I’m going through the motions. It feels like everything’s okay, that I’ve forgotten. I watch people laugh and I laugh along, because that’s what you’re supposed to do.
When the room goes dark though, everything floods back. You can’t forget, you’ll never forget.
At night, I can’t remember the last time I was happy.
The screen is black. A woman’s voice cuts through. It’s Molly’s voice.
“Forward? Or Backward?”
A blinding white light floods the darkness. A pulsating heartbeat.
“Backward,” sighs Sherlock.
White noise stings as scenes are replayed backward. Sherlock and John running backward. John’s fist recoiling from Sherlock in the morgue. The christening, backward. The birth, backward. The plane glides into the air, tail first. Magnussen’s limp body jolts into standing position, Sherlock puts the gun back in John’s pocket. The flashdrive jumps from the fire, into John’s hand. The gun drops, the coin falls back into Mary’s fingers. Sherlock raises from Magnussen’s floor, the blood-stained shirt turns freshly white. Mary stands across from Sherlock, gun drawn.
Yoongi had first laid eyes on you when you had barged through his favourite café’s door; your hair was sticking up in random positions as he leant against the counter and he soon became enraptured by your every move. As you were informed that the machine was broken he was certain you would leave but with a big smile you said you were happy to wait; you had been in the shop for less than a few minutes and already all the stressed servers had big grins as you still placed an order and he felt his lips pulling into a small smile at your endless positivity.
Summary: You and Spencer are kidnapped and you are tortured.
Warnings: Explicit torturing and angst.
Pairings: Spencer x Reader and a bit Platonic Derek x Reader.
So I just want to say thank you for 236 followers! Yay! I know this is not a massive milestone but every little bit counts. :)
So please if your a new follower and you want me to write something, talk to me about something, anything really, shoot me a message.
I really hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Stay safe guys x
“You can kill me. You can torture me. You can rip me apart limb from limb. But for the love of God please don’t touch her.” Spencer’s voice echoed through the empty room. The man standing between you and him merely chuckling.
You screamed out as another lash landed on your bare back. Your body arched forward, trying to pull as much away from it as possible, but your restraints kept you firmly in the same place. Your arms were tied above your head and your feet just touched the ground.
Fifth day of hell.
Spencer stiffened and pulled violently on the restraints that kept him station to a pole.
“Please! Stop!” he screamed out. “Please. Please!”
When Harry first told you he was planning to release some of his own music, you automatically assumed you’d be a part of the process. After all, he shared everything with you, and he loved coming to you if he needed some feedback! The only problem was the fact that the only piece of information you managed to squeeze out of him was that he was going to be releasing something. Something. This meant you had to suffer and sympathize with the fans online - Everyone thought you knew all the juicy details, but they were very much wrong.
You hummed to yourself as you mindlessly scrolled through your Instagram feed. It was just an average Sunday afternoon, and it wasn’t unlike of you to not have any tasks to deal with. Naturally, you thought it’d be sort of entertaining to see what was happening on Instagram even though you checked your feed less than ten minutes ago. And that’s when you noticed it. Three blank pictures, all posted by-
“Harry…?” You breathed out, sitting up straight as you rifled through your brain for some kind of explanation. He hadn’t told you anything about anything, so you didn’t have a clue as to what the hell he was trying to tell everyone with three white squares. And the last time you had seen these three white squares were just before his magazine covers suddenly appeared, and you knew he didn’t have any photoshoots coming up because you had checked his schedule earlier. (He left his laptop open and you just had to take a peek!)
Quickly, you opened Safari on your phone, your fingers trembling as you typed in Harry Styles in the search bar, your eyes widening at the sight of what appeared to be a promo video. “What in the world…” You gasped, clicking on the thirty-second video right away. A drenched Harry made his way towards a door before his hand was reaching out to open it, bright light flooding the dark room. A close-up shot of his bright green eyes appeared soon after.
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Your heart was racing as you untangled yourself from the bedsheets, the only thing on your mind being to confront Harry about what the fuck you had just witnessed. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Was the only thing leaving your mouth as you rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping over your feet. “Harry, Harry!”
“Wha’s the matt-” Harry didn’t get a chance to finish asking his question before you tackled him on the couch, his arm wrapping around your waist to make sure you wouldn’t roll off and hit your head on the coffee table. “If you wanted to be on top you could always jus’ tell me, love.” He laughed lightly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“April?? April 7th??” You could really only get that out of your mouth, Harry’s brows furrowing in confusion before a look of ‘Ah, I see’ washed over his face.
“What about April 7th? It’s jus’ another day.”
“You can’t do this to me.”
“I’m not doing anythi-”
“You know what you’re doing. You’ve kept this from me for so long, and-”
“I don’ know what you’re talking about.”
“Do you not trust me? Is that it?” You knew he trusted you, but you were grasping at straws here - You wanted to know what was going to happen on the 7th!
“Don’t pull that card out, Y/N. You know I trust you, but I want to see your genuine reaction when you hear it for the first time!” The sight of you lying on top of Harry while the two of you shared a serious conversation was probably a funny sight, but you couldn’t care less.
“You could always get my genuine reaction right now!” You whined, clearly exasperated as you sat up, your hands pressed against Harry’s chest. God, Harry was frustrating. You loved him dearly, but the one thing he liked doing the most was teasing you.
“No need for the pout.” Harry laughed lightly, sitting himself up before planting a kiss on your cheek. “C’mon now, get off me. I was in the middle of listening to the entire tracklist.”
request: I’ve been down lately a lot has been going on but it’s getting better thank God… can I request a one shot where the reader is usually the one all giggly and happy and Jug is the one that’s always down and being himself but it’s vice versa now and he’s trying everything he can to make the reader feel better and trying to make her smile and laugh so he’ll do dumb cute things that he usually wouldn’t do and she can’t explain why she’s down she just hasn’t been herself with everything going on
pairing: jughead jones x reader
a/n:to the reader who requested this, I hope you find some happiness in the small day to day things and when you wake up; the sun shines a little brighter than the day before.
The pumping music was too much for her ears, the shouts of the power hungry red head were beginning to become lost to her ears. The simplest of dance moves were almost impossible to conquer with her sleep deprived limbs. She attempted a twirl along with the rest of the girls on the squad but it was halfhearted and pitiful, not elegant or graceful like Cheryl’s.
She now turned with her eyes as cold as ice and as sharp as daggers, turned directly towards the baggy eyed girl at the back. She flipped a long piece of her ginger hair over her shoulder, the undeniable look of Blossom superiority morphing into her once soft features.
“I’m sorry, do you need a break?” Cheryl asked, no hint of actually offering a break in her tone. She strode purposefully up and down the line of now waiting cheerleaders - that included a wide eyed Betty and a curious Veronica.
“It seems that y/n here can’t keep up with the simplest routine!” the Blossom heir snipped, her head whipping in the girls direction.
“I’m sorry Cheryl, I didn’t get much sleep last night” y/n mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I can tell” the red head snapped “those bags under your eyes clearly aren’t designer”
“Cheryl!” Betty quipped with a gasp, her bright eyes flitting from Cheryl to her best friend that now sported cheeks that were red with irritation.
“Excuse me Elizabeth but I can’t afford to have girls on my cheer squad that are just going to bring the rest of us down” Cheryl’s expression was cold and unyielding, she flashed her eyes back to y/n “you’re excused from practice today. You can leave now”
Cheryl never backed down with her glare and y/n stood there at the back of the line contemplating what to do. She felt like grabbing Cheryl by her long hair and swinging her around the gymnasium a few times to shake the evil out of her, or maybe snap back with an equally insulting comment. But there was a tiredness inside her that she couldn’t explain, and that exhaustion was even causing her to abandon standing up for herself.
With one last look at Betty and Veronica, she threw her pompoms on the ground with a heavy sigh and stalked away from the gym.
“What do you think is up with y/n?” Archie leaned back in the armchair in Betty’s living room “this is the second time this week she’s blown off our studying sessions”
The rest of the group were gathered around the coffee table, Kevin sat with Veronica and Betty sat near a sprawling pile of study notes. Jughead was quite comfortable with his legs crossed on the ground, an elbow resting on his knee.
“She seemed really down at cheer practice, she’s normally one of the most involved cheerleaders” Betty added, looking at Veronica for confirmation of her statement. The dark haired girl gave a nod in return.
“You know she hasn’t come to Pop’s with us in a while either” Kevin said, a frown playing on his lips.
“Hey Jug, she’s your girlfriend” Archie leaned towards the beanie wearing boy “you know her better than anyone, do you know what’s up?”
Jughead sighed a little, turning his eyes towards the glass of the table he sat near instead of the questioning ones of the russet haired boy. He didn’t like the idea of discussing y/ns constant down behaviour before she spoke about it first. It wasn’t his place to say, and besides he didn’t know enough to openly talk about it.
“Look guys, I don’t know what’s wrong. She’s been pretty quiet with me this week so I couldn’t say” he gave a shrug, as if he was nonchalant towards the whole situation. But in truth he wasn’t.
Smiles had faltered to frowns. Warm hugs and wet kisses had become somewhat non existent in their relationship, and long talks beneath the stars had turned to brief texts. At first Jughead had thought that maybe her heart wasn’t in it anymore, that maybe that heart didn’t want his any longer. He could understand that, and accept it no matter how much it hurt. Maybe being with the same person since you were thirteen could become cold after that long.
But then Jughead began to notice that it wasn’t just his jokes she didn’t laugh at, or it wasn’t just him she didn’t have the energy to talk to. It was everyone. Slowly but surely she began giving excuses why she couldn’t go to Pop’s or to their study sessions, and after a while she stopped giving excuses at all. She just wouldn’t turn up.
Her school work was faltering and Jughead could notice how her once sparkling eyes now dulled like the blackest sky. But y/n had never given a reason, never told a tale of how the darkness had gripped her or why she never laughed anymore.
She had always been - since they were kids- the one to hold out a hand or offer a smile when someone was needing it. She needed it now, and Jughead wanted to help. His friends fell back into steady conversation while his head was doing the complete opposite, twirling and pounding with worry but also coming up with ideas to put a smile back on his girlfriends face.
Another day. Another drama.
This time around it came in the form of a teacher and not the usual red haired Blossom witch, which in a way was a sort of relief. Having a break from Cheryl’s snappy comments and cold glares seemed like a weight had lifted from y/ns shoulders.
The relief and gratitude of not being under Blossom scrutiny during cheer practice had been short lived however. It had been replaced by the schools history teacher and a very disappointing C grade. Y/n had stood there while her teacher had told her how her grades were slowly slipping and how he was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to pull herself up. Then the really bad thing had happened- they had the talk. That talk between student and teacher that usually ended with something like “If there’s anything you need to talk about, my door is always open”
Could everyone see how drained she looked? How sad she seemed? Did everyone now notice the heavy bags under her eyes?
Now there was another sort of heaviness on her shoulders; one that was weighed down with unsaid troubles and sobs that wanted to crawl up from her chest. Why was it so hard to just talk?
Maybe it was because she was afraid that she really had no excuse to be this way. Her parents weren’t fighting, there was no pressure at home, she had a group of friends she loved and a boyfriend any girl would be lucky to have. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was because she had no excuse and that just made it all worse; to know that she was living a perfectly happy life but wasn’t happy.
Y/n tried to push the thoughts of heaviness from her already clouded mind. The corridors were full of people as she made her way through them; the bell for lunch ringing proudly around the school. Kevin and Veronica stood gossiping ten lockers down and they both flashed her a smile she was sure she returned dully. The raven haired Lodge just frowned a little around her perfect glossed lips, and that just made y/n feel even worse. Sympathy for being sad was something she repressed.
She turned her eyes towards her locker and in one swift movement opened it up. A picture of Jughead and herself smiling met her like it did everyday; pinned to the grey of the inside of her locker door. It had been taken by Archie last summer when he had become overly enthusiastic about the new camera his dad had bought him. It was a rare photo of Jughead without his hat; instead the grey beanie was placed on y/ns head and her boyfriends smile was the widest she’d ever seen.
Her eyes however, did not stay on the photo for long but instead landed on the very unusual sight of a white box sitting inside. She got that automatic paranoid feeling that someone had been in her locker when she had been in class. Her hand trembled slightly as it picked up the cardboard box, a bright yellow post it note stuck to the top.
Smile more often it read you’re beautiful when you do
Her heart skipped a beat as she looked all around her, trying to see if anyone suspicious was lurking around. No one was however. She turned her attention to the box, and inside was something that made her lips twitch rapidly. Her favourite red velvet cupcakes sat inside, and somehow her bad grade in history didn’t seem so bad anymore with the promise of confectionery comfort.
She slowly closed her locker door and made her way over to Veronica and Kevin who were a few of the only people left in the corridor. Kevin looked up as he heard her light footsteps and quickly nudged Veronica who turned around instantly.
“Hey girl, what’s up?” she asked, her dark lidded eyes suddenly flooding in a warmth y/n felt right in her stomach.
“Were any of you in my locker? Or did you see anyone at it?” y/n asked with a furrowed brow, eyeing her two friends closely.
“No, and I never seen anyone either. Did you Kev?” Veronica asked but the boy just shook his head, leaving y/n feeling as confused as ever.
“It’s just someone left these cupcakes for me, and I’ve no idea who” she let her shoulders drop.
“Hey do you want to come to lunch with us today?” Kevin softly asked. She contemplated it for a moment, knowing how she hadn’t sat with her friends at lunch in forever; always giving the excuse that she was in the library. Her eyes dropped to the yellow note that she held in both hands.
Smile more often, you’re beautiful when you do
“Yeah, I think I will” she told them, matching their smiles just as wide.
The cafeteria was buzzing with loud conversation; mostly coming from the football teams table and loud high pitched laughter from the River Vixens usual spot. Right in the middle however, was a table that hosted a red head, a blonde girl next door and the unmistakable hat of Jughead Jones. All three of them looked as equally surprised to see y/n joining them today for lunch.
“Y/n” Betty smiled that eye twinkling smile “glad you could join us”
“Well I had these cupckaes and didn’t know who to share them with” she smiled back at her, swinging a leg over the bench and sitting beside her boyfriend.
“Hey” Jughead whispered, trying to share a somewhat private moment within the noise of the cafeteria.
“Hey” y/n whispered back, a hand placing itself on the warm skin of Jughead’s neck. He leaned in with a crooked smile, those turned up lips touching hers. She sighed against his mouth, wishing that it was just the two of them and she could kiss him like she used to.
But she broke away with the trace of her happiness etched onto her features. Jughead grabbed her hand under the table and it was almost like he knew; knew exactly that she needed something to hold onto. The note in the back of her pocket burned like it was on fire.
The notes had kept on coming, all day long. They had turned up in the most unexpected places; like the inside of her English folder or on the mirror of her makeup compact, and then at the end of the day there had been more inside her locker.
All were written with positive messages encouraging her in every aspect, and praising the way she looked when she smiled or the way her laugh sounded like music. It lessened a little of the burden of everyday sadness, and was one of the many reasons she was able to face the onslaught of Cheryl and the effort of the River Vixens routine at that nights football game.
The throngs of celebrating Riverdale inhabitants had slowly faded out from the football field while the losing team had trudged back to their school bus. Y/n now sat on the bleachers among the darkness of the night and the twinkling stars. the echos of the crowd still hauntingly ringing in her ears.
The notes that had been left for her now lay scattered on her lap, the inked words staring back at her. Some were longer than others, some more poetic, and all of them had the same resounding echo of a voice she knew. She could hear the shuffle of footsteps behind her, and in a moment she knew who was there.
“You not joining in the celebrating at Pop’s?” it was Jughead, and he now came towards her, his eyes dropping to the expanse of her cheer skirt, the one that held all the notes.
“I’m not really up for being around all those people right now” she told him, meeting his eyes as he knelt right in front of her “I know it was you” she added with a small smile.
“What do you mean?” her boyfriend asked her, the shadow of the field lights bouncing off his features but she could see his mouth was twisting into a grin.
“I know it was you; who left all those notes for me” she told him, her hands coming to clasp the soft skin of his face. He brought one hand up to hers and let his thumb rub circles along the back of it.
“How did you guess?” Jughead asked with a shaky laugh, his light eyes tracing every line of her face.
“I thought it was Veronica at first, it seemed like a very Veronica thing to do” she breathed “but then I remembered you’re the only one with my locker combination”
“I just thought that you…..needed some cheering up, you know? You just seem so down lately and I don’t know why” she dropped her hands from his face but he took them up immediately, holding them close to him “you can talk to me, baby”
“I don’t know what’s wrong” y/n let out in a whisper, her eyes dropping to their clasped hands “I’m just drained and sad all the time and I don’t know why. Nothing is wrong but at the same time everything’s wrong. Forget it I’m not making sense”
“Stop right there” Jughead softly told her, holding her hands tighter “see this is the problem with so many people. You think you’re not making sense or what you have on your mind isn’t important enough for anyone to listen to. But I’m listening y/n. Just talk to me”
She looked at him with tear filled eyes and he looked back just as sad. She knew she could tell him everything, and he’d listen. There was no doubt about that.
“There’s just this sadness inside me and I don’t know why it’s there or why it came on me all of a sudden. My parents love me, and support everything I do. I’ve great friends, I have you Juggy and I normally have good grades but I just feel like everything is slipping away, and that I can’t get a hold on it anymore” the tears escaped down her cheeks but Jughead shushed her with a soothing kiss to her cheek. He sat beside her and let her head fall into his chest.
“Sometimes you don’t have to have a horrible life to be sad all the time. But I don’t want that sadness to turn into a horrible life for you. I don’t want you to feel like this forever” Jughead said.
“I just feel so selfish for moping around all the time when there’s people at school who have it worse than me and -”
“Hey, don’t do that. You don’t get to beat yourself up because of that, that’s not fair. This isn’t your fault, this is something inside you that’s making you feel this way. Someone just needs to reach in deep enough to fix it” he told her, rubbing away the black smudges under her eyes.
“I feel sometimes that you’re going to leave me, and it scares me” she whispered and his heart beat echoed dully in his chest when she spoke those words.
“I would never leave you, baby” he reassured her, sweeping her hair back from her face to look at her properly “you’re the only thing in this world that means everything to me and I love you”
“I love you too, Jug” was her response; like it always was when he said it first.
“Look, I’m not naive enough to believe this will be fixed with a few love notes and cupcakes” he said “but if it made you smile for a few moments then that’s the reason why I done it. But you need something more long term. You and I should go tomorrow and make an appointment with the school counselor, you need to talk to someone other than me and I really think that it would help. I understand if you don’t want to, but just think about it”
“You’ll be there with me, right?” she asked him and he nodded with a smile.
“Right by your side”
Maybe Jughead was right, talking to someone else would be a good idea. Someone who was qualified to deal with these sort of things and maybe then she could walk around school with a genuine smile and not with one so forced and empty. Jughead took her hand, and in the other she held the notes he had left her throughout the day, the message of each one resonating deeper than they had earlier.
That feeling of drowning in a sea of sadness was slowly ebbing as they both walked away from the football field, hand in hand. She knew that the waves weren’t going to subside right away, and that maybe they’d swallow her from time to time like they did to so many others.
But one comforting thought remained with her; no matter how deep she was dragged under, Jughead would always be there to pull her up.
Summary: After getting evicted, your two best friends Jimin and Taehyung offer you a place to stay until you get back on your feet. Needless to say, with a part time job and a mountain of student debt, that’s not happening any time soon. Eventually, they DO become really fond of having you around, helping with chores and even splitting rent. So when you come home one day to find someone has been sleeping in your couch-bed, well… it’s something you won’t take lightly.
Word Count: 2k
Out of context Goldilocks quote: “What…? This can’t POSSIBLY be bad,” he purrs, “It’ll give you an excuse to come sleep with me.”
The room floods with darkness as you turn off the light, the same irrational thought going through your mind on replay.
Jungkook can’t catch you if he can’t see you.
“Wait,” his confused response is probably (hopefully) just instinctive, and you can hear him stumble around, falling off of the couch, kicking the coffee table.
Of course, you plan on doing anything BUT waiting. So, panic flooding your system, you attempt to find the doorknob in complete darkness, the storm outside letting no light through the windows.
With each second you spend groping the wall, Jungkook gets closer.
Heart hammering, your fingers find the cold metal and a rush of relief pulses through you… only to be torn away as you realize you locked the deadbolt.
The lights flick back on and your attention lingers on the boy poised at the switch just long enough to scramble underneath him, give his body a good shove, and physically INSIST that the lights STAY out.
Just the thought of seeing him, meeting his gaze, sends prickles across the back of your neck. TOUCHING him is another story. Jungkook, even in your brief contact, feels warm and solid and like a fucking BOULDER.
Not knowing what else to do, still unable to see, you make a break for the bathroom and lock yourself inside.
Before you pushed him, Jungkook had tried to talk to you, but his words fell on deaf ears, the panic too thick, your heartbeat too loud. Maybe he had been trying to reassure you. Maybe he had been trying to apologize for spilling his drink on your dress. Or maybe he simply wanted to yell at you for having slapped him afterward.
Whatever the case, the only thing you catch is an exasperated, “Well fine. Fucking be that way.”
Summary: There are monsters in the word. Demons that crawl from the
blackest pits and breach the Earth, murdering and feasting on the bones of
humans. Lucy has spent her entire life training to fight the skeletons in her
closet. Natsu has spent his life running from them. Unfortunate circumstances
find the pair of them at Saint Katherine’s Academy, a school of black magic and
demons. (Monster Hunter!AU)
The air smells of musk and sweat and beneath that something
sharper—something metallic that rests heavy in the room, coating her tongue and
leaving a bitter taste in its wake. Lucy grimaces as the smell hits her, nearly
recoiling at how pungent it is. She catches herself quickly, steeling her
features and continuing into the crowded room, unimpressed with the flickering
lights and water-stained ceiling of the abandoned warehouse. She steps in a
puddle of what she hopes is water, eyeing the liquid with distaste before
shaking off her boot.
She glances towards the group crowding the middle of the
room, forming a large ring around a pair of fighters in the center, cheering
and screaming as the men beat each other. According to the large screen
overhead, one is called Bora of Prominence, and Lucy recognizes the tattoo
above his eye from the flier she was given previously this week. The other
fighter is simply called Jackal, and Lucy doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to
forget the smile on his face as he draws blood.
Jackal lands a heavy blow across Bora’s face, sending the
man crashing to the floor. The crowd swallows him from sight and Jackal throws
his head back and laughs, the sound drowned by the heavy beat of music flooding
through the overhead speakers. There’s something in Jackal’s eyes that she
doesn’t like, amusement or maybe mirth, some twisted joy at seeing some bleed
and hearing bones break.
Sneering, Lucy turns away, instead heading for the staircase
off to the right, leading up the balcony overlooking the fights on three sides
of the room, the front wall left bare. The music will be louder, she thinks,
enough to give her a headache for days, but the view will be better. She’s in
no mood to fight through a screaming crowd just to watch a couple of men fight
like dogs. If she wanted to watch people kill each other, she would have gone
with Laxus to speak with Hades. No matter. Lucy didn’t come here to listen to
the fighters and the crowds scream. She came to recruit.
There have been whispers lately, rumors, and she intends to
find out just how true they are.
Her foot touches down on iron, and the entire set of stairs
quivers violently, trembling beneath her slight weight. She scoffs, glancing
down at the rust beneath her dark boots and wondering if a fall from the top
would kill her or merely leave her broken. Perhaps, a bit of both. Shaking the
thought away, Lucy takes another step, one hand on the railing beside her. The
metal is cool against her fingers, left uncovered by her ratty gloves stretched
over her palms.
It’s not the building she needs to watch out for at this
point, it’s the people—the monsters. A tall man built like a wall passes by
her, heading for the ground floor, and Lucy thinks he might be one of the
night’s fighters, a man named Ezel that she saw briefly on the roster. His gaze
rests heavy on her form, as she walks by, and Lucy clenches her jaw until she
feels his eyes leave her frame. Her gun weighs heavy against her hip, a
constant reminder of what lurks in the shadows, watching—hunting. Men. Animals.
With her luck, all three.
Halfway up the stairs, Lucy freezes, her steps faltering as
her grip tightens on the railing, her knuckles turning a stark white as her
muscles tense. Pausing, Lucy breathes in heavily through her nose, searching
for the phantom scent that seems to have disappeared as quickly as it came. She
finds it again a moment later, the smell suffocating her, slithering down her
throat and curling through her lungs, thick and dark and bitter. Sulfur floods
her senses, choking her and resting thick on her tongue.
Lucy’s lips pull back over her teeth and she snarls, casting
a quick glance around the room for anything suspicious. Nothing. Her fingers
itch to grab her gun, but the smell is faint, days old, so she forces herself
to relax, knowing better than to work herself up over nothing. Besides, it’s
not a demon she’s looking for.
“I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” Adrien stated in a very serious tone.
Ladybug smiled sweetly at him. “Oh really? And I suppose it heals wounds, too, huh?”
“No, that’s just ridiculous, what kind of hair could do that?” he scoffed. He walked over to the light switch and started singing before turning the lights off. As soon as the room was flooded with darkness, Adrien’s hair did in fact glow, in a few spots.
“Adrien, what do you have in your hair?” Ladybug asked with a giggle.
He bent forward and pointed at the glowing shapes. “I found my old glow in the dark stars, and I wanted to put them to good use.”
Ladybug’s hand moved to cover her mouth as she tried to muffle her laughter. Walking over to her boyfriend, and kissed his cheek and said, “You’re so silly… do you have any for me?”
Send me a sentence starting a fic and I’ll write 5(+) more! No longer accepting prompts for this from this point on!
There were only three people who knew about the restrictions. Google, the Host, and Dark. Google had always know about them. The other two found out when Dark threatened to kill The Host.
Only Google really knew what Oliver’s restrictions were and what they meant. When Oliver was created, there was an extra ‘folder,’ so to say, of programming that wasn’t put into use. Google went in, linked the files to a switch located in Oliver’s right palm, and made it so that when the switch was flipped the files were activated.
The first time Oliver flipped the switch, neither him nor Google knew what to expect. His systems went through a small moment to update, then restarted. Google knew something was extremely different the moment Oliver’s eyes lit up, normal yellow surrounded by a ring of red.
“Restrictions disabled.” Google backed up, looking through the files on the computer screen. Moments later, Oliver’s eyes were back to their normal yellow. Google brushed off the whole restrictions disabled thing and unplugged the cord from Oliver’s speaker.
As Google shut down the computer, a loud crash sounded from one of the rooms in the house. Oliver took off immediately, worried someone had gotten hurt. He found Host’s door open, and when he looked in he saw that Dark had the Host pinned against the wall, hand against his throat.
“Move and I’ll kill you.” The moment Oliver heard Dark threaten the Host’s life, he slammed the door open and strode right up to Dark. A strange sensation flooded his mind, not sure why he was doing what he was but not wanting to stop. He grabbed Dark by the collar of his suit, pulling him close.
“Don’t you dare threaten my friends.” He threw Dark against the wall, grabbing him and forcing him to stand up. Dark was too stunned to respond and both The Host and Google, who had arrived right as the action started, were for the most part pleasantly surprised. “You have no right to threaten his life.”
Oliver tossed him around a little more before deciding that it was a fair enough warning. Dark ended up kneeling on the ground, blood dripping from his nose. Oliver stood above him, pointing to the door.
“Out. Now.” Dark made no move to get up. “Now!” He shouted, and Google could see Oliver was visibly shaking. Dark moved slowly, glaring at Oliver on his was out.
The moment Dark was gone, Oliver fell to his knees, hands tight in his hair, the trembling worse. Google and The Host were both at his side, trying to figure out what was going on. Oliver was muttering something incoherent, too glitched to understand.
/oops this is going to be in parts
/Oliver has a switch that totally changes how he acts, but only in reaction to certain things
/he also usually makes sure no one can get to his right hand, he despises the switch a lot
/part two coming soon?
Dionysos’ hand is the feeling of grass on your feet as you run through the forest.
It’s the feeling of grapes grown heavy and sweet in the sun resting in your hands.
It’s a feeling of unbridled enthusiasm and joy.
Dionysos’ kiss is the taste of sweet dark wine flooding your mouth.
It’s the taste of an energy drink downed to wake you up after a night out.
It’s the taste of madness that sends you wandering in the streets in the night.
Dionysos’ heartbeat is the sound of steady beat of ritual drums.
It’s the sound of too-loud laughter of you and your friends leaving your favorite bar.
It’s the sound that drives you to ritual ecstasy and madness.
Dionysos’ face is the sight of drama masks adorning a stage.
It’s the sight of someone who has struggled with their mental health and overcomes it day by day.
It’s the sight of Meanads running through the woods in ritual frenzy.
Dionysos’ skin carries the scent of cigarette smoke lingering in bars.
It’s the scent of rich spices and casks of sweet wines being opened for the first time.
It’s the scent of memories of drinking on the beach with friends and of eternity.
Ahhhh!! I just saw your post about open requests and am so excited!! If possible, could you do a Derek, Hotch, or Rossi angsty one where the reader has issues with intimacy bc of a bad experience/ or self body issues. Kind of like the one you did with Emily?? Thank you 😊😊
I can do this! I hope you enjoy it, because here it is…comin’ ‘atcha!
He was doing it again.
Kissing your neck.
It felt so good, and it set your body aflame.
You loved it when Aaron kissed your neck.
But it always ended the same way.
He always had to try and lay you down.
“Aaron,” you breathed as you put your hands on his chest. He would search your eyes, his pupils blown wide as the blackness begged for mercy…any type of mercy.
But his irises…those beautiful, brown irises…they understood.
You latched onto that understanding.
“I’m sorry,” he would murmur as he helped you upright. “Are you alright?”
And you would always answer yes.
Even though you never were.
You stood in the mirror for the hundredth time in who-knows-how many months. You slowly peeled your pants off as your shirt cascaded down to your knees. You were thankful for the rising style of tunics and sweater dresses. You hated exposing your skin. You hated summer and the bathing suits.
You didn’t even own a bathing suit.
You hated the toned women that Aaron worked with. You hated their bodies. You saw the pictures of his ex: how thin and radiant she was.
You hated her, too.
It took you years…YEARS…to get the weight off. Years to right your diet.
Years to accept you had an issue.
And what were you rewarded with after losing 200 pounds?
Deflated balloons for thighs and excess skin around your midsection.
You were so ecstatic when you got the phone call from your doctor saying that you were eligible for the surgery. You knew that if you could just get this skin off and heal, that you could finally make love to Aaron they way you wanted to.
The way that he deserved.
You took a deep breath as you inspected your body for the last time.
And you smiled at the though that it was the last time.
It shouldn’t have shocked you that Aaron was at your bedside that afternoon. It shouldn’t have shocked you that, even though you kept it a secret, he had still known.
Or found out.
Maybe Garcia had tracked you down.
“I’m right here,” he soothed lowly as he brushed your hair out of your face.
Your body hurt.
It throbbed and it hurt, and it felt like you had been hit by a bus.
“Here,” Aaron murmured lowly as you heard a beeping in the distance. “This should help.”
His voice sounded so far away.
You lost yourself in your dreams. You lost yourself in Aaron’s arms, and his kisses. The way he praised your body and sunk his fingertips into your tight, toned flesh. You lost yourself in the way he buried himself between your legs and hummed praises of your body as he lapped up your juices. You lost yourself in his touches and his grunts as he pushed himself deeper…further…harder into the caverns of your body.
You lost yourself in your dream.
“Y/N?” you hear him say.
He sounded so far away.
“Y/N, can you open your eyes for me?” he asked lowly in your ear.
You sighed as you nuzzled your cheek into him, and he chuckled lightly to himself.
“I need you to open your eyes,” he pleaded.
Why did he sound so sad?
“Mr. Hotchner, we’re gonna have to move her if she doesn’t wake up,” you heard the doctor say.
Not wake up?
You tried moving your body, but you laid completely still. You tried talking, but all you could do was breathe. You tried opening your eyes, but all they did was roll back and forth…side to side…
…and then he thrust again into you, and you lost yourself.
To your dreams.
You whimpered in pain as your body shifted. You groaned as tears rose in your eyes, and you slowly peeled your eyes open as the darkness of the room flooded your vision. The back of your legs ached and your stomach stung, and your arms felt so heavy.
“Y/N!?” Aaron breathed as you felt someone grasp your hand.
“Y/N…can you hear me?” Aaron asked.
He was panicked.
Why was he so panicked?
“Yes…” you breathe out as you cleared your throat.
“Doctor!” Aaron roared as people flipped the light on and began flooding the room.
You were poked and prodded. You had lights shined in your eyes that blinded you as people fiddled with your IV. You felt fingertips bounce on the tender parts of your body as you tried to wriggle away.
Aaron saw the panic rising in your features.
“Ssshhhh sh sh sh,” he said as he cupped your cheek with his hands. “It’s alright,” he choked out. “I’m right here.”
Something wet was dripping on your face.
“The surgery…” you trailed off.
“You’re fine. Everything is alright,” Aaron breathed as his thumbs stroked your cheeks.
“How did you…know…?” you ask as your vision finally returns.
You saw that he was crying.
Why was he crying?
“Garcia,” he managed to get out as you watched his bottom lip tremble.
“Oh, Y/N,” he whispered as he brought his lips down upon yours.
The kiss was warm. It was warm, and soft, and long. No tongue, no desperation. Just…longing.
“I had to have-”
“I know,” Aaron said.
“-the surgery so-”
“Y/N,” Aaron stopped you as he looked you deeply in your eyes. “I know.”
“How could you possibly-?”
“I’m a profiler,” he smiles lightly. “I know how self conscious you were, and I know you thought I wouldn’t accept your body for what it was. I knew you were putting off intimacy until you had the surgery.”
“Intimacy,” you smiled crookedly. “So old fashioned.”
The two of you giggled together as a doctor came into the room.
“You gave us quite a scare there,” he said.
You furrowed your brow as Aaron sat down on the bed and brought your hand to his lips to kiss.
“You, uh…” he began.
“It’s not Monday…is it?” you ask lightly.
The look in Aaron’s eyes…the fear and the sadness…the hesitancy and the relief.
It wasn’t Monday.
“You had a fat embolism on the table,” the doctor began. “We chased it around for two hours before we finally stabilized you on the table. It happened just as we were closing you up, and your body went through a lot of trauma.”
You heard Aaron sniffle as he kissed your hand again.
“We put you in a medically-induced coma for 24 hours, but when we brought you off of the medicine, you didn’t come to,” the doctor finished.
“What…what day is it?” you ask as you look over at Aaron.
“Friday,” he said lowly.
It was…it was Friday?
“I’m so glad you came back,” Aaron breathed as he kissed your hand over and over and over again.
Tears inched their way out of your eyes as you laid your head back onto the bed.
“What happens now?” you ask lightly.
“You stay through the weekend, continue to recuperate. We’ll reevaluate your condition Monday morning, and we take it from there,” the doctor reassured you as he patted your foot.
“You’re body’s been through quite a trauma. It won’t heal as efficiently as we would like through this process, but you will heal,” he smiled kindly.
Your mind was reeling as the doctor left the room. You thought back on all the times you could have made love to Aaron. All the times you could have felt his body instead of dreamt of it. All the times you could have felt him inside of you instead of just imagining it.
You wasted so much time…
“There’s no reason to be sorry,” he breathed.
“Just hush and let me talk,” you chuckled lowly.
“Sorry,” he murmured as a smile crossed his face.
“Promise me something,” you say as you guide your hand down to his thigh.
“Anything,” he said earnestly.
“When I’m finally healed, and home, and healthy…” you trail off.
He was hanging onto your every word.
“…promise me you will ravish me,” you whisper as tears well in your eyes.
“Over…and over…and over again,” you breathe as your eyes flutter up to his.
It was then that he dipped his lips onto yours, burying his tongue inside of your mouth and swiped it along your cheeks, drinking every part of you up in desperation as his hand caressed your cheek.