#for the whole course of their relationship

[hanniebaeee]

Something Like Love

Han Jisung x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, suggestive MDNI

Genre: friends/friends with benefits to lovers, fluff

Summary: You've been in love with Minho for so long, but he's already in a relationship - a really toxic one. And your best friend Jisung, who is also like your best friend with benefits, is your only source of comfort. And it looks like there's more cooking here than just benefits.

Your favorite fuzzy blanket did absolutely nothing to cushion the blow of watching Hana shove her tongue down Minho's throat in her Instagram story. You’ve watched it three times now (you didn’t even know why but you liked torturing yourself). 

Why does he stay with her? She was bossy and such a narcissist! Jisung noticed the pout on your face and sighed, plopping down beside you.

“Put that away,” He said softly, wrestling the phone off your hand and tossing it aside. 

You looked at him and saw him giving you that look. The one that made you wonder why you even want Minho in the first place.

You huffed, throwing your head back dramatically.

“She was literally eating Minho’s face like it was her last meal. And he looked so miserable, Ji. Miserable!”

Jisung raised an eyebrow as he popped open the wine bottle.

“Maybe he likes being miserable. Some people are into that. Like you and this whole ‘pining after your taken best friend’ thing.” Jisung teased, and you glared at him. 

But he just grinned, handing you a glass of wine. 

“Don’t.” you bit out. 

“Don’t what? Tell you the truth? That you’re wasting your time on Minho when you could be -”

“Jisung.”

“Fine, fine.” He threw his hands up in mock surrender, but there was that glint in his eye. That Jisung glint. The one that promised things you didn’t want to think about right now.

Because Jisung? Jisung was safe. He was your comfort zone. The guy who knows exactly when to show up, exactly what to say (or not say), and exactly how to make you forget about Minho.

Like right now.

He set his wine down, leaned back, and patted his lap. “Come here.”

You hesitated, because you know where this is going. It wasn't like this was your first rodeo. But tonight, with Minho’s stupidly gorgeous, miserable face burned into your brain, you didn’t have the energy to resist.

You climbed into Jisung’s lap, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“Let it go, babe” Jisung said softly. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. But you can make out with your incredibly sexy boy here to forget about him.”  

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“Ridiculously good in bed,” he shot back, leaning in closer.  

“Why am I even friends with you?”  

“Because I’m the only one who puts up with your Minho obsession and gives you orgasms on the regular.”  

You slapped his arm, but he caught your hand, tugging you closer with a smug grin.

“Come on,” he murmured, voice dipping. “Let me take care of you.”  

And that’s how it always is with Jisung. No questions. No strings. Just heat and comfort and the kind of laughter that made your tummy ache.

—-

Later, when you were lying in bed, thoroughly spent, he ran his fingers through your hair.

“You know, I’d treat you way better than Minho ever could.” Jisung teased. 

“Please. You’d annoy the crap out of me within a week.” you snorted. 

“True,” he admitted with a grin, kissing the top of your head. “But at least I wouldn’t make you cry.”

And damn it, if that didn’t make your stupid heart skip a beat.

You weren’t entirely sure why you agreed to this. Maybe it was the way Minho had looked at you, all big, sad eyes and that faint pout you couldn’t resist.  

Jisung smirked like the devil himself as he whispered, “We’re gonna regret this so hard, aren’t we?”  

Of course you did. 

The Christmas market was magical, with the twinkling lights, the scent of cinnamon and mulled wine, and obviously, the company of your friends - but Hana managed to suck the joy out of it faster than the Grinch with a vacuum cleaner.  

The mulled wine was too hot. The fudge was too sweet. The carols were too loud.

You gritted your teeth, gripping Jisung's arm so tight. Why the hell were you all letting her lead the way?! 

Hana stopped in front of a stall selling silk scarves and picked up a bright pink one. 

“Oh this would look good on me,” She announced, and Minho winced before gently saying, “It’s not really your color,” 

“Stop thinking about strangling her with that scarf, love.” Jisung whispered in your ear. 

You snorted, clapping a hand over your mouth as Hana shot you a glare. “Something funny?”  

“Nope,” Jisung said smoothly, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Just enjoying the festive spirit.”  

“Can you not be so clingy?” Hana snapped at Jisung after she saw him move a strand of hair off your face. “It’s so… obvious.”

“Hana please-” Minho tried. He did.  

“Obvious?” you repeated, voice colder than the December air.

Hana raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a condescending smirk.

“I mean, really. Do you need him to hold your hand all the time?” 

It took everything in you not to lunge at her, and only Jisung’s firm grip on your wrist stopped you from doing something you’d regret.  

“Relax,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. “She’s not worth it.”  

“I need to use the bathroom,” you hissed, yanking Jisung on your way, brushing past Minho.

“Why does he need to go with you?” Hana called after you, but you didn’t even glance back.

You stormed through the market, weaving past stalls until you found a quiet corner near a stand selling candied nuts. The scent was almost enough to calm you down. Almost. 

“I swear to god, Sungie, I’m gonna -”  

Before you could finish, Jisung spun you around and cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“Breathe,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “She’s not worth the jail time.”  

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, but your anger was already starting to melt under his touch.

“I just - ugh, she’s so -”  

“I know baby, I know,” Jisung said with a little chuckle.  

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself. 

“You’ve gotta let it go, babe. And honestly…” He grinned, his lips brushing yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re way cuter when you’re happy.”

“You’re so smooth,” you murmured, but your hands were already fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer.  

“And yet, here we are,” he teased, before finally kissing you.  

It definitely wasn’t the first time, of course, but it always felt new with Jisung. 

When you finally pulled back, your anger had dissolved into something softer, something sweeter.  

“You good now?” he asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.  

“Better,” you admitted, resting your head against his chest.  

“Good.” He kissed the top of your head, his arms wrapping around you like he could shield you from the world. “Now, let’s get back out there before Hana convinces Minho to buy her that ugly scarf.”  

“Do we have to?” You groaned.

“Hey, you dragged me here,” he pointed out with a grin.  

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”  

“I am,” he said, tilting your chin up to kiss you again. “Always.”    

The Christmas market outing hadn’t been great, but dinner was starting to look even worse. You all sat at a cozy little restaurant, candlelight flickering over the table while festive decorations twinkled. It should’ve been perfect. 

But then there was Hana.  

Minho had been eyeing the beef stew on the menu with excitement.

“I want to try this,” he said, but Hana barely looked up from her phone.

“That’s too heavy. Order the grilled salmon instead. It’s better for you.” she said, her bossy tone dimming the mood instantly.

Minho’s expression faltered as he said, “I kind of wanted the -”

“Salmon,” Hana interrupted, snapping her menu shut with finality. “Trust me. It's better.”  

You gripped your menu so hard you were surprised it didn’t rip in two. You wanted to stab her with the fork. No wait, you wanted to slap some sense into Minho.

But before you could actually do anything, you felt Jisung's hand on your thigh, his long fingers squeezing gently. 

“Salmon it is,” Minho muttered, deflating like a popped balloon. 

When the waiter came to your table, you watched Minho order two of those damn salmon.

 “I’ll have the beef stew, please.” you heard yourself say.

Jisung immediately chimed in, “And I’ll take the gnocchi.”

You snapped your head toward him, because you've been wanting that gnocchi. He winked at you and said, “It’s called teamwork, babe.”  

Your heart did a weird flip. Damn him and his perfectly calculated sweetness. Your eyes moved towards Minho, who was now clicking some pictures of Hana, and then to Jisung's hand on your thigh.

You placed a hand on top of his and squeezed tight.

—--

The food arrived a short while later, and Hana’s sharp eyes immediately darted to the beef stew in front of you. 

Without a word, you pushed your plate toward Minho.

“Here. Trade with me.” you said. 

Minho blinked, startled.

“What? No, I can’t -”  

“Minho,” you said softly, “it's ok, I want you to have it.”

He hesitated, glancing between you and Hana, whose mouth had tightened into a thin line.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his cheeks pink. 

“Positive.” You smiled, even as your heart twisted.  

Minho hesitated for another moment before switching plates with you.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, his voice full of something you couldn’t quite place.

Before you could start on the salmon, Jisung slid his gnocchi in front of you and took the salmon for himself.

“Sungie, you didn't have to-” You stared at him, half smitten and half exasperated.

“It's for the greater good, you can thank me later,” he said cheerfully, digging in.

Hana’s glare could’ve frozen molten lava, though.

“Do you two always make everything about yourselves?”

Jisung leaned back in his chair, giving her a shit-eating grin.

“Mostly yeah.” he said, and you didn’t miss the way Hana’s eyes narrowed.

As you all fell silent, focusing on your food, you couldn't help but feel a weird pull in your heart. And it had nothing to do with Minho. And everything to do with this messy haired boy sitting beside you.

The cold air bit at your face as you and Jisung stepped out of the restaurant, the distant glow of holiday lights softening the edges of the night.

Now, you were walking side by side through the bustling city streets, holding hands. Snowflakes fluttered down, catching in his messy hair, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.  

You stopped walking, your breath clouding in the cold air. “Why are you so good to me, Sungie?”  

He stopped too, surprised at the abrupt halt and the unexpected question.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, making him look absolutely adorable. 

“Because I’m a mess,” you said, half-laughing, half-starting to cry. “Because I keep dragging you into this whole thing with Minho and I feel like I'm so damn selfish…you don't deserve this, Sungie-”  

“I'm doing this for me, not for you or anyone else. Can you try to accept that? I like being with you, ok?” he interrupted, his tone light but his eyes giving him away.  

Your stomach dropped. 

“Relax,” he added quickly, the corner of his mouth quirking up into that familiar smirk. “I’m just saying… I care about you. That’s it. No strings, no expectations. We agreed on that.”  

It was so Jisung - offering everything without asking for a damn thing in return. And it made you want to cry and kiss him all at once.  

So, you did the latter.

You stepped closer, gripping at his jacket tightly to pull him down to meet your lips. His breath hitched as you kissed him, soft at first, then deeper as he kissed you back.

His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as the world around you faded into nothing but the warmth between you two. 

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, he let out a breathless laugh.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“For being too good for your own good.” You smiled, your hands cupping his cheeks.

“Oh? Are you planning to ‘thank’ me properly?”  he asked, raising an eyebrow, his grin turning wicked.

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing as you whispered, “Take me home then.”  

---

The second you stepped into his apartment, your back hit the door as Jisung kissed you like a man possessed. His hands were busy pulling your jacket off you, followed by your sweater and everything else. 

You sighed as you felt his lips and hands everywhere - as if he couldn’t get enough of you. 

“Been waiting for this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough. “You have no idea.”  

“Then show me,” you shot back, tugging him toward the bedroom.

He chuckled, both of you stumbling into his bedroom, and onto his bed. Clothes were shed, and he was settled in between your legs as he hovered over you.

As your eyes met, you saw something you didn't before - the softness of his gaze, a longing. And it made your heart flutter. Neither of you acknowledge it, and the rest of the night was a blur of soft whispers and sweet love making.

Jisung wasn’t just good - he was great, knowing exactly what you liked. And he did give, over and over again, until you were left breathless and completely exhausted.  

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“For what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your temple.  

“For being you.”  

Christmas Eve at Jisung’s place was always so chaotic. You both celebrate together when you couldn't travel back home for the holidays. 

Currently his living room was a mess with half-wrapped presents scattered across the floor, the scent of gingerbread in the air, and Jisung humming Christmas songs off-key. 

This year, though, Christmas came with an unexpected guest.  

Minho stood awkwardly in the doorway, a small bag in his hand and a defeated smile on his face. He looked exhausted. 

Hana was officially out of the picture. The breakup had been messy and so damn difficult, but Minho had finally done it. 

Jisung wasted no time pulling him into a tight hug. And you did too, because he needed all the hugs and love you could give because the poor man has been through a lot.

Minho slowly relaxed, even cracked a few jokes.

But it wasn’t until later, when the three of you were cleaning up in the kitchen, that he finally let the mask slip.

“You were right about her,” Minho said quietly, leaning against the counter as he dried a glass.

You glanced up from where you were wiping down the counter, surprised by the softness in his tone. 

“Minho -”  you began, but your eyes fell on Jisung, who quickly left the kitchen, leaving you alone with Minho. You didn't know why, but it absolutely shattered your heart to see him slip away like that. 

“No, let me finish.” He set the glass down and turned to you. “I shouldn’t have dragged it out. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I was scared to let go... I liked her so much, I kept thinking she would change…but deep down, I knew.”  

You stayed silent, giving him space to continue.  

“And I knew about you,” he admitted, his voice even softer now. “That you… liked me. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. I never thought of you like that and I'm so sorry, Y/N. I should've said something.”

You exhaled slowly, leaning back against the counter.

“Love is weird, Minho,” You said quietly. “It's messy and complicated, and you don't have to feel bad about anything. Because you're ok, I'm ok… we're good.”

Minho’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing yours on the counter. 

“You and Jisung? I think it's great. He is such a nice guy, and it's so obvious that he loves you so much.” Minho said, giving you a grin. 

You smiled gently, your cheeks heating up.

“I think so too,” You whispered. “I’m glad you’re here, Lino…I’ll finish this up, you can go to bed. Get some rest, yeah?”

Minho nodded, pulling you into a quick hug before leaving the kitchen.

Your heart raced as you thought about what Minho said. You've been trying to decide how to bring it up with Jisung for a while now. But you were so afraid, because you know you wouldn't survive the heartbreak if you ever lost Jisung. 

He was everything to you. He made you feel wonderful - like the most special girl in the world. And it felt great. 

So you walked into the living room with wobbly legs, where Jisung was sitting by the Christmas tree, fiddling with a Rubik’s cube. The fairy lights reflected off his skin, making him look impossibly soft and adorable. 

When he saw you, his lips curved into that familiar, heart-melting smile.

“Hey,” he said, setting the cube down. “Everything ok?”

“Sort of.” You grinned, crossing the room to him. Without a word, you slipped into his lap, your arms draping around his neck.  

Jisung’s eyes widened slightly, his hands instinctively settling on your hips. 

“Uh… not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?” he asked, his eyes darting towards the guest room where Minho was. 

You leaned in, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss. 

Your eyes meet as you said, “I love you, Sungie.”  

His mouth fell open, and for a second, he just stared at you, completely shocked.

“You… what?”  

“I love you,” you repeated, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I have for a while now. I just didn’t realize it until - well, until recently.” 

The disbelief melted from his face, replaced by a slow, utterly pleased smile.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

You laughed, pressing your lips to his forehead, before saying, “I love you.”

“Good,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “Because I’ve been waiting to hear that for a really long time.”  

And then he kissed you - soft at first, but quickly deepening as his hands slid up your back. You put your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, humming softly as his tongue caressed yours.

“I love you, baby,” He whispered against your lips. “God, I love you!”

You giggle, pressing kisses to his cheeks. 

“So,” he said, “How exactly do you want to ‘celebrate’?”  

You grinned, pulling him down into another kiss. “I have a few ideas.”  

This was your Christmas. And it was perfect.

Tags:

@moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix

[brucedefender4eva]

Gotta be honest, don’t attack me

But I really hate the whole Dick Grayson is Damian’s dad thing

Some fanfic writes completely ruined it by making Bruce abusive or things of that nature. And then they have Bruce be in the wrong for having his feeling hurt that his own son doesn’t see him as his dad, like…? Of course he’s gonna be hurt?

It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth the way it’s presented.

I’m told that in a lot of comics Bruce and Damian have a really good relationship because of how similar they are. It’s fine if you don’t wanna go by the comics, we all know I don’t, but I always find it weird when someone takes a perfectly good character and makes them abusive to make another character look better in comparison.

Once again, if you like that more power to you, but personally I feel like it’s bad writing and in bad faith. I very much so avoid the tag Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s parent like the plague. Let Dick be an older brother! That’s all he wants!

[satkru]

੭* ‧₊° ichigo kurosaki x male reader

*๑♡՞ . rough sex , enemies to lovers , barely legal adults , little to no respect for one another during sex , raw sex , public sex

p.s . i have literally little to no idea how accurate my writing abt ichigo will be as i've really only watched the series until like ep 8-9(??) i'll probably pick it back up once i find the motivation to but rn im freeballing this 💔

ichigo and y/n had a rivalry known throughout the entirety of the whole school. a rivalry so bad that the administration of the school had to put them on two different floors with two different schedules in order for them to not engage with one another, otherwise it would end in an intense scrabble of sorts.

but that still didnt stop the two from sharing nasty glares at one another from time to time, no one really knew how they started such a rival-ship, but some just say that they stepped on the wrong foot and never recovered from it.

the true reason for such an intense relationship is that they both had an eye for the lovely lady known as Orihime. Her gorgeous orange eyes paired with her flowy ginger hair was a match made in heaven. Both of them could not keep their eyes off of that girl.

but one faithful day, after school had ended and the halls were empty. the two were set up to clean the rooms, with a teacher on the scene of course. Each time they came close to the others proximity, it was like watching two territorial dogs growling at each other, waiting for the other to strike.

but that strike never came as long as the professor was around. Eventually, the period of peace had to come to an end, as the teacher exclaimed they needed to use the restroom. "dont you two dare lay a hand on each other while im gone, or else you two are suspended for the rest of the year", the words burned into the nerves of the two.

"so, do you still like orihime" y/n asked as he swept the remaining dust on the floor, "why is that any of your business" ichigo spat out, a hint of anger laced his tone. "just wondering, you know. she has been looking at me twice now".

ichigo gripped onto the handle of his own broom, trying to contain his anger. "shes been getting quite.. close, to me" y/n said with a chuckle, he knew what he was doing was ticking off his rival, but the sensation of pissing someone off just called to him.

"she asked me to go to her house today, but dont worry, i'll make sure to save some space for you" kurosaki couldnt hold his jealously anymore, although he knew y/n was bluffing, the thought of him with his crush agitated him. and with that, he found himself throwing the broom across the room, almost hitting y/n in the process.

the man grinned, an annoying feature ichigo had always hated whenever he and y/n got into disputes. "uh oh, did i make sweet kurosaki angryy" y/n said with fake innocence in his voice, pouting his lip and laying a finger on his chin to enhance his "sweetness".

"shut your mouth already" kurosaki growled, his hands clenched into fists as he watched y/n continue to piss him off. "you'll never be with such a girl, soon enough, she'll be begging for me and my dick soon, her pussy will remember the shape of me and make enough room to fit me. she'll never think of you again after i go over to her house."

each word out of y/n's mouth pissed ichigo more off than before, his eyes were glued to the floor to not meet eyes, otherwise, the situation would get out of hand. the teasing man began walking towards kurosaki, his face still in an annoyingly smug expression.

"c'mon kurosaki, look at me, remember my face for the rest of your goddamn life. remember that i'll be the one taking care of who you thought was going to be your future wife." ichigo couldnt take the amount of disrespect he was experiencing, causing him to throw an unexpected punch towards y/n, making him fall to the floor with blood dripping from his nose.

although it was sudden, y/n expected such a reaction, this was all apart of his plan of course. ichigo reached down and grabbed y/n by the throat and pulled him up so they could be eye to eye. "you fucking bitch, youre getting me all riled up for what? huh? do you get off of this?" y/n chuckled dryly, "and what if i do?". such a response threw ichigo off guard, causing him to receive a heavy punch to his cheek.

"dont tell me youre gonna kink shame me, kuro" ichigo steadily hoisted himself up with the help of the desks, his breath more heavy than before. "god do you ever stop talking" the ginger haired man whispered under his breath, barely audible but still loud enough to be caught by y/n's hearing. "dont be so mean ichi-" before he could finish his sentence, kurosaki lunged forward and managed to grab a hold of y/n's hair, twisting his hair enough and slamming his face into the desk.

"i can see you've gotten a bit more intelligent when it comes to fighting now, is that black haired girl training you?" kurosaki froze, how the fuck did he know about rukia? ichigo tumbled over his words, trying to make up excuses and babbling on about stories that made no sense. "you know, there is a way to keep me from outing you" y/n said, his voice drenched in hunger and lust. the ginger sneered, "oh fuck it"

and with that, ichigo hurriedly unbuckled his belt and shuffled his boxers down. leaving no room for hesitance, "god, all of your teasing has made me rock fucking solid.." kurosaki said as he watched his own cock puylse and twitch. y/n hummed as he too began to undress his lower half, slipping ichigo's hard on between his ass.

"i cant take anymore of your games" ichigo growled as he then thrusted himself into his once rival, earning a loud moan from him. each thrust was ravenous, filled to the brim with both anger and frustration. "youre so tight.." kurosaki groaned, his hand intangled with y/n's hair strand then sharply pulled back, earning another ear piercing moan.

"yes..! just like that ichigo! fuck me harder!!" y/n screamed as he reached back to spread his ass more, helping ichigo's long and hard cock reach more places y/n didn't even think could be reached. both kurosaki's and y/n's loud and lustful noises could be heard throughout the entirety of the hallway.

"you never were actually after orihime were you.. fuck.. you were after me" ichigo said with a strained voice, his time was ticking and he knew it. y/n's obnoxiously loud noises never quieted down, instead, they grew louder, more hungry for action. "use me ichigo! use me as if im your sweet orihime! fuck my ass as if its her pussy!" y/n yelled on the top of his lungs, his body was becoming heavier and sweat drenched him entirely.

"im cumming..! goddamn your tight ass feels too good!" kurosaki exclaimed as his grip on y/n's hip grew tighter, and his hand incased in the locks of his rival began to waver in strength. "youre going to take my cum.. like the slut you are. do you hear me?" y/n eagerly nodded, feeling the knot in his own stomach begin to untie.

with a few more ass-reddening thrusts, ichigo's load quickly filled y/n's hole, traveling deep through his guts. as ichigo was dumping his cum into y/n's ass, the once smug and arrogant man was at his own witts end. spreading his own cum across the desk in front of him and crying out in pure bliss.

the two men stood in silence, the only thing heard being heavy breathing and the squelching of cum escaping y/n's ass. "dont think.. that im done with you yet y/n.. meet me at my house tonight, 10pm sharp.. got it?" ichigo said between huffs. "got it..!" y/n said with cheerfulness in his tone. he'd finally gotten what he was hoping more, good for him.

[esote-rika]

More of you to worship | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Summary: Spencer Reid has insecurities about his changing body, and you assure him you love him regardless.

Content: body insecurity, established relationship, one mention of New Year

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Quick little oneshot to end the year! You can thank @reidgif for this one because this gif rekindled my hyperfixation on his tummy. And then I saw a clip of Aisha (Tara’s actress) saying MGG weighs 11 pounds and has the metabolism of a rabbit on speed (lmfao) anyway, I took that and ran with it and now here we are. As someone who struggles with dysmorphia, I did my very best to be as sensitive with this as possible. Last fix of the year, I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer had begun to notice it a few weeks ago. At first, he had foolishly thought that there was simply something wrong with the shirt he had worn. Tactile sensitivity had always been something he dealt with, and this was no different. There had been a certain peculiarity in the fit of his shirt that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Days continued, and it became a persistent bother, impeding his movement when he aimed, and inhibiting his general comfort.

It wasn’t until today, sitting in the bed—one he shared with you—that he finally had the time to inspect what was going on. The two of you had just gotten home from Rossi, who had graciously hosted a New Year’s dinner at his mansion. Spencer had admittedly eaten more than his fill, and that’s when he realized—it showed.

At once, the problem appeared. He was gaining weight. His shirts were bothering him because they were growing too tight, digging into places where they had previously been loose. The realization made him pause, as he stared down at himself.

Sitting on the bed, his stomach had gathered into a bulge, straining against the cloth. It was a new sight, not necessarily unwelcomed, but it seemed to send his mind reeling (to be fair, a lot sent his mind reeling nowadays, he was running on fumes, his only reprieve being you.)

He had never been muscular, had never found the need to be muscular. The team was nearly faultless because everyone filled a role, and they executed that well. He was, has always been, the genius, the expert on everything, as Hotch had called him once. Being the genius of the BAU meant that he had value. Relevance. It brought him great deal of pride, being able to contribute and pick up on patterns and little details that the majority of the team might miss.

It made him feel like he mattered. Needed.

So what if he couldn’t tackle a man down? They used to have Derek and Hotch for that, and now that role was being fulfilled by Luke and Matt, both of whom were utter specimens of the male physique.

But his time in prison had proven to him that he couldn’t rely on just his brains. Not when he had three burly inmates looking for trouble, looking for someone easy. It pained him that someone easy meant someone that looked like him. Tall, gangly, defenseless.

He took another breath and frowned as the fabric around his stomach grew tighter, taut at having to contain this belly that had formed over the course of the evening. A food baby, you liked to call it, because your own tummy was bonded to several factors as well—hormones, food, water intake—that made it fluctuate frequently, normally.

Normal. He tried to remind himself that this was normal, gaining weight was normal, but then again, how could someone tell what was normal when their—his—whole life, he had little experience with the word? Growing up a genius and taking care of an ailing mother skewed whatever sense of normalcy he could have developed.

Besides, his normal meant lanky, thin. His body, the way it was framed and built, had always been long and erring on the side of delicate. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to bulk up, it was that his muscles were lean; that was simply how his anatomy worked. It would take a lot more effort to gain more muscle, effort that he, admittedly, didn’t want to exert. It wasn’t his role.

And now, he looked down at his stomach with a crease on his brow, mind whirring with explanations. Weight fluctuations are normal, and they were okay, and he was nearing forty, anyway, of course his metabolism was beginning to slow down, human adults’ bodily functions tend to do that, it was scientific and —

“Honey?”

He looked up, and there you were, your loveliness framed by the plain doorway. Somehow, you made it seem more magical, less boring, as though your very presence just made everything better. He smiled, holding out a hand for you, forcing the wave of insecurity down his throat, down his chest, trying to bury it deep in the recesses of his body.

You walked closer, and the thoughts punched through his attempts to silence them—you wouldn’t find him attractive anymore.

Something must have shifted on his face, a sliver of that anxiety creating fresh lines between his brows, because you paused. A hand ran across your cheek, and he felt the weight of your concern in the action.

“What’s wrong, Spence?”

He drew you closer, pulled you onto his lap. He couldn’t lie to you, not out of his lack of skill, but due to your incessant ability to somehow sniff out the truth from him, one way or another.

“I think I’m outgrowing my shirts.” he said, softening the words with a chuckle. He was ashamed to admit that it was affecting him more than he anticipated; maybe humor would lessen its significance.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be going through puberty?” you asked, matching the teasing tone of his voice. The difference was glaring though; his voice was awfully strained, and yours was lighter, more at ease.

Still, he laughed, buried his face at the nape of your neck. “They’re getting tight around my stomach.”

At that, you pulled back. He swallowed the whine that threatened to leave his lips; he was already being so pathetic over a little pudge, he was reaching max capacity. With bated breath, he watched as your gaze ran over him, eyes flickering with recognition when they landed on his torso.

“Oh they are,” You replied, hands going up to his shoulders, tugging at the fabric there, “Here too. Huh, I guess we’ll have to go shopping then.”

He looked, patiently waited for more.

“What?” you asked, eyes crinkling oh so prettily at the corners that he couldn’t help but press a kiss over them.

“That’s it?” he murmured, disbelief coloring his voice. He had anticipated more of a reaction, maybe a suggestion of ‘oh maybe you should go to the gym’. But you took it with such stride that he was a little confused.

“Yeah, that’s it.” you laughed, brought a palm down to his stomach, that one place that’s causing him to basically break down, “Should there be more?”

He shrugged.

Perched on his lap, you frowned as you watched emotions flicker through his eyes. “Spence,” You murmured, kissing his temple, “Talk to me.”

“I just don't want you to think I'm unattractive anymore.” The words felt bitter in his tongue; it was a relief to release them, get them out of his system. “I was never - you know - sexy before, and now I'm gaining weight.”

“Spence,” You interrupted him gently. It wasn't something you did often; his rambles were one of the things you loved about him after all, but it pained you to hear him get so insecure about something so insignificant as his weight, especially since his body wasn't even the thing that made him attractive to you in the first place, “Belly pudge or scrawny, I think you're hot.”

His eyes softened, looking so impossibly hopeful that you couldn't stop the urge to lean in and kiss him. “Seriously,” You murmured, “It doesn't matter to me. You're handsome, but you're also so intelligent and passionate and sensitive, and those are so much more important than how you look.”

He sagged with relief, arms tightening around you. “Yeah?” He asked as he buried his face in your hair.

“Yeah, honey. I'm not with you because of your looks,” You replied, then with a little laugh, you added, “Although, they certainly are an added bonus.”

His shoulders shook as he chuckled, and you can feel his lips giving you tiny kisses at the crown of your head.

“Besides,” You continued, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, “The way I see it, there's physically more of you now - more of you to hug, and to love, more of you to worship.”

He was silent, but his grip on you never faltered, breath fanning gently over your hair. “More of me to love.” He whispered, “You're right, that's - that's one way to look at it.”

“Mhmm,” You nodded, “But you really do need to go shopping, can't have you ripping your shirts while you're out on a case. You wouldn't want your team to think you're doing an impromptu strip tease.”

He bursted out laughing, and exhilaration filled your chest. You always took pride in making him laugh, and this was no exception.

“God, I love you.” He said, pulling back and resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.” You smiled, then added, “Besides, I think the pudge is cute. You're on your way to a dad bod.”

He laughed again, and if you could hear that sound on loop forever, then you would be in heaven

[redwinelew]

knee socks | lewis hamilton

summary | singer!y/n released a song which exposes lewis' lack of attention toward her in their relationship and he isn't too pleased with it.

warnings | 18+. smut. oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, vaginal sex, dirty talk, lewis being a little mean, english is not my first language, pls lmk what else i missed

author's note | i have nothing to post rn and this has been sitting in my drafts so weeks so here you go. lmk if u guys enjoy this and if u want me to write more written fics.

lewis is a private man, he made that clear all throughout his life, since the first world championship trophy was handed to him, the moments everybody's eyes in the world started to set on him, following his every move, to this day. he doesn't like channeling his personal matters to the public. sure there are a lot of people who'd be interested to know, journalists who would sell their souls for an exclusive interview with him, but nothing can make him give up his peace anymore. he had his moments when he was younger. everything was open to interpretation for the media and fans. but as he gets older, things changed. private life should stay private.

you are a musician. and it's risky, dating a musician. he's seen it. he's been with one, and he is one. he thought he already knew, he thought he understood what he was getting himself back into. you are different from his ex. you make your own music, write your own songs, not afraid to be vulnerable through your art, never care however fans and media are going to interpret them. they'll never know the truth. it's none of their business anyway. he doesn't regret dating you, though. nothing could make him regret being with you. he wouldn't trade it even for his 8th championship.

but deep down, lewis knows this day will come. where a little inconvenience happens in your relationship was enough to set you off completely. the day where you stopped listening to the logical part of your brain and follow your heart instead. the day you pissed off enough to finally say fuck it.

in your defense, you were so caught up in your feelings. part of you also honestly didn't care. you are a singer, a musician, as much as he is. this is how you express yourself. he should have known that by now. if he didn't want the whole world to know how fucking busy he is with the race season to the point where he never spent time with you anymore, he should have pay more attention to you.

you would have argued with that if only you could form a single coherent sentence right now. but all you could say was—

"please...."

do not ask how long has this been going on. he could lie and say hours and you'll believe it. he could ask you to do anything and you'll obey. it's not like you have a choice. if it pleases him, if it will somehow get you the release you have been desperately craving, fucking hell, you'll do it. that's how it is right now. you, half naked on the bed. pants discarded somewhere on the carpeted bedroom floor. panties gone to fuck knows where. his old band t-shirt that you're wearing is pushed up, exposing your belly and almost your chest.

him? in between your legs. inked hands holding your thighs open for his tongue to explore your folds in every way he knows, drawing all kinds of sounds out of you, pushing you to the edge again and again but not quite giving you the release you've been desperately needing. not after what you said about him in the song, no.

a whine escapes your lips yet again when he pulls himself off of you just as you're about to reach another peak. he looks up, a smirk decorating his face as his tongue licks your arousal from his thick lips.

bastard.

"i didn't ask you to beg." he replies calmly, caressing your inner thigh all the way up to your knee, making you almost jerk up at the slightest of his touch.

of course he is calm. he's enjoying this. torturing you. driving you insane. god how you wish the tables are turn right now. how you wish that you have the energy to flip the two of you and get your revenge on him, showing him how it feels to be in your shoes. he'd be worse than you are right now. you can say that confidently because you've seen it. some rare moments where he handed over the control to you, letting you take charge in bed and do whatever you wanted to him. easiest way to say, he was a mess.

"you're not being fair—" was instead all you could say in such a pathetic tone that even you did not recognize yourself.

"i wasn't planning to be."

your pussy clenches around nothing at the casualness of his reply. your mind is pissed at him for ruining your orgasms but your body couldn't help but craving for his touch. you've seen the dominance side of him almost every night and yet the calmness that he's radiating right now even though you know how angry he is at you and your song is enough to send shivers down your spine.

there's something about lewis being angry and yet not completely showing it.

it turns you on even more.

"tell me what i want to hear first." he demands, his thick digits rubbing your bundle of nerves. your back arches into his touch. your eyelids flutter, broken moans fall from your lips.

the pleasure didn't last long. a soft, frustrated sigh leaves you as do his fingers from your clit. just when you were going to try catching your breath, he plunges two fingers inside without warning.

"fuck— oh my god—"

he hovers above you, eyes never leaving your face, watching your every reaction, the way your jaw hangs low. the thickness of his digits makes you feel so full already, you couldn't form neither words nor sounds.

"fuck, fuck—" and when he moves his fingers, you already saw heaven. the wet squelching sound from your arousal is so sinful it almost made you feel embarrassed at how wet you still are even after having your pleasure punished by him. your hand reaches up to his free arm near your head, clinging to him for support. your nails dig deep into his inked skin, drawing a silent hiss from him.

"come on," he says again. "tell me what i want to hear."

this might be it. he's fingering you with passion, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, making your legs tremble. he never half-assed anything in his life, especially when it comes to your pleasure but something tells you that maybe this is when he thinks that you have had your lesson and it's time you give you that release. he just loves you that much. and you always get what you want.

"n-no." you stutter in defiance.

he smirks again. your denial only makes this more fun for him, which is apparent in the way his fingers move rougher and faster right now. and you notice how his other digits are avoiding your clit, making it a little harder for you to reach another peak.

"four orgasms denied and you still wanna be stubborn?"

only four? it felt like hundreds, you manage to think to yourself despite how hazy your mind feels right now.

"please...." you croak out, and that's how far you'll beg for his forgiveness.

but he's not satisfied. he pulls out his fingers, and you would have groaned if you could even speak right now.

"no...."

"don't worry, sweetie," he cuts you off surprisingly, sitting up straight again. you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he lines up the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing your folds slightly. you feel as if air has been knocked out of your lungs. you didn't even think that this was a possibility tonight, to be fucked by him. to feel his thick cock inside you. genuinely you thought he would leave you high and dry, though it's very unlikely for him. but still. he could truly be that cruel when he wants to.

"i'll make you come if that's what you wanted so badly. but only on my cock. and i'll make you come again and again until i finally get my apology."

you swallow thickly.

that is certainly a promise.

[brucethegirl]

Sharing this again in 24 hours.

Because I feel so strongly about it.

The way Killian is so very nervous at first. He and David have been working together this whole day, they've bonded and had a super heart felt, raw moment between them that even if they hadn't already been kind of forming a friendship. Would have shifted their dynamic. And Killian recognizes that he's about to potentially mess all that up irreparably if David doesn't give his blessing. Especially when 24 hours before this, David was still spewing his "you're just a dirty pirate" rhetoric.

And when David is silent, as mockiery says in the notes previous to this. Weaponizing his silence in a way. Maybe it's shock, maybe its an automatic reaction, maybe its because he needs a second to process that they're talking about his baby girl that he's only just got back. But regardless, he's silent. And it's a weapon. One that stabs Killian right in the heart.

He thinks he's screwed everything up. He misread the situation. Just cause they had that moment of saving David from making a terrible mistake, it doesn't mean David sees Killian as a worthy man. How can they possibly move forward at all after this. Knowing David doesn't see him worthy. He'd still ask Emma, obviously. He's been plain about it from season 4- it's up to him and Emma to make their relationship work. David giving his blessing is just to smooth the sails of it and make things more copacetic. He's ruined that now. They all could have played along that it was fine, but now he KNOWS it's not. And Emma's parents are SO important to her. Even if she is independent and doesn't need their approval, she still wants them in her life. How can they possibly move forward as a family after this. He goes like he's going to take it back. Then his face says kind of. No, I mean it. I'm going to ask her to marry me. You can accept that or not.

And THEN David smiles. And Killian sees it. And realizes he fell for it. David, the jokester. the absolute RELIEF when David says of course. This man lived a whole heart attack and his father-in-law is MAKING JOKES.

Relief is an understatement. This man just mentally witnessed the fall of his entire life.

I love these two.

[project-sekai-facts]

The saki glue theory isn’t true?!

I mean it is just a theory… A GAME THEO-

Okay, I’ll stop. But I do wonder why you think that especially since that theory is incredibly popular.

The Saki glue theory, at least from what I've seen, says that if Saki died in middle school it would mean that none of the units in the game would form. The things is, it literally makes no sense if you think about it properly for more than a few seconds.

Of course Leo/need wouldn't exist, because it's not Leo/need without all four of them, and Saki was a key player in mending their friendship. As for Tsukasa, by middle school he was already a theatre kid, so he's not just gonna drop that because his sister died. Yes he would be greatly affected by it but he also wouldn't quit (it's during this point that he actually pushed aside and forgot his original motivations, so he doesn't associate Saki with his dream here). And Tsukasa would still encourage Toya to rebel against his dad, so Toya still meets Akito and they still form Bad Dogs and eventually VBS.

When it comes to MMJ and N25 it becomes really obvious that this theory is grasping at straws. The main explanations I've seen as to how Saki could possibly affect them is that Shiho and Honami become depressed, so Shizuku quits idol work to be there for Shiho, and Honami never becomes Kanade's housekeeper so doesn't call an ambulance for her when she collapsed of dehydration, and Kanade dies.

It just doesn't make sense at all. Yes, Shizuku loves Shiho and would obviously be there to comfort her, but she isn't just going to quit being an idol for that. Shizuku is her own character with her own complicated feelings towards said idol job. She isn't going to drop everything for her sister. And while I think Honami would still become a housekeeper, if she didn't Kanade would just have another housekeeper who probably would've found her the exact same way Honami did. Also at least some people who push for this forget that Shiho and Honami already were not in a great place mentally when Saki was in hospital in middle school. We already have insight into how they coped with losing Saki (not in that sense) and MMJ and N25 still exist despite this. Yes grief is different, but you get the idea.

The Saki glue theory is just a cheap grab at angst rather than anything that actually considers how Saki would impact other characters and their relationships. Yes she does affect some characters but she is not going to drastically rewrite the narrative if she dies nor will everyone close to her become too depressed to function. If we're being really, really, honest, you can kinda tell this theory probably exists partially to give pointless angst to her brother, which is a whole separate issue.

Like, Saki is important to some characters don't get me wrong, but she's only important to the narratives of four, those being the other members of Leo/need, and Tsukasa. She absolutely does not affect every character in the game, even by proxy. Chart:

I'm not saying angst in fandom is a bad thing, and it can be interesting to explore darker and more negative themes/emotions with characters who don't get to experience these a lot in the source material, but within this fandom there is an issue with pulling out nonsensical explanations for dark stories, which like 50% of the time involve killing off the chronically ill character. And a lot of those are to write angst for her brother and ignoring what actually is written in canon about him and his relationship with Saki. Ableism and misogyny with one move. Real nice.

[trashytracktales]

Can someone please agree with me lando would SOOO be into recording “sex tapes” ofc only for his eyes and he’d definitely watch them when he’s away at races and your not with him

Hold up, let’s analyze this properly because imo, this one is a bit tricky, and I need my glasses ☝🏻🤓

On one hand, Lando’s passion for photography and his past experiments with shooting short films definitely set the stage. Like, it wouldn’t be completely surprising to find out he’s into it (lando.jpg & land0.mov as my witnesses), strictly for his eyes only, of course. All I'm saying, there is vision & potential, and he knows what to put the focus on.

However, we also have to factor in how cautious he is about privacy. He's a guy that values keeping his personal life out of the spotlight, especially when it comes to his romantic relationships (lately), so he might hesitate... But then again, if it’s just between the two of you, completely secure, and something you’re both into? DOT DOT DOT 👀

Lastly, if he does end up doing it and taking the MATERIAL with him while traveling for races, he would definitely be super cautious. Like, password-protected devices, hidden folders, the whole nine yards. Because as fun as it is to imagine Lando smirking at his phone while... hm, risky behavior, sir.

Final verdict,

[saphiccarma]

Can I request an  Possessive Agatha Harkness x reader fic? Agatha and Reader are in a date. Agatha goes to buy something for Reader and another person flirts with Reader. Agatha sees everything

- Don't forget that you're mine

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary - Agatha was not a jealous woman, a better term was possesive. She hates it when other people touch what's hers and she doesn't let you forget that.

Warnings: Possesive Agatha, like one kiss, maybe dark Agatha (depends on how you see it)

Agatha Harkness wasn't a jealous person, per say. Jealousy didn't fit her personality quite right. The term implied that she had something to fear, a worry, but when it came to you, she had none. Agatha wasn’t insecure about your relationship together. She knew you were hers, and you knew the same, so perhaps a better term would be possessive. Agatha kept what was hers and held it close without letting anyone near. That was part of her you adored. Along with her honeyed tone, voice just slightly raspy, her blue eyes that were always calculating - your favorite part was her personality.

She had a tendency to let her hand linger on your thigh, her touch light in a way that made your stomach, or the brush against your hand when passing you something. There were subtle ways that Agatha kept her claim on you. Nothing too noticeable to others, but a reminder to you. You never forgot who you belonged to. Not with her sharp words, still laced with a sweet undertone tone, or her stern glances and gestures.

Her fingers curled into your waist as she led you into the bar. The lights were dim above you, illuminating the room just enough, and people mingled happily. Saturday night meant there was a good crowd, but it wasn't too much. Just the perfect amount. The bar was a smaller one, not super popular, but you loved the drinks served here. Agatha guided you to a table, her hand leaving you so that you could sit. Leaning down, she pressed a light peck just below your ear. Her lips left a faint stinging sensation, but it didn’t last long.

"I'll go get us some drinks. Wait here." Warm breath fanned onto your skin and sent shivers down your spine. You gave her a small smile, nodding, and she returned the smile with one of her own. Her fingers brushed against your face, trailing lightly down your cheeks before she was off. Her touch left a faint red blush in its wake.

You tapped your fingers on the wooden table as you waited. Other couples and friend groups sat at their tables around you, their joy contagious as they laughed happily. Absently, you began picking at the chipping paint while you eagerly waited for Agatha to return. Already you felt alone without her. You hardly noticed when a man slid into the seat across from you until he was tapping onto your hand. Blinking at the sudden touch, you jerked away, the hand was too callous for it be Agatha.

"Woah easy," The man teased, his voice gruff, "I'm not gonna hurt you, just wonderin' why you're here all alone?" He had a distinct accent, although you could hardly place it and you didn't care to. Anxiously you glanced to see if Agatha was near, but there was no sign of your girlfriend. When you didn't reply immediately, the man continued, "Ma name's Jack."

You met his eyes before you replied. They were a deep brown, a contrast to his light blond hair that fell slightly in front of his eyes, and the small signs of a beard. His smile was charming, you would give him that, a crooked one that held so much joy. But as he leaned close his breath was filled with a distinct smell of alcohol that told you he was drunk. Of course he was.  

"Y/N" you muttered, not really interested in talking to him. Although your curt tone didn't deter him. He began rambling, some of his words slurred with his rushed speaking. Not once did his eyes leave your face, but you smiled politely throughout the whole conversation. He was probably just lonely, needing a friend. Based on the story he was telling you; Jack was having a rough time. So, you sat and listened, but that didn't stop you from constantly checking for Agatha, hoping she would save you from this situation you did not want. What was taking her so long?

She always told you that you had too kind of a heart, too willing to let people in. You were lucky that she wasn’t a bad person, or her love would have been dangerous for you. Agatha kept you safe from all the dangers of the world, keeping you shieled and making sure you were protected. Since you were unable to realize danger yourself, she did it for you.  

At some point his calloused hand landed on your own, squeezing it, and keeping you trapped to the table. He was just looking for a friend, you reminded yourself. Taking a small inhale to calm yourself, you did another glance around for Agatha. Again she was nowhere to be seen. Jack continued to ramble, his hand tightening on yours, and a small smile light up his face as he blurted out a comment. You couldn't stop the small blush that filled your cheeks. He may not be Agatha but a compliment always warmed your cheeks and made you feel seen.

It was then you felt a hand clamp down on your shoulder, cold hands landing on bare skin. You didn't have to look to know it was Agatha. You could recognize her touch anywhere.  Relief washed through you when Jack glanced at her, and you took a quick peek back. Agatha was seething, her blue eyes alight with anger and her nails dug into your skin slightly. Her lips were set into a firm line. Simple signs that she was pissed. You just hoped it wasn’t at you.

"You're in my seat." She said, her tone was curt and sharp enough to cut through metal. Jack blinked at her, his brown eyes shimmering with slight tears, before his expression cleared a bit. It took a moment before he nodded and let go of you.

He stood, tipping his hat politely, "Sorry ma'am, I was just talking to this fine lady. I'll be out of your hair now." That was surprisingly composed for how drunk he seemed. Agatha gave didn't bother with a tight-lipped smile like the one you gave at his compliment, instead settling for squeezing your skin tighter, then releasing it and sitting across from you. In her other hand she balanced two drinks, although you could tell it was with the help of a little magic, and she slid on in front of you.

You were about to reach for it gratefully before she snatched it away again, and when you tried to hold her hand, she pulled that away too. Whining, you pouted at her, wondering why she had taken it away. She didn’t give in to your pathetic protests, her expression remaining as composed as ever.

"Do you really deserve this?" she mused, the question leaving you confused. Agatha brought the drink to her mouth, light pink lips curling around the straw delicately, and then she took a couple small sips. Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement, but also something darker, something you couldn't quite read. "You seemed quite content to let him flirt with you, maybe I should let him buy you a drink."

It clicked into place, and you shook your head quickly, "No, he was just rambling about something. I was hardly listening - I promise." She set your drink down, humming skeptically, and raised a single brow in question. You tried to reach for her hand again, longing for physical contact, but she retracted it from your reach.

"And what about the way he was holding your hand? Hm?" Agatha casually curled her free hand under her chin, leaning against it as she studied you. Once again, you shook your head, hair flying slightly.

"He was strong!" You protested, "And it felt wrong because he was so sad." It was true, his grip was like iron, keeping your hand in his. And you felt bad because he needed a source of comfort and depriving him of that was cruel.

Frustration bubbled in your stomach when Agatha seemed to contemplate your words, but you weren't really frustrated at her. More so at yourself. You shouldn't have let him touch you or even sit down. You should have ignored him or told him to leave the moment he tried to talk to you.

Just when you were about to open your mouth and persuade her it meant nothing, Agatha's hand reached out, snatching you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you close. Her breath was warm against your face, and you could feel heat pooling your stomach at the proximity. There was just a moment where she stared you, eyes scanning every visible part of your face. You felt so small under her gaze, almost like an insect.

"You're mine," she hissed, eyes locking with yours, filled with a possessiveness that seared into your soul, "Do you understand?" You nodded, desperate for her to believe you but at a loss for words. Just being near her robbed you of all coherent thoughts sometimes. That wasn't enough for her, "Words, pet."

"I understand," you breathed, your voice hardly audible over the music and chatter. But Agatha heard it, and she cupped your face, pulling you in for a kiss. It was a kiss that was teeth and tongue on her end, you just being a puppet. It was her marking her claim on you. The thought made a distinct wetness become apparent between your thighs. Agatha pulled away, smirking at the dazed look in your glazed over eyes.

She gave you the drink and you took it happily, muttering a small thanks.

"You're mine," Agatha reminded you once again, finally letting you hold her hand. The touch was burning hot, but you didn't pull away, the sensation familiar. "Never forget that."

[missmielyhoran]

Chapter 1

Welcome to Humphrey high my loves...

I don't know shit about the british education system, and tbh it's confusing when I googled it, so I just made one up! But it's a all rounder school, more like fiction people are doing anyone and anything except studying.

Sunshine asshole × Grumpy sweetheart enemies to lovers

[Warnings - Angst, death threats, Harry being asshole as always, y/n having stick up her ass, bullying like a lot of]

Masterlist

*****

Humphrey High was a prestigious school for wealthy families. People from all over the world would send their kids there to get education from exceptional teachers.

It was basically boarding school for rich trust fund babies who have their head up their asses.

The school had seen many things from inappropriate relationships to enemies at each others throat to lovers who would die for each other.

Still, there was one story that stood out the most...

The whole small stadium of school was packed, yet no one dared to make a sound. Sweat glistened down the side her head to her neck as the sun was shining right above her head. It was too hot of a day, but nothing could stop her.

This was the last shot it would either make or break her streak of winning. The scores of both parties were equal, and even she had to admit that after a long time, she found a good opponent. The other girl served, and the intense game was on, but as good as the other could be, she wasn't her. The ball made a loud sound when it hit her racket, making the ball fly just an inch from beside the other girl, insuring her win.

The whole stadium roared while some booed, but there was a single person, the loudest of them all whistling and cheering for her, knowing it would get on her nerves.

Y/N rolled her eyes, looking over the bleacher where he stood with his smug taunting smile. She ignored him and walked towards her coach, who gave her a patt on the back and congratulated her.

There were a few things Y/N was known for, her great skills in tennis, physics, her resting bored face, which rarely turned into a smile and hating Harry Styles. It wasn't like she grew up in a traumatic household or had a traumatized childhood. Well, she did have traumatized childhood and experiences, but she feels like she had always been this way. That's why he called her that stupid nickname-

"My My Wednesday" Harry said, walking towards her, his ring clad fingers making clickling noise as he clapped.

"I will see you at the practice on monday, coach." She nodded her head and picked up her bag, looking around for her best friend who was nowhere to be seen.

"Why you ignore me, darling?" Harry asked, pouting feigning hurt. He was walking backward in front of her, and she had all mind to push him.

So, she did.

He fell on the grass with a thump mumbling a small 'ow' as if falling on grass would hurt him. Y/N took the opportunity and race walked out of the stadium to the parking lot where she saw her friend dry humping with some girl on her car!

"Get off" Y/N said once for all, and the other girl was scrambling off of her car's hood while her friend laughed. She looked at her car for any dent or scratches when there were none she hummed contently. Y/N threw her bag in the backseat while Amelia slid into the passenger seat.

"Next time don't fuck on my car" Y/N said giving Amelia side eyes. Her best friend raised her hands in defeat, knowing the love she had for cars. It wasn't like Y/N was obsessed with cars or has a passion for collecting them (she had), no. It's just this old Mustang she got as a gift that she loves more than anything cause it was given by the only tolerable person in her family, her grandma.

"Did you win?" Amelia asked as Y/N started the car. Y/N gave her a deadpan look and shook her head. "Of course you won it was silly of me to ask" Amelia laughed.

"Hey doll, can you give me a ride with you?" she suddenly heard the infuriating voice again. Harry stood on her car's window, his face way too near hers for her personal taste. It irked her, and he did it more. He knew she hated when people were near her, and he did just that.

He stands way close to her or puts her in a position where she has to be near a lot of people or talk to them. He did everything he could to push her buttons.

"No" Y/N said, and just as her foot was going to accelerator, Harry ran and slid in the back seat.

"Such a sweetheart, aren't you?" He gave her a fake smile and fixed his attention to Amelia.

"Hey, wasn't that the girl from history class?" He asked Lia, earning an eyeroll from Y/N. Y/N wasn't one to judge people for their preferences, but she did judge her best friend's preference in men cause their was one boy she keeps going back to and has almost fucked half school to make him jealous but as always it never works and she has to be the one listening to her cries and rant about how shitty men are.

"Yeah" Amelia agreed with same sly smile as Harry's. "She's so hot I was shocked she even agreed" Amelis laughed.

"Are you kidding me you're hot as fuck. No wonder she agreed" Harry sat back in the car seat like it was his own hands behind his head and all. "Get your friend some too it might get that stick out of her ass" Harry chuckled.

"I don't want something. All I want is for you to get out." Y/N said, looking at Harry through the rearview mirror as his dorm had arrived. He just shook his head and got out of the car. He leaned against the window like before, way too near her for her taste but she didn't back cause that would mean he knows it affected her and she would rather die than admit that anything he does affects her.

"And if you can't find anyone, my dorm is just a garden away" Harry said, "You can get details from your bestie. I can assure you my service is very satisfying. " He winked and gave Amelia a smirk. Y/N glared a whole behind his back as he skipped towards his building while Amelia laughed beside her.

Oh yes, forgot to tell...Amelia and Harry used to fuck. Alot. And yes the service sounded very satisfactory from a thin wall but she will never admit that.

"He's just joking babe calm down." Lia laughed as if it was funniest joke, but all it did was annoy her.

*****

"I just don't understand why he won't even look at me!" Amelia whined, "Am I not pretty?" She asked Y/N sadly.

She looked at her friend and sighed, "You don't look bad" She said and resumed her homework.

"Then why won't he ask me out!?" Amelia let out a loud groan and fell back on bed. Y/N just shook her head and tried to concentrate back at her homework.

"Why won't you ask him out if you're so desperate?" Y/N said and Amelia looked at her like she has 3 heads.

"I'm desperate that stays between you and me. I would rather die than let him know that" She said, "Anyways what are you wearing for the annual ceremony this year?" Amelia asked.

Y/N slammed closed her notebook and put her head down on the desk. Every year except her first she had found a way to dodge going to that god awful ceremony.

It was the time that inncident with him happened and after that she can't stand being near him or go to that ceremony again.

"I'm not going" Y/N said putting an end to the discussion.

"But it's our last year!" Amelia whined, "I don't want to be there alone. Pleasee Y/N" Lia practically begged.

"Don't worry, you will find someone" She said and put her books where they belonged. It was true Lia was the perfect person to exist she was pretty, smart, outgoing, she made friends werever she went just don't let her know Y/N thought all that about her cause she won't let her hear the end of it.

"But I want to go with my bestieee" Lia whined again, giving her best puppy eyes.

"We do this every year, and just like every year, it's not going." She said, going to the washroom to change into her pajamas.

She breathed heavily as she looked into the mirror. She hated crowed places and told everyone and herself also, but she knew why she didn't want to go, really.

*****

So, yeah... this was this. I will write a new chapter soon. I'm also working on the 2nd part of the stages of grief, so that may be out soon also.

Thanks for all love. I love you guys so much<3

Taglist- @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @lomlhstyles @vmpellie @sunshinemoonsposts @jayde515 @yeehawbrothers @sleutherclaw @ikea2-0 @thechaoticjoy @astridcommings @gxbiqs

Please Like, Comment and Reblog♡

You can tell me how it was here♡

[lexirosewrites]

Since we did Christmas theme last slick Sunday I’m gonna do a new years theme this week

So canon events happen EXCEPT when they first go to reefer ricks they find A!Eddie in a stress induced rut since he watched chrissy die. A stress rut/heat can be very stressful (hence the name) and last up to 5 days unless you have someone to help you through it, then it mostly just lasts 12-24 hours.

When they get there the whole bottle to the neck thing still happens but after O!Steve and B!Robin figure out what’s going on they send the kids outside and Steve and Eddie agrees to spend the rut together to make it pass faster (this is a dream come true for both of them but they’re not gonna say that). Steve lets max drive them back because there is no fucking way he’s gonna let Dustin drive his car and Robin has never driven a car so she’s not an option. Once they’ve left and it’s just Steve and Eddie alone together they get it going ya know 😏. They make a stupid “let’s not kiss” rule that lasts approximately 5 minutes and then they kiss (and fuck) each other stupid for 12 hours.

While they’re still tied together by eddies last knot Steve shyly asks if maybe Eddie would like to go to dinner once this is all over and he happily agrees. For the rest of the UD fighting they keep close and scent each other for comfort because fighting monsters is terrifying.

Eddie still gets half eaten by bats but Steve gets there in time to carry him out and drive ALL OF THEM to a hospital (everyone in this stupid group needs to be checked out you cannot convince me otherwise). Steve is extremely distressed while Eddie is in surgery but that’s his alpha! Of course he’s distressed. They give him eddies shirt while Steve gets his wounds looked at so he’ll calm down.

Once they get the news that Eddie makes it through okay Steve collapses from relief and the nurses put him in a bed in eddies room (because while most of the town might think Eddie’s a killer they know this alpha and omega need each other and they’re not gonna separate them because that would be fkn stupid).

They go through eddies recovery together because they’ve upgraded to courting by now (Eddie had to ask hopper and Claudia for permission to court their pseudo son and that was an interesting conversation).

Since so much has been going on Steve doesn’t notice until at the beginning of June how he’s having some weird cravings and is feeling kinda nauseous most days.

And while Eddie is his boyfriend and Robin is the platonic love of his life they tend to overthink and overreact and be dramatic so he goes to Claudia because she’s a nurse (and his mom) and if he’s sick he’d rather talk to a professional. So they’re sitting in the hendersons kitchen drinking tea while he’s explaining all his symptoms and Steve starts to get worried because Claudia has tears in her eyes but before Steve can overthink she just gathers him up in a hug and tells him she thinks he’s pregnant. They get a test, Steve takes it and five minutes later they’re both crying on the Henderson bathroom floor because he’s going to have a pup!

Claudia drives him to Wayne and eddies new house so he can tell his alpha and celebrate. Eddie is so happy he takes his first steps without a cane since he got hurt and Wayne is just smiling big because his boy is so happy!

(There’s another conversation with hopper where he has to come to terms with the fact that his grandkids father is gonna be the guy he buys weed from)(he gets a family discount now)

Months of relationship bliss pass where Steve and Eddie really get to know each other and become a family.

They get to celebrate Christmas with a heavily pregnant Steve and he goes in to labour 2 hours before midnight on December 31st. They celebrate their first new years together in the hospital and Eddie sneaks a new years kiss from Steve between contractions. At 4:07 am on January 1st 1987 their daughter is born happy and healthy and Steve steals a late new years kiss of his own but instead of kissing Eddie he’s kissing his first pups cheek while Eddie lovingly watches.

Who knew that week from hell could give them everything they’ve ever wanted: the love of their life and a pup to start out the new year!

Okay this got way longer than I thought but oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ hope you like it and happy new years!!!🧡

YAY A SEASON 4 FIX IT🥰

[kingcenred]

He was quite happy to forgo anymore deep conversations and spend the rest of the day lazily enjoying each other's bodies, and he let his eyes fall closed as Mal toyed with the hair at the back of his neck. But surprise at the questions that followed caused his eyes to flicker open quickly once more, and he tilted his head to one side as he admired his boyfriend's features.

"I hadn't thought that far ahead," he admitted, one of his arms remained wrapped around Mal's waist to keep him firmly positioned on his lap. He had half expected that meeting his mother would change his mind about their whole relationship. "What do you want to do?" he asked, his fingertips dipping beneath the fabric of Mal's top and spreading across the skin of his back. "We can certainly have a statement prepared and release it to the media, or we could wait a little longer? There's already a few rumours circulating about us, of course, but nothing that requires a response as of yet."

In some ways, he was eager to declare to the world that Mal was his...and yet, a few more weeks - or months - of privacy? That would be blissful.

Mal wasn’t entirely sure he saw what Cenred meant by intense, save for her rather unexpected remark about marriage Irene had been downright pleasant all afternoon, but he supposed either way they were lucky that the meeting had gone so well — and lucky that it was over, judging by the way the other man couldn’t keep his hands off him.

Huffing out a soft breath of laughter as Cenred dragged him down into his lap, the smaller man was quite happy to make himself comfortable there. Looping his arms around his neck, grin broadening at the playful squeeze of his rear, Mal certainly had no objections with being the sole focus of Cenred’s attention for the remainder of his trip, sighing happily and melting into the kiss. “Mm, I can’t say I’d complain.” He hummed, determined not to think about the fact that he had mere days left in Essetir before he’d be forced back to the real world. Whatever that meant, now that he was dating a king and it was only a matter of time before everyone found out; somehow the florist suspected nothing about the impending chaos would feel particularly real.

“Will you give the go-ahead for your team to break the news about us, now that I’ve met your mum?” Mal queried, fingers absent mindedly carding through the dark curls at the nape of Cenred’s neck. “Or do we just…wait for people to notice?”

[mayumml]

Shigaraki might not be too good at this

listen, I just can’t imagine him ever being in a relationship in his life time 

BUT 

If he did, it’s after long longgggg periods of denial, contemplation, irritation, hesitation and fear

Shigaraki wouldn’t, Shimura did 

It’s difficult for him to welcome warmth back into his life, he pushes it away because it’s foreign

But something inside him urges for it? Something so desperately tries to cling to it, despise how useless and weak his brain deemed it to be 

It pissed him off at first

After how caged off and detached shiggy’s emotions have been his whole life, it itches him all over to think about but also gives a weird relief so he’s conflicted 

Never got taught how to deal with his emotions

He wants it, but does he???

Master said he can do whatever, as long as he wanted to

Afraid if he gave in to his weakness, everything will crumble, along with you

Everything he (tried to) treasure turned to dust, after all  

It halts him, unnecessary for destroying everything and hero society 

But he needs it 

And he always gets what he wants

You were so warm and welcoming, it’s weird

Somehow, your mere presence calmed down every itch he’s ever had 

Despite so, he doesn’t know how to act

Cannot vocalize, everything pours out physically

Doesn’t say what he wants, but does whatever he wants 

He would love touch

A little too much

Two fingers lifted when touching you always, just to be sure 

Gloves when sleeping, but it’s uncomfortable and you were ok with it off

Somewhere in the back of his mind, his biggest fear is waking up to not you, but dust

Touch you anywhere and anytime he wanted, not necessarily sexually either

Just a little skin to skin to assure him 

Arguing and feeling frustrated at Dabi? He’s grabbing your wrist

Tired after mission? Your wrist 

Not too tight but proficiently long hugs, arms fully wrapped around yours waist, he likes to bury his face in the warmth of your neck 

Then he stands there in silence

This makes up for how many years? 

He likes to fall asleep as you cuddle, have you pat his back 

Light sleeper so he gets pissy when you move around during sleep

Might be small spoon, despite how much he wants to act like the big bad leader

He likes how comfortable it is, no judgment or pressure to do anything, just exist

Your hands can travel anywhere, the warmth from your palm calms him down 

Run hand through his hair and he’s a puddle, will grunt and complain like a liar

Shiggy likes that he can comfortably touch you, his favorite is wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder out of nowhere 

Embraces = comfort for every single situation 

You’re basically his comfort blanket

He melts at any kind of kiss

You won’t see it nor hear about it, but he’ll avoid your eyes and grits his teeth, add a tongue click in there too

His personal favorite is soft kisses on his forehead or knuckles, his temple honorable mention 

He likes kissing your neck, and the top of your hair

His kisses are feathery light, but his lips are rough 

Like, a little scratchy 

Kiss like you’re porcelain!! 

Occasionally rough make out sessions? Only when he needs a stress relief or he’s some sort of VERY frustrated 

Shiggy bites 

Gently, of course, only when he feels extra touchy

Mostly on the neck and ears

His hypocritical ass does not like you biting him back, thinks it’s nasty and gets all pissy 

You’re filled of the sympathy he never got 

He doesn’t need pity, but the concern you have stunned him 

Shiggy is used to getting whatever he wants, but you make sure it’s at a healthy level 

He hated it at first, but grew to accept how you actually care 

You listen, understand and scold him when he did too much 

Sure, you have a soft spot for him and spoil him too much, but it never stops you from telling him that he’s acting like an ass

It’s gentle, reminds him of his mom

NEEDS very very strong trust bonds before he commits to anything 

He just knows you’re there until the end

You can trust the same

Emotions, stress and everything crashes down on him, so he might lash out 

“Shut up” or “piss off” are regular but anything beyond that level is rare

Might disappear for a good minute, but comes back and acts like nothing’s wrong no matter what

No words spoken but silent apologies and forgiveness is given unconditionally afterwards 

If he’s away from you for too long without knowing where you are, he might get pissy and throw a fit

Expect 50 calls and 89 “where are u” texts

Still Shigaraki, just a more mellow, even less talkative and melty version 

He never really asks or makes it official, just comfortable enough to know there’s no doubt on both sides 

He probably doesn’t even see this as girlfriend and boyfriend 

Just shiggy and his comfort person

DOES NOT like sentimental and long talks, will get angry if subjects are too personal about his past 

Tries to do sweet things, but can’t

Gets pissed when things don’t go well (often), so you get his best efforts and an irritated grumble on Valentine’s Day 

Tries to remember special days, but might forget one or two (or more) 

Just remind him, he’ll do something 

The crepe cake you mentioned you wanted last week? Showed up randomly on the counter, no note or anything attached

You hope he bought it 

Obviously cares, just not obvious on the outside 

Doesn’t know how to show affection 

Isn’t super romantic, he gets embarrassed/irritated when it’s too lovey dovey

Almost never even interact with you when the rest of the league is there

Except for the random touching 

When you do interact, it’s purely professional

Hard to guess that you’re dating, but the LoV can kind of just tell

After all, the Shigaraki Tomura looks at you like that

Doesn’t find the appeal of, nor does he understand romantic tendencies  

He would destruct the world for you to be alive, isn’t that enough? 

🌀🌀ooo you forget how ooc this is ooo🌀🌀 I just need him to have one day of comfort HORIKOSHI is that too much to ask for ?! This is entirely Shigaraki if he’s with someone who is healthy for him (WHICH HE DESERVES)

[clearwingedmaven]

Alright, so. I've got little time and some ideas, so I'll do a brief thought process on the death of Sherlock Holmes in 1893, and the fandom as a whole.

Firstly, getting this out of the way. Sherlock Holmes was not the first modern fandom. That honor most likely goes to Charles Dickens and his work, especially the Pickwick Papers. There is evidence and record that fan merchandise, like joke books, tobacco, and shoe horns, were made with Pickwick Papers characters, especially Sam Weller.

However, Sherlock Holmes is probably our first instance of a global fandom where consequences quite literally created a literary and cultural firestorm. This isn't an exaggeration.

ACD's relationship with Holmes is... strange. Of course, he wanted to kill off Holmes, and move onto other books. (Historical novels, mainly, or Spiritualist manifesto), but there was always a love hate relationship, and we see that most predominantly through fan letters.

Almost immediately after Holmes’s death in 1893, there was shock. Scandal. Mourning. Fans exchanged letters in newspapers, trying to reach out to other fans to figure out what just happened, and what to do next. Holmes was dead. And for all anyone knew, so was the series.

So how'd they cope?

By creating communities. Discourse communities, to be more apt. They exchanged letters, asked questions, and talked through newspapers. Each one plucked from 1893 and 1894 show grief and confusion: for a fictional character.

People even started seeking out Joseph Bell, the man who inspired Holmes, in order to try to fill the void. There's even record of fans venturing to Reichenbach Falls in costume to pay tribute to their fallen hero. And this kept happening. For years. The world lost not just a character, it was their friend.

Keep in mind! Victorian literature was a family affair. Many people would gather around and read stories and books together, so the firestorm went further.

Until, it made ACD change his mind, and bring back Sherlock Holmes. (Can we call it bullying? Perhaps. I call it a unique circumstance of cultural phenomena.)

So where does it leave the fandom?

Ah, that's the question. This fandom, uniquely, has a distinct honor of being one of the oldest living discourse communities, an exchange of reader response, engagement, and including even more material.

So to the fans: from the fanfic writers, to the game makers, to the cosplayers, to the fans of adaptations near and far, to the editors, to the artists, to the dreamers and thinkers...

It is, given the nature of the fandom, that you are all a part of history, as part of one of the oldest(and still going!) Fandom discourse communities.

Keep that in mind. And keep going. 🙂

[moonfirecookies]

This is why i love the Beasts. Don’t get me wrong, they really did some really messed up stuff (While we do not know what Eternal Sugar Cookie or Silent Salt Cookie did just yet, but we can speculate), and destroyed so many lives after their corruption. But it’s what happened before the corruption that makes them so special in my eyes.

These cookies were baked with the biggest responsibility of their lives. The witches just gave it to them and expected them to figure it out.

As a result, they slowly were consumed by their responsibilities and the expectations of everyone around them. They only had themselves to go to. It’s just sad they had to turn out the way they did for the Witches to actually do something about it. We don’t know what the relationship between the Witches and Beasts were like before their fall, and it might forever be a mystery, but if they did try to go to the Witches for help, and they never came? That makes this a whole lot worse in my mind.

Imagine you are born and given the biggest responsibility you can’t even fathom, and as you slowly start to break from the stress and try to call your creators for help, they do nothing. Only to finally do something after you snap. Then seem to just replace you with five new cookies with half of your power.

Shadow Milk, who had all the knowledge in Earthbread, possibly just forced upon him and left with the overwhelming truth (speculation)

Mystic Flour, who had to see the worst of cookies that only wanted more and more (to the point she was overwhelmed by their wishes) , until she got to the point where all cookies are selfish and greedy, and must embrace her belief of Apathy to get rid of their suffering

Burning Spice, who has to see history constantly repeat itself… over, and over, and over again until he couldn’t take it anymore, of course there’s the more in depth stuff above me but still.

And while we know nothing about Eternal Sugar and Silent Salt, I can always speculate.

Eternal Sugar could have tried all she can to make all cookies happy, but in the end couldn’t, not even her own friends, so she becomes tired and sad, her actions being seen as a form of Sloth

Silent Salt is more complicated considering his original virtue is Solidarity. Maybe he couldn’t unify cookies, or desperately tried to at the very end, until he went silent.

TLDR: like the post and reblog above, they were doomed to fail. With their individual issues, to their immortality, to the responsibilities given to them, to even the lack of support from anyone but themselves.

A Thought About Burning Spice Cookie

I was kind of just going about my business today when I had a sort of... revelation, I guess? About Burning Spice. Looking back, I'm not really sure why it took me so long to think of this, but I like to live by the ideal "the best time was then, the second best time is now", so here we go.

Burning Spice was once the Herald of Change (or History, in the original Korean text). He was said to have fought for and defended fledgling civilizations in the distant past, protecting people and helping them in dark times. His throne decor even says he used to let people into his palace and allow them to engage in honest discussion with him about their problems, after which he'd get up and go out and do something about those problems. He sounded like a pretty swell guy... until he got bored with everything and went insane, of course. But here's the thing.

I think I understand why he ended up this way.

To put it as vaguely as possible, I do stuff in real life that may or may not have something to do with history as a subject. And I will gladly tell you all point-blank: history is fucking horrible. History is bleak. History is dark and cruel. The more you dive into it, the more it appears to you as a joke without a punchline. History is a drama, a tragedy, and a big fucking farce all at the same time.

Of course Burning Spice got tired of it. I get tired of it sometimes. Because sometimes, all history ever seems to be is a bunch of delinquents writing "I'm a bad kid" on the chalkboard repeatedly forever and ever. Just a bunch of bad people hurting each other for reasons that'll only come across as stupid long after they've all died at each other's hands. I'm sure Burning Spice started to think "what's even the point of building anything if someone is just going to come tear it down?" And it's hard to not think that when that's what ALWAYS happens. That's what history is a lot of the time. Brutal competition. A war of all against all.

The cure to the cynicism and melancholy history can and will inflict on you, at least in my opinion, is... to stop dwelling on it, honestly. At the end of the day, you have to remember that the past is gone. What's done is done. Things happen and sometimes, you can't do anything about it. You can't go back and save Lincoln from being assassinated. You can't go back and stop the Holocaust. You can't go back and save the world from all those wars and famines and disease epidemics. History both changes constantly and is unchanging at the same time. You have to make peace with what you cannot change - the past - and move forward, because time won't wait for you. We have to remember these things, these dark times; we all have a duty to do so, for the sake of those that came before us and those that will come after. But we also have to remember to live for the sake of those around us here and now. It is the present that shapes the world the most. It is in the present that we find true happiness. Not in the yellowed pages of old textbooks about the past and not in the pie-in-the-sky fever dreams we have about the future.

I think that's what fucked Burning Spice over. He forgot to live in the present. He was so focused on bringing about change, so absorbed in giving everything he had to everyone else, so invested in preserving the past and paving the way for the future, that he started losing sight of what was already there in front of him. His friends. His people. Too much time spent on the bigger picture and not enough spent on the tiny details that don't seem important at first glance, but when you look closer, you realize are what made the whole, entire picture important in the first place. He, like many do, like I do, began to see how cyclical and futile history can really be. He just saw people looking for reasons to hurt one another and destroy anything good they'd built together. Civilizations that were once grand and prosperous falling to anarchy. Clans with close ties turning against one another. Friend groups fracturing. All this hard work, undone, over and over again. And for what? What did they do any of this for? What did HE do any of this for?

I think his descent into villainy was slow, but sure. A little piece of his soul crumbling to dust with every person he felt like he failed because whatever great change he enacted was undone and everyone else suffered for it. And no one was really there to help steer him back onto the right path. Not his friends, not his family, not his people at large. Whether this was because they didn't know he was hurting like this (he seems like the type to keep things close to the chest anyway), they didn't know how to help or comfort him, or they didn't care, ultimately does not matter; regardless, it boils down to Burning Spice never being reminded to find solace in those around him right now, instead of constantly fretting over those before or after.

Maybe if he did remember, if he paid more attention to what IS and not what WAS or what WILL BE, he could've been saved. If he'd let Shadow Milk tell him more about his books and the little puppets he liked to craft. If he listened to Eternal Sugar play her harp more. If he sat and played a few more rounds of Go with Mystic Flour. If he had a friendly sparring match or two extra with Silent Salt. If he ate and drank and danced with his fellow spices like he probably used to like doing. If he stopped thinking he always had to be this larger-than-life figure who lorded over and protected society, and just let himself breathe and be a normal, happy person. It wouldn't make the ultimate folly of history sting any less, but he could have at least made peace with it and continued onward in spite of it.

But he didn't. He succumbed to history's poison, like so many have and so many will. And in an ironic twist of fate, which you will also often find throughout history, the tide of change swallowed him whole and drowned him. He let the failures of yesterday color his perception of today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. More and more people came across to him as bad actors until the whole world was just a devil's stage play, and it was being performed at his expense. Hard work and self-sacrifice lost its flavor. He tried to keep going, tried to keep pushing himself. Maybe he knew what was happening to him on some level and fought desperately to save himself. Put duct tape over the cracks in a dam, because that's probably all it amounted to, because the wisdom he needed didn't exist within him at that time and he didn't/couldn't find it anywhere else. Pushed forward even when he couldn't see where he was going anymore. Until every muscle in his body hurt. Until he'd lived long enough to see everything he ever lived and worked for be taken apart for scrap, for a vendetta, for shits and giggles.

Until he started looking at those bandits and warlords and terrorists he used to help put away and thinking... "hey. Maybe they're seeing something I'm not. If nothing else at all, they sure look like they're having fun. Way more than I am right now." Until he gave in to despair and grew bitter, and thought "well, if nothing I do really matters, if destroying it all is what makes people happy, then maybe I should give it a shot."

And then he became a bandit, a warlord, a terrorist. He turned into all those people he hated and continues to hate today. He cut out the middle-man and just ended lives before they could begin. Razed civilizations to the ground because that was what was going to happen anyway, whether it be by his hand or someone else's. What does it even matter? What does anything matter? This is all history is. Pain and suffering. He's only doing what's natural. He's solving problems before they can even occur, really. He's doing everyone a REAL favor. Destruction truly is the only way.

The best way to make the world a better place is to make the lives of those around you better first. Even just helping the one person makes a difference in its own way. Think less about making history by winning a war or toppling a regime and more about making history in an old person's life by helping them up when they fall down. Or making history in a dog's life by volunteering at an animal shelter. Or making history in your friends' lives by having a fun day with them that they'll remember and cherish even on their deathbeds. Change doesn't have to be grand. It doesn't need to be an all-consuming tide that rises above the tallest buildings. It can just be gentle waves and seafoam, washing over the sand and kissing one's feet. That's enough, more often than not. More than one might realize.

Maybe if somebody made sure Burning Spice kept this in mind, he wouldn't have turned into a Beast in the end.

TL;DR: History is shit. Him losing it makes perfect sense. I probably would have, too. Somebody should've been there to keep him grounded. Everyone failed him and he failed himself. Remember to live in the present. YO SOCRATES, IT'S A FUCKING COOKIE

[sincerelywhistler]

⊹ ₊ ❤︎ VIX ❤︎₊ ⊹

My husband, Fox, received Desire Demon as his Redacted demon quiz type result. So, naturally, we cooked up a DemonSona for him. And by we, I mean he called all the shots and I had the utmost pleasure of drawing this flirt. (We also made Vix and my DemonSona, Wolf-Rayet, smooch. Because we’re gay.)

Vulpecula… Vix… like a vixen… l-like a Fox yeah you get it.

Vix’s Pinterest Board

More about Vix (from Fox himself):

HELLO TUMBLR ITS FOX AND ITS MY TURN ON THE WES ACCOUNT, STRAP IN

• Vix first began writing as a way to better understand human desires on a deeper, personal level through passing on letters with anonymous pen pals

• Through sending these letters back and forth, he found his passion for writing as a whole. He excels in writing romance and poetry.

• After sending his pen pals rough copies of his creative works, they encouraged Vix to publish his books. He decided to publish his books under his full name, Vulpecula

• The general public has been lead to believe that the name Vulpecula is a pseudonym, and that it is a pseudonym that was passed down from anonymous writer to anonymous writer as generations passed. Empowered folk likely know that an immortal race— like a demon or vampire— is the person behind the pen

• He was a voracious reader from the start. Vix’s place on Elegy houses an impressive collection of books of all ages and genres

• Vix primarily feeds on humans’ general attraction towards him rather than from sexual relationships. Think of his dietary situation like something rent-a-boyfriend haha. Need a plus one to a wedding or work party? Don’t want to waste a Friday night by staying home? Want a shopping buddy? Call him up, he likes both the company and the attention.

• Bringing people out of their shells to try new things or go on dates is his favorite thing to do, which is why he wants to study Wolf-Rayet’s reclusive self under a microscope so badly in a gay way

• HOW THEY MET IS SO CUTE BUT I DONT THINK I CAN SUMMARIZE IT ALL LIKE WES WOULD BE ABLE TO SO LOOK AT THE THUMBNAIL OF THEM MEETING INSTEAD

barcode: the pleasure is mine

• …I LIED IM DOING IT ANYWAY. Wolf-Rayet finally got out of the house to visit the quaint mom and pop book shop to pick up some new books to read to his patients. By happenstance, Vix was there, setting up for a book signing when he spotted WR looking lost and awkward in the romance section. He caught Vix’s eye in more ways than one, so of course he had to go fluster the shit out of WR. WR explodes and fucking dies because a McDonald’s sprite would kill that Victorian man, but also because Vix wants to see him again, so he handed WR a copy of one of his spicer books he’s published, and on the back he wrote “we could make such a beautiful library together”. It’s then that Wolf-Rayet learns that he is actually the author of that book signing before bolting out the doors in embarrassment 😭

• He and Wolf-Rayet speak Latin together!! Vix learned it because he’s a sucker for dead languages and WR picked it up because he’s old as fuck medical terminology is heavy with Latin roots

• Vix calls WR “his hound” like from Fox and the Hound

That’s all I will share for now GOODBYE TUMBLR

-FOX