) - Teen Drama, beautiful amazing talented show stopping never been done before... A young prince gets sent to a boarding school to tighten up his act when jealousy causes things to fall apart all around him. Obviously recommend.

Gåsmamman (Amazon Prime Video) - Crime Drama, Featuring Young Royals star, Edvin Ryding, as one of the sons to a widowed mother caught up in a crime ring left by her husband. Turns out it goes deeper than what she was expecting. Brace yourself for this intense 6 season, 46 episode long show.

Kontoret (Swedish version of The Office) TBS - Exactly what it sounds like. I haven't bothered to look into it further but it could be fun to see the cultural differences and Swedish nuances.

Quicksand (Netflix) - Dark Drama, also a good one, After a school shooting we follow a girl who was somehow involved. As the plot unravels we find out exactly how. Features Felix Sandman if you're a fan of him.

One More Time (Netflix) TBS - Comedy, I literally just added this to my list. It's "17 Again" mixed with Disney's "16 Wishes."

Thunder in my Heart (Viaplay) TBS - Coming of Age/Family Drama. A lot of these Swedish shows on Viaplay don't have English subtitles so, dead end.

Älska mig (Viaplay) TBS - Drama/Romance, Familiar faces: Edvin Ryding of Young Royals/Gåsmamman! Little stories about people finding and navigating romance.

Ej Kjem (NRK) - Scandalous Drama, A show about a girl navigating life and SEXuality. I couldn't get far with it because it's only in Swedish with NYNORSK subtitles??

Clark (Netflix) TBS - Biography/Comedy? Bill Skarsgård! The unbelievable story of Clark Olofsson, the man who inspired the phrase "Stockholm Syndrome."

Danish Movies:

The Bombardment (Netflix) TBS - Wartime Drama, Based on true events, a WWII bomb hits a school in Copenhagen. (Also if you didn't know, there was A LOT happening with Sweden, Norway, and Denmark during WWII and so there are TONS of good Scandinavian movies set during then. I didn't list them because I'm just not that big a fan of the genre but the history's crazy.)

Danish Shows:

Seaside Hotel (Viaplay) GAY for like 2 seconds but idk if more happens I'm still watching - Drama, set some time in the 1920s. Various kooky guests check into this hotel every summer and life happens, drama unfolds. I was just starting to really get into it but for some reason Viaplay in Sweden doesn't have it 😡.

The Rain (Netflix) - Survival Drama, Toxic rain falls from the sky wiping out almost all humanity. One boy is the cure. Does he save and restore all humankind? I don't know I never finished it. This was when the survival genre was at an all time high. It's a good show but I just couldn't take it anymore.

Rita (Netflix) - Drama Comedy, Rita is an independent girl boss mother who has funny relationships with everyone around her. It's been years since I've seen it but it was pretty popular to the Danes.

Elves (Netflix) TBS - Horror Drama, It's evil elves at Christmas time. I haven't seen it yet but it doesn't look like it's gotten good reviews.

The Chestnut Man (Netflix) TBS - Crime Drama, A creepy chestnut toy links together murders and might be the answer to a politician's missing child.

One of the Boys (Viaplay) GAY - Coming of Age, short drama series. A boy gets sent on this "How to be a man" retreat and flips between changing himself to fit in and accepting his oddball self with this other outsider who is "totally not gay" but I literally don't believe that and it's total queer baiting but there's a kiss scene and it's such a short and easy watch that why not give a chance.

And finally: @notachair asked for this so here you go :)

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ewritesthangs · 6 months

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Sugar Daddy! Pablo Scheiber x Reader

First installment of my Sugar daddy! Pablo Schreiber x Reader. I hope you enjoy, these things just come into my head and I want to share my creativity with readers all around.

WARNINGS: NSFW, SMUTT, MATURE THEMES, MATURE LANGUAGE.

You had met Pablo about three weeks prior to your date tonight with him. You were working as an on set medic for a new movie he was starring in. Pablo became infatuated with your beauty and you in general.

As night fell upon the patrons of Vancouver, you and your best friend, who live together, were conversing about your upcoming date tonight. He sent you flowers today, along with 2 boxes. One box had a red satin mini dress and the other had authentic Louis Vuitton heels. You, of course, wore the outfit, looking rather delicious in the dress and heels. "Damn, Y/N I'd even fuck you in that attire." Y/BFF/N said with a giant smirk plastered across her devilish face.

"Thank you, that is kinda the plan, Stan." You smirk, winking at her before gathering your stuff for the night.

"You got your implant, right?"

"Like a month ago, where the fuck you been?" You chuckle and grab your light jacket, black in color. "I'll see you hopefully later. Or tomorrow. Who knows. I hope he doesn't kill me and just fucks me into oblivion."

"Where did you come from?"

"New found confidence in this thing." You spin around. The drive over to his hotel room was uneventful, except the wonderful performance you had put on for your stuffed hamster on your dashboard.

You softly knock on the door. Was that too soft? You think to yourself before the door opens.

Pablo takes a deep breath and smiles. "Y/N, you look ravishing." He was dressed in a "fancy" shirt which looked silky and some gray dress pants.

"Well you don't look too bad yourself there, sweet cheeks." A nickname you have had for him since day one due to his charisma. You smirk and wink at him.

His deep chuckle brings an alarming amount of joy to your being. One you had never experienced before meeting the incredibly tall man.

"Please come in. Make yourself at home, dear." He steps aside to let you in. You saunter on in and he helps you take your jacket off and hangs it up.

"Why thank you. Oh wow, nice room." You look around in awe, never really seeing this much luxury up close and personal.

"Thank you. It's not too bad as a home away from home." You nod as you follow Pablo to his rather large kitchen compared to your small apartment kitchen. "Would you like some wine, my dear." He flashes you his beautiful smile.

"Yes please." You smile back and grab the wine glass from him. "Fancy."

"Only the best for you, lovely." This statement made you blush. You take a sip of wine to deter from the blush.

"I'm not that special." You say, causing Pablo to feign offense.

"Y/N, you are the most special woman I have ever met."

"We met like three weeks ago."

"Time doesn't matter."

"Philosophical. Impressive."

"I try." He chuckles again.

"So, Mister Schrieber, what is for dinner?"

"Homemade spaghetti and meatballs with a homemade bolognese."

"Wait, you can cook too? What can't you do?"

"Apparently 5th grade math." You both end up laughing at that comment.

"Ready for dinner? I have something I am dying to talk to you about after dinner."

"Oh? Yes I was ready when you said homemade." He serves you a hefty amount of food.

"Eat up. I do not want you to be hungry." He winks and sits across from you. You guys engage in casual conversation as you devour the delicious food he had prepared.

"Now, I am full. What is it that you would like to talk about?" You sip some wine.

"I'd like for us to have a relationship of sorts. Now I don't exactly do the whole dating thing. Since my failed marriage I have tried to focus on my health and wellbeing as well as work and my kids. But I would love to be your sugar daddy."

"Sugar daddy? Like you buy me things and I give you sex in return?"

"Yes. I am quite wealthy, I want to spoil you, and I am infatuated by you,"

"Sugar. Daddy. Are there rules?"

"I am the only one you are having sex with. I go by daddy."

"Not many people like me enough to want to have sex with me." You shrug.

"Well I do." He crosses his legs.

"Okay. Yes."

"Yes? Are you being serious?"

"A thousand percent." His excitement could not be contained at your confirmation. This was really what he wanted.

"Would you like to start tonight?" You choke on the wine you were sipping.

"Is that why you wanted me in this sexy dress?"

"Maybe." He smirks.

"Why not. I have been wanting to experience things with you. Why did I just say that out loud?" Maybe it was the wine getting to you. But you felt empowered with his words.

"Good. Now I am usually a dominant male. I can have a submissive side when wanted. But tonight I am in charge." His voice got slightly deeper. This made your nether regions grow a little wet. You had a thing for deep voices. "Come." Pablo stands up and holds his hand out. You happily oblige. He takes you to his bed, pulling you close to him. His right hand goes to the back of your head and pulls your head to look up at him. "I don't usually do kissing either but your lips look so kissable." He gently kisses you at first to test the waters. Then he kisses more needingly. His lips were intoxicating. He pulls back and unzips your dress. "I want you naked, on the edge of the bed. Now, princess." You nod and give him a little show. He watches, biting his bottom lip. "Good girl." You lay at the edge of the bed. Pablo walks over to you and gets down to his knees. "I have wanted to taste you all night." His hands rub your calves then thighs before separating them. Exposing your freshly waxed sex. "Mmmm, someone was hoping for something to happen tonight."

"A girl can dream. But seems like the feeling was mutual." He hums before ever so slowly getting closer to your sex. Tantalizingly slow, to your dismay. You squirm under his gaze.

"Patience, princess." He says softly before blowing some cool air onto your exposed clit. This made you shiver and moan. "You smell so sweet." He says before delving in. His tongue flicks your clit a few times before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Flicking his tongue as he suckles slightly. This makes you instantly arch your back and shut your eyes. The sweet sweet feeling of his amazing tongue on your swollen, neglected clit was all so much stimulation. A few breathy moans escape your lips and you rock your hips to his tongue wanting more friction. One of his hands rubs your thigh before he inserts two fingers into you. He pulls back to watch you. You look down to see his face glistening with your juices. In and out. In and out. Slow at first to you adjusted to his girthy fingers. He then picks up the pace. You bite your lip before throwing your head back. A soft little "Fuuuck." comes from your lips.

"That's it baby, feel my fingers." He curls his fingers up, hitting that sweet, sweet g-spot. Your breath hitches and you rock your hips once more.

"Ah yes." You moan out. He smirks, and halts his movements. Slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, causing you to whimper.

"I want to be inside you when you come for me for the first time, princess." He stands up and undresses himself. Exposing his lengthy, girthy cock ready for you. "See what you do to me already, princess?" You sit up and nod.

"Oh daddy, I need you right now. Please."

"Oh, begging already? Mmm such a sweet sweet sound." He licks his hand before pumping himself a few times. You lick your lips. He comes over to you. "Up on the bed more, princess." You scoot up onto the bed more, to which he follows. "You sure you're ready for all of this?" He smirks, you nod vigorously. "That's the spirit, princess." He dips his head down to kiss each tit before he slowly inserts himself. You gasp at his size but moan, it feeling good to have someone inside you after a few months of no action. He cradles your head with his arms as he starts his sweet, yet rough thrusts. You moan out loudly, louder than you ever have. But you didn't care, this man was making you feel good and people needed to know.

"Ah oh fuck, yes."

"That's it princess, feel me. Every little inch." He made sure you felt every inch of him. With every thrust. He knew how to take care of a woman. He rocks his hips into yours. "Say my name."

"Daddy." You whisper.

"Louder." His voice went dark almost. Very raspy.

"DADDY!" You moan out loudly.

"That's it princess." He quickens the pace up slightly, feeling you clench and squirm ever so slightly.

"I-i-i I'm close Daddy." You say, feeling the release rise up in your body, ready to release at any moment.

He licks his hand before putting it between you two. He spits into his hand and rubs your clit, causing a whole other sensation to happen within you. You arch your back and rock your hips. "Cum for me princess, let me feel you all around me." That sent you over the edge. You pulsate around him, the feeling of euphoria raining over you as you cum all around him. A long, strangled moan comes from you, almost a scream. You needed that incredible release. You pant as he keeps thrusting into you, getting himself to the edge. "Princess, play with your tits." You were still in that just fucked stage of the aftermath, an afterwave of pleasure coming upon you. You begin to play with your tits, flicking and squeezing the nipple. He grunts and stills, a hot juice shooting into you. You moan.

"That's it daddy."

"You are incredible." He kisses your forehead before slowly pulling out. You both lay there panting. You were still dazed.

"You weren't too bad, yourself." You manage to pant out. "Man I am out of shape." You say, once you have calmed down. Pablo just chuckles.

"No you're not." He stands up and walks to what you think is the bathroom. You sit up, seeing him emerge with a towel. "Let me clean you up." He kneels again and pulls you to the edge. This caused a small squeak to come from you. He wipes you up, clean as can be.

"Good thing I am on birth control." You smirk and giggle.

"I saw the implant."

"Well aren't you just observant." You caused him to chuckle again.

"Would you like to spend the night? You look very tired from that good fucking." He asks, concerned you wont make it to your apartment.

"I- yeah sure why not." You shrug, yawn and stretch. Pablo pulls the covers back for you to get in. You slowly crawl, tiredness having washed over you. He tucks you in, planting a soft, chaste kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you princess."

"For?"

"Saying yes. And listening to my silent plea for you not to drive in your state of exhaustion."

"Wine does tend to put me out after some activities." You yawn and snuggle into the man who now was laying next to you. He stiffened then relaxes, him finding an odd sense of comfort in your presence.

"Get some rest, princess." He shuts off the bedside lamp, bringing you into the state of slumber.

A/N:: Not my best work, things will hopefully get better. I hope y'all enjoy!

#pablo schreiber #pablo schreiber imagine

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celtic-crossbow · 10 months

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It’s Alright, It’s Okay

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader {Could be platonic but that’s not where my brain was}

Setting: Alexandria era

Warnings: Mentions of self harm, struggles with mental illness

Summary: You accidentally allow Daryl to see your scars.

A/N: Yesterday sucked for me for a million different reasons. This is really a way for me to vent more than anything. I’ve never done a y/n before so I’m sorry if I screw it up. No beta, all mistakes are cause I suck.

“I got the dishes!” You volunteered, probably a little too cheerfully, before collecting the empty plates from the coffee table and shuffling along to the kitchen. You had a dining table but it had never seen a single use.

It had been a rather uneventful day in Alexandria, for which you were thankful. That meant no one had died just trying to complete what used to be mundane tasks for everyday living. Now, since the world had gone to shit, everything was a risk. Just scrubbing the sauce from those dishes could somehow very well lead to your demise. Regardless, you rolled up your sleeves and ran the water.

Daryl had brought home a deer earlier in the day. It was a large buck that would feed the town for a while if the meat was rationed properly. He had been given his own portion, as per usual, for being responsible for the kill. The archer had used the meat grinder in the kitchen at his and Carol’s place, meaning, of course, that Carol had offered and he had shrugged while sharpening a knife.

You had chosen that moment to knock on their door. The silver-haired woman had shown you a cookie recipe but the pantry was out of an ingredient. Carol usually had the things you needed or would at least know something you could substitute.

“Oh, man! My sister used to make venison spaghetti!” You had commented while she had stepped away to get what you needed. You had half a box of angel hair pasta and a can of sauce at your place. “Hey, Dixon?” You continued when he hummed in acknowledgment, “think I could steal just a little of this to make some?”

He had stared at you for a moment before giving a nod. In your excitement, you had thrown him an invite to share the meal just as Carol returned and handed over the ziplock bag with the ingredient you needed for the cookies.

“Alright.” He drawled, sheathing the knife he had been working with.

You quickly invited Carol as well, realizing what you had done, but she smiled knowingly and shook her head. You had at least waited until you were on their porch before slapping a palm to your forehead and calling yourself an idiot.

Still, dinner had gone over without a hitch, even if you did sit side by side on the couch with your plates on your laps. You had laughed when he’d tip back his head to dangle the end of the noodles over his mouth so he could descend the forkful carefully. He had even chuckled when you had dropped half a bite onto your shirt when trying to mimic his actions. It had really been…nice.

Now you stood in your kitchen, rinsing the dishes and placing them in the strainer. You hadn’t heard him enter, but you rarely did. The man moved like a ghost for someone his size.

“S’that from?” His sudden inquiry from just behind you had startled you enough to send the plate clattering into the sink. It didn’t break, thank goodness.

“What’s what from?” You replied, casting him a brief glance before you continued your task. The last dish was quickly rinsed and placed with the others.

“Them scars.”

You were drying your hands on a towel when you suddenly stilled. Fuck. The pale, raised imperfections stood out starkly on your forearms and you instantly felt nausea creeping up your throat, burning at the back of your tongue. “Oh, that’s nothing.” You dropped the towel and quickly started to roll down your sleeves.

But he was faster.

His calloused fingers felt rough against your skin in contrast to his gentle grip around your wrist. You felt electric pulses centering from where he was touching you, but the shame erupting from within you wouldn’t allow you to dwell on how right that felt.

Tears were already forming on your lashes as he studied the myriad of scars littering your arm from wrist to elbow. Some were larger or more jagged than others, but each one contained a story of your past; a hurt you inflicted upon yourself to cope with the hurt done to you by someone else.

“Don’t look like nothin’ to me.”

You had never heard him speak so softly and it made you feel that much worse. Daryl Dixon was anything but soft. For him to pity you must mean you were a real piece of work.

“Please,” you begged, your bottom lip quivering. You were barely holding yourself together. “Just…leave it.”

Those striking blue eyes left your arm to focus on your face. You quickly looked away, lest he see how pathetic you were. He released you and took a step back.

“Thanks for dinner, Y/N.”

You nodded and tried to smile, but never met his gaze before you heard the front door close. You sat on the kitchen floor and cried for hours, finally dragging yourself to the couch a few hours before you’d have to be up for the start of another day.

Months passed by and things changed, as they often did. You started to find Daryl sitting on your porch steps, cleaning his crossbow or tinkering with some motorcycle part. Most days, you just offered him a greeting and went on your way. Some days, when you were feeling brave or especially curious, you would ask about his weapon. His replies were always short and gruff but never rude or angry.

Eventually, this became the norm. You started bringing him water or lemonade, sitting with him while you drank your tea. Conversations were never lengthy but enough to ensure any silence was comfortable. You started to miss him when he was gone for runs or recruiting. Then you’d open your door one morning to find him perched in what you had long ago deemed ‘his spot’ and the smile that would grace your features was unbidden yet genuine.

One warm summer evening, while you sat together on the top step, your head was laid against his shoulder while his arm was draped around yours. The first time you had tried to lean on him, he had flinched so hard that he had dropped the water glass and you had apologized profusely while cleaning up the mess. At some later point, you both had started dropping your walls, bit by bit, and now here you were.

Still, even with the contentment you found in each other's company, something lingered.

“Daryl?”

“Hmm?”

You could feel him move and knew he was looking down toward where your temple rested against the front of his shoulder. “I’d like to tell you about it now,” you paused for a breath, “if you still want to know.” You waited for him to ask what you were talking about but, as he tended to do, the archer surprised you.

“Ya can tell me if ya wanna talk ‘bout it. Ya don’t hafta though.”

You smiled to yourself but it faded just as quickly. “I did it to myself.” You took another deep breath before continuing, keeping your eyes on the stars in the distant sky. “My life was hard even before the end of the world. I couldn’t cope with the things that happened to me…that were done to me… so I’d find something sharp—” you heard and felt his breath hitch but you couldn’t stop now. “I’d use anything at first. Anything that could make a cut. Eventually I started using a razor blade.” You just let the words tumble out, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. “Everything just hurt so bad and it was the only way I could handle it all. It was the only thing that kept the pain at bay. I know it doesn’t make sense but I just… I needed…”

You felt Daryl shift and quickly found yourself pressed against his chest, his arm around your back while his other hand pressed against the back of your head. He had hugged you before but this? This was different. He didn’t say anything but you already knew that he wasn’t good with words, especially when it came to expressing emotion. So he was offering you this comfort.

And you accepted it without a second thought, crying hard while your hands fisted the material of his leather vest. The more you trembled, the tighter he held you. It was as if he was trying to keep you from shaking apart but somehow you knew that even if you did, he would pick up the pieces and put you together again.

After a long while, your tears had all but stopped, leaving you a sniffling, tired mess in his arms. He didn’t seem to care but had loosened his hold slightly and was rubbing small circles over your back while you collected yourself.

Now came the shame. “I’m sorry.” You managed quickly while you pulled away from him. His hands hovered for a moment like you would fall apart again any moment but he soon let them fall onto his knees.

“What for?”

You could see him trying to catch your gaze from the corner of your eye as you wiped angrily at your face. “I know what I did was stupid.”

“It weren’t stupid, Y/N.” Daryl said softly. You remembered when he had used that same softness when he had first seen the proof of your self mutilation. You nodded but didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually, you went back to staring at the stars, even though you could feel him still staring at you.

“I don’t hate them, you know.” You finally said. With a sigh, you braved a glance at him. He was still watching you, expression unreadable but not hard. “My scars.” Daryl nodded for you to continue. “I had a lot of battles and they are proof of that but… I won.” You looked away and shrugged with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m still here.”

“M’glad.” He replied quickly, drawing your gaze back to him. “That you’re still here.”

You smiled again. It was small but this time, it was genuine. “Me too.” You watched each other for a few moments and you couldn’t help but notice him draw his bottom lip in between his teeth to gnaw at it. As you opened your mouth to ask if he was okay, he pushed himself off the step to stand.

“C’mon.” Daryl jerked his head toward your front door. Your brow knitted in confusion but you stood and crossed the small distance to the door.

“Daryl?”

“I wanna show ya somethin’.” He answered when his name had barely left your lips. Daryl reached in front of you to pull open the screen door and motioned for you to enter first. You could hear the deep, steadying breath he took as he followed you inside and began closing your door. “Ya trusted me with yours. I wanna trust ya with mine.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead daryl dixon #Spotify

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lynxindisguise · 10 months

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wip poll game: remus's cursed adventures

predictably, you all voted for cursed sentences, so cursed sentences I shall deliver:

Remus was a man of many curses. There was the obvious, of course, the large, furry, howling one. And there were all sorts of micro-curses—his knack for killing houseplants, for stepping outside the moment it started to rain, for pushing all pull-doors and pulling all push-doors. And then there was his horrendous taste in men. But this was different. This was boring. “Hello. I’m here for...” he checked his clipboard, “a doxy infestation?” “Remus? R-remus Lupin?” Granted, it started out like a porno, but it was otherwise as about as ordinary and uneventful as a relationship could be. “Er...” He studied the young man’s generically English face, jogging absolutely no memories. “Yes?” “M-my, you l-look...” Remus prepared to explain away the fresh scars on his face, or his premature aging, or his general state of dishevelment, but the man’s bashful smile caught him off guard. “It’s me, Quirinus, f-from school.” “Oh...” Quirinus... Quirinus Quirrell. “Right.” Ravenclaw, a few years below him, used to attend his study group. “Hello.” “What have you been up to?” “Erm...” Scrounging for money, smoking, crying, clawing himself to bits, quitting smoking, not thinking about his dead friends or convicted murderer boyfriend, being awkward in public, smoking again. “I teach Muggle Studies now, at Hogwarts,” Quirinus supplied. “Ah, that’s brilliant.” He forced a smile. “So the doxies...” “Yes, yes, right this way.” It was simple, easy, mind-numbing. They didn’t see much of each other throughout the school year, and when they did, it was nothing but afternoon tea and reading by the fire and sex so unimaginative it felt practically straight. When he finally told Quirinus about his condition, he cried about how terribly brave he was, and Remus ended up comforting him. This must be adulthood, Remus decided: eating vegetables and dating kind, gentle men, and finally silencing the part of himself that craved chaos. And then Quirinus announced that he was planning to take a sabbatical.

#cursed wip #remus/quirrell #nothing to see here just two soggy noodles being damp together

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milf-louis · 11 months

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I know im late to post my first louis concert experience but i just really wanted to share this so here it is <3

The journey to the venue was pretty uneventful, when we got off the subway a man who worked there asked us if we’re going to the “Tomlinson concert” and gave us directions. On the bus we saw a bunch of really young fans, one of them was wearing a 0neDee shirt and i gave them a dirty look and idc if they were like 10 it felt good! Later on one of them asked if we want to be in their tiktok and wear heart shaped sunglasses… we rejected them so fast lol. So we got off the bus and walked till we saw the venue, screamed a bit, continued walking to the entrance, got past the security and then walked around without a purpose and got something to eat. In the meantime i worked on my sign. We made the mistake of not getting water afterwards and just made our way into the venue. When we got inside the venue tho the second opening act started playing. They were meh. And then we just sat there for a long time doing nothing but staring sadly at the giant poll that would block our view of louis on stage UNTIL the band appeared on the stage and THE CROWD WENT WILDDD the scream they let out made my ears RING AND THEN LOUIS WAS THERE AND HE STARTED SINGING THE GREATEST AND my life felt complete!! My heart was beating so fast and i felt lightheaded i just!!! Couldn’t believe my eyes!! I started screaming the lyrics right away. He was captivating, ethereal, powerful and OWNED the stage!!

So!! I do not remember the order of the songs but everything was amazing, he started off strong and kept it up. He did sound a bit off a few times but im guessing it has to do with the fact that he was tired bc of the previous shows. Anyways!! He literally KILLED KMM I did not want that song to end I couldn’t get enough!! He sounded SOOO good during Bigger Than Me! He hit those notes and you could tell that it’s a song that needs to be played live. Holding On To Heartache was such a moment my god he ate that UP!! That was one of the highlights for me i was really really impressed with how he sounded, he put his soul into that song and it showed! Shed a few tears as well cuz that song just hit different yk.. he did sing two 0neD songs which.. I didn’t sing along to because I genuinely didn’t know the lyrics and wasn’t going to try and remember 😭 so those were kind of the moment i let myself have a break from screaming and jumping. During WAOYF u could just tell the energy in the venue shifted. People were LOUD. As loud as the other one d songs LIKE HE KNOWS WHAT HE DID TO ALL OF US WITH THAT TRACK HE JUST KNOWS. Hearing WMI for the first time was such an experience!! The best way to describe it was nostalgic and just really sweet idk i loved it. Ok. I know I’ve heard copy like a thousand times now but… you guys the recorded version is NOTHING compared to the live version. I could feel myself ascending into heaven with every word it was just beyond words. One of my favourite moments or perhaps THE favourite part of the show for me. WALLS WAS ALSO NOSTALGIC AND I GOT TO SCREAM “you were my because” at louis with my whole heart!!!! That was so so so special definitely one of the moments i will never forget. Lucky Again was literally perfect he again hit the notes and it was perfection. The song that surprised me the most when heard live was probably Angels Fly because he just did it sooo well and had full control over the song it was just such a nice tune to hear live also one of my favourites! .Face The Music is one of the songs that sounds amazing live!! And 505… someone else did inform me that he will cover it but nothing and i mean NOTHING could have prepared me for what i heard that day. I was ON MY KNEES READY TO PLEASE HE was just so hot!!! So effortlessly hot and sexy it was almost too much for my heart. I caught myself shouting “with your hands between MY thighs” … not my proudest moment 😵‍💫 the most shocking moment was back to you ofc. i was losing my marbles when it started playing i was head empty no thoughts except for “what the fuck is happening is this a new track????” And louis starts singing and i am STILL TOO OUT OF IT TO UNDERSTAND THAT ITS BACK TO YOU so my friend had to tell me what song it is and then i was having the best time of my life. I don’t know how he managed to alter it into a rock version so perfectly but it’s not a surprise, anything that louis is involved in is absolute perfection. Out Of My System my beloved!! Could not get enough of it one of my faves. All This Time was another moment that made me emotional because it showed how louis loved performing that songs and put his heart into it. Silver Tongues was also one of my favs and i really REALLY wanted to be closer to the stage at that moment to see his chaotic ass in action 😭. They gave away free monsters when we left and a group of embarrassing people were doing a * karaoke but that’s irrelevant. Overall it was a perfect night and !! i got to meet @berlinini and @bbrox 🫶🏼

#q #i loved it <3 can’t wait to go to more shows it was honestly addicting #my fan report #fitfwt: toronto

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rphelperblog · 2 years

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Once Upon A Broken Heart Quote Rp Meme

“Heroes don't get happy endings. They give them to other people.”

“Hope is a difficult thing to kill, just a spark of it can start a fire.”

“If you think I'm jealous because someone else got to stab you, then you're right.”

“I’d give you the world if I could. The moon, stars, and all the suns in the universe. Anything for you, my heart”

“I don't know if I can fix your broken heart, but you can take mine because it's already yours.”

“So you're saying you'd settle for a boring romance if it ends well?"

"Yes. I would gladly take an uneventful happily ever after.”

“I'm not going to tell you to trust me, because that's a terrible idea.”

“I believe there are far more possibilities than happily ever after or tragedy. Every story has the potential for infinite endings.”

“You don't want to be the hero, you want the happy ending- that's why you came to me. If you do this, that will never happen. Heroes don't get happy endings. They give them to other people. Is that what you really want?”

“Having faith was brave.”

“Would you like me to stand up and turn around so that you can take in the rest of me?”

“All stories are made of both truths and lies, [...] What matters is the way that we believe in them.”

"He just said sexy scars,Are you really listening to this?”

“But you have to have a working heart for it to break.”

“The fates weren't dangerous because they were evil; the fates were dangerous because they couldn't tell the difference between evil and good.”

“I'll never understand humans.All of you seem to welcome our lies, but you never like it when we tell the truth.”

“Regret was the worst.Regret was sour and bitter, and it tasted so close to the truth she had to fight sinking into it.”

“ He wasn't her weakness- love was. Not even just love but the idea of it.”

'Exactly what you asked.'I made sure the wedding didn't happen.”

“I know that stories often take on lives of their own. I already feel as if the horror I went through is turning into a fairytale, but I am nothing special, and this is not a fairytale.”

“It's not what I did, Little Fox. It's what you've done.”

“And then they will write their vows on their hands and place them over each other’s chests, so they may sink into their hearts, where they will be kept safe forever and always.”

“I'm curious about a lot of things. I'm curious about you, but I don't want you to bite me!"

“ You are still indescribably breathtaking, but it was all the tragic beauty of a sky where every single star was falling.”

“Every story has the potential for infinite endings”

"Hurt is what made me.”

she wanted love like her parents, love like a story.”

She made it seem like an adventure, as if every moment were the start of a story with endless possibilities.”

"I've already done that, Little Fox.”

“Stop flashing your fangs. I’m the only one who gets to bite her.”

“Or have you already forgotten the way heartbreak rips apart the soul piece by piece, how it turns you into a masochist, making you long for the thing that just eviscerated you until there's noting left of you to be destroyed?”

“For finding dreams that don't exist yet.”

“This young man was going to ruin the girl that worked inside the shop.”

“Always promise less than you can give, for Fates always take more. Do not make bargains with more than one Fate. And, above all, never fall in love with a Fate.”

“Don't be dazzled. You're useless to me as a vampire."

"Well, let's hope I don't decide I'd rather be a vampire than be useful to you.”

“the churches here were like vampires—they weren’t meant for worship, they were designed to entice and entrap.”

“You’re the Prince of Hearts.”

she imagined she could have sliced into that night as if it were a cake and stolen a piece of it to take a bite of all the wondrous dark.”

“Now, that was a pathetic speech.”

“... it was tremendously hard to fully fall out of love with someone when you had no one else to love instead,”

“You make an excellent murder suspect. Orphan, turned savior, turned bride, turned killer—I’m actually surprised that wasn’t his headline today.”

“She could picture him flashing those deceptive dimples as he tricked an angel into losing its wings just so he could play with the feathers.”

Comforting someone was an intimate thing, and according to the stories, intimacy didn't end well with him.But he clearly knew how to be gentle.”

“And you’re praying to an immortal who kills every girl he kisses. You really think he deserves any reverence?”

“Then why didn’t she die?”

“Probably because my heart started beating,”

“She wanted to be someone's love, not their curse.”

“He looked like a bad decision some unfortunate person was about to make.”

“They said his kiss was fatal to all but her—his only weakness—and as he’d sought her, he’d left a trail of corpses.”

“Or maybe she just likes me more than she likes you."

"She hates me,So even if she likes you more, that's not saying very much.”

“I’m here because my parents are dead.”

“There was something fantastically bewitching about the idea that a person's destiny could change in one single night.”

“Chaos tilted his head, eyes landing on their intertwined hands. “

“who shared bits of their magic with this book.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,”

“Just love him the same way you live your life—love him without holding back, love him as if every day with him will be more magical than the last, love him as if he’s your destiny and the world will be better if you two are together, and he won’t be able to ever stop loving you.”

“What would have been was a question that no one ever knew the answer to.”

“But there were reasons powerful emotions didn't vanish in a blink, reasons why a person had to become stronger than her feelings to let them go.”

“If you're trying to warn me away, you don't have to worry,"

“He held on to her as if she were a grudge, his body rigid and tense, as if he really didn’t want her there, and yet his arms were tight around her waist as though he had no intention of ever letting her go.”

“I’m not going to tell you to trust me, because that’s a terrible idea. But you can believe that if I were going to have you harm Apollo, I wouldn’t be around when it happened.”

“I'd give you the world if I could. The moon, the stars, and all the suns in the universe. Anything for you, my heart.”

Fear only excites them, Little Fox.”

That’s funny. I was about to tell you the same thing.”

“Stay away from her,”

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