#YOU'RE NOT MAKING ME NORMAL YOU'RE MAKING ME WORSE

[weaselle]

Early human match ups with animals

Wolves: have a very similar social structure and lifestyle as early humans, benefit greatly from group dynamics -- teaming up with humans allows them greater access to food at less risk, safer sleeping, higher pup survival rate, better protection from the environment. One wolf eats about as much food as one person, so it's a normal member to add to the group in terms of resources.

Cats: have some amount of social overlap (cat sisters often help raise each other's kittens, and grouping approaches common in some cat species, notably in lions, but also for example in cheetahs, where brother cheetahs often stay together for life in groups of up to 4). Humans are HUGE prey attractors for them, drawing in rodents in large numbers - also meaning people don't have to give up their own food to feed them. Human housing is safer from the elements, keeps competitors and dangers like snakes and larger cat species away. Associating with humans gains special grooming and healing unavailable to wild species, such as draining and cleaning abscesses caused by infected bug bites or, very importantly, feeding and caring through a major illness or injury. A wild cat with a broken leg will often die, a human's cat with a broken leg will live to hunt again.

Goats (which we actually turned into Sheep): Herd structure similar enough to human social structure as to be compatible. Guaranteed food during winter and other times of scarcity -- and none of it is human food. Higher offspring survival rate, robust protection from predators and the elements. Horses : same. Cows: same. Deer/caribou: same but a little less so, actually surprisingly good at both fight and flight (cows, specialize in fight, horses specialize in flight) often travel more distance for resources so have better access during lean times; can match but less beneficial to the deer.

Other animals be like

Big cats like Tigers: Why the fuck are there so many of you in one place. This cold doesn't bother me at all because i'm so big my core stays warm. Just what do you think i need protection from? I'm super capable of feeding myself, and even if food is scarce? you have to sacrifice enough food to feed several people to keep me fed, which is a bummer for your group if food is scarce, and i cannot eat your stored food like dried fruits and grains. Your lifestyle is incompatible with mine, i hate everything about being forced to live with you and also it doesn't benefit me at all. Lions: yeah, plus I already have all the group dynamic benefits you could offer me, you're actually the weakest link in my group, be careful or we might outnumber you, being near us all the time greatly increases the number of times murderous male lions attack this group

Bears: Listen. Even if i get injured i'll just eat something that doesn't run from me until i heal (some brown bear populations spend a couple months a year mainly eating moth colonies, they will eat anything, including moss and fungus). This makes me a direct competitor for ALL you food, btw. Speaking of which it takes like 15 people's worth of food to keep me fed. If i get angry someone is definitely going to die. Protection? from what? The most dangerous thing to a bear is another bear, so also you can't really have more than a couple of me in any group, and staying near me greatly increases the chance of some territorial wild bear rolling up to camp with murder on their mind. What do you meeeean keep wandering around actively instead of sleeping in one spot for months at a time? My life is literally worse with you than without you, and your life is probably worse with me around too.

Weasels: Fuck off you can't keep up with me i eat half my body weight in food every day and bite everything near me. Try to contain me and see what happens i'm made out of teeth and murder and cleverness, and destruction of property and theft are my favorite games and i'm basically always bored unless i'm hunting or fighting or fucking with something. What do you meeeean hold still for 30 seconds now i'm mad and you'll basically have to kill me to stop me from going after whatever i want forever. I will absolutely try to murder every other animal you associate with no matter what size it is, and i will totally also eat all of your other food too because i love fruits and fungus and anything else you like to eat probably - you can't keep me out of your food stores and what i don't eat in the moment i'll steal and hide in my own stash for later. Excuse me now i have to sleep for 18 hours i do not understand why you want to keep doing things for so much of the day.

Don't ask me about ferrets they must have been bought with rodent hunting opportunities like the cats, total fluke if you ask me (ferrets are, in fact, domesticated, after more than two thousand years of human intervention. And it's kind of weird that it happened but i think they were the exact right size to make it work)

I think it's a common misconception that domesticating animals is somewhat like enslaving them. It really is more of a symbiotic relationship. No wild animal would have willingly put up with early humans if they didn't get something out of it. Wolves wouldn't have stayed with us and become dogs if they weren't getting food and safety out of it. Many large herbivores that are now domesticated could and would have easily trampled their early human captors or broken their enclosures open if they didn't have a reason to stay. Sometimes individual animals still do if we don't give them what they need.

The animals that have stayed with us for thousands of years have evolved to cooperate with us better. Dogs have additional facial muscles around their eyes that wolves lack in order to mimic human facial expressions. Sheep grow their wool perpetually while their wild counterparts don't because a bigger fleece means they're more likely to be allowed to breed and be kept around. Domestic dairy cows produce much more milk than wild bovine species and domestic hens lay more eggs. Do you know how energy costly producing eggs or milk is for an animal? It's pretty intense! They wouldn't be able to do that if we hadn't given them the food and safety from predators and the elements to.

And we really need to show these animals respect and gratitude for what they give us by taking excellent care of them. They gave up a lot to be with us, often including the means to take care of themselves in the wild. That's a huge reason why I'm not against using animal products, but I hate factory farming. They are still living, breathing creatures with needs and feelings. They deserve a comfortable life and, when the time comes, a humane death.

[diy-dynamite]

Television Relations

》 2nd part of Television Influence

He sees a familiar face. || Mr. Crawling x GN!Reader

Warnings: spoilers for one of the endings, the reader is an assassin, some mentions of murder

Took inspiration from the members of Homicipher Unofficial (which u should definitely join, btw) (idk if they're ok with shoutouts so I'll just edit it later if they are)

********

SINCE the first day you introduced him to television, you left it on for him every day. It wouldn't do him any harm since he didn't seem to have any eyes, but he could still see bullshit from a mile away.

On one of the days, you checked on him while you tied down your target before he woke up to extract the information your client needed, and all of a sudden, Mr. Crawling blurted out a loud "No!"

You raised your brows in confusion, only to see him smack his hand on the screen lightly. You squinted your eyes, taking a closer look at the screen, and barked out a laugh when you realised he was watching the scene in Titanic where Rose was on a piece of debris salvaged from the ship, while Jack was in the water.

You figured he shouted in frustration. Your laugh awoke your target, though, so you quickly hit him with the blunt of your crowbar on a special part of the head to make him fall asleep again.

That was a normal Sunday for you.

You went back home with another successful mission, jingling your keys and coming home to an expectant Mr. Crawling, happily greeting you once again.

What you didn't expect, however, was that he led you to the living room instead of the kitchen. Normally, he'd take you there to give you a washed, uncut fruit like an apple or grapes, peeking over the table with a smile to see if you liked it. That was his way of trying to feed you since you fed him.

No, that didn't happen. Instead, he took you to the TV and sat you down there.

"Look, look," he pointed at the TV, the language rolling off his ink black tongue. "Friend."

You glanced to the TV and flinched—why the hell were they showing Sadako? That rom-com show was supposed to be on at this time.

"Er, did you switch channels, Mr. Crawling?" You muttered. He didn't respond as you tried to switch off the TV, but it wouldn't work.

"What is?" He pointed at your remote. You pressed at the off button again, but it didn't work. "Uhh, controls thing," you said, pointing at the TV.

"Why?"

"I kill," you heard her say, and you flinched, looking up at the screen, its static getting worse by the second. I never knew they spoke the same language.

Wait.

She's leaving the screen.

You grabbed your crowbar, ready to swing, but Mr. Crawling grabbed your weapon. You yanked it away, the adrenaline causing your hesitance to go away, but you paused once Mr. Crawling leapt to stand—sit—between you and Sadako.

"Friend! Friend!" he chirped, his voice clearly expressing frantic wobbles.

You lowered your weapon.

"Friend," he said again. He turned around and placed his hands on Sadako's head, then shoved her back in.

"No kill," he said. "Me love they."

"You love they?"

"Love they many."

"They love you?"

.

.

.

"Understand. Farewell."

The static behind the TV disappeared, and Sadako only sat in what looked like an empty room or hallway.

You were about to turn off the TV until you saw a tall, white silhouette walk past the screen.

The humanoid man bent down, and your heart nearly exploded at the sight of your old acquaintance, Mr. Silvair.

"Hello!" You exclaimed. The white-haired man smiled. "Hello," he said. "See you again."

He turned his head to Mr. Crawling and waved. "See you again."

Mr. Crawling only stared with his non-existant eyes.

"I bring this one," he pointed at Sadako and pulled her away from the screen.

The TV went black.

"...you're... friends with Sadako."

Mr. Crawling turned around to look at you with a line on his face—the line being his mouth.

You titled your head. "Why upset?"

"They ask. You love me?" He gestured between you and him. He lowered his head, glancing to the side. "You don't say."

You paused before replying, "But I love you. Many."

"But you say to other," he pointed at the black screen. "'Hello'! Fast."

What?

Your confusion was probably obvious since Mr. Crawling continued to explain.

"You don't say when friend ask you love me." His voice only got whinier, and his lips curled downward as he spoke. "You say fast when other came."

"I say hello to friend—" Oh.

He's saying you didn't say anything when Sadako asked if you loved him, and he's also comparing your response with how you spoke to Mr. Silvair.

You paused, and although a knowing smile crept onto your lips, Mr. Crawling's only began to tremble.

That was what made you stop from teasing.

"No, no," you waved your hands at him, dropping the crowbar to kneel in front of him. You took his head in your hands and messed around with his hair, rubbing back and forth. "I love you many! Love you many!"

He perked up, his adorable grin slowly coming back on his face. "Many?"

You nodded. "Many!"

"Kiss," he said.

He even leaned forward, closer to your face.

"Many kiss," he said.

You sighed.

Maybe introducing him to the TV was a bad idea.

********

HOPE U LIKED THIS :3 kinda rushed bc I'm about to sleep again LMAO so mistakes MIGHT be spotted

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[echobx]

You sure? - JJ Maybank × fem!plus sized!inexperienced!reader

summary: you take your first hookup JJ back to your place and things start to get hot and heavy very fast

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut adjacent, making out, suggestive talk, mention of reader being a virgin, mean!cocky!JJ (but only while horny), light petting, slapping, dry humping, biting

author's note: I don't think I'm ready yet to write full smut again, so I hope you forgive me for this somewhat fade to black kinda thing

   You're leaning against the wall behind you, hand holding onto the door frame that is pressing into your back. There's this dizziness inside you that you've never felt before. Warm and heavy and exciting and- 

   “You comin’?” JJ asked while pulling his shirt off and mindlessly throwing the fabric somewhere on the floor. The yellow overhead light casts a glow onto his toned, sun kissed skin as you watch his back muscles before he turns, and your breath hitches. There's something primal in how you force your throat to still and press your legs together. The thought of simply laying him down and licking him all overcomes to your mind before you remember what you actually had planned, and why you had picked specifically him for it. 

   “JJ, I've never done this before,” you croak, wishing you didn't feel so small under his unwavering gaze as he stalks toward you.

   “Hookups ain't for everybody, s'all good, I don't judge, princess,” he winks, twirling some of your hair in between his fingers while leaning over you. You wanna let loose a bit, let yourself fall into how easy he makes it all feel, yet there's the guilt tugging at your conscience. 

   “No,” you shake your head, speaking softly. “I've never done this. Kissing, touching, feeling-” 

   “Fucking?” he interrupts with a cocky smile on his lips, maybe too cocky, but he's standing too close for you to actually care. Your eyes focus on his, blue and growing darker with the passing second. It's like your throat is clogged up by the fear that he would actually leave or worse make fun of you for it, for revealing the truth. A gulp followed by a nod and a small, whined “yes” is all you can get out at first.

   Closing your eyes, you try to focus solely on your words, and not the fact that his calloused fingers are softly cradling your jaw, rubbing a thumb over the apple of your cheek before pulling your bottom lip down as you try to speak. “It- It would to-totally okay if you- you wanted to leave. I shouldn't have-” 

   JJ’s lips are warm and wet and a little chipped, but you don't mind it. You like that he knows exactly what he wants, and that his hand slips down to hold your throat, tilting your head back while swallowing your breath and whimpers. He's even closer like that, his free hand squeezes your hip while his body is fully leaning against your own. And you don't know where to put your hands, so you keep them by your side at first, until he forces one up to have you hold onto his neck. It feels like learning to drive; you're scared to do something wrong, but he's not letting you fail. Chasing your lips and grinding his hips against your body like it's the most normal thing to do. 

   You get dizzy again, the different kind of dizzy, the kind that makes you push against him enough so he stops and lets you both get some air to fill up your lungs. At least you thought so before his lips attach to your neck, kissing and licking, but when you let out a choked moan because he found your sweet spot, his hand lands hard on your cheek. 

   “Don't fucking dare holdin’ back,” he glares, and you nod diligently. It's not something you would've expected from charming, funny, flirty JJ Maybank, but you can't say it doesn't turn you on. 

   His lips lock down on yours again, and you sigh into it. Digging your hands in his hair, running your nails over his scalp until he bites your lip. Your mouth falls open at the piercing feel his teeth left on your plump lips, giving him enough room to dart his tongue into your mouth. Tentatively assessing the situation, he lets his tongue run over your teeth for a moment before smiling and somehow leaning into you even deeper. It's like he's actually trying to devour you, tasting every last millimeter of your mouth and doing it over and over again until you pull on his hair, and the only thing connecting your lips is a short string of spit. 

   “Done already?” JJ teases, tilting his head to the side. 

   “Does it always feel like this?” you ask, and it doesn't even make sense that those words come out of you when you actually just wanted to tell him to fuck you already. 

   “Nah, that's just me, baby,” JJ growls, pulling you away from the wall and kissing you again. It's like he's addicted to your taste, not getting enough even when it still lingers on his lips and tongue. 

   He's slowly stumbling backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he lets himself fall, pulling you with him. But his kisses and the way his hands roam your body never falter. Squeezing your hips, then your ass and boobs, before moving his hand between your thighs and under your dress. 

   Your breath hitches and he sucks on your bottom lip, letting his digits run through your slick folds another time while chuckling. 

   “No panties? You naughty girl,” JJ tsks, taking his hand up and licking it clean. “You wanna get up and strip for me, beautiful.” You’re still debating whether it was a question or an order when his hand closes around your throat. “I don't like repeatin’ myself, princess.” 

   The first thing you take off when you stand, is your heels, and all of a sudden you're another three inches shorter than him, which seems to amuse him. 

   “I should definitely put some inches in you,” he jokes, at least you hope so as you watch him lean on his elbows. 

   “Does that work on other people?” you ask, moving your hands behind your back, but failing to find the zipper. 

   JJ sits up, his hands coming to your hips before spinning you around and forcing you back until you can feel his face pressed right above your ass. “It's workin’ on you too,” he says before carefully pulling the zipper down while lifting his head. “Now turn around and take it off, slowly.”

You follow his instructions, turning your face to look at him before slowly letting your body follow. “It's okay if you wanna leave again-” You can't bring out another word because he's already bitten down hard on your belly fat. 

   “Don't fucking say shit like that again. You're fucking gorgeous, and I'm gonna be fuckin’ you stupid, all right? That's a Maybank promise,” JJ gives you a single wink before slapping your ass and making you jump a tiny bit at the pleasant sting. 

   He pushes himself to stand, taking your face in his hand and digging into your full cheeks a little, forcing you to open your mouth. “I should teach you how to give a proper blowjob. But first, we gotta make sure you're so sore you can't walk no more, once I'm done with you.” 

   And with that he forces another kiss on your lips before throwing you onto the bed as if you weigh nothing at all, all the while your friend's words cross your mind, and you want to laugh in her face. A hookup is the completely right decision for losing your virginity, especially when it's JJ Maybank. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @ijustwantttoread @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms @dorkyfangirl24 @itsme-again @maybankslover @th3eternalersi

[reidsbabyhoney]

second chances | s.r.

the one where Spence regrets everything that’s happened in the past six months.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader category: angst, fluff cw: none wc: 3.3k a/n: this took forever too write because every time i tried writing it i absolutely hated how it came out. i’m hoping i gave them the ending they deserved and that you all love it! also please let me know if there's any warnings I should add.

pt.1 masterlist spencer reid masterlist

The entire car ride home was a blur, and you mean that literally. The tears that coated your eyes never seemed to stop even after you arrived back home. The dull hum of the engine couldn't seem to drown out the noise-deafening pounding in your chest.

You couldn't help but replay every moment from tonight on a loop, the gut wrenching realization that Spencer moved on so quickly, so easily. It felt as if your entire world had been tilted on its axis and you were left to live in a reality that didn't make any sense.

Maya. You hadn't been able to look at her without a sharp pang of jealousy making its way though your chest. The way she spoke to Spencer, so casually, so possessively like you were going to take her from him at any second. But in reality that's what she did to you.

You told yourself that you were fine, that you had enough time to move on and get over that relationship, but its clear you were lying to yourself. Every moment you were in his presence were the few moments of bliss where you could pretend everything with him was normal.

You had loved him. You still did. The harsh truth of that might've hurt worse than tonight's events.

Once you finally arrived home you didn't bother to go inside right away. Turning off the car you sit staring at the dashboard, trying to ground yourself in something, anything but the whirlwind of emotions going on in your mind right now.

As your about to open the door, your phone buzzes in the passenger seat. Picking it up you see it's a message from Penelope.

From: Penny

Are you okay, sweetheart? If you need anything I'm just a phone call away. Please don't let his stupidity ruin your night, we all know how much of an amazing person you are!

A small smile painted its way across your features, though drained and not very genuine.

You quickly texted her back letting her know you were okay and just needed some time to process everything. With that you finally got out of the car making your way inside, preparing for another sleepless night.

-

You had taken the day off. Well technically you didn't request it, it was given to you by Hotch. The team had just gotten back from a long gruesome case and he decided that everyone needed some time to decompress.

It had been a couple weeks since 'The Incident' as Emily has so kindly labeled it. Since then the unkind thoughts hadn't left your mind.

You spent most of the day curled up on the couch barely able to focus on the movies playing on the TV. Your mind was a storm of thoughts that blossomed from that night, though not into flowers, more so like weeds that didn't want to fully be pulled from the ground.

You replayed every word he said that night. Every glance, subtle expression. There was no warmth in his tone, nothing that suggested the gentle, awkward genius who had found solace in your presence.

You knew it hurt, but what hurt more was the realization that Spencer wasn't the only thing you lost that night. You were mourning the loss of what had been,  what could've been.

-

The next morning, you showed up at the office. The decision half-hearted, debating on requesting for another day out of the crowded space. You're not sure what you were expecting, for something to just change overnight, or if you needed to prove to yourself that you could handle it.

You walked in to see the team gathered around the bullpen. Derek was leaning against the counter, talking animatedly to JJ, while Penelope was chattering away in her usual high-energy manner. They all seemed fine, but you knew they could feel your emotions. You had always worn them on your sleeve, and the team was nothing if not perceptive.

And Spencer? He was nowhere to be found.

Your heart dropped, but you quickly masked the disappointment with a neutral expression. You couldn’t allow yourself to think about him right now, not with everything else going on.

As you slid into your chair, you could feel their eyes on you every now and then, but none of them dared to speak up. It was only when the elevator doors opened that you saw Spencer walking toward the bullpen. His usual awkward stride was missing, replaced by something… hesitant. His eyes briefly met yours, but instead of the usual spark of familiarity, there was something different. Something strained.

He was carrying a large coffee cup in his hand, but it seemed like he was just holding it for the sake of holding it.

“y/n,” he said softly, his voice laced with the same uncertainty that had been present in his eyes. You barely met his gaze, your stomach doing somersaults at the sight of him.

“Spence,” you said, offering a forced smile. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing, but you couldn’t let yourself show it.

“I, uh, can we talk?” he asked, his words tumbling out in that way that was so quintessentially Spencer.

Your gaze flickered around the room, but you didn’t want to make a scene. “Now’s not the best time.”

He nodded, but you could see the disappointment in his face. He hesitated for a moment before turning away and heading to his own desk. You didn’t watch him go, how could you?

-

Hours passed, and the tension between you and Spencer lingered like a heavy fog. Every now and then, you caught his eyes lingering on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but every time you met his gaze, he looked away.

You were exhausted. Your mind was scattered. And when you finally gathered the courage to step away from your desk to grab a coffee, it was then that Spencer decided to approach you.

“y/n,” he called out gently, his voice softer now, less urgent.

You paused mid-step, not sure how to respond. His presence was overwhelming, and even though you wanted to retreat, you knew you couldn’t keep avoiding him forever.

Turning around slowly, you nodded. “Spencer.”

“Can we talk?” he asked again, this time with more sincerity in his voice.

You studied him carefully, unsure whether you could trust yourself to keep calm. “Do we really need to? I think we’ve said everything we need to say.”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I don’t think we have. At least not yet.” He paused, looking down at his feet. “Please.”

You could hear the desperation in his voice, and for the first time since that night, you allowed yourself to truly look at him. You didn’t know what had changed, but you knew it was something important. You had loved Spencer for so long, and maybe it was time to let him explain himself.

“Alright,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s talk.”

-

The conference room door clicked shut behind you, and for a brief moment, you felt like you were trapped. The silence was thick, oppressive. Spencer stood by the window, facing away from you, his shoulders tense, his hands hanging stiffly at his sides. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. The space between you felt impossibly wide, like an ocean stretching between two distant shores.

You wanted to scream. To demand answers. To ask why. But you couldn’t, because the truth was, you were too scared of what might come next. The flood of emotions coursing through you felt like too much to bear. And the pain? The pain was undying.

Finally, Spencer spoke, but his voice was soft, almost trembling. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his words breaking the stillness in the room, but they did little to ease the ache in your chest.

He turned slowly, his eyes dropping to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I’m so sorry. For the way I ended things... for pushing you away.”

His gaze finally met yours, but there was no spark there, no warmth. Just an empty, hollow ache, the same one you felt. The distance between you both was palpable.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was giving you space to breathe… to move on. To get away from the chaos that’s always been a part of my life.”

The words struck you like a punch to the gut. Protecting you? Was that what this was? Did he think he was being noble by choosing to shut you out?

“You pushed me away, Spencer,” you said, your voice trembling with the rawness of everything you were holding in. “I didn’t ask for space. I didn’t ask for you to shut me out. I was here… I've always been here.” The anger, the hurt, it all poured out of you, and you couldn’t stop it even if you tried. “I just needed you to be honest with me. To tell me the truth, not hide behind your fears.”

His face faltered at your words, and for a moment, he looked like he might crumble under the weight of your pain. “I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking as if he hadn’t even meant to say it. “I was scared that if I kept you close, I would ruin everything. That I’d hurt you more. I thought if I pulled away, you’d be better off without me. But all I’ve done is hurt you even more.”

The truth of his words hit you like a wave, but it didn’t bring relief. Instead, it left you feeling raw, exposed. How could he think that? How could he think leaving was the solution? You had been through so much together. But the thought of him choosing to walk away, of him choosing her, it crushed you.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, Spencer,” you whispered, the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill over. Your heart was breaking, the weight of everything that had happened too much to carry anymore.

“You didn’t just break my heart… you broke me. I was waiting for you. I thought... I thought we could work through this. But you didn’t give me a chance. And now you’re asking me to just… what? To just forget?”

Spencer’s face crumpled as if your words were a physical blow, but he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. He was broken too, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable, scared even. “I don’t want you to forget,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion.

“I just want a chance. A chance to prove that I’m not that guy anymore. That I’m not the one who left you… that I’m the one who’s ready to fight for us.”

You shook your head, a sob escaping before you could stop it. “I don’t know if I can believe you anymore, Spencer. I don’t know if I can trust you after everything.”

He stepped forward, his hands trembling as they reached out toward you. “Please,” he whispered, desperation creeping into his voice. “I’ve spent every second of the last six months thinking about how much I screwed up, wishing I could go back and do things differently. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, erratic, unsure whether it was breaking or yearning for something—anything that might bring you peace. You knew Spencer had made mistakes, but he wasn’t the only one at fault. You had kept yourself at a distance too, not because you wanted to, but because you were terrified of what this might mean. Of what letting him back in might cost you.

“I’m scared, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m scared that if I let you back in, you’ll leave again. That you’ll hurt me again.”

He closed the distance between you, standing just inches away now. You could see the unshed tears in his eyes, the way his face was etched with guilt and regret. He reached for your hand, but instead of pulling away, you let him. You let him hold you, as fragile as it felt, as broken as you both were in that moment.

“I won’t leave again,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear. I’ll fight for you. For us. I’ll fight for as long as it takes.”

The raw honesty in his voice, his words full of pain, of hope. It made something inside you snap. The walls you had built around your heart were crumbling, piece by piece. You didn’t know if you could ever go back to the way things were, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something new. Something better.

“I’m not asking for things to be perfect,” Spencer continued, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, the small touch making your pulse race. “I just need you to know that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You met his gaze then, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, but this time they weren’t just born from hurt. There was something else there. Something like hope. “I’m not ready to forgive you yet, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “But I’m willing to try. I’m willing to see where this goes. If you really mean it.”

His face softened, the tension easing just a fraction. “I do,” he whispered, his hand still gently holding yours. “I mean it. More than anything.”

And as he pulled you into his arms, you let yourself hold on, just for a moment. You weren’t sure where this would lead, or if you could ever truly forget the pain. But for the first time in a long while, you weren’t alone. And maybe that was enough.

-

It was one of those quiet mornings that felt like a small slice of heaven. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow through the windows, and the only sound in the apartment was the rhythmic hum of the coffee maker.

The air was still cool from the night before, but the warmth of the morning sun slowly crept in, filling the room with a gentle golden light.

You were sitting at the kitchen table, your bare feet tucked under you, a mug of coffee warming your hands. Your hair was messy from sleep, but you didn’t mind.

You had gotten used to waking up next to Spencer every morning, and the sight of him, still half-asleep, a little rumpled, and incredibly endearing, was one of the small things you’d grown to cherish.

Spencer was at the counter, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he flipped through a pile of paperwork. The clutter of his case files and textbooks was a normal part of your life now, but the way he had rearranged things over the past few months, more neatly than ever before, was a quiet testament to how much he had changed. He wasn’t perfect, but he was working on it. He was trying, and that was all that mattered.

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke the quiet, pulling your attention away from your thoughts.

You looked up from your coffee, meeting his soft brown eyes. He was still wearing his sleep-filled smile, the one that only appeared after a good night’s sleep, when he wasn’t overthinking or buried under a pile of cases.

“I was wondering… would you mind helping me with something later?” His voice was tentative, but there was something else there now, something more confident. He wasn’t afraid to ask for help anymore.

You’d noticed that shift in him over the past few months, the way he wasn’t afraid to lean on you, to let you in when before he would have kept his distance. It had taken time, but now, when he needed you, he knew how to reach for you without hesitation.

“Of course,” you said with a smile, your heart swelling at how far you’d come since that difficult conversation. “What do you need help with?”

Spencer hesitated for just a moment, glancing down at the paperwork. His fingers hovered over the pile, as though unsure how to ask. “I’m working on this case… and I just need to go over the details. I know you’ve got that�� special way of seeing things,” he said with a playful grin, using the affectionate nickname you’d earned after countless cases where your instincts had been spot on. “You’re better at spotting the details than I am.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, playfully teasing. “Oh, so now I’m the expert, huh? I thought you were the genius here.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and he shook his head, walking over to the table and taking a seat across from you. He didn’t even try to hide the fondness in his gaze as he looked at you. “You are the expert,” he said softly. “And I’m just the guy who gets to learn from you every day.”

The words lingered between you, warm and comfortable. You reached across the table, brushing your fingers over his hand in a simple, affectionate gesture. A small smile played on your lips as you felt his fingers intertwine with yours, and for the first time, you didn’t feel like you had to hold anything back. There was no fear of losing each other, no worry that the cracks would reopen. Everything—every single piece of you—had found a place next to him, and for once, it felt right.

“I’ll help you,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “Just like I always do.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a quiet sense of gratitude. You knew, deep down, that he wasn’t just thankful for your help with the case. He was thankful for everything—for your patience, for your trust, for the fact that despite all the mistakes and misunderstandings, you were still here. You had come through the storm together, stronger than before, and you could feel it in every touch, in every glance. There was an unspoken understanding between you now. A promise that no matter what came your way, you would face it as a team.

“You know,” Spencer said, his voice low, “I never thought I’d have something like this. Something so... real. So comfortable.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and free, a stark contrast to the uncertainty that had plagued your earlier months together. “I think we’ve finally figured out how to make it work,” you said, your voice steady and full of warmth. “No more pushing each other away. No more running. Just… us.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze softening as his thumb gently traced the back of your hand. “I’m not running anymore,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice bringing a warmth to your chest. “I’m staying. For good.”

There was no need for more words. You leaned across the table, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was slow and full of meaning. It wasn’t a kiss filled with urgency or desperation, but one of quiet comfort. One of trust and affection. One that said we’re here, and that was enough.

As you pulled away, you saw the same sense of contentment reflected in his eyes, a peacefulness that had taken months to build but was finally here. You didn’t need anything else, because with Spencer, you had everything you’d ever wanted.

The coffee and case files were long forgotten as the two of you sat there, simply enjoying each other’s company. There was no rush to get to the day, no lingering doubt or fear. Just the warmth of his presence beside you, and the certainty that no matter what the future held, you’d face it together.

all notes and reposts are appreciated!! loving you always xx

divider: @fairytopea

tags: @floralemi12 @laviatia-blog @reggieswriter @hazzarules @spencerreidsglasses @notarobotipromise @gghostwriter @taygrls @powerline-valley @october-baby25 @forevermorepassionate

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[darkestmetamorphosis]

THIS THIS THIS. It's just the perfect woman/incompetent man sitcom couple that's been the standard for literal decades, now with ukefication yay :|

Like can people just... write female characters as people it's not that hard! If you're trying to write a woman - whether that's an oc, or a canon character who probably already has a personality beyond what you're flattening her to - and all you can think of is either "girlboss" or "cringefail" with no middle ground; if you really cannot comprehend a woman being a normal three dimensional person, do some fucking introspection PLEASE. Stop taking inspiration from media and tropes and look at real live people

And the obsession with "queering" relationships is... ugh where do I even start. First of all that does not make it any more or less "pure" or whatever. Second of all if you have a straight man and a straight woman, they're still both straight no matter who's doing what in the bedroom

If one or both of the characters is queer though that's its own set of nasty stereotypes. If one or both of them are bi it's the "all bi men are feminine so they must also be (insert laundry list of infantilizing stereotype)"/"all bi women are badass girlbosses because they're Not Like Other Girls". If they're trans it's "penis=dom/vagina=sub" reducing them to their agab and parts they may not even want. Like it's misgendering with extra steps, in complete denial of things like bottom dysphoria, surgery, or the fact that maybe trans people might have more reason than most to be averse to the whole gender role reversal thing because having that expectation imposed on you your whole life really fucking sucks and it sucks even worse to be pushed back into the same box. Except the box now has a thin veneer of fake wokeness, repackaging the same old shit

And for all the people in the notes going "where are you seeing this" it's not even just on this webbed site, it happens irl too. ime it comes from the girls who say things like "all men are trash" and people who make nasty jokes/assumptions about me because they think I look like a ~smol uwu soft boi~

All the stereotyping aside, the vibe I get from these sort of dynamics is like... neither of the characters is even really into it? Like it's not about love, not even lust, it's just about power and dominance with no aftercare (because surprise surprise, they don't know how bdsm - including actual femdom - works) Like it's just there because the writer thinks it's the only way you can have a straight relationship without being sexist

can't vibe with the pathetic sopping wet generic sub boy man/pristine feminine perfect goddess woman dynamic people try to put onto every m/f pairing in existence. don't you want something more interesting? characters don't need to have perfect psychologist approved relationships in fiction obvs but it's just so boring. don't you want something in character? don't you want something more interesting?? oh she pegs him? and you write this in a way that implies penetration is about domination and power? wowee. never seen that one before.

[vikkirosko]

🍎 Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Oneshot My King 🐍

Awake. Get yourself cleaned up. Prepare breakfast. Take care of your ward. To do chores around the house. And so it is from day to day. Your job has not changed for several thousand years, and perhaps someone would say that it is so easy to go crazy. But you were of a different opinion.

You were close to the ruler of Hell, Lucifer himself, and it would seem that you should have had a responsible job, and it really was, but this was a different kind of responsibility, especially the last seven years.

And so, you're doing your daily chores again. Awake. Get yourself cleaned up. Prepare breakfast for two. Then you went back to his workshop. It's been a long time since you expected that he slept normally at night, and when you opened the door, your assumption was only confirmed. Lucifer was sitting at the table, working hard on something. He was so focused that he didn't even notice you coming.

"Good morning, Your Majesty, I see that you are still busy"

Lucifer turned around abruptly and smiled broadly at you. There were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, but despite this he was clearly enthusiastic.

"(Y/N)! You're just in time! I want to show you something!"

He took you to his desk and you didn't argue with him. You've known Lucifer long enough to realize that the best option right now is just to see what he wanted to show you.

"Behold! My new creation! A rubber duck that does a backflip!"

He held out his palms to you, which had a cute looking rubber duck on them, which really knew how to show a trick. A soft smile touched your lips.

"It looks pretty cute"

The smile disappeared from the face of the ruler of Hell, and he tiredly threw his new creation into a pile of similar ones, after which he hugged you. You gently stroked his back.

"I'm so tired… It feels like I'm constantly doing things wrong… Even in my own family…"

You sighed heavily, continuing to stroke his back. It was never part of your job. Initially, you just helped him with his business, but every year you became practically part of the family for Lucifer. And when he divorced his wife, his condition only got worse. He seemed to shut himself off from the whole world, even from his own daughter, with whom he had a strained relationship. But you stayed by his side. You didn't want him to starve himself one day by locking himself in his workshop.

"It's probably better if you leave… You've done so much for me… I don't want to become an even bigger burden for you…"

"Lucifer… I'm not going anywhere… I won't leave you alone…"

He looked up at you and saw your serious expression. You weren't joking or lying. You were firm in your intentions and words.

"I cannot change what happened, but I will try to make it so that you can move on. I will stay by your side and until you send me away, I will stay by your side."

Lucifer smiled guiltily.

“Thanks… You have no idea how much I am grateful to you…"

He saw how your expression softened and your lips stretched into a soft smile.

"All for you, my king"

[goldsainz]

# HIGH INFIDELITY — CHAPTER ONE !

SERIES MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ no matter what you do or who you’re with, rafe is the thorn in your side that persists.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ drinking, rafe’s a bitch.

003. NOTE !

✯ the italics part is meant to be past, normal is present. not a lot of rafe in this part, but we’re building up the tension, bear with me guys. also this is short n’ sweet, but it was either this or waiting like a week sooo 🤗

word count : 3,1k

Summer is, without a doubt, your favourite season of the year—a time when everything seems a little brighter, warmer, and full of promise. But above all, it’s the chance for romance that makes it truly special. As the breeze grazes your skin, you're struck with all the endless possibilities for a breezy, passionate fling. Summer brings not just warmth, but the promise of memories waiting to be made.

Perhaps that is why this summer feels different, why you're filled with a sensation you are not used to. Because, in true you fashion, you cannot help but fall for the first guy that makes eye contact with you. It’s as if that single look, just a fleeting connection, has already set something in motion within you. It doesn't really matter who they are, you just hope they're decent enough that when the summer ends you won't wallow until the next one.

Despite everything you’ve always been told—that Kooks and Pogues live in separate worlds, that some lines are best left uncrossed—you can’t help but feel all that advice slip away in a single moment. A single glance across the bonfire, a glint of warmth and interest in his eyes, has you questioning every cautionary tale you've ever heard. 

He lifts his hand in a simple wave, and without thinking, you lift yours in return. He smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, helpless against the pull he seems to have over you. It’s such a small exchange, yet it sends a thrill through you. So simply, your heart is already in the hands of a Kook that probably doesn't even know your name.

For a single moment, just when you finally let your guard down and begin to lose yourself in the summer night, you feel a hard shove against your shoulder. The unexpected force nearly sends you toppling, and you stumble awkwardly to keep your footing. A quick flash of irritation floods your mind, and as you turn, you see the culprit—and, oh, if it isn’t the most predictable sight in the world.

It’s Rafe Cameron. Of course, it is. He moves through the crowd like he owns it, barely glancing your way, as if you’re invisible, or worse, just an obstacle on his path to whatever or whoever he’s fixated on. 

“Watch it, Kook!” You shout at him, your voice sharp, as you glare down at the mess now soaking into the sand, the drink he so casually spilled with his careless shove. Typical Rafe—he couldn’t just bump into you and keep walking; no, he had to leave a mark, a small reminder of how easy it is for him to disrupt whatever, or whoeever, is in his way.

There’s no point in trying to get Rafe to acknowledge his mistakes. He wouldn’t care, and honestly, why waste the energy? Annoyed, you make your way toward the drink stand, trying to shake off the aggravation and enjoy what’s left of the night. The makeshift bar is stocked with copious amounts of beer, a few murky-looking bottles of whiskey, and vodka that looks questionably watered down. You sigh, filling a red cup and trying to hold on to a sliver of the excitement you felt earlier. Maybe it’s time to call it a night, to forget the rude shove and, disappointingly, to forget the boy you shared glances with.

“Hey,” a voice interrupts as you lift the cup to your lips, pulling you from your thoughts. You look up, and there he is—the guy from across the bonfire, standing right in front of you, his expression soft but earnest. “I’m sorry about him,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Huh?” The word slips out, and for a moment, you forget all about the spilled drink, the scowl on your face, even Rafe Cameron’s entitled shove. The memory of the night seems to blur, leaving just this moment, this exchange. You’re left with that same rush from earlier, only more intense now, standing close enough to see the way the firelight reflects in his eyes. 

“He shoved you, right?” he asks, raising his voice slightly so it cuts through the noise around you. There’s a hint of concern in his eyes, and he leans in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of saltwater and something earthy, maybe cedar. “Or did I mistake you for someone else?”

“No, no,” you reply, shaking your head, a small, sheepish smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. “That was me, unfortunately. Rafe Cameron’s idea of saying ‘excuse me,’ I guess.”

He laughs, a low sound that somehow makes the rest of the chaotic night fade into the background. “Sounds about right,” he says with a shrug, like he knows exactly the kind of person Rafe is—and isn’t surprised in the slightest. His gaze lingers on you, though, holding a warmth and sincerity that feels like a stark contrast to everything you just experienced. It’s as if he’s actually seeing you, not just some girl who got shoved around in the crowd.

“So… can I get you another drink?” he asks, nodding toward your mostly empty cup. “You know, as a ‘sorry for my obnoxious friend’ kind of thing.”

"I don’t even know your name,” you say, keeping your tone casual, though you can feel a flicker of heat rising in your cheeks. Of course, you do. But he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as if he’s caught on to your feigned innocence but decides to play along. “Is that so?” he asks, a grin curving on his lips. “Well, then. I guess that makes us strangers, doesn’t it?”

You bite back a smile, shrugging, as if the flutter in your chest is no big deal. “I suppose it does.”

He extends his hand, the light from the bonfire casting a warm glow on his face. “I’m Joshua, but you can call me Josh.” he says, as though you hadn’t already heard the name whispered among your friends a hundred times. “And you are?”

“YN,” you say softly, letting your name slip past your lips like a secret, as if saying it too loudly might break the spell of this moment.

“Well, YN,” he drawls, your name slipping off his lips like honey, rich and warm. Somehow, in the noise and firelight, it sounds sweeter coming from him than you’ve ever heard it before. “Can I get you a drink?”

You hesitate, just for a second, but then you nod, feeling a lightness in your chest that hadn’t been there before. “I’d like that, yeah,” you say, and suddenly, youre not so ready for the night to end.

As you lie peacefully on the beach, your head resting on Josh’s chest and the sun’s warm rays caressing your skin, a deep contentment settles over you. The waves roll in rhythmically, their soft crashing mixing with the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. 

Josh’s fingers trace lazy patterns along your arm, a quiet gesture that says so much without a word. Somehow, these last days have passed in a perfect blur, each moment with him slipping effortlessly into the next. It’s as if the rest of the world has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you and the freedom of these warm summer days.

It hasn’t been more than three days, you’re sure. But in the rush of everything—of his touch, of the laughter, of the long talks that stretch into the night—it feels like so much more. It doesn’t matter, though. Summer is fleeting by nature, and relationships, much like the warmth of the sun, can’t last forever. You’ve always known that.

Maybe that’s why things feel so easy with Josh. There’s no pressure, no rush to figure it all out. You don’t need a lifetime to know that this connection is real, even if it’s only for now.

“I was thinking…” he whispers, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as it tickles your ear. “Why don’t you come with me to a party? It’s very casual.”

You turn your head slightly so you can look at him, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. “Where?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“Just… at a friend’s house,” he replies, his words vague, as though he’s trying to keep something hidden. You sense it, the hesitation, like he’s afraid the full truth will make you back out.

“Okay… whose house?” you ask, your voice a bit firmer now, wanting a little more clarity.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic groan, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Fine. But the second he crosses a line, I’m out. Don’t try to stop me.”

Josh raises his hands, feigning innocence, though there’s a gleam of victory in his eyes. “Deal,” he says with a grin, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I’m serious,” you press, your voice soft but your gaze steady, locking onto his as if to underline your words. You want him to know you’re not playing around; Rafe has crossed too many lines before, and you’re not about to give him any more chances.

Josh’s grin softens into something more earnest as he takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know. And I won’t let him pull anything. I’ll be right there with you.”

You nod, reassured—well, mostly. There’s still a twinge of anxiety at the thought of walking into Rafe’s space. But with Josh by your side, it feels like a risk worth taking. You take a deep breath, pushing away the doubts, letting yourself focus on the warmth of his hand in yours.

You know you’ll probably regret being so compliant later, but in this moment, under the warm sun and the gentle pull of his charm, you can’t find it within yourself to care. Not right now, anyway.

The party is at its peak when you step inside with Josh, his hand a steady presence on the small of your back. People weave around, stumbling and laughing, drinks sloshing as they chug another round. The air is thick with the smell of beer and perfume, the music pounding loud enough to shake the floor.

Tannyhill is enormous, every inch of it polished and perfect. Compared to the flimsy house you call home, this level of luxury feels surreal, almost insulting—like you’re trespassing in a world you’re not meant to be a part of.

“You good?” Josh’s voice is low against your ear, his fingers pressing lightly, reassuringly, into your back.

“Yeah,” you manage, glancing around at the high ceilings and spotless marble floors. “Big house,” you mumble, trying to play it off, but Josh catches the edge of awe in your voice and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Sometimes I forget,” he says with a smile, “that this is all just… normal to me. It’s weird, huh?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “A little.” There’s an underlying discomfort, a feeling of not quite fitting in, but with Josh beside you, you tell yourself it doesn’t matter.

As you navigate through the crowd, you spot Rafe across the room, casually leaning against a table, a smirk on his face as he watches the crowd unfold around him. His gaze shifts, and for a brief second, his eyes lock onto yours, his smirk turning into something sharper, something that sends a prickle of irritation through you.

Josh notices and gives your hand a squeeze, as if grounding you. “Remember our deal,” he murmurs, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

“Right,” you reply, taking a deep breath and letting it go, trying to shake off the feeling of being under Rafe’s watch. Tonight, you tell yourself, is about being with Josh, about experiencing his world—even if only for a night.

There are barely any Pogues here, you realize, glancing around at the faces in the crowd. Maybe a few who hover on the edges, those who toe the line between a bad season of hard luck and those who might actually crawl and beg to be part of the Kooks’ world. They’re the ones who keep their heads down, wearing uncomfortable clothes, trying to blend in without drawing attention.

You feel the difference even more now, the gap between you and this place, this crowd. Everyone here is effortlessly at ease, basking in the privilege that’s been theirs since birth. And yet here you are, standing in the middle of it all, aware of every sideways glance, every slightly raised eyebrow as you pass by.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here?” you ask again, your voice low, almost like you’re bracing yourself for Rafe or one of his friends to notice you and kick you out.

Josh squeezes your hand, his expression softening. “Of course. They don’t care, really,” he says, his tone steady, almost casual, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You wish you could believe him. You’ve noticed, over these past few days, how little Josh seems to care about the whole Kook and Pogue divide. He doesn’t see you as an outsider, doesn’t seem to register the tension that hums just beneath the surface. To him, it’s all irrelevant, a line drawn in the sand that doesn’t matter. It’s refreshing—and it’s blinding.

Because Josh’s indifference almost fooled you into thinking the world works that way, too. Like the Kooks and Pogues can just coexist, that the labels and histories are meaningless. But tonight, standing in this mansion with strangers’ eyes glancing your way, you feel the weight of it again, the silent reminders that you don’t belong.

He notices the hesitation in your eyes, the way you’re pulling back, and his hand slides to your shoulder, a gentle reminder that he’s here with you. “Listen,” he murmurs, leaning close so only you can hear, “I don’t care about any of that, and if anyone else does… well, that’s their problem. You’re with me.”

His words are a comfort, but they’re not enough to erase the uneasy feeling that lingers. You force a smile, hoping he can’t see the doubt flickering there, and nod. “Right. I’m with you.”

For the slightest moment you feel at ease, but almost like clockwork, the grating voice of Rafe Cameron breaks your reverie, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Hey, man,” he greets, slapping a hand on Josh’s back in that familiar, boy-ish way.

“What’s up, Rafe?” Josh replies, his smile wide, clearly used to this dynamic, his tone casual and easygoing.

“Nothing much, just trying to keep everything at bay,” Rafe responds, his voice dripping with indifference as he talks like you’re not even standing there. Like you don’t exist in this moment, and it stings more than it should.

“Cool,” Josh shifts slightly, turning toward you. “I’m sure you’ve met YN, hope it’s all good that I brought her?”

At that, Rafe finally looks at you. The weight of his gaze makes your skin prickle, and for a moment, you almost squirm under it. “Yup, all good,” Rafe says, his voice laced with something colder, something discomforting. “I said you could bring anyone… and you did.”

The way he says it is so backhanded, so typical of him. You can practically hear the unspoken judgement in his words, feel it in the way he looks at you, sizing you up.

You’re not surprised, of course—this is Rafe, after all—but the little jab only adds to the discomfort that’s been creeping up on you all evening. You force a tight smile, but it feels too small, too weak for what’s really going on inside. Still, you keep your eyes on Josh, hoping he doesn’t notice how the atmosphere has shifted, how Rafe’s presence has twisted everything just enough to make you feel smaller than you are.

“Well, enjoy the party,” Rafe says, his smile almost too practised, like he’s delivering a line he’s said a hundred times before. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, that’s meant to keep things cordial, even if the undercurrent of judgement is thick enough to cut through.

“We will,” Josh replies easily, not missing a beat, his voice smooth and unbothered, as though none of the tension is hanging in the air.

Josh’s hand finds yours, his fingers warm against your skin as he gently pulls you away from the conversation. But as you pass by Rafe, you hear him lean in slightly, his voice just low enough for only you to hear. “Not too much, yeah?”

It’s a whisper, but it feels like a slap. You can feel your brows furrow instinctively, the words gnawing at you. You’re tempted, so tempted, to turn around and shove him and ask, What the hell is wrong with you?

But you don’t.

Instead, you let Josh lead you away, his hand tightening around yours in a subtle reassurance. The music swells, the noise of the party grows louder, but it all feels distant now, like a blur around the sharp edge of Rafe’s comment. You try to ignore it, try to shake it off, but it clings to you, sticking in your chest like a splinter.

Even as you move through the crowd, you know that this night isn’t just about the music or the people—it’s about the silent things too. The things you can’t control, the things you have to push past in order to keep moving.

And Rafe Cameron is the one thing you can’t push past, no matter how hard you try. The one who thinks he can push you down, who sees you as something beneath him, a reminder of everything he’s convinced he’s better than.

But if there’s one thing he needs to know, it’s that you don’t go out without a fight. He might have the money, the reputation, the home twice the size of anywhere you’ve ever lived, but he will not ruin your summer. 

He’s attempted to get under your skin before and failed. And you’re not about to let this be any different. The summer isn’t his to take from you, no matter how hard he tries. He’s not a force you’re willing to let derail everything good about these days. Not the warmth of the sun, not the nights you spend with Josh, not the taste of freedom you’ve felt since you stepped into his world.

You’ll be damned if you let Rafe Cameron, of all people, get in the way of that.

[activesplooger]

Lucifer comforting reader? Self image and body harm comfort, fluff (IF YOUR NOT COMFORTABLE DOING THIS ONE YOU DONT HAVE TO HUN GRAH)

-lovely 🫐

you got it!! bit of a short one tho, hope you enjoy :]

Tears roll down your cheeks as you stare at your reflection. You're not disappointed or upset by what you see anymore, just numb. Scars scatter your body, further blemishing your imperfect skin. A scowl etches on your features. Of course, you have to look like this. It's your fault. It's your fault for feeling this way. And you just had to make it worse by tearing up your skin.

You're overcome by a feeling of frustration, staring at yourself blankly in the mirror. Words plague your mind the longer you stare - useless, dumb, ugly, unloveable. That last word struck a chord with you. You start to sob, sliding your back against the wall until you fully sit. Hugging your knees, your body starts to shake as you sit helplessly on the ground.

Disgusting

Worthless

Pathetic

Defeated-

You snap out of your thoughts as you feel a familiar slender hand grasp your shoulder gently. Lifting your head up, you see Lucifer crouched down beside you with a soft expression on his face. "Hey, love. What are you doing down here?" he asks quietly. You shrug and look off to the side, avoiding his gaze. "Hey, look at me," Lucifer grabs your chin and gently guides you to look at him, "tell me what's wrong.". "I just feel... worthless. I-I can't help but hate myself... My body- My face- My fucking scars that I caused-!".

Lucifer notices you getting worked up the more you talk, "Shh, calm down my dear, it's okay... I'm sorry you feel worthless, my love, but you're not, I promise. If it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be.". He smiles at you, almost a lovestruck grin, "And you're beautiful to me. You're Everything.". He softly pries your arm away from your knees and gently traces your scars, "These are a testament to your pain... to what you've been through, they don't make you ugly, they're proof that you're strong. The strongest person I've ever known.".

"No," you interrupt, "I'm weak, I can't just live life normally like other people...". "Oh, my love," he lifts your arm to his lips and kisses up and down it. He speaks between each kiss, each word a praise

"Beautiful"

"Precious"

"Strong"

"Mine"

His words comfort you, you weren't cured of your insecurities of course, but it helped a ton. He always made sure you knew how highly he thinks of you, and it never failed to help you. You lean into his touch, unfurling yourself of your closed-off position.

Lucifer lights up as he sees you open up. Without hesitation, you wrap your arms around him bury your face into his chest, and sob. "Shh, I'm here," he coos, arms tightening around you, "I've got you.".

Slowly and carefully, he lifts you off the ground and carries you to the bedroom. Once you arrive, he sets you down and kneels before you, taking off your shoes. He kicks off his own boots and lays beside you, patting his chest to signal you to lie there. Your tears slow down as you lay against him, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat calming you down. "I love you, I'm so sorry you feel this way. I wish you saw yourself the way I see you," he whispers.

"I love you too, Lucifer. Just- hold me..."

"Of course, it'd be my pleasure," Lucifer holds you tightly against him, raking his fingers through your hair and softly massaging your head. He hums a melody softly, his angelic voice vibrating against his chest.

The two of you stayed in this embrace until you felt comfortable enough to get out, Lucifer staying by your side each step of the way. He made you all your favorite foods and listened to all your insecurities, making sure you felt heard and valid in your problems.

The End <3

[edablair]

Hi!! This is for all my Russian/Slavic bitches ᕙ⁠(͡⁠°⁠‿⁠͡⁠°⁠)⁠ᕗ

(English is not my first language! There may be grammatical or/and punctuation mistakes)

★ Logan finds some of your habits a little... strange.

★ Like the way you sometimes fake spit three times over your left shoulder and knock on something wood three times.

"... and like, if I ever get cancer... ugh." Rolling your eyes, you knock on the wooden table leg, spitting and saying "Не дай Бог". (God forbid)

"What was that for?"

You meet his gaze as he arches an eyebrow in bewilderment, waiting for your clarification.

"Oh, well, you know. It's to make sure nothing bad happens. It's an omen thing."

★ Omens. Yeah, you mention them a lot. Like the time Logan walked past you whistling, and you almost unconsciously barked at him something like, "Не свисти — денег не будет."¹ Or the time he ate a slice of apple off the tip of a knife.

"Не ешь с ножа — злым будешь."²

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Don't mind it. Just a habit." you explained, leaving the poor bewildered Canadian in the kitchen.

★ The only thing worse is your "domovoy". If Logan loses anything, the first thing he'll hear from you is, "Домовой, домовой. Поиграй да отдай."³ And he chuckles, shaking his head. As if some domovoy is gonna help him find the keys he put somewhere... Oh, they there are.

★ If someone drops a spoon? "К гостям." (To guests)⁴ If by chance a dish is broken? "��а удачу." (For good luck). If a nasty bird poops on his favorite jacket? Turns out it's a good thing too.⁵

"Are all Russians superstitious, or are you just the way I am?"

"I'm not superstitious."

He's lost for a moment.

"Then what's the point of all this your things?"

"It's always like that. The least superstitious people follow superstitions."

"Yeah, tell me you don't believe in God with all your 'God forbid' stuff."

"I'm an atheist, Logan."

★ You got him. Now he doesn't understand you at all, and you're smiling and giggling, almost like you're mocking him.

(Masterlist)

A little explanation from me!! Yes, more often the most unbelievers and the least superstitious follow superstitions. Why? Because of upbringing. People grow up surrounded by northern relatives, adopt their habits, and then, when they have already formed their worldview, can not get rid of northern habits (I'm like this) ヽ('ω')ﾉ

1) The phrase "Don't whistle - you won't have any money." was often said in Rus' to an idler. Because it was believed that a person busy with work would simply have no time for such silly activities. At some point, people who often whistled began to be called lazy.

2) "Don't eat with a knife, you'll be evil." Like, those who eat from a knife become sharp, jealous and aggressive. There is also a version that a knife "cuts the mind" — by eating with a knife, one can become stupid, lose knowledge.

3) Domovoy — in Slavic peoples home spirit, mythological master and patron of the house, ensuring the normal life of the family, fertility, health of people and animals. Sometimes, when a thing is lost somewhere in the house, they say, "Балуется домовой." (Domovoy is playing around.) And for him to return the thing, they say, "Domovoy, Domovoy. Play with it and give it back."

4) If you dropped a dessert spoon, expect to meet uninvited guests who will come to your house with a small child. And if you let a tablespoon out of your hands, acquaintances, friends or work colleagues will come to your house in the near future.

5) Bird feces on the shoulder is usually considered a symbol of protection from a guardian angel or spirit. It is seen as a sign that you are being watched over and protected from all evil.

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 14

Summary: You avoid the tension between you and Fred, you end up sobbing again, and make a decision that you're not sure if it was a mistake.

CW: crying, kissing, yelling

WC: 1.8k

A/N: a shortie but it's the moment you all have been waiting for! somewhat

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous| Next | Navi

You really didn’t mean to stay this many days at the burrow. But you surprisingly didn’t miss your bed all that much. And you were having fun.

Angelina had gone home before lunch, Lee was staying for one more day, and Harry was staying for the rest of break as per usual.

You felt bad for him.

You had shared the same loss, but you felt worse for Harry than anyone else. He was the one to see Cedric die. Then he had to go and battle a dark wizard, and bring the corpse back with him.

Remembering that he was younger than you made it worse, dealing with all that at fourteen obviously is going to take awhile to recover from.

It seemed that the both of you tried not to dwell too much on it, not wanting to think about it, and using this time at the Weasleys as a way to distract your thoughts from that event.

Harry didn’t want to remind you of what happened and you didn’t want to remind Harry of what happened. You still asked how one another were doing and responded to each other in small group conversations at the table. But really no more than that.

Anyways, you’re trying not to dwell on it. This a vacation, you should be happy.

You did your best to act normal around Fred, trying to act as if you haven’t cried in his arms twice, and slept in his bed twice, sharing the bed one of those times.

The hardest thing to ignore was that feeling in your stomach any time he was near to you.

You're not sure when it started, nor how long you’ve been ignoring it. Maybe months? That’s quite terrifying, you won’t think about it too much.

The day was simple. You ate breakfast, watched both of the twins along with Lee and Harry play Quidditch, the twins already using the beaters bats you got them. Lee offered to switch places with you, seeing if you’d like to play a round with everyone. You refused, terrified you wouldn’t be able to dodge a ball in time or fall off your broom and end up with a broken arm.

You all went inside eventually, talked, watched TV, ate lunch, talked some more, watched TV some more, watched everyone play Quidditch some more, ate dinner, talked more.

Nothing very exciting happened most of the day, except when Lee was able to hit George right in the nose with a scone from the other side of the table.

Also, you were actually able to make conversation with the twins without getting annoyed every other minute. That was new.

Other than that, nothing super important happened for most of the day.

Once you went upstairs to change, you realized that you underestimated how many days you’d stay when you packed your bag.

You were out of fresh pajama shirts, you weren’t in the mood to wear the same shirt you’ve chosen to sleep in the past two nights.

It wasn’t ideal, but you just decided to keep on the shirt you had on all day and sleep in that, changing into a new pair of pajama pants.

Leaving the room and passing the twins room, you noticed a light on and the door was cracked open, it’s usually shut.

Peaking your head in carefully, you saw Fred standing and hunched over on his desk, focused as he wrote something on a piece of paper. Probably a new idea.

Pushing the door open a bit more, it squeaked and you cringed at the sound. Fred’s head slowly looked to where you were. He smiled.

“Will you be joining me in my bed again tonight?” He teased, a sarcastic suggestive tone in this voice.

“You got lucky last night, don’t push it Weasley.” You stepped fully into the room, crossing your arms. Fred noticed and looked down at your shirt, his eyebrows creasing inwards for a moment.

“Is that the same shirt you’ve worn today?”

“Oh, yeah. I ran out of sleep shirts. This will do for now.” You shrugged, moving a hand to play with the hem of your shirt.

Fred didn’t say anything, he went over to his dresser and opened the top drawer, the wrong drawer. You got a glimpse of his boxers and immediately looked away. He slammed in shut with panic in his eyes, then clearing his throat as he opened the one underneath.

He pulled out an old shirt, it had a faded logo of some band he liked when he was prepubescent.

“Here, you can use this for the night.” He held out the shirt for you, you took it with a hesitant hand.

Looking down at it and rubbing the finger over the fabric, you bit your cheek. Feeling guilty all of sudden, about so much.

“Fred, why are you being so nice to me?” The words tumbled quickly out of your mouth, sounding painful.

“What?”

“I’ve been so horrible to you, all these years I've been so bitter and mean. Yet, you just let me in. You never held an actual grudge against me. I don’t get it.” You looked up at him, laying the folded shirt on the dresser next to you.

“Y/N, I don’t understand what you’re saying.” He stepped closer to you. He was so close. So close.

“Why can't you just be mad at me? Why can't you hate me the way I’ve hated you.” You whined, shoving him slightly, praying you would finally scare him away, make him despise you. 

Fred held your arms once you tried to push him away again, rubbing your thumbs over your wrists, and weakly saying your name.

“I could never hate you.” Fred spoke softly, you let out a breath of frustration and dropped your hands from his light grasp, wishing he would just tell the truth. He already was. 

“I don’t know why. Maybe it’s ‘cause I understood, I am annoying and I am a bit of an arsehole sometimes with my pranks.” He chuckled and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know Y/N, I just can’t hate you.”

“Godric, why are you doing this to me Fred?” You groaned, dropping your head to his chest, leaning against him. 

“I don’t know. I can’t help it.” Fred shook his head as he gently placed his hands on the sides of your face, holding it up to his gaze. You clenched your teeth together.

Can't help what? Can’t help what, Fred? You wanted to push so bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Scared to know his response.

His eyes were glazed over, and he took in a shaky breath. You stared at his soft lips, the sides of lips curled down.

He looked so fucking beautiful. You hated him for it.

And you didn't know why you did it. All you knew was that in that moment, while staring into his infuriating eyes and glancing down at his lips that were curled into a frown, you wanted to kiss him. 

Air rushed out of his lungs as you did. It was strange, you expected anger, definitely regret, but all you felt was satisfaction.

Fred took a second before he pushed back into the kiss, his hands still cupping your face. Yours ran through his hair.

That yearning, the strange feeling of waiting you both held in your bodies for so long finally felt relieved as your lips opened and closed around each other.

You’d slept in his bed last night, now you were practically making out with him. What the hell were you doing?

Fred was the first to pull away, his chest heaving and swollen lips. Fred didn’t look regret-filled either but he also didn’t look ecstatic or happy. 

He looked…unsure, which was exactly how you felt. 

His eyes darted all along your face, taking in your features, analyzing them, trying to figure out what your puzzling expression was. 

Though you knew what you wanted to do, you wanted to kiss him again. You leaned in then stopped yourself, pushing yourself completely away from him.

“Oh no. No, no, no.” You mumbled repeatedly to yourself, stress taking over your face as you pressed the balls of your palms against your eyes. “What am I doing?”

Fred whispered your name, disappointed at your sudden denial. You stared at him with puffy eyes, the lamp showed the shine of a tear that fell down his face. The guilt was eating at you now.

“Fred…we can’t. I can’t….I just. Fuck.” You rubbed your hands down your face, nearly running out the room and down the steps. Fred followed suit but stopped at the doorway of his room. Watching you dart away once again, you didn’t stop moving until you were outside.

Fred stepped back and rubbed a hand against his cheek, then using two fingers to wipe his watering eyes.

You sat on the wooden bench outside, your back against the table connected to it. Hunched over with your head in your hands.

With no idea of what you were doing, what you just did, and why you ran out on Fred, you moved your hands from your head to your face.

You were a complete idiot. A complete and utter asshole for what you were doing. You’ve begun to mess with Fred’s head as much as he’s been messing with yours.

You wouldn’t blame him if he held a forever grudge against you for this, you’d understand if he began to resent you.

The door leading into the kitchen creaked open. You brought your head up slowly, even though you really didn’t want to. Knowing who it would be.

“Hey.” Fred had his hands tucked into his pockets, a painfully awkward look on his face. He couldn’t meet your eyes. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I deserve to be asked that.” You let out a breathy laugh. Fred puffed out his bottom lip and shrugged. Moving to sit down next to you on the bench.

The two of you sat in silence, you sat up fully, resting your hand in your lap and fiddling your fingers.

“I didn’t mean to run away like that. I just wasn’t sure what to do.”

“I get it, there was a lot happening in one moment.” Fred lied, he honestly didn’t get it. He wondered why you couldn’t just come to your senses with your feelings.

“It was rude of me though. I’m just not sure about anything really.” You sighed.

Fred rested his hand over yours in a sympathetic way.

“How about we just stay here, as friends? It’d be really nice to call you my friend after all these years.” He chuckled. “I’m just glad we’re not at each other's throats anymore.”

“Yeah. Yeah we can be friends.” You nodded slightly, voice hoarse when the words came out.

“Okay.” A weak grin took over his face.

“Okay.”

It’s hard to stay as friends when you’ve already kissed him.

tell me what you thought here! <3 or ask tba to the taglist for this series!

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@hornyforyourb1tch

[tumb1rprincess]

Been having a lot of thoughts about Mouthwashing and I just want to get them out

Yeah, kind of late to get into this game, but ever since I watched a playthrough of it, it's been rotating in my head. I feel like I wasn't really scared per se, but definitely uncomfortable, that feeling where you want to look away but you can't. Just, everything slowly unravels before your eyes and like most members of the crew, especially Anya and Curly, you're helpless to do anything about it.

As soon as Anya asked why the sleeping quarters didn't have a lock, I immediately knew what that meant, and now when I go back and watch her interactions with Jimmy after the crash, it makes me sick. She has to suck up to her abuser, interact with him like everything's normal, and praise him when she can, hoping that it'll be enough to keep her safe. And after the crash, she had to take care of Curly all by herself and probably had a lot of difficult emotions about him. He failed her, but she can't hate him, because she believes people aren't defined by their worst moments. And when she has to give him his medication, she sees her own helplessness reflected in him to the point of making her sick. And she probably had to deal with that for a long time before it became too much and she had to ask Jimmy to do it instead.

Curly just becomes another victim of Jimmy's and it especially has to hurt because he trusted him, he was his friend, and now he's seeing him for what he truly is, and he can't do anything about it. He knows he's probably feeling the same fear Anya did whenever Jimmy walks into a room. Or when he gives him the painkillers, he knows it's going to hurt, just like how Anya probably knew that anytime Jimmy forced himself on her. And the game doesn't even show it when Jimmy gives Curly the medicine, you just hear it, and it's these awful choking/gagging sounds like he's being strangled and he can't breathe and it makes your stomach twist so uncomfortably, especially when he cries afterwards. And then it's made even worse when Jimmy cuts off his leg and forces him to eat it, because you see it that time. Every turn of those little wheels to line up his insides right makes him bleed and gasp in pain, and you're the direct cause of it. And if you don't get it right and it gets lodged inside him and he gets sick from it, it's your fault.

Out of all the bad things Jimmy did, I feel like it was his manipulation that I hated the most. He berates Anya when she asks for help, and makes her so meek and scared. He preys on Daisuke's need to prove himself to get him to climb into the vent. And when Curly finally talks to him about what he did to Anya, he turns it on him and makes it all Curly's responsibility, saying it's his fault when Jimmy is the one who assaulted her in the first place.

[vulpixisananimal]

YES THIS WAS ABSOLUTLY IT

@vulpixisananimal this is what happened in the intermission, right?

[splickedylit]

captiancap asked: I'd like to see any art you have of the Michigan Fleet cast. I do really like them. feral-engineer asked: For art requests: can we get something with trimmer? Maybe a hug, or baby trimmer causing problems on purpose? damnfool-of-a-took asked: for the art prompt request! Michigan Fleet, kid!Trimmer🔪👀?

Y'all are just too kind 🥰 I've been sitting on boatboy sketchbook scans for a WHILE not getting around to them, so here are some folks--some on boats and some not, some from published books and some not! :D

Rich and Trimmer never met each other as kids which is probably for the best because Rich was an impressionable little dumpling and Trimmer was a fast-paced, daring, precocious bump/bruise-magnet, like many fourhands kids lol

[autisticrosewilson]

So do you guys actually think that Jason's entire story, relationship to the others, and philosophy amounts to him being a rebellious teen who wants his dad's attention? Like are you 100% serious? I thought you were joking about that but too many of you are saying it with your whole chest.

And what the fuck is this "Bruce antagonizing Jason is fanon!" Shit I've been seeing? You guys are aware that a parent can love their kid and still be a shit parent right? I know you guys don't want to fathom the thought that maybe your blorbo might also occasionally have to face responsibility for consistently endangering children but let's not start being delusional now.

Bruce does love his kids, that doesn't mean that he hasn't hurt them. And I'd also argue that for the most part he feels in the right for it, and he's said multiple times that he believes it's for their own good, so you can't even argue that he's sorry about it. It's okay for you guys to admit that your PERSONAL INTERPRETATION of the character wouldn't do that but don't sit here and pretend that it's not a facet of the source.

[kairithemang0]

Man, Curt's got internalized homophobia so bad that for the first 3 months of their relationship he was convinced Owen was straight before Owen had to scream it in his face that he was gay and then Curt spent another 3 months still calling himself straight to Owen's face and Owen's so sick of it like Curt you 2 are actively fucking EVERY TIME YOU SEE EACH OTHER. AND YOU ARE VERY CLEARLY INTO IT. YOU ARE NOT STRAIGHT SIR STOP LYING TO YOURSELF

internalized homophobia agent curt mega ily

[uncanny-tranny]

I know other adults like to joke about how much pain they're in, but genuinely, please try to get your pain checked out if you're an adult experiencing it, or at least adapt your life in whatever way lessens your pain.

Your pain deserves to be addressed. Please don't "let" it get worse because you've been told that to grow older is to suffer. No, you aren't being needy or selfish or annoying. Ultimately, you are the one who suffers the most from the state of your health, and it's entirely reasonable to want your health to be up to your standards.