ɾɾɐƃɐıusʇ

Summary: evelyn-- benny's grandma --intrudes on benny admiring you asleep on his chest.

TW: pure fluff!

There was never a name for what you and Benny were—no labels, no declarations, just a magnetic pull dressed in sarcasm and shared secrets. It lived in the silence between movie scenes, the way your feet found his under the lunch table, the way your hoodie always ended up in his backpack and his always found its way onto your frame. You weren’t dating. You never said mine. But everyone knew. Ethan knew. Rory knew. Even the haunted locker on the third floor probably knew.

And Benny? Benny knew too. But he never said anything. He just kept pulling you close like it was a reflex.

The room smelled like laundry and the faint cinnamon candle his grandma kept replacing, no matter how many times he rolled his eyes about it. The screen lit the room in slow pulses, gold text drifting into space, the hum of the Star Wars theme barely loud enough to fill the background. The blankets twisted around both of you, limbs half-tangled like gravity hadn’t quite decided where one of you ended and the other began. You were tucked into the curve of his side, your head against his shoulder—no, lower—closer to his chest now, where the beat of his heart was steady but loud, like it hadn’t yet learned how to be casual about you.

You’d worn his hoodie again. He hadn’t said anything when you showed up in it, sleeves swallowing your hands, hem brushing your thighs like it was made for the way you curled into his bed. He’d just smiled, the kind of half-smile that tightened the corner of his mouth and made his eyes shift like they didn’t want to be caught lingering too long. He said something dumb, something casual, and lifted the blanket for you. You didn’t need an invitation.

Now, your breathing had evened out. Your fingers, once fidgeting with the drawstring of the hoodie, had gone still against his chest. He glanced down once, twice, then again—longer this time. You’d fallen asleep. Just like that.

Your mouth barely parted. Eyelashes soft against your cheeks. Your whole body relaxed into him like it had been waiting all day to. And his? Completely still. Like moving might shatter the moment.

Benny didn’t dare shift. Didn’t dare blink too fast. His arm rested behind you but drifted lower, fingers ghosting over your back with a touch so gentle it barely existed. His other hand hovered—uncertain—then settled on your arm, thumb brushing slowly back and forth in a rhythm that matched the rise and fall of your chest. He could feel every breath. Every tiny tremor of sleep.

The glow from the screen painted your face in silver and blue, and something about it made his throat tighten. You looked like a dream. Not in some cliché way, not in a he’d-say-it-out-loud way—just in that overwhelming, real way that made his ribs ache from how much he wanted to freeze this exact second.

The door creaked softly.

His grandma stepped in, not with footsteps but with presence—light and knowing. Her eyes scanned the room, paused on the two of you. Benny didn't move. He didn’t have to look to know she was smiling.

When he finally glanced up, she gave him a single raised eyebrow. No words. Just that look. The one that said “so this is the girl,” and “what are you waiting for,” and “I knew it the second she laughed at your dumb jokes.”

Benny swallowed, cleared his throat like he wasn’t trying to calm his heartbeat. His hand hadn’t stopped brushing your arm. His grandma smirked—soft, proud—and quietly stepped back, pulling the door closed behind her.

The hum of the movie played on, unimportant now. The real thing was here: your weight against his chest, your breath curling into the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of you tucked into the curve of him like you belonged there.

He let his head fall back against the pillow. Said nothing. Just looked down once more, tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, and let the words he’d been swallowing for months catch in his throat again. He didn’t say them. Not tonight.

warnings: a little vampire coercion, mentions of arousal, fear kink, a/n: GOD BLESS YOU ANON. I hope this is what you meant!! cos I instantly thought of that hesistant way that Orlok kisses Ellen.... woouuuuffffff. divider by anitalenia.

"Come inside."

It's a simple command, but a weighted invitation. Your neighbor has been lingering at all your threshholds - the front door, the back door, even the side door - for weeks, his presence disgused as simple, unassuming, requests; out of milk, checking to see if your power is out, and so on. Nothing out of the ordinary, but you're smarter than that. You're much smarter than that.

Your fingers twitch at your side as Jerry steps into your space, into your safe little home. There's an energy shift as he does, and every bone in your body urges you to take a step back, but you stand your ground. Jerry knows you're scared - he can smell it, and it wets his appetite and his cock. He takes a few steps, boots thudding against your tile floor as he closes in the distance, a low growl rumbling from his chest. Once he's in front of your, his hand floats, weightlessly, up to your cheek, where it hovers and cups air, almost like he's asking for permission again, afraid to touch you. But you know he's not afraid to touch you. He's not afraid of anything... except maybe sunlight. Which... there is none of, currently. The only light is the moonlight that filters in through your kitchen window. That light illuminates him in a terrifyingly arousing way, chiseling his features and showing the true, bloodless pallor of his skin. "I have quite the appetite..." he whispers, over your mouth.

✰ PAIRING : MOVIE! MICHAEL AFTON x FEM! READER.

✰ SUMMARY : you didn't show up for days at freddy's due to being sick. michael admittedly feels a bit empty without seeing you around.

✰ TW : none as much, fluff(?), reader being sick, caring-ish michael, you're kinda like his safe place (implied), self-indulgent, can be read as both game/movie mike in a way, grammatical errors possibility, intended lowercase, 600+ wc.

✰ A/N : hey guys ! i apologize for not posting for these past few days as i am terribly sick since monday,, also finals + assignments in uni got me rn rip, so i had to settle most of them rn 🥹 ! will try my best to do some of the reqs in my inbox as well sometime soon; you guys are still free to send some michael thoughts/asks but might take awhile for me to get to them atm 💜🍬 !

MICHAEL AFTON MASTERLIST .

almost everything feels blurry within your line of sight as of late. your body feels utterly weak; temperature has been unstable as well, as if begging you to rest for a long, long time. you feel genuinely guilty for skipping work for at least three days in a row now, but you couldn't handle yourself well at the moment.

rather than troubling anyone, you chose to stay at home with your meds for your own recovery. forcing yourself would've made the situation worse anyways.

can u do a legolas x reader where the reader has to learn elvish or common tongue bc its not their native language

ORRRR

can u do a diaval x reader headcanons?

thank uuuu if u ever see this! <3

Tysm for requesting!! My first on this new account! I love these two requests, so I've decided to do both! I hope you enjoy!

Lost in translation

Legolas x Reader (One Shot)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: For a while now, Legolas has been singing you off to sleep in Elvish, and it's about time you learned Sindarin and figured out what it was he was saying to you.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to publish this, turns out writing poetry is hard, and also don't trust me on the Sindarin translations, I used a random translator on Google LOL also the diaval headcanons will be posted soon, so stay posted :P

You wanted to slam your head into the wall. You haven’t been getting far in trying to teach yourself Elvish. You closed the Elvish language book and placed it into your book bag. Letting out a sigh, you straightened out your long, rumpled sleeves and began to walk out of the small library you were in. You were currently in Rivendell with Legolas, visiting Elrond, and you figured it would be the perfect opportunity to try and attempt learning Sindarin. You had been traveling together ever since the end of the fellowship and the defeat of Sauron. During that time, the two of you had grown close; as close as an elf and a mortal could be. You both definitely had a sort of unspoken thing going on. 

Every day was a new adventure, running through vast green fields, climbing tall mountains, and trekking through rushing rivers. And every night the two of you spent lying next to each other on your bed rolls, staring up at the night sky and pointing out constellations and trading stories back and forth. However, right as you were falling asleep, you would always hear Legolas sing the same song:

“I aur minuial renia lendui, Mi lain gellad Anor glawar. Nathon dín, bronad lín lín, Le lostad mi ’ôl, úva faeg.

Lúg lín darthar sui rhaw peled, Ú-dirn lín a gannel linnad. Cuil lín, gwanas sídh a thand, Linnath dín na nathon pendui.

Nathon tegi i línath na dhû lín, Il-lain sui i nór naurui. Ú-darathon edro ammen aníron, Meleth darthar, darthar ú-bediad.

No aníron edregol lothar i aur, Dan sî na i aníron gwennad lín. An mi dîn hen, mi dîn lín lín, Nathon edregol lín lostad a suilad galu.

O i cuilath ú-dangen lín, O i meleth ú-antannen lín. Losto sídh, meleth nîn, naithad lín anann, Nathon sî. Nathon anann.”

You’ve heard him sing it so much you’ve just about had it memorized and written down. So here you were, lost deep in thought, looking down at the beat-up piece of paper with his words written down, thinking about how you could get better at Elvish. You stop your pacing and raise your eyes up to take in the amazing view. Rivendell was ethereal; you wouldn’t mind staying here another week or two. 

Maybe…you could get an elf to teach you. But not Legolas, that's too obvious. Maybe Elrond? No, he's too busy at the moment, plus you were too embarrassed to repeat the words Legolas would whisper to you at night when you two were alone in an attempt to have them translated. You had a feeling it was too intimate, but Arwen would understand she could help! Wait…no, she can’t. She's in Gondor with Aragorn, and you don't think one of the random guards patrolling the gardens you're currently in would be willing to drop everything and teach a human stranger Elvish. New idea, you ask Legolas to teach you Sindarin to better integrate in Elven society and communicate better with other elves for times like this when you find yourselves staying in Elven territories. This was a good cover, and so you began walking to where Legolas was staying. 

Arriving in front of the door to his chambers, your heart began to race. Slowly, you raised your arm to hover in front of his door. It stayed there for a few seconds before lightly knocking on the door. Almost as if he was standing behind the door this entire time waiting for you to knock, he opened the door immediately. “(y/n)! I was just on my way to go find you,” he said, smiling at you. “Well, it looks like I found you first,” you let out a small laugh before continuing. “I wanted to ask you something actually, that's why I’m here,” you said, looking down at your book bag as you reached in, pulling out the Elvish language book. Legolas smiled, recognizing the writing on the spine of the book. “I was wondering if you could perhaps teach me some basic Sindarin, y’know, so that I can better talk with some of the other elves here. I feel like I'm missing out on a lot by only understanding common,” you said, hopefully, convincing enough that there were no other motives behind your words. He smiled and took the book from your hands. “You might have had better success at learning it yourself if you hadn’t picked up the advanced book, but nevertheless, I’m glad you came to me. I’d love to teach you.” Once again, you wanted to slam your head into a wall.

With Legolas teaching you now, progress was finally being made. Ironically enough, starting off with the advanced book actually set you up to pick up the words and grammar faster. “Now, how would you go about asking me the weather outside?” Legolas asked you. “Uhhhh…” you massaged your forehead, 

“Goheno nin, hîr, no cerich henias man sui i ’waew na bevin?” (Excuse me sir, would you happen to know what the weather is like outside?)

“That's very good, a bit formal, but you're doing well,” Legolas reached over the table and patted you on the shoulder. You felt yourself lean into his touch. Oh you were whipped for him. So far, you’ve made good progress on translating the songs?..poems?? Whatever he's been singing to you at night as you drifted off. You mainly managed to do so by slipping in the harder words you’ve yet to understand, and have him explain the meaning. 

You lifted the right end of the book, where your piece of paper that has Legolas’ song transcribed lay under, and wrote in the new piece of translated information. In the corner of your eye, you see Legolas peering over, trying to see what you’re writing down. You quickly place the end of the book down, covering the paper, and you turn back to face him. “What are you hiding (y/n)?” He smiles and leans in closer to your face. You feel your face heat up, and you back up a bit. “I’m just taking notes on what I’ve learned so far!” You smile awkwardly at him. “Hmm…why don't we end it for today? We’ve been working all day, and you’re looking a bit tired. We can pick it back up tomorrow.” He said as he stood up from his chair and petted the back of your head. You nodded, and you watched him leave your room. Waiting until he closed the door, you pulled out your piece of paper from under your book and went back to working hard to transcribe his words. 

Before you knew it, it was dark out, and your eyelids were feeling heavy. You laid your head on the book and thought about Legolas and your time together. You had fallen in love with him, and hard. You were tired of the unspoken thing between the two of you. You wanted answers. Was he this close and tender with all his friends? You hoped that for your sake, the answer was no. Letting out a sigh, you closed your eyes and let yourself rest on top of the book. 

Not knowing how much time has passed, you hear the door open and a familiar voice speak. “(y/n)?...Oh,” It was Legolas, but for whatever reason, you didn’t open your eyes to meet his, thinking it's better to feign being asleep. Legolas walks over to you, places the small bowl of fruit he brought for you down on the table, and begins to pet your hair. Quietly, like all times before, he begins to sing to you, 

“I aur minuial renia lendui, Mi lain gellad Anor glawar. Nathon dín, bronad lín lín, Le lostad mi ’ôl, úva faeg.

Lúg lín darthar sui rhaw peled, Ú-dirn lín a gannel linnad. Cuil lín, gwanas sídh a thand, Linnath dín na nathon pendui.

Nathon tegi i línath na dhû lín, Il-lain sui i nór naurui. Ú-darathon edro ammen aníron-”

“Meleth darthar, darthar ú-bediad, love waits, and waits without a plea…did I get it right?” You speak, eyes still closed, interrupting him mid-song. He finally noticed the writing next to your head and recognized it as the words to his song, partially transcribed into common. “Perhaps I'm too good of a teacher, is that why you asked me to help you learn Sindarn?” Legolas smiled down at you. Opening your eyes, you raised your head up from the book and rubbed your eyes awake. “I just…I needed to know what you were saying. You sing the words with such sweet tenderness, I needed to understand what it was you were saying to me. I needed to know how you felt about me,” you said quietly, averting your gaze. Legolas walks around you to pick up the piece of paper. His eyebrows raise, impressed with how much you've managed to translate so far. “You still have some lines left to translate, would you like me to tell you the rest?” he says, looking down at you, smiling. You smile back at him and nod your head. He comes down to kneel on one knee. “Then I shall start from the beginning,”

“The morning tiptoes soft and slow, With golden threads of sunlit glow. But I stay still, and hold my breath, You lie in dreams, untouched by death.

Your lashes rest like painted wings, Unmoved by dawn or birds that sing. Your chest, a rhythm calm and true, A quiet song I sway into.

I trace the lines upon your face, Each one a map, a sacred place. I dare not wake you with my need Love waits, and waits without a plea.

The day can bloom, the world can spin, But here’s where all my truths begin. For in this hush, this tender hush, I watch you sleep, and feel the rush

Johnny blinked up at the warm sun. Bombs needed to be disarmed, right?

Is Captain Price okay? He was being attacked.

More of his surroundings came into focus and he felt his mind drifting. Who was Captain Price?

The soft scent of flowers surrounded him. The constant ache in his back was gone. Was he laying on ferns?

He tried to sit up, but he could bring himself to move. It was so warm, so comfortable.

How did he get here?

He reached up his hand to touch his face.

Metal. Embedded in his forehead.

He pulled it out like the stem of a flower. Painless.

A whole bullet.

Bringing it to his eye he inspected it. Not a scratch or a stain.

This must be a place of peace, of perfection.

Johnny held the bullet gently between his fingers as it dissolved into the air. A moment later he forgot it even existed or what it meant.

It was so warm. So comfortable.

The bed of flowers fit the shape of his body like it was meant for him.