#and I thought hey you know what would be funny?

[luveline]

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Spencer gets a bad bout of amnesia. Or, your boyfriend forgets he’s your boyfriend, but he still has a crush on you. [3k]

c: fem, bombshell!reader, head injury, hospitals, amnesia, fluff, spencer can’t believe he bagged you, requested here 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

Spencer wakes to an empty room. 

He lays on a pillow too flat, neck twinging, the back of his eyes throbbing when he moves them.

He takes a deep breath. He struggles to breath through his nose and lets his mouth open for a few big, achy breaths, his mouth dry like he’s been sucking on cotton balls. 

Spencer’s alarmed, without a clue what it is he’s done. He wonders where Gideon is, if the older man came to see him yet. He hopes somebody told his mom he’s okay. 

Maybe Hotch will come to see him. He and Hotch have grown closer while Gideon was on his mandated recovery time; Gideon spends less time in the office now, sticking to lectures, seminars and consults, while Hotch, Morgan and Spencer handle the away cases. Spencer might go as far as to say Hotch likes him. And Morgan can tolerate him now, less grudging when Spencer offers a random fact or statistic to further the case. 

A stab of pain at the back of his head makes itself known.

Spencer doesn’t want to move, but he needs to assess things. He frowns at his arms, naked as they are. His silver watch is missing. A t-shirt that he doesn’t remember buying stretches over his chest. What state are they in, and who dressed him? 

He’s scowling at the window with it’s wide-open blinds and all the sun when the door opens. 

You’re looking at the bags on your arm as you come in. Spencer startles in his blankets —what are you doing here?  Agent L/N, Morgan’s friend and a candidate for the open position on the BAU team. You’re from the Sex Crimes Unit, like Greenaway. 

Spencer flusters every time he sees you, not just because of how kind you’d been the first time you met, or even the easy flirtation you send his way when you cross paths. It’s because you’re possibly the prettiest woman he’s ever met. It’s better when you notice he’s awake and light up like he’s the winning numbers for tonight’s lottery pull. Everything about you illuminates. 

“Hey, babe!” you say, not not yelling as you drop your bags in the seat by the bed and reach for him.

He doesn’t think to move away as you take his face into your hands.

“I’m so glad you’re finally awake, you almost slept for the full twenty four hours.” Your hands are soft. They smell like neroli. When you stroke his cheek and lean down to give him a chaste peck, he almost passes out there and then. “It's a good thing, obviously,” you say, and then kiss him again distractedly. “You heal more when you’re asleep. Or so I’ve heard.” 

You pull away. You have such a nice mouth, but Spencer’s never thought about what it might feel like on his. He doesn’t have the audacity: in what world would you ever kiss him? That’s the joke, right, when you flirt with him in the office? It’s funny because you’d never date him. 

“How are you feeling?” you ask, losing some of your pep. “How’s your head, handsome? You know, there are easier ways to get a haircut.” 

“They cut my hair?” he croaks. 

“Shaved it at the back to stitch you up. Not much, don’t worry. They were pushing for a buzz cut but I put my foot down on that one,” you joke. You nudge his legs aside without worrying about sitting on him as you get comfortable. “It’s not much. You can’t tell.”

“I…” 

“You feeling okay?” you ask softly. Your nice mouth purses. Your eyebrows pinch. They’re cute eyebrows. 

“You look different than the last time I saw you.” 

He doesn’t mean to say it aloud. He’s noticing things now. You’re wearing less powder under your eyes than you used to. You seem to have gained a little weight, and you look good. You didn’t look bad before, but this is different. Your hair isn’t too different, nor your brows, but you’ve begun lining your lips in a new way. Your blush is a subtler hue. Spencer doesn’t claim to know everything about you, but he can say that you look neatly the same each time you visit. 

“It’s hard to sleep when your favourite person in the entire world gets his head cut open,” you say, taking his hand where he’d left it loose in the blankets. 

Your fingers slip into his with ease. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, attempting to swallow his nerves. 

“Of course you can.” 

He licks his lips. “Uh, I think I’m confused. I don’t– I don’t remember what happened, and…” 

“Oh, right. They told me this might happen.” You draw yourself up with a breath. He’s fascinated by the movement, an air of heat around him as you begin rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “You got hit in the back of the head with a cinder block, honey. Went down like a lead balloon.” You turn your face to show your cheek. “We’re even now on good scares, yeah?” 

You have a scar on your face he’d missed, carefully concealed but yet not invisible. Your hand in his feels so alien he holds it wrong, fingers twined but palms apart. 

“What happened to you?” he asks. 

Your brow crinkles. You go very still. “My cheek?” you ask. 

“What…” 

“Spencer, what’s the last thing you can remember, honey?” you ask, all the horror in the world to be found in your eyes. 

“Uh…” 

“Spencer?” 

He feels sick to his stomach. Without having to be told, you slip off of the bed with two taps of your shoes and reach for the bedpan, thrusting it into his lap. 

His mouth fills with spit. “I’m fine,” he says. 

“No, I don’t think so. Let me get a doctor.” 

“Wait,” he says, clutching the bedpan and pushing his wave of nausea as far down as he can. “Please don’t go.” 

“My face was months ago, honey. I got hit in the face with a hammer, you don’t remember?” you ask incredulously. 

“Why do you keep calling me honey?” he asks. He knows the answer, but it’s not computing. 

Your face drains of any happiness. “I’m going to get a doctor,” you say, shoulders rigidly tight as you exit the room, leaving Spencer in your wake wishing he’d just pretended he knew who you were, just until you kissed him again. 

—

“And he really can’t remember you at all?” Morgan asks. 

You’re a little less startled than you had been, and you’re trying not to punish poor Spencer, but realising your boyfriend forgot years of flirting, and yearning, and friendship —years of kissing in secret and otherwise, years of holding hands, and staying at each other’s places to get that extra time together, even if it was just getting to sleep in the same bed between cases— was a slap. 

“He remembers me,” you say, leg crossed over the other, arm over the railing of Spencer’s bed to hold his hand. “He just doesn’t remember a thing after Gideon came back, after Boston.” 

“I remember when you had hair,” Spencer says to Derek. 

Derek glares at him, “This Spencer doesn’t get to sass me.” 

“But I do eventually?” 

“How come you’re holding hands if he doesn’t know who you are?” Derek asks pointedly. 

You shrug. “We talked about it, didn’t we?” you ask Spencer, who perks up every time you talk, which isn’t unlike your usual Spencer, but whenever he catches himself doing it he flusters. Every time you call him baby he loses his mind. “He doesn’t remember me, but he wants to. And I remember him.” 

“This must be pretty weird for you, kid,” Derek says. 

“Sort of,” Spencer says. 

It’s funny. Now you know Spencer thinks he’s twenty three again, you can’t not notice his shyness and his awkward tries at casualness. You’d forgotten what he was like back then. 

“Wait, does that mean you don’t remember Emily?” Derek asks. 

Spencer frowns. “Uh, no?” 

You sit up in your chair. “Emily’s one of your best friends, honey. She joined the BAU when Greenaway left.”

“Not you?” he asks. 

You dramatise your pain as Derek laughs. “Not me. I didn’t transfer for a long time, unfairly. It’s okay, though, you’ll remember Emily eventually.” 

When you realised Spencer wasn’t as okay as you’d thought, you gathered a gaggle of agitated doctors to assess him. He knew his name and birthday. He was wrong about the date, the president, and the state. You’re in Arizona where he’d thought Indiana. Your bag talks to the heat: Spencer’s fan, his sunblock, his antihistamines. He couldn’t believe it when he asked where his stuff was and you passed him your handbag. 

You’re trying to drive home to him that you’re not just dating, you're common-law partners, Spence. He adores you. You’d spend life in his lap if you could afford it. 

“How’d she get you to believe her?” Derek asks Spencer. 

“Uh.” 

“I kissed him a couple of times before he came clean about the amnesia,” you say. “So I didn’t have to explain.” 

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Spencer says. 

He’s looking less haggard now you’ve brushed his hair. It was sweet to watch his shoulders relax. He shuddered when you tucked a strand behind his ears, and didn’t flinch when you asked if you could kiss his cheek. It’s hard to have him vulnerable here and not be allowed to lick his wounds for him. You feel better the better he feels. You’ve fluffed his pillow, wrapped him tighter in blankets. When he got up to pee and you offered to help, he gave a resolute No Thank You, which in hindsight is hilarious but at the time made you wanna squeeze your eyes out. 

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “I don’t mind kissing him, even if he doesn’t remember me. Just so long as he doesn’t mind it back.”

Spencer manages to squeeze your hand. It’s a soft one, but it’s real. “I don’t mind.” 

“You dog,” Derek says. 

“Stop, stop. He’s not doing anything wrong, is he?” you ask. “I’m the evil one, forcing kisses on him when he doesn’t know me.” 

“I do know you,” Spencer says. 

“What’s it like to have a crush on your own girlfriend?” Derek asks, unwilling to quit his teasing where he’s crossing his arms in the chair opposite, his cup of coffee drained on the side table. 

Spencer swallows. “Uh, nerve-wracking.” 

“Believe it or not, that’s not so different to now,” Derek says. 

Spencer looks to you for confirmation, which you love. You slide your chair closer to him and clasp his wrist with your free hand. “Sometimes you're still a little shy, but it’s not so bad. Full of myself I may be, Spencer Reid, but you do love me. It’s easy with us.” 

“Do we really live together?” he asks. “You said common-law.” 

“Not technically. I stay at your place four nights a week. You stay with me for the weekends.” 

“Every week?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

“We’re never apart?” he asks. 

His face is turning pink. You could kiss every bit of colour on his cheeks. 

“Derek, would you get Spencer something to eat from the cafeteria? Please?” you ask, levelling your friend with a pleading gaze. 

Derek gathers himself up. “Sure. We gotta feed the string bean something, don’t we?” he asks. 

Alone again, you draw lines up and down Spencer’s arm with your nails. You’re going to be indulgent in yourself, and ask him everything you’d ever wanted to know. And then a little extra, too. 

“You’re not as skinny anymore, have you noticed? You’re quite lean.” You stand to sit where you’d put yourself before he confessed. Your hand falls to his knee. “Solid, sometimes. You and Derek go for walks occasionally.” 

“We do?” 

“Mm-hm. And me and you do yoga in the living room when we can be bothered. We tried couples Pilates, but Pilates is hard.” 

“We did?”

You smile warmly. “It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves in the same way.” 

“How do you love?” 

His ears are bitten-red. “Oh, you know. I’m too affectionate. It’s hard not to be with you. Everyone used to think we were… I don’t know, playing a game.” You slide your hand up his thigh, leaning on him to watch his pupils blow. “But I love you for far more than your propensity to blush. You get me flowers every time you see my favourites, and you never let me go to sleep without a kiss. Usually here.” You poke the skin beside your eye. “But sometimes you’ll surprise me and kiss my nose.” You're going lax with love, remembering things he’s done, and does every day.  “On a Saturday morning we make tea and I put my hands in your t-shirt. You do the crosswords for fun. Sometimes we time them.” 

“That’s not how you love, that’s what you love,” Spencer says. 

“Oh, you want a play by play of things?” He ducks his chin, but he smiles when you laugh. 

“I just can’t believe this is happening.”

You try to think of things you don’t think about anymore. “You love my sugar lip gloss, so I always wear it.” 

He reaches out tentatively. Shy as a wren in a hedgerow. You let him curl a hand over your elbow, feel the crook of it with his index finger. 

“I buy you stamps, and t-shirts for bed, and stupid stuff you wouldn’t get yourself. We’re… it’s like, it doesn’t feel like gift giving anymore because we’re always getting stuff for each other. You’re just as sweet, you know? When I first started sleeping over you bought me this huge pack of socks ‘cos yours are all odd,” you laugh. “I knew I loved you already, but…”

It’s a little sad, actually. He can’t remember all the stuff that makes you the couple you are. It’s not what you’d meant to get into. 

“Can I ask you something?” you ask. 

“Anything.” 

He’s slept-in and breathless, like he ran laps in his dreams. 

“What do you think of me now? I always wondered if you liked me back then, or if I just caught you off guard.” 

“Who wouldn’t like you?” 

“But did you?” 

He looks away hurriedly, his hand dropping from your elbow. “I guess so. But it’s not�� not real. I have a crush on you.” His mumbling is sweet. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that.” 

“I had a crush on you, too, back then. It wasn’t anything serious, but it was real. And the more time we spent together, the more I thought we could fall in love,” —you take his hand and put it back on your arm— “and we did.” 

You toy with his fingers. Without looking, ashamed of your own self-indulgence, you ask another question. “What do you think of me now?” 

“I can’t remember,” he says sorrily. 

“What do you think?” 

“You feel like a dream.” He shakes his head. “You’re, like, the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t really get how this is real.” 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’d say it, you practically begged for it, but you can’t stop yourself from sitting up to kiss his forehead gently. “It’s real. Promise. And for the record, you’re handsome. They stopped saying ‘aged like fine wine’ a while ago. Now they just say ‘aged like Spencer Reid’.”

He gives a choky laugh. 

The door opens again. You lift your head expecting Derek and find a weather worm Hotch in the doorway. “Reid, you’re awake,” he says, not bothering with a smile. “Morgan said you have amnesia?” He directs it at both of you. 

Spencer’s looking at Hotch in clear shock. 

“He hasn’t aged that badly,” you chastise teasingly. 

“Hotch, you’re– I thought you would’ve–”

Hotch squints. “You didn’t think I had the stamina for it?” 

Spencer squirms under his gaze. “No, sir, it’s not that–”

“Sir,” Hotch says, and then he smiles. “I forgot when you both used to respect me.” 

“I have the utmost respect for you, sir,” you say through your own smile. 

“Has she been kind to you, Reid?” 

“Uh, yes? Is she not usually?” 

Hotch presses his lips together rather than answer. There’s a sympathy in his expression you resent.

—

It’s a thankfully quick bout of amnesia. The memories start to draw in like a dusting of powdered sugar, his head finely silted, one particle at a time. He finds that the more you talk, the quicker his memory is jogged. You tell him about your first kiss —I tried to kiss your cheek but you moved, it was the funniest thing— and your second. You spin stories of cases, the worst ones and the best, all the times you held hands without people knowing, the times you’d been caught. He can’t imagine it, goes hot with the memory, picturing kissing you as you’d described and the mortification of being walked in on. 

You tell him about your vacation to Nevada a few months ago and he thinks about how you’d fallen asleep on the plane. Your nose in his arm, your unhappy sigh at the tight leg space. 

Remembering you is more than half of remembering himself.

Your hands —his hands. Your smile —his laugh. The way you fold his hands in your lap —the urge to catch your chin for a kiss. 

He doesn’t know how to deal with it, and then suddenly he feels like Spencer. Your partner, your love, his proudest title for years. You’re standing at the end of the hospital bed in pajamas folding your clothes, allowed to stay the night while he’s so urgently confused and upset, you can’t make him stay here alone, please, I know you guys have those little cots for the kids ward, and he just knows you completely. 

Hours of diligent if embezzled storytelling gives it all back to him. 

“I like the lipgloss because you used to wear that perfume that smelled like sugar donuts,” he says, scratching a hand through limp hair. “And every time I crossed the square by the station–”

You let out a surprising squeal of joy. “Spencer!” you say, racing to take his hands, “Yes! The donut truck!” 

You go in for a kiss he gladly returns. “Oh, you remember,” you say, softening as he takes your neck into his hand. “I was getting worried.” 

“Some of it’s still hazy. But not so much you.” 

You wrap your arms around him for a hug, careful of his sore head. “I missed you, Spencer. I still loved you when you couldn’t remember me, but I missed you. Do you remember you?” 

He traces the scar on your lower cheek with his thumb. He’s genuinely relieved to be able to say he does. He’s not scared of what you think of him anymore, ‘cos he knows that everything he feels for you is mutual. “I remember you telling me my bad feeling was just a case of the heebies.” 

You bend into his touch. “Honey, I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know you’d get your skull whacked with a cinder block? It was a bakery.” You kiss his nose quickly. “I’m so glad you’re you. Now I can sleep in the bed with you, and not that collapsible camping cot.” 

He shushes you. “Don’t give us away. They’re not gonna let you stay if they think I’m fine.” 

You giggle excitedly, arms around him again for another squeeze. “I missed you so much. You’re so tricky now.” 

He rubs your back. “I missed you too. And I still have a crush on you, I swear.”

“Thank you, honey, that means a lot to me.” 

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thanks for reading!

[penguicorns-are-cool]

Elphaba: You’re charged with…..breaking into a pet store?

Fiyero: I thought the animals might be lonely.

Fiyero: I could kill you if I wanted.

Elphaba: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

Galinda, shooing Elphaba away: Can you go be depressed over there? You’re bumming out my whole area.

Elphaba: Wait a minute, how did this happen? We're smarter than this!

Fiyero: Apparently, we're not.

Glinda : Can you cut me some slack, Elphaba? I’m sort of in love.

Elphaba: I’m sorry, but that’s really not my problem.

Glinda : I’m in love with you.

Elphaba: *blushes* Oh. That brings me in the loop a little.

Fiyero: So, how long have you and Elphaba been together?

Glinda : No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Elphaba and I are not together. No. No.

Fiyero: Really? Sixteen ‘nos’? Really?

Fiyero: Quitting! It's like trying, but easier.

Elphaba: I dare you-

Glinda : Fiyero is not allowed to accept dares anymore.

Elphaba: Why not?

Fiyero: "I have no regard for my own or others personal safety", as some would say.

Fiyero: Come on, Glinda . Nobody actually believes that Elphaba is in love with me.

Glinda , to The Squad: Raise your hand if you think that Elphaba is helplessly in love with Fiyero.

*Everyone raises their hand*

Fiyero: Elphaba, put your hand down.

Elphaba: I fell—

Glinda : From heaven?

Elphaba: No, I literally fell—

Glinda : In love with me the moment you saw me?

Elphaba: MY ARM IS BROKEN!

Glinda : Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.

Elphaba: There are no friends when playing board games. I am here to win.

Glinda : You got a date yet Fiyero?

Fiyero: No...

Glinda : Well you do now! Get your ass up and hold my hand!

Elphaba: If I say I love you, will you say it back?

Glinda : Yes.

Elphaba: I love you.

Glinda : It back.

*Later*

Fiyero: Why is Elphaba crying face-down on the floor?

Fiyero: I feel like the world would be better if I'd never been born.

Glinda : Aw... that's not true.

Glinda : It'd be exactly the same.

Glinda : You're not important.

Elphaba: This is a very powerful artifact. You’d be messing with some forces we don’t fully understand.

Fiyero: That sounds like a dare to me.

Elphaba: Oh my god.

Elphaba: Hey, no, you stay out of this, this is between me and Fiyero!

Glinda : So Fiyero knows about this?

Elphaba, walking away: No, this is between me and me!

Elphaba: Jellyfish have survived for 600,000 years without brains…

Fiyero: A ray of hope for me!

Elphaba: I didn't drink that much last night.

Glinda : You were flirting with Fiyero.

Elphaba: So what? They're my partner.

Glinda : You asked if they were single.

Glinda : And then you cried when they said they weren't.

Elphaba: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

Elphaba: If bees can be fish and boys can be girls, then why can't my dad love me?

Fiyero: I thought I was going to have to yell at you, but now I think I should hug you.

Glinda : Dammit, you ruin everything!

Elphaba: You're welcome.

Elphaba: Two years ago, I married my best friend.

Elphaba: Glinda is still mad about it, but me and Fiyero were drunk and thought it was funny.

Fiyero: Physically, yes, I could fight a bird, but emotionally? Imagine the toll!

[tweeterwilbury]

Alternative universe where csny has a big fandom dashboard simulator

👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 dykenashby reblogged ftmdavidcrosby follow

I hate when people make nash be the woman in nashby... like first it always feel like the person doesnt know anything about queer people and second we all know that they both are the women in nashby

# also # crosby is clearly a pillow princess with nash # and nash is a service top # but people arent ready for the truth yet

20 notes

🍑 neilphenweek follow

That's a wrap! Thank you everyone who contributed for this year's neilphen week, and see you next month!

1.000 notes

🐐 wildgayles follow

Here's how i think that nash is still the most underrated csny member, not only on the fandom but also for general people and even the csny members themselves.

[READ MORE]

0 notes

🥂 lesbianstills follow

It still is so funny to me that stephen was like "people thought that i was a fag or a groupie when i was around hendrix, but hey, that's was not it. Anyway here's how much i wish he had fingered me"

# like girl # we have all been there before # but you are not subtle.

200 notes

🦭 ftmdavidcrosby follow

Oh my god someone published t4t youngby on ao3??? WORLD IS HEALING

# right after this fucking neilphen week is over... # sorry neilphen mutuals but i think neil deserves better # and in csny that would be crosby # my beautiful boybutch who would know how to treat that girltwink well # this is soooo exciting oh my god # EDIT: IT'S AN 80S RANCH FIC??? HOLYYYY SHIT

4 notes

🐈‍⬛ zuma1975 follow

Nobody fucks with crazy horse rpf like i do. Stop looking at neilphen or younby or whatever is the young nash ship (which is just people trying to put neil with every csn guy lol). Let's have a moment to think about the tragedy of danny and neil. Irl doomed yaoi? Yeah. What about neil and billy talbot. Thing about all the beautiful things we could have...

# neil young # crazy horse # yalbot # danneil # okay i need a better name for danny neil....

70 notes

[yoomiwrites]

Stop moving

Summary: Kid wants you to chill and be quiet for once.

Note: Like wtf, I THOUGHT I had this one already posted but it was in my drafts the whole time. Sorry bout that.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The Victoria Punk was always alive with chaos, and no one embodied that better than you. Among Eustass Kid’s crew of outlaws, oddballs, and maniacs, your restless energy was legendary. If your leg wasn’t bouncing, your fingers were twisting some random object, or your head was darting around like you were chasing invisible fireflies.

Frankly, Kid tolerated it better than most captains would. His crew was a band of misfits, after all. But today? Today, the clinking of your spoon against the mug of tea you were supposed to be drinking was starting to make his vein pop.

“Oi, Y/N, you gonna stir that tea until it turns into butter, or what?” Kid growled, leaning forward on the armrest of his throne-like chair.

“Huh?” you asked, not stopping. If anything, the clinking got louder as you switched hands. Your left foot started tapping against the floor at double speed. “Oh, sorry, just thinking.”

“Thinking? Looks like you’re trying to power the ship with your leg.” Killer said, shaking his head as he sharpened his knife nearby.

Heat gave you a playful shove. “Man, how do you even sleep at night? Does your bed bounce with you?”

The teasing didn’t bother you. You were used to it by now. Honestly, you enjoyed the crew’s banter—it was all in good fun. But the moment you noticed Kid’s eye twitching, you realized you might be pushing it.

“Sorry, Cap’n,” you said with a sheepish grin, trying to still your leg. It lasted all of three seconds before your fingers found a pen, spinning it between them like a miniature baton.

Kid groaned, standing up abruptly. The heavy stomp of his boots made the whole ship rattle. “That’s it. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Take what?” you asked innocently, still flipping the pen around like it owed you money.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stormed toward you, his mechanical arm clicking ominously as he reached for—what? You didn’t know. Instinctively, you tried to bolt, but Kid was faster.

“Sit. Down,” he ordered, grabbing you by the back of your shirt and plopping you unceremoniously onto a nearby barrel.

“Hey! What the hell, Kid—?”

“Quiet,” he snapped, pulling something from his pocket. It was… rope?

“What are you—oh, no. Nope. You’re not doing this—”

Before you could protest further, Kid tied your wrists together with a surprising amount of skill. You wiggled, but the knots were firm.

“Let me go, you red-haired lunatic!” you shouted, struggling as he tied the other end of the rope to the railing.

“Lunatic? Takes one to know one,” Kid shot back, his grin as sharp as his temper. “If you can’t sit still, I’ll make you sit still.”

The rest of the crew erupted into laughter. Killer nearly dropped his knife, and Wire leaned against the mast for support. Even you couldn’t help but chuckle through your indignation.

“Okay, okay, very funny,” you said, still wriggling against the rope. “Now untie me.”

“Not yet,” Kid said, crossing his arms as he loomed over you. “I want to see if it actually works.”

It didn’t. Within minutes, you were bouncing your leg again, albeit awkwardly, since your arms were restrained. You leaned back against the railing, then forward, then tilted your head to the side.

“Are you kidding me?” Kid groaned.

“What can I say? I’m unbreakable!” you declared proudly.

Eustass pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering curses under his breath. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

But then, something shifted. Kid crouched down to your eye level, his grin softening into something almost… fond. His scarred hand reached out, ruffling your hair roughly.

“Damn weirdo,” he muttered. “But you’re my weirdo.”

Your face warmed at the unexpected affection, and for once, you stopped moving.

The silence was so abrupt that Kid froze, his hand still tangled in your hair. “What the hell just happened?”

“Nothing!” you said quickly, trying to resume your usual fidgeting, but it was no use. The moment had disarmed you.

Kid smirked, noticing your sudden stillness. “Huh. Guess I found the off switch.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, though you couldn’t hide the grin tugging at your lips.

The crew howled with laughter again, and for the rest of the day, Kid didn’t bother untying you. Turns out, he kind of liked having a quieter ship for once—though he’d never admit it.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Next time

“She killed me!”

“She does that.”

“But—the ballad. The road!”

“All a lie, I’m afraid. A little trick she uses to lure people to their deaths. Like a beautiful siren on the rocks, singing to passing sailors.”

“Um.”

“Yes?”

“You’re staring at her.”

“Am I? I guess I am.”

“Can she see us?”

“No. She knows we’re here, though. She always knows.”

“I’d like to give her a piece of my mind.”

“I can pass on a message, if you want?”

“Tell her she’s a despicable, wicked creature who deserves to rot in Hell.”

“Ooh, very harsh. I like it. So. Are you ready?”

“…No. But I don’t get a choice, do I?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“There was more I wanted to do.”

“There always is.”

“…What happens next?”

“Come and see.”

*****

“Hi, Ags. One of them says you’re a despicable, wicked creature who should rot in Hell.”

”How incredibly unoriginal. Which one?”

“….uh.”

“Wow. You can’t even remember, can you?”

“...Maybe that one?”

“That’s a little insulting to the souls of the dead, not being able to tell them apart.”

“I see a lot of them. And they generally all have something nasty to say about you.”

“And that does hurt my feelings so. I cry about it every night. But you know, at the end of the day, I’m alive and they’re dead, and knowing that gives me the strength to carry on.”

“…you’re funny.”

”Looks like I can still make Death laugh.”

“Agatha…”

“Hmm?”

“…you know.”

“You miss me, you love me, you’re obsessed with me, that sort of thing?”

“Yes, Agatha. That sort of thing.”

“Hey, Rio, want to know something?”

“Probably not?”

“I wish I had never met you. I wish I had walked away the first time I saw you and never looked back. If I could take back every time I told you I loved you, I would.”

“What, all six times?”

“And only half of them real.”

“…stop.”

”Oh, that one hit, didn’t it? You were always so easy to manipulate. Please, my love, please. I love you so. Anything like that, and you’d do whatever I asked.”

“Yes. Because I love you, Ags, beyond all reason, even when I wish I didn’t. You can make me regret it, though.”

“Not half so much as I regret ever having loved you.”

“You do still love me, you know. You’re angry and hurt and taking it out on me, but you—“

“I don't. You can stalk me and obsess over me and follow me to the ends of the earth, but that part of me died the moment I buried my boy in the ground. I don’t think I can love anything anymore.”

“Beloved…”

“But if I could, I can promise it will never be you.”

“…All right, Agatha.”

“…That’s it? All right? I mean, that one was really vicious. I've been working on it all morning. I was hoping for a better reaction."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Crying or sulking or disappearing or something. …Not stabbing."

"I don't really know how to cry…Were you really working on it all morning? What incredibly cruel thing to say to me this time?"

"On and off. Around other things."

"…That's nice."

"What?! No, it isn't. It's the opposite of nice, that's the point."

"It's nice that you were thinking of me."

"...I honestly wonder what it's like to be you sometimes.”

"At the moment? Lonely."

"That wasn't meant as a question. But how can you be lonely? I'm right here."

"...you are very mean, beloved."

"Ah, there, that's better. More along the lines I was hoping for. Now shoo, I have other things to do, I'm a busy woman."

"Other things like what?"

"I'm sorry, are you under the impression that I'm going to share information with you, the being I hate most in the entire universe?"

"...Fine, Agatha. Have it your way."

"Wait!"

"Yes??"

"At least try to remember which one insulted me next time."

"...Really? That's what you—oh! Next time. Next...yes."

"Mmhmm. And I promise, eventually I will make you cry."

"I honestly don't think I can."

"Watch me."

"Always."

"...No, but really go away now."

"Yes, Agatha. Until next time."

"...See you then."

Want to read more witch fics? Here's a masterpost or go check out Death on Drums because I heard the 70s version of the ballad again and thought of it

[thespottedcreature]

Little one, part I

You are Thranduil's adopted daughter and he loves you more than anything, even if you cause a lot of trouble sometimes.

A series that takes a peek into the life of Y/N, the adopted daughter of Thranduil and younger sister of Legolas.

Fandom: Tolkien - The Hobbit, Peter Jackson - The Hobbit movies Characters: reader (Y/N), Thranduil, Legolas, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Balin, Dwalin, Bofur (rest of the company mentioned) and Tauriel Warnings: none really Keywords: child!reader, parental fluff, Thorin's company needs to learn some manners I own nothing except my own writing.

You sneaked around the kingdom, trying to be as quiet as possible. You wanted to see the dwarves that your brother had found in the woods, the ones you were forbidden from seeing. So naturally, you wanted to see them even more. You had never seen a dwarf before, your father wouldn't allow you to, and you were curious. Were they truly so short that ada told them that they were? You sneaked down the stairs that you knew took you down to the dungeons, you knew that they whould be kept there.

This was the perfect night to do this, everyone was up, enjoying themselves, it was the feast of starlight. You had thought it was boring so you sneaked down, knowing that there whould be no guards down tonight. You had tried this before but you couldn't sneak down without being seen, so you just had stayed higher up, listening to them talking in their gruff, and low voices. But now, you made your way down, making sure that your steps were silent. You were a little nervous, your father had warned you about them many times, not to go close to them.

- - - -

Meanwhile, Thorin was sulking in his cell, cursing the elves in his head. He heard the light patter of feet, the stone made them more audible, and he got up, thinking it was one of the guards yet again. "What do you want?" He bellowed and marched to the door, ramming his hands against it and making it rattle, only to see that the hallway was empty. He frowned and looked around, not seeing anyone. "What are you doing, Thorin?" Balin's voice came from a few cells from the left and Thorin could swear he could hear someone snickering. "It's nothing, I thought I heard something." He grumbled and sank back down, resting his head against the stone wall when he saw someone walking on the stone path. "Hey!" He yelled and the figure jumped into the air and disappeared behind a corner.

- - - -

You were breathing heavily, having gotten spooked by the sudden yell. You were evening out your breath, a part of you wanting to run to your father or your brother, and let him comfort you, but most of you was too curious and you pushed the fear aside, peeking behind the corner yet again. There was so many of them, nearly all the cells were full. They were all at the gates, and they looked so ... funny. They were short, and all of them had some sort of beard. They were not fat, but they were a lot bulkier than you. You couldn't control your curiosity, you slowly inched closer. You were in the shadows, so none of them could see you, but you could see them clearly. Most of them looked quite scary, but some of them looked kind. You were so curious, your head full of questions. What did dwarf children do for fun? Was a beard itchy? Was it hard to fight when you were stocky? You just stood there, thinking about what you should do, when the same voice made you jump slightly but it didn't scare you away this time. You inched closer to the border between light and shadow, pondering what you would do. "I can see you standing there." The voice rang yet again, and you decided to step into the light, walking so you were in front of the cell. You stared at him, his hair was dark and the beard he had was short, and his face was a little stunned. You took a tiny step forward and tilted your head, not sure what to do next, your curiosity rising. You decided to see who was in the next cell, so you shifted to see what did that dwarf look like. He had a long white beard and nearly no hair at all. You looked from one to another, they looked so different, yet somehow similar. The latter smiled and leaned to the bars. "What are you doing here, little one?" His voice was gentle and you thought for a moment before you answered. "I wanted to see a dwarf. Ada wouldn't let me so I came on my own." You declared and looked around.

- - - -

The small elfling was talking with Balin, having moved on from Thorin, who kept a close eye on her. She was very young, and her hair was done half up and her eyes shone as she was watching Balin's every move. "What is your name?" The elfling didn't answer straight away but after a little while of pondering. "Y/N." She stated simply and shifted her feet. "What is yours?" She asked Balin, who answered her nearly instantly. "Balin." "That is a funny name." She giggled and Balin huffed. "I suppose." She shifted her weight to see who was at the next cell, only to be met with Dwalin's gruff voice. "What do you want, leave me alone." He banged the bars but the young elf didn't' even flinch, she just giggled and moved on, walking past a few cells before her steps halted. "I like your hat." She was standing in front of Bofur's cell, then. "Why, thank you little one." His voice was gentle, he was good with kids. "Can I ask you a question?" She was still standing in front of Bofur's cell, who answered her, a little hesitantly, but for nothing, because the question she asked was quite sweet. "What do dwarf children do for fun?" She was staring at Bofur with bright eyes, clearly wanting to know the answer. "Well, they play with wooden toys and they play tag and hide and seek and other games." Bofur listed, and she huffed. "Huh. So the same things as I do." She shrugged and pressed herself to the wall, and suddenly pushing herself off of it and jumping over the gap between the two stone paths that ran in front of the paths of the cells, landing on the other side with the agility of an elf. She jumped up to the candle holder and swung back and forth on it for a while before letting go and landing with steady feet, not wobbling at all. She turned to the dwarf that was in the cell that she was now next to.

- - - -

This cell had a young looking dwarf in it with light brown beard and hair. "Can you say something in dwarvish? I would like to hear some of it, ada always says it sounds funny." The dwarf stared at me for a moment but did indeed say a sentence in dwarvish. You giggled. "It sounds like you have a sore throat but you still want to speak." You tilted your head. "But I kind of like it. It's different, but not as horrible as ada described it as." "Who is this ada you talk about?" Another dwarf, this one with dark hair and the smallest of all the beards, was looking at you. He had warm, brown eyes that reminded you of your father's elk. "Ada is my father, it's just funny to call him father when there is a shorter and more convenient word to it." "Your father doesn't sound very pleasant," Thorin growled from his cell, and you turned to him. "No! He is the best. But he might get a little boring sometimes, he doesn't allow me to do many of things, such as..." "Visit the dungeons alone?" You froze at the sound of your father's voice but turned around to face him. "Hi, ada." You greeted him with a quiet voice, knowing that he would be angry. Thranduil stared at you for a moment and the dwarves were silent, observing the situation and settling with the thought that you were the daughter of the king, the king that they hated. You were looking at the ground, not wanting to look at his face, you couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. Suddenly, you felt hands around you as Thranduil picked you up and hugged you to his chest tightly, taking long breaths. "Y/N, I was so worried, I was sure that a spider had eaten you." You buried your head to his chest, muttering out words as you clutched his robes in your hands. "I'm sorry ada, I just really wanted to see the dwarves." - - - -

"Ada, I searched everywhere, I don't understand where she..." Your brother had arrived, speaking with a nervous tone until he saw you. "Where did you find her?" Thranduil handed you to him, and you wrapped your hands around his neck as you clung to him now. "She was down here, talking with the dwarves," Thranduil answered, sounding a little bit displeased and you shrunk down into Legolas's chest. "Talking with the dwarves, why whould you do that Y/N?" He asked you and you lifted your head from his chest. "I was curious, you whould never let me go down there so I went alone. And the party was boring." Your father just huffed, and took you from Legolas, heading downstairs. "This elloth is going to get a bath and then go straight to bed." "Noooo!" You squealed and went totally limp in his arms and slipped off and ran back towards the cells. "Y/N." Your father's voice was calm, but it had a slightly sharp edge to it as he looked at you. "I am not in the mood for games." You smiled miscefiously and shifted your weight from one leg to another. "Thats too bad, because I am." You stormed over to the path in front of the cells. "Y/N, please. Let's go. I'll read you a story afterward." Your brother tried, slowly inching to his left. But your mind was set, and you weren't about to change it. "No." You stomped your leg to the ground.

The next thing you noticed was that your father was at the other end of the path, and your brother was at the other. "What to do now?" You pondered, and as they moved towards you, you allowed your shoulders to slump. "Let's go and end this foolishness." Your father approached you and you let your head sink down. "Okay." But just as he was going to grab you, you jumped up as hard as you could and grabbed the edge of the path that was running above. You hoisted yourself up, and peeked over the edge, smiling yet again. "Did you really think that I would come that easily?" You didn't wait for the answer, you got up and ran off, giggling, leaving Thranduil and Legolas shaking their heads. They made their way up after you with small smiles on their faces

****

Like this fic? Head over to my AO3, more chapters are posted there (as well as more of my work)! I am posting some of my favorites here as well, but it is my main channel as of now. REALLY like this fic/series? Consider buying me a coffee: Ko-Fi !

[666anxiety666]

Hey if you're still doing fics of pressure, how about one where Seb and reader are playing hide & seek and Seb decides to be play dirty by getting reader to make any noise by being funny/telling jokes or he's either being sneaky in the shadows and reveals himself to the reader after several minutes of anticipation with a jumpscare?

Bonus points if he adds his "lets try to hide from the big scary monster next time, okay?"

HELL YEAH

From the shadows

Sebastian x gender neutral reader

LEE: Y/N LER: Sebastian

Warnings: none :>

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

You quickly ran and hid behind a pile of boxes. Panting heavily as you covered your mouth. He was coming... you could hear him...

"Oh my little expendable~ come out, come out~"

You heard his teasing voice. Sebastian. You held back a gasp. You were determined to win this round of hide and seek.

"I know you're out there..~"

You heard his teasing voice. You could tell he was grinning... your grip on your mouth tightened.

Suddenly, all was quiet. You pause, your body trembling with anticipation. You peer out from behind the boxes on one side.

No one. No one was there. You raised an eye brow. Your eyes darting everywhere in the room for any sign of-

"Gotcha!"

You squealed when two big claws wrapped around your abdomen and pulled you out. It was Sebastian, of course. With a shit eating grin on his face.

"Well, well, look what I found~"

And with that, your tummy and sides were being attached. Sebastians claws raking up and down, causing you to squeal.

"Thought you could hide from me, Y/N?~"

Sebastian grinned. Keeping a tight grip on you as you thrashed and kicked.

"Ohoh! You're not going anywhere!"

Sebastian picked up his tickles. His third hand moved down to your hips. Squeezing the sensitive flesh there.

You squealed loudly. Trying to buck him off. You squealed and babbled apologies and pleas of mercy. But Sebastian didn't let up.

"Aw, stop? But where's the fun in that?~ Plus, you did hide from me...~

Sebastian grinned. His blunt claws digging right into the hip bone. Making you thrash and kick.

"Oho! Looks like I've found a bad spot, huh...? it would be such a shame if I were to use that to my advantage..."

Sebastian grinned wide, showing off his sharp teeth. Before you could protest. All three of his hands were attacking your poor hips. Drilling his thumbs into the dips, scratching and scribbling all over them.

"Jeez, Y/N... I don't think I've ever seen someone so ticklish. Must just be you, huh?"

Sebastian taunted. One hand also moves down to squeeze your thigh. Making you let out a high-pitched yelp.

Sebastian chuckled along with you. Enjoying watching you try desperately to kick and buck him off.

As you lost yourself in the tickles. Your face was bright red, tears of laughter peeking in the corners of your eyes. Trying with all your might to get away.

When suddenly, you snorted.

Sebastian paused his tickling. Finally giving you the break you needed as you panted and gasped for air on the floor.

Sebastian stared for a moment before he burst out laughing. You caught your breath and looked up at him. You huffed, crossing your arms.

"Oh, come on, buddy..."

Sebastian chuckled, wiping a stray tear from his eye.

"That was adorable!"

Sebastian grinned. Drumming his claws on the floor. You blinked at him. Relieved he wasn't weirded out by it.

"Say... can you do it again?~"

Your eyes widened. Quickly jumping up as you bolted, ready to hide once more. Sebastian right on your tail.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

YIPPE, all done :]

[epickiya722]

Honestly, once more I feel some of the fandom really only cared about the shipping and not the actual characters.

Like, seeing people go "Katsuki is going to be pining and alone forever" actually makes me feel insulted on his behalf.

Was Katsuki only an appealing character to some of you because of "pining"? Who said that he was going to be alone forever?

I see people saying so much I'm starting to think it's being secretly manifested because it's what some of you want. I know some folks like that Katsuki angst. Don't you want him happy?

Sooo.... his development wasn't important? Was he only important to you if he and Izuku were together? Am I the only one who is happy that they at least are on talking terms?

Seeing Izuku talking to Ochako isn't enough for me to go "Katsuki is heartbroken forever", I'm sorry. The duo (Izuku and Ochako) are not standing in wedding clothes and exchanging vows.

Was it forgotten that MHA is a popular Shonen? The target audience is geared towards a young male audience, so yeah, we weren't going to get canon BakuDeku and instead Izuku talking with Uraraka.

Which was it is. Talking. Just talking.

Was they not allowed to do that???

Shoot, I needed everyone to talk because they haven't been able to do it!

Who know what's crazy? If Katsuki was the one to advise Izuku to talk to Ochako, that makes me realize that at some point, Izuku and Katsuki did have the talk they needed to get to the point that they're comfortable enough to give the other advice and be close again.

Like "hey, we talked it out, so now it's time you talk it out with her... man, we all need to get it together".

I thought making amends is a present idea in the story. Some of these characters need(ed) to do that. Katsuki and Izuku wasn't the only pair now.

Personally, given the target audience, it would be so funny if Horikoshi was sitting there sketching like "I'm gonna give these two the most 'dap me up' handhold ever". This feels like him going "Fine, I'll give what is wanted but not everything".

Something tells me he didn't even want to have an epilogue.

[screamforyani]

stargazing

warnings: dubcon, use of knife, unprotected sex

wc. 2.1k

you could literally feel the bass beneath your feet. the house felt like it was going to crumble in on itself at any given moment, but of course, frat boys went all out with their parties. loud music was an essential, apparently.

to be honest, you were looking for ethan. you hadn’t seen him since earlier that evening and he promised that he’d go stargazing with you later. how you lost ethan of all people at a party was way beyond you. he literally couldn’t fit in if he tried.

“gosh, E,” you grumbled to yourself, searching around for him. you didn’t find him, but you caught tara and mindy and asked, “hey, guys, have you seen ethan?”

“nope. he’s probably somewhere stabbing people,” mindy replied, crossing her arms. 

you rolled your eyes. “would you stop already? ethan’s not a fucking killer. just look at the guy.”

mindy droned sarcastically, “because being a computer-obsessed socially enept dork isn’t a great cover for a psychopath, wow, you definitely have what it takes to be a final girl.”

tara nudged mindy and said, “we haven’t seen him. i’ll ask anika if she knows where he is though.”

“alright, thanks,” you said in relief. “i’ll be in the kitchen.”

like you said, you headed for the kitchen, temporarily pausing your hunt for ethan. to make things worse, literally everyone was cloaked in a costume, making it all that much harder to recognize everybody that was surrounding you. you’d tried calling him, but ethan’s phone had probably died or something because it went straight to voicemail.

“whatever,” you grumbled, peering inside the fridge for a beer.

“boo!” 

you screamed, so loud the entire block could probably hear you over the raucous. you grabbed a knife from the counter and whipped around to spot chad pointing his finger at you, laughing his ass off. you rolled your eyes, annoyed by his shenanigans. for the past two weeks, chad had been pranking you for no other reason than getting on your damn nerves.

“you’re not fucking funny, chad,” you hissed.

“because i’m hi-fucking-larious,” chad retorted, then pointed at the knife in your hand with amusement. “what, were you going to stab me?”

you thrusted the knife forward, “i still will!”

“yeah, sure thing. maybe when you stop shaking and you can actually hold the knife,” chad teased, holding your wrist to stabilize you. you snatched your hand away from him and ignored his laughter while you set the knife back down, and chad gave you a chaste kiss to your cheek. “hey, we’re running low. can you go grab some more beer from the fridge in the garage?”

ugh, no wonder there’s nothing in the fridge here, you thought to yourself. “yeah, sure. just send a defenseless girl into a dark garage by herself to get slaughtered like an animal,” you retorted, but headed for the garage anyways. 

chad called after you, “thanks, babe!” 

“don’t call me that, i’m telling tara!”

the garage was just as dark as you expected it to be and you felt the wall for a light switch, breathing a little easier in relief when the lights flickered on. it was a little scary in there, not that you would admit to anyone. you were probably just a little shaken up from chad giving you the scare of your life. again.

you waltzed over to the fridge, opening it and grabbing as many bottles of beer as you could carry in one trip. god, it was going to be all chad’s fault if you dropped any of them. if he was a gentleman, he would’ve never let you carry a darn thing.

turning around to close the fridge, you jumped with a shriek when you heard a noise, only to find it was the cat. “jeez,” you muttered, walking back to the door.

much to your inconvenience, it was closed when you turned around. you blew out a breath and slipped the drinks under your arm, pulling at the handle. to no avail. “shit. which idiot locked me out?” you huffed, though you had a couple of ideas.

you were literally going to kill chad. 

“hello,” you called, knocking the door on your fist. “can anyone hear me?”

you could still hear the music loudly thumping behind the shut door. needless to say, your shouts were drowned out. 

you were completely annoyed now. then, you remembered the front door, and pressed the button to let up the garage. you walked towards the garage door, only for it to mysteriously come back down. brows furrowed, your turned on your heels, only to spot somebody in a ghostface costume by the door.

you gave them a look. “chad, is that you?”

the ghostface shook his head. 

“great, what movie is this - i spit on your garage?” you asked, stepping back over to the door. you gave him a look. “lose the costume. you’ll give minds a heart attack and as much as i hate you, i don’t want you to be the next victim of her PTSD.”

again, he shook his head.

you scoffed, “oh, you wanna play psycho killer?”

he nodded. 

you deadpanned, “can i be the helpless victim?”

predictably, he bobbed his head again.

“okay, let’s see,” you said, giving in to his little games. “no, please don’t kill me, mr. ghostface. i wanna be in the sequel!”

you laughed, expecting chad to laugh it off too and take the mask off, but you were baffled when he didn’t budge, shaking his head at you.

you were annoyed again. “okay, that’s enough. i’m not drunk enough to deal with your bullshit and i have to go find ethan.”

rather than let you go, he grabbed you and you struggled against his hold, asking, “chad, what the hell are you doing?”

you writhed so much that you dropped the beer, the bottles cracking into tens of glass shards on the cold floor. you couldn’t get away in time, because he pulled out a blood-stained knife and pointed it towards you, making you back down the steps until you tripped backwards, just barely missing the broken glass.

you hit the ground with a thud and ghostface crawled over you, giving you nowhere to run. your heart was thumping in your chest at a rapid speed, and you couldn’t find your breath. this wasn’t fucking chad. even he wouldn’t go this far.

this was a fucking monster.

“stop,” you said, gathering yourself on your elbows. you tried to back away, but it was no point, because you were too slow and there was absolutely nowhere for you to run off to. 

the ghostface shook his head. 

you made a risky move and reached for the mask, pulling it off his head to reveal the true identity of your attacker.

and nothing could describe the shock and anger that paralyzed you when saw his face. “what the fuck?” 

“surprise, surprise,” ethan said, waving at you with the knife.

“you’re kidding.”

ethan beamed at you. “i’m afraid not, sweetheart.”

you shook your head. you couldn’t believe this. the boy you’d been (not so) secretly smitten with and defended with your whole being was at the helm of the latest ghostface killings. you felt betrayed and back-stabbed, and you were terrified of how soon you would mean that literally. you were at a loss for words. 

“please don’t hurt me, ethan,” you begged, your eyes glistening. your back hit the large garage door.

“hurt you?” ethan repeated, cocking his head. “never that. i just want to fuck you.”

your brows furrowed. “huh?”

“you have a crush on me, don’t you?” 

“well, i did,” you mumbled, making a face. 

“say you don’t want me,” ethan demanded, staring into your eyes. you couldn’t look away from his even if you wanted to. it was as if you were being hypnotized. “tell me you don’t want me and i’ll leave you alone.”

you frowned. you couldn’t do that, because you would be lying - to him and to yourself. you’d wanted him for ages, dreamed about him even longer. your heart beated for him, each pump spelling his name over and over again, and it would until the very last beat.

ethan pretended to be impatient. “well?”

i don’t want you. it was that simple. you knew it was the smarter choice, because ethan was dangerous, but when your heart was involved, rational thinking was out the window. as was the safety of your friends and the preservation of yourself.

“i want you,” you whispered. 

“huh? i didn’t quite catch that.”

god, he was so annoying. “i want you,” you blurted. 

“that’s all i needed to hear,” ethan chirped, smashing his lips against yours. 

you let yourself be consumed by his lips and the heat of them, because it made you feel things inside, inexplicable things. he was a hell of a good kisser. you threaded your fingers through his curly, brown head of hair, wanting to tangle them through there until the end of time. you’d imagined it before, like a passing daydream. how soft his hair would feel in your hands and how gentle his mouth would feel pressed to yours. 

for a killer, ethan was a surprisingly sweet and steady kisser, and for a moment you were so immersed in an entirely different world - one where there was only you and him - that you forgot reality.

in no time at all, ethan had ditched the ghostface fit and you were both more or less nude. the door was locked and the garage was down so there was no way for anyone to interrupt you. you expect chad to complain that you were taking too long to grab some fucking beer, but well, he’d just have to wait. and you’d have to come up with an explanation for why you dropped so many on the floor, but that was a problem for later. 

right now, you were more concerned with getting ethan landry’s dick inside of you.

“fuck,” you moaned when he slipped inside your cunt, slowly but surely pushing inside.

ethan was making a similar sound, grunting about how tight you were and how perfect you felt wrapped around his cock, how he’d imagined this moment countless times. you had, too, but it wasn’t exactly playing out how you’d planned it in your mind. not that you were really complaining. to have his dick inside you, you were content.

you were glad that he wasn’t wearing that stupid mask. it did things to you seeing his handsome face scrunch up in ecstasy as he used your body for his own pleasure. and you would let him, because you loved him half to death.

“you’re mine. nobody else can have you,” ethan hissed in between marking up your neck. you were so engrossed with him that you didn’t even consider the fact that your friends would definitely poke fun at and interrogation you for the set of hickeys he was sure to leave on your throat and collarbone. you wanted to mark him back, but would take your time for now, dragging your nails down his bare back. “say it.”

“nobody else can have me. i belong to you,” you reiterated through thick breath. 

ethan winced at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, but he didn’t mind the sting. “i’ll kill anyone who touches you with my bare hands.”

you were just nodding along and barely acknowledging his words at this point, too fucked out to offer anything meaningful, because ethan was doing way too good of a job at pleasuring you and you physically couldn’t take it.

the two of you were so close, you could feel it, your bodies moving in sync with one another. your lips connected and reconnected, the kisses doing nothing but fueling your mutual arousal. the air was hot in the garage and the floor was cold, but you could feel nothing save for your growing feelings for the both between your legs and the absolute bliss he was bringing to you.

ethan became more obsessed with you with every thrust and he didn’t exactly know that was possible, because he was already quite obsessed with you. you were everything he wanted and more. if he couldn’t have you, then absolutely nobody else would.

“E, please cum inside me,” you begged. “pretty please.”

“shit,” ethan groaned, because you sounded so pretty when you begged for him. “i will, fuck, trust me.”

true to his word, he did cum inside you, once giving you the greatest orgasm, most mind-numbing of your life. you could still feel his palm over your mouth, smothering the sound of your shrill cries of his name as you shuddered with climax. the music was loud enough so that it would drown out the sound of sex, moans and skin-slapping included, but he didn’t want to risk anybody else hearing what was his and only his. 

you lay there panting when you were done, your vision steadily clearing. ethan let out the most guttural, delicious groan when he came inside of you and you knew then that he was irresistible.

maybe you did see stars after all.

[zemkzone]

So, it's Thanksgiving, and I'm spending it alone in a country where it isn't even a holiday. I'm in a mood because of a lot of things this month (not just the Terrible Awful Crappy 5th).

Buuuuuut I wanted to spread a lil cheer, and be thankful for this hellsite and all the ColdFlash creatures I've met while scrolling through here--@theroguesharlequin @hardwiredweird @notquiteinsane @hautecoldture @softboydepot @simpledontmeanpeachy to name a few (while I'm still vaguely sober). So here's a snippet of a scene I've been tinkering with for That Rare Arctic Thunderstorm, which is hilariously set on Thanksgiving 2015. Not the final version, of course, and yes, there are... redactions marked by brackets ([])... but hey, HAPPY TURKEY DAY, 'Murricah! And to the rest of you, early happy weekend!

“Right on time, Doc,” [Len] drawled, opening the front door for Henry Allen. “Len, good to see you, son,” Barry’s dad said, a genuinely pleased smile on his face as he handed over one of his two large, heavily stuffed tote bags. He was all bundled up in cozy fall colors. “Happy Thanksgiving! Mike and Avigail send their regards—along with fresh sweet potato latkes, jelly doughnuts, and something called… borekas?” “Huh, here I thought a pit-stop at the Birnbaums’ would take you longer.” Len turned to hit the elevator button, trying to ignore the funny way the endearment made him feel. “I wouldn’t be late for my first Thanksgiving as a free man,” Henry remarked as they stepped into the elevator car. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” “You and Scarlet both, Doc.” Len would have shrugged and smirked, but in the face of Henry’s warm smile, he couldn’t manage enough nonchalance. “I think we’ve known each other long enough for you to start calling me Henry.” Barry’s dad clapped his shoulder with his free hand. “I’m actually glad it was you who came down to get me. I wanted a moment alone with you, to thank you.” “For what?” The elevator doors slid open on the top floor, but Len’s feet refused to move. Henry seemed to notice his discomfort and let go of his shoulder. “Barry’s always been a kind boy, sometimes too kind. I know today—the original plan and the new one—was all his idea. You didn’t have to go along with it [...] but you did. So, thank you.” For one extended moment, Len couldn’t speak. [...] Len had agreed and been thanked by Barry repeatedly in several different ways already, but he hadn’t expected understanding or gratitude from anyone else. He got his mouth—and his feet—to work again right as the elevator doors started to close. He stopped them with his palm, gesturing for the older man to step out ahead of him. “Henry… Did Scarlet ever tell you my four rules?” Barry’s dad smiled and quirked his brow curiously. “No, he didn’t.” “Make the plan, execute the plan.” Len stepped out after him. “Expect the plan to go off the rails,” he opened the door to the apartment proper, “throw away the plan.” Henry laughed with delight as they stepped inside, again clapping a hand on his shoulder. “With rules like that, you two will be just fine.”

[bookwyrminspiration]

I wrote “et tu, Brute?” on the class whiteboard as tomorrow’s phrase of the day, no reason in particular…

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[ratatatastic]

oh ellie his fiancée made banana bread before every home game and thats what made him play well....huh well isnt that an interesting tidbit that doesn't remind me of anything at all...

Matthew Cup Day | 7.18.24 (x)

yeah this reminds me of nothing absolutely nothing at all (x)

absolutely nothing at all...

nothing really comes to mind actually...

[theaceace]

imagining a world in which Simon agreed to go with Edwin and try to escape hell, imagining Simon developing an immediate and very inadvisable crush on the cute guy that just threw a grenade at a demon and Edwin's reaction to that, imagining the reaction of Charles Overprotective Rowland when he finds out that the guy Edwin insists on dragging along with them is one of the guys that sacrificed him to a demon in the first place, imagining the Night Nurse's face when three dead boys pop back through the door instead of two

[ohitslen]

College (uni??) AU catering to my own interests as it should always be hehe :)

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Jianzhu and Yun: *having tea together and looking out over the yard of the estate* Kyoshi and Rangi: *hustling across the estate field* Yun: *watching them, grinning dumbly* Jianzhu: So, which one is the one you like? Yun: The one with mommy issues. Jianzhu: *narrows his eyes and looks at Kyoshi and Rangi again* Jianzhu: I'm going to need you to be more specific.