#sorry for the long response I just have a lot to say

[pellucid-constellations]

I'd Answer

You've been gone. Azriel's been broken. Something has to change, and Azriel would do anything.

Part 2 of If You Cared to Ask

“This is for you,” Mor huffed, plopping down a small bouquet of roses onto the growing garden that seemed to have sprouted on the table. “What is that, number twelve?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t count them,” you brushed off, your gaze falling on the gifts for a fleeting moment.

Mor hummed. “Are they doing anything for you?” 

“Not particularly.” 

Your friend shuffled into the small sitting room and gracefully landed in the chair beside yours, her eyes piercing a hole in the side of your head when you refused to look up. She sighed, and then sighed again, making a show of slotting her chin in her palm and looking forlorn. 

The third sigh was your breaking point. 

You placed your book on the table and turned to Mor with your brows raised. “Yes?” 

“Oh, nothing,” she airily replied. “I was just wondering when you were going to give this up. You don’t have to forgive the guy, but at least put me out of my misery and let me tell him where you’re staying. I’m basically a delivery service at this point. He says sorry again, by the way.” 

“Oh, well in that case—” 

“More than just sorry, but I can’t remember everything he said. It was all rambly and his face was all gaunt.” Mor pressed her fingers up to cover her eyes. “I’m not even sure if he’s eating. Rhys had to stop sending him out because he almost fell out of the sky.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel bad?”

You hoped your ruse was believable because hearing that Azriel was doing so poorly did make you feel bad. Your heart lept up to your throat at the prospect of your mate falling from the sky from exhaustion. But he had had so many opportunities to make this right and you weren’t about to give up your anger so easily. 

Mor offered a sad expression that looked authentic this time. “Y/n, he loves you. He’s an idiot and the whole lot of them are mindless fools, but Azriel has never loved anything the way he loves you.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you snorted. “And he shows that love by forgetting me and then arguing when I’m clearly upset over it?” 

“I know. He told me how much of an ass he’s been. But, I promise you, I’ve known Azriel for a long time. He was just—just handling everything with Rhys poorly. He felt so so guilty when Rhys got trapped. You know that.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and avoided Mor’s gaze. “I know.” 

The lack of vitriol in your tone had Mor perking up. “And you remember how hard he tried to get him back—how broken he was when Rhys sent out his last message. Az feels responsible for everything when it comes to his family.”

You didn’t need the reminder. The tortured way he carried himself over the past 50 years was evidence enough of the truth behind Mor’s words. And you had been there to soothe that pain, to help run the court that Rhys left behind. 

When silence persisted, Mor craned her neck to catch your gaze. “I’m not saying what he did was right, but you know he’s been in overdrive since Rhys returned. He goes off on those missions when Rhys calls, but… y/n, he only leaves without notice when his informants…” 

Mor trailed off. 

Your gaze finally flickered up. “When?” 

Mor bit her lip and winced. “He told me not to tell you this part. He said he didn’t want you to think he was making excuses.” 

“Tell me anyways.” 

“Fine. But you can’t rat me out.” Mor sighed and leaned back in the chair, still facing you. “He does go on every mission Rhys proposes, and that’s… stupid, but he tells you about those ones, I think. When he just up and leaves, it’s because—y/n, it’s because they're about you. You know there’s a slew of people that want you dead for your involvement up in Illyria. He has a team of informants with the sole purpose of listening for you name.

“He goes on Rhys’s missions because he doesn’t want his family separated again, but sometimes, it’s because he just wants to protect his mate.” 

A stone dropped past your ribs and into your stomach. “But, he never told me—” 

“You know these overgrown bats think that suffering in silence is an honorable thing to do,” Mor rolled her eyes. “They overwork themselves fighting the good fight or whatever and seem to forget that the rest of the world is still out there, facing the consequences of their actions. And… I think he just wanted you to feel safe. I think he’s been scared.” 

Something sickly climbed its way up your consciousness. You looked down at your hands as they rested in your lap. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel in six days, and each day had more anger coursing through you, building up a wall that you thought impenetrable. Because you were so angry; Azriel had disappointed you time and time again, left you feeling abandoned and alone, and then he got defensive about it as if you were the one at fault. 

Part of you always knew it was a defense of some sort, but you had thought it a defense of something nefarious. You had tossed around the idea of infidelity a few times, and that rivaled the thought of him simply falling out of love with you. 

But it was this. 

It was him hiding how hard he’d been trying to protect you—however idiotic his tactics may have been. 

“You can tell him where I am,” you murmured clenching your fingers into your palm. “And leave the door unlocked, I guess.” 

Mor had left the small apartment on the outskirts of Velaris before you finished your sentence. 

It took approximately 7 minutes for a tentative knock to sound at your door. 

Mor had left it unlocked, but there was still a knock. 

You took a glance at the pile of flowers on the table before heading to the front door. The old floorboards creaked under your feet, a reminder of the rundown apartment you had sought out after you left. It was a frantic process, searching for a place to stay; you hadn’t cared much for luxury or comfort.  

Opening the door was jarring. Azriel’s wings were half-raised as if he’d just flown down and then forgot how to control them. His face was pallid with dark smudges beneath his eyes. His hair was windswept, expected from the flight, but it looked tugged at and disheveled beyond that. 

“Hi.” 

Maybe you’d been looking him over too long because Azriel’s voice cracked at the single word. He sounded unsure, verging on afraid, and all you had done was pass over his figure with your eyes. 

You tightened your grip on the door handle. “Um, hi.” Your tone was harsher than you meant it to be. 

Azriel flinched. “I’m sorry, Mor said…” 

“No, I—Come in.” 

You stepped back and pushed the door open to accommodate his hesitant steps into your rental. Azriel stood in the middle of the space and wrung his hands as you shuffled behind him, a slight tremor showing in his fingers. You leaned back against the door with your own hands pressed at the small of your back. You watched Azriel’s lingering gaze trail over the flowers in the corner of the room. 

“You didn’t like them?” he meekly asked. 

Something inside of you hurt. 

“They were okay,” you answered. “But I didn’t want flowers.” 

Azriel nodded and his lashes fluttered shut. His hands twitched. 

“I’m sorry—for the flowers, I mean. They were a pathetic reason to send Mor to you. You wanted to be left alone.” 

“I did not want to be left alone, Azriel.” You kicked away from the door, bringing your arms across your chest for some form of protection. “I wanted you. I wanted you to care about me.”

“I do,” Azriel stressed. He took a step forward and the wood beneath his boot creaked. “I do, y/n.  I care about you more than anything—I love you.” 

“Then why couldn’t you show me? Why did it take me leaving, me getting hurt, for you to finally listen to me and see how much I’ve needed you?” 

Your chest was heaving, each word from your lips a choked gasp. Azriel took all of it and absorbed your full meaning, seeming to wince at every insinuation that he didn’t love you. His jaw quivered and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Why did you stop talking to me?” you asked, a broken rendition of your anger. “Why—Mor told me… She told me things. Things that make sense. But why does it feel like I don’t matter to you?” 

“My love,” Azriel stressed. Yearned. He rushed forward, abandoning all reservations and gathering you into his arms as tears began making headway down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t—I’m so so sorry.” His words were almost lost against your temple as he held you, each apology a whisper of a kiss against your skin. 

“You weren’t there and Devlon—he—” 

“I know, angel, I know and I’m so sorry. Had I known… Had I listened.” He pulled you back from his chest, crouching down to meet your eye and wiping tears from your cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was keep you safe. I thought I was doing that. I don’t know what Mor told you—” 

“She told me everything. She told me you’ve been following leads about me and taking on too much. She told me you’re scared.” 

Azriel breathed and it sounded anguished. “I am terrified. We lost Rhysand and now you are in the throes of a society that almost killed me. I—I wake up every morning and everything is good and I am so afraid to lose that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us. But I almost lost you and—” 

You let out a breathy cry. “You could never lose me, Azriel.” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, the wetness of his cheeks now apparent. Azriel’s hands were firm on either side of your head and his fingers laced up into your hair. 

Gods, you missed him. 

You missed him and everything hurt. 

“I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just please—please, don’t leave again. Please come home. Let me fix this.”

The want was overwhelming. It would be so easy to say yes, but it would be just as easy for nothing to change. 

“You can’t do that again, Azriel,” you stressed, shaking your head and causing your mate to draw back. Only a breath was left between you. “You have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t—you can’t leave me in the dark. You can’t make me feel like that.”

Azriel’s head shook in desperation. “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” 

“I need to know I can rely on you—trust you.” 

“You can, angel.” 

“I need to know that you love me.” 

A pained sound escaped Azriel’s throat. He licked his lips and reaffirmed his hold on your face, locking his eyes with yours in a beseeching gaze. 

“I love you more than life itself, angel. I couldn’t breathe when you were gone. I can’t believe I made you think that I don’t. You are my life. Let me show you. Please, let me show you.”

You tracked your eyes between both of his. “Okay, Azriel.” 

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

“I am safe.” 

“I love you.” 

"I know you do, Az. I know."

[writtenbymoonflower]

hey lovey!! 💐 I just wanted to say I ADORE ur writing & I'm currently binge reading all of them <⁠(⁠///￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠///)⁠>. but I did want to request something silly, since I've been thinking about poly!marauders being with the reader. and her calling them "girl" accidentally instead of their usual endearment 😭. and the reason is because her friends use it a lot and it just kind of rubbed off on her ?! I would just like to imagine their confusion 😭 anyways pls have a lovely day/night <33

I love this! Also sorry this took so long. I left my computer charger at home while I was at uni but I got it back!

wc 710

You were laid on the settee, still slightly sweaty from your hot walk back from class. You would’ve reached for Sirius if you didn’t think you would make his clothes damp as well. He was doing some kind of work on his computer next to you while James was in the kitchen fixing you both something to eat. These little quiet moments were sometimes your favorite, just being comfortable in each others silence. Especially considering how your boyfriends could be such chatterboxes.

That didn’t mean that you didn’t enjoy rambling to them, though. You just didn’t feel the need to fill comfortable space with flippant comments. You were almost asleep when you heard the click of the door being unlocked.

Remus stepped inside in his usual meticulous way, hanging his coat neatly on the coatrack, unlacing his shoes and lining them up by the door rather than kicking them off, and placing his crossbody bag carefully on the bench by the door. All before calling out a gentle “I’m home.”

“How was work, love?” James responded from the kitchen, scrubbing his hands in the sink.

“Long.” He groaned. “I’m going to shiv Michael. His unplanned vacation is really disrupting my schedule.” He grumbled. “Going to have to catch up on my classes too.” He sighed, more resigned than annoyed.

“Want me to go to your work when he’s back and give him a hard time?” Sirius said mischievously, beckoning the sandy-haired boy over.

Remus just chuckled softly in response before kissing him on the top of the head. He turned to you, face etched with exhaustion and affection. “How was class today, dovey? Did I miss anything?”

You reached for his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Nothing important. It was just a catch up day.”

He hummed in satisfaction, reaching to stroke your jaw. You leaned into his touch sleepily before your eyes popped open and you jolted upright.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe I almost forgot to tell you. Girl, you will not believe what Molly said to me today. I-“ You were cut off by a surprised, if not amused look on Remus’ face and a barking laugh from the kitchen.

“Excuse me, what?” James choked.

You turned around, looking at him confused. “What?”

Sirius was also smiling, holding back a laugh. “What did you just say to Moons?”

You paused, eyebrows raised in confusion. “I said that he wouldn’t believe what Molly-“

“No no no.” James chuckled, cutting you off. “What you said before that.” At your continued bewilderment he clarified. “Angel, you called Remus ‘girl’. Did you not mean to?”

At the realization on your face Sirius breaks down. Shaking with nearly silent laughter. Remus’ eyes just roll into the back of his head, clearly amused but not willing to put on a spectacle.

“Sorry Rem.” You said, sheepishly. “It was unconscious.”

“Unconscious!” Sirius hoots. “Is that what you call us in your head, gorgeous? Are we your gal pals?”

“I think we are. I didn’t realize this was a girl’s gossip sesh in, lovely.” James teased. “I would’ve bought ice cream and wine.”

“The two of you.” Remus admonished, looking at your still shy expression with terrible kindness. “You don’t need to apologize, dove. It was just funny. You’ve never been one to say that before.”

“Not to you.” You said quietly. “I’ve just been talking to my friends a lot lately-“

“You don’t have to defend it. We want you to talk to your friends.” James jumped in to comfort you.

“I’m glad you consider us your friends, baby.” Sirius said, half kindness and half joke. “It shows that you’re comfortable with us.”

“I am.” You reiterated. “But I won’t call you it if it upsets you.” You said sincerely.

“It hardly bothers me, dovey.” Remus reached over to squeeze your hand.

“I just can’t believe Remus is the girly.” James chuckled, forcing his face into a pout. “I’m offended, sweet thing. I thought I was your gossip buddy.”

“You are!” You said severely. “You all are.” You reached for your other two boys. “Now can I please tell you what Molly said?”

“Of course, girl. Spill the beans.” Remus said, deadpan.

It took you a while to stop laughing before you could continue the story.

[clairewritesandrambles]

Drunk on You - Scott Miller

Summary: Scott is drunk and doesn't have the patience to wait until you two are home to have his way with you.

Pairing: Scott Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Smut (18+ Only), spanking, semi-public/public sex, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, rough sex, Scott is a bit of a brat tamer, not beta'd, basically porn with no plot

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @hederasgarden for inspiring this with her ask. Shoutout to the Corenswet server for encouraging me in my times of need. Sorry if there are mistakes, I didn't get a beta reader for this one.

You should have known better than to let Javi talk you into going out. He'd begged you and Scott to come out with the team for once, promising to choose a spot that would be calmer for you. Instead, you had walked into a bar where the bass vibrated your teeth and the patrons were packed in so tightly you had to push people out of the way to breathe.

Shouting a thank you to the bartender, you fought your way back to Scott's perch at a high-top table. Sliding his beer to him, you admired your own skill at how little you had spilled during the journey. You saw his mouth move in what you presumed was a thank you, but the thumping in your ears prevented you from hearing any of it.

You really were going to kill Javi when you found him. He had abandoned you for the floor long ago, leaving Scott to deal with your moodiness on his own.

Seeming to notice you slipping into your own head, one of Scott's large hands slipped under your shirt to graze the small of your back. The soft warmth of his touch brought you back to him, pulling you into his body so he could lean into your ear.

"We can leave if you really want to." His words tickle your ear, still having to raise his voice for you to hear him. Melting into his deep voice, you rested your head on his shoulder before looking up at him.

"I told Javi I'd be his DD. I can't leave him." Scott groaned, rolling his glassy eyes. You knew he wanted to go home as badly as you did, but you refused to leave Javi and Scott refused to leave you.

"I wanna get you home and in bed so I can have my way with you," he whined, hand tightening on your back. "Gonna make sure both of us are stumbling."

You snorted at his joke, tiptoeing to kiss his lips. "You can have me later, lots of time for a round before we sleep."

Scott's lips quirked up into a smirk as he shook his head at you, eyes roving over your outfit. "I need more time for what I have planned for you." He said, tongue licking over his bottom lip as he leaned in to talk into your ear again. "I want to put a baby in you."

Your body flushed at his words, wetness gathering at your core. Scott nipped at your ear, moving your hand to palm the bulge in his jeans as he pinched your nipple through the fabric of your top. "You want that, sweetheart? Do you want me to make your stomach nice and big with my baby?"

"This is cruel punishment," you whined, "making me soak through my panties while I can't fuck you."

"Bars have restrooms for a reason." He smiled at your unimpressed face before leaning back down to mouth at your neck. "Unless you'd rather have me bend you over right here, in front of everyone, and show them how cock drunk I can make you."

"Scott," you warned, your core clenching in response to his words. His hand gripped your breast harder, the friction between the lace of your bra and your skin making your entire body move towards him in want.

His boyish grin told you that Scott would not stop, too far gone in his alcohol to filter his thoughts anymore. "Or I could make you cockwarm me," he said, hand reaching down to tease your core. "Have you sat in my lap with my cock buried in you until I lose it and make you bounce on it? Then I'd get to fill your pretty little cunt and keep you plugged to make sure you're bred."

Suddenly his hands left your body, leaving you cold and aching where he had been. "But if you'd rather just sit here waiting for Javi..." He trailed off, smirking as he saw his effect on you.

This man was going to be the death of you.

Your lips thinned as you weighed the consequences of your choices: either being fucked in a bar restroom, where anyone could find you, or waiting hours for Scott to satisfy the need dripping from you.

"Finish your beer. Then you can fuck me." A victorious grin took over his face as he raised the amber liquid to his lips and gulped it down as quickly as he could.

Jumping up from his stool he grabbed your hand, pushing ahead of you in the crowd as he bee-lined to the neon restrooms sign. You were relieved when he pulled you into the men's room and saw that it was empty, grinning as Scott pushed you backward into a stall. His hand landed on your throat as he kissed you, spinning to pin you to the door as he turned the lock.

"That's my good girl," he groaned, hands cupping your breasts before pulling your bra down to set them free. "Knew you're too fucking desperate to deny me."

You rolled your eyes at his words, his ego being one of the things that became even more apparent when he was drunk. "Shut up and breed me."

Scott pulled away from your kiss to grip your jaw, making you look at him. "Don't be a fucking brat," he warned, grip tightening as he held your gaze. "Now fucking turn around for me."

You didn't even have time to follow his directions before he grabbed your hips and forced your front against the cool metal door himself. His grip was rough as he made quick work of your pants, pooling them around your knees as he knelt to have his face level with your core.

"Already so fucking wet for me," he practically moaned, licking one wide stripe up you. You didn't have time to react before he spat on your pussy, quickly pushing two thick fingers into you.

"Fuck, Scott," you cried out, pushing back into his hand. He steeled his grip on your hip, locking you in place. Agonizingly, he pumped his fingers into you, barely dragging them out of you before pushing back in. "Please fuck me, I need it. Please."

Scott didn't respond as he continued his slow movements, seeming to take it as a challenge to tease you even further. The only indication he had even heard you was a nip to the top of your thigh, one that you knew meant for you to find patience.

"Scott, come on," you pleaded, fighting to push your hips back further into him. His grip on you tightened in a warning, making you groan in frustration. "Come and fucking breed me before I get someone else to do it."

Four thunderous smacks rung throughout the room, lighting your ass on fire. Scott stood up behind you, ripping his fingers from you before forcing them into your mouth. You choked briefly from the roughness, his other hand tightening around your throat as you began to suck your juices off of him.

"I should make you fucking choke for that," he spat, pressing you completely into the stall door. You could feel how hard he was against you, forming an image of his leaking cock in your mind. "Should fucking force you on your knees and make you sob around my cock as an apology. Then you'd be begging for me to fuck a baby into you just so you can breathe."

Your arousal was practically dripping down your thighs at his words, desperately pushing back against him for any sort of friction. Scott took his fingers out of your mouth briefly, allowing you to respond to him. "Please, Scott, I'm sorry," you whined. "Just please fuck me, I need you. I need you to fill me, please."

Scott's grip on your throat tightened, pushing his fingers further into your mouth to make you gag as tears sprung into your eyes. "Oh, you want mercy, sweetheart?" He questioned, a satisfied smirk appearing when you nodded around his hand as a tear ran down your cheek. "Lucky for you, I'm in a forgiving mood."

He removed his fingers from your mouth, pressing on the back of your neck to force you into a bent-over position before you heard the clinking of his belt unbuckling. "I am going to fuck your cunt until I've filled you. Then, when we get home, I am going to tie your knees to your chest. I am going to fuck and fill you so many times you're going to be begging for a break. Understood?" You quickly nodded, agreement slipping from your mouth as the image filled your mind. You were clenching around nothing in desperation, his words alone bringing you to the edge.

Satisfied, Scott finished pulling his cock out before slowly sinking into you without pretense. The cold metal of the door hardening your nipples, combined with his words and the delicious stretch of his cock, threw you over the edge before he had even finished pushing into you. A throaty groan rumbled in your ear as Scott leaned in, a sudden jolt of his hips burying the rest of him inside of you.

Scott wasted no time, setting a brutal pace that had your brain foggy from pleasure in seconds. Every thrust crowded you further into the door, your core slowly, agonizingly slowly, adjusting to his size. Nonsensical pleas dripped from your lips, interspersed with shouts of his name as you lost yourself in your pleasure.

"Fucking hell," he grunted as another orgasm rippled through you. "You sound so fucking pretty begging for me to fuck you. It's gonna make me overflow your pussy with my cum, then I'll keep fucking it deeper into you just to make sure it works." You clenched around him again, a strangled moan overtaking him as his hands shifted to grab the frame of the stall. The sound of the metal moving with the two of you rang throughout the room, highlighting how brutal he was with his movements.

"Fuck yes," he groaned, a quick slap being delivered to your ass. "I'm going to keep you bred all the fucking time, tie you up and fill you for days. God, you're going to look so beautiful when you're pregnant with my children. With your big round belly and tits overflowing."

The last of your sanity fractured at his words, a third orgasm overtaking your full body as you went over the edge. Scott swore behind you, his moans becoming animalistic as he squeezed a hand around your throat. His thrusts became impossibly harder, chasing his orgasm in full primal instincts. Even when you felt him twitch and fill you, he didn't stop his rhythm - intent on fulfilling his promise of fucking it deeper.

With one last shudder, he pulled out, a hand shoving between your shoulder blades. "Stay there," he barked, leaning down to be level with your dripping core once again. Scott groaned at the sight of his cum leaking out, taking two fingers to fuck it back into you and smirking at the overwhelmed noises that escaped you.

Finally satisfied with his work, Scott placed a chaste kiss on your hip before standing back up to tuck himself back into his jeans. He helped you redress, getting lost in the physical aftercare that you knew was, secretly, his favourite part of having sex with you.

You moved to unlock the stall before he pulled you back into him with an arm around your shoulder. With a hand under your chin, he turned your face to place a quick kiss on your lips. "I love you," he said, "but you do look like you just got the life fucked out of you."

You rolled your eyes at him, walking out of the stall on shaky legs to fix your hair in the mirror. "I don't know how you expect me to be normal in there after that."

"That was the goal," he chuckled as he leaned on the sink beside you.

Your phone buzzed at that moment, lighting up with a text from Javi.

Javi: Andy challenged me to more shots. Peter agreed to drive. Go do weird nerd shit with Scott.

The text was followed by an image of an unimpressed-looking Peter with Andy and Javi throwing their arms over him like this was the best night of their lives. Your shoulders sagged with relief at the thought of being able to go home, thighs clenching at the reminder of Scott's promises.

After sending a quick text to Peter to confirm the change, you turned your phone screen to Scott so he could read the message. His entire body lit up as he finished, instantly grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the bathroom in excitement. "Let's go home. You've got a long night ahead of you."

[pedroshotwifey]

Trouble in Paradise (Part One)

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Of all the things you thought you might be doing on your summer break, falling in love with your father's best friend in Hawaii wasn't one of them.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing crazy yet! Some kind of maybe tension, pet names, talk of Joel knowing reader since she was small, reader has a dad, mom is not mentioned, yadayada

A/N: Hello my friends! I'm terribly sorry I've been away for so long. There have been a lot of...unsavory happenings lately. Want to say sorry in advance because I know this isn't my best writing, but i'm trying to get back into the groove of things. I'm hoping I'll be back to my scheduled programming (TTF, FB, answering requests) by the time this short series is done. Expecting it to be around 3-5 parts. Thank you so much for sticking with me <3

*******

You’ve been laying in your bed blasting your “chill” playlist through your earbuds since you got home from school around five. The last exhausting day of your freshman college year. Lana Del Rey, Cigarettes After Sex, Hozier, and the like have been floating lazily through your head as you watched the sun go down. 

After a long day, you’d hung your head off the foot of your bed, intent to bask in the golden glow of the evening in a baggy T and your underwear until your eyes shut for the night. You were almost asleep when you were interrupted by a sound that didn’t quite go with “Wicked Game”. 

You yank your earbuds out, sitting up on your bed. You don’t remember it getting so dark. Your cracked window allows the late summer breeze in to gently rustle the curtains framing it. Crickets and cicadas chirp loudly outside, creating a symphony to compliment the stars shining through the inky sky. 

“Sweetheart?” 

Your head swivels to look accusingly at your closed door. The name was shouted from the stairway. Definitely your dad.

You roll your eyes but get out of bed. The clock on your nightstand tells you it’s 8:02pm, so he’s probably calling you for dinner. You’ve told him before that it’s easier just to call your cell, but when has he ever listened? You pad to your door, crack it, and shout back. 

“Be down in a minute!”

Getting no response, you can only assume he heard you. You close your door back and pick up the polka-dotted pajama pants crumpled into a pile beside your bed. You tug them on through a yawn, almost tripping a few times before they’re on all the way. 

You check your mirror before heading down. You look sleepy, not like it really matters. Your door creeks as you push it open again and make your way down the stairs. The soft carpet laid in the middle of the hardwood keeping your steps quiet. It’s about halfway to the kitchen that you hear a second voice to your father’s. It sounds vaguely familiar, and your heart skips a beat. Surely it’s not—

You climb down a few more steps and stop in your tracks at the sight of Joel Miller sitting at your dinner table. You haven’t seen him since at least your high school graduation. You’d harbored a small crush on him then, but that had to have been nothing compared to whatever the hell you’re feeling now. Your entire body seems to glow with some mix of embarrassment and surprise. 

You really thought you’d gotten over this silly little crush. Then again, it’s hard to get over something like Joel Miller. High school boyfriends? Sure, no problem. But the classic DILF next door of a best friend your dad has isn’t so easy. He’s been a constant in your childhood, always kind and there for you even when your dad wasn’t. So, in other words, highly inappropriate for you to be so attached to. 

It’s easy to say the years have been kind to him. He’s a few years older than your father, so probably about mid-forties now. He’s started to gray, a fine amount of silver peppered into his mousy brown hair. That beard of his has taken the brunt of it, though. That beard you’ve imagined between your thighs so many times. 

His dark eyes seem to have become kinder thanks to the crow’s feet carefully etched into the corners. He’s wearing his signature T-shirt and worn jeans, his brown leather jacket and work boots likely disposed of near the front door. 

He smirks as his brown eyes fall on your disheveled form, halted on the bottom step. You, in contrast to the god-like figure he’s sporting, must look like an absolute mess. Despite that fact, he looks at you almost in a different way than he used to. More intensely. It makes you resist the urge to squirm. 

“Joel,” you finally manage to choke out. “Hi.” 

Smooth, you think. 

“Hey, trouble,” he returns, light amusement lacing his tone. It makes you nervous, like he’s clocked your little secret. 

He gets up from his seat, and you can tell he’s going for a hug. You shock yourself into action and take the few steps to reach him. He envelops you in his strong arms just like he used to, and you take the opportunity to breathe in his scent. Smokey pine, whiskey, and a hint of mint—just like you remember. 

You’re smiling like an idiot despite yourself as you pull away. Luckily, your dad makes an appearance before you say something embarrassing. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he teases. “You remember my buddy Joel, dontch’a?” 

Joel scoffs before you can answer. “‘Course she remembers me, Scott, known her since she was damn near in diapers.” 

Your dad rolls his eyes. “Well, just to ask,” he argues. 

You shake your head. Same banter between those two for as long as you can remember. They’ve been friends since your dad’s freshman highschool year, and Joel’s senior. Everyone who knows Joel and Scott considers them to be brothers as much as Joel and Tommy.

Cheeks heated, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up while they’re distracted. You shut the door and comb through your hair with your fingers, straighten your tank top, and wipe away the smudged mascara you didn’t care to wash off earlier. 

When you look half-decent, you wash your hands and walk back to the dining room, choosing to ignore the fact that you just tidied yourself for your dad’s best friend. Totally normal thing to do, right?

Joel is sitting back in the same spot as you found him the first time, your dad in the seat opposite of him. There are three bowls of spaghetti served, one in front of each man, and one beside Joel. You’re not going to complain about that. 

You slide into the seat next to him, flashing him a quick smile when he turns his head to acknowledge you. You swear his gaze lingers for a second, but it’s probably just wishful thinking. 

You look away and dig into your food, zoning out as Joel and your dad talk about work. Joel’s presence beside you fuels your daydreaming, his deep, drawling voice keeping it running. You wish so badly to lean into him, feel the comfort of his embrace. Maybe more. You wish, not for the first time, that he would look at you the way you looked at him. You wish he would—

You jolt when you hear your name in conversation, your spaghetti-filled fork halfway to your mouth. 

“No, I don’t think she’d mind at all, would’ya, honey?” 

Your dad looks expectantly at you. Your eyes dart between him and Joel. 

“Uh, sorry, what?” You ask, your cheeks heating for the second time tonight. 

“Helping Joel out. I know it’s been some years, but it’s just basic stuff. Plus, it’ll be in—” 

“Really, Scott, you don’t have to volunteer her if she don’t want to—” 

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I don’t mind at all.” 

In all honesty, you didn’t think your answer through. You have no idea what you just signed up for. Though, if it’s with Joel, it can’t be too bad. 

“No, really, sweetheart,” Joel interjects. “I wouldn’t wanna have a pretty ‘lil’ thing workin’ away on her summer vacation.”

You turn to look at him, flashing him your sweetest eyes. He called you pretty—you feel like you might explode. “I really don’t mind.” 

He waits for a moment before he clears his throat and turns back to your dad. “Alright then,” he says before taking a sip of his drink. “We leave for Hawaii next Tuesday.” 

You just about choke on your dinner. Your dad laughs. 

“Told you, Joel, she doesn’t listen to a damn thing we say.” 

*****

Hawaii? For two weeks? With Joel? What do you even pack?

You stare at your suitcase, waiting for your closet to help you out and throw something in there. Should you bring sundresses or work clothes? Both, right? Probably both. Maybe more work clothes. You said you’d be helping, after all. But with what? 

God, you should have just paid attention to that damn conversation. 

It’s late Monday night, and you haven’t been able to pick up on enough over-the-phone conversation to get the gist of it. You need to stop being such a wuss and just ask. But that would mean calling Joel. Do you really want to call Joel? 

Well, yes, of course you do. But do you really want to sound awkward around Joel? No, no you don’t. And you know that’s exactly what would be happening over the phone with a man you’ve never talked over the phone with. 

You groan, flopping yourself onto your bed to stare at your ceiling and overthink. You don’t want to overpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you overpacked. But you also don’t want to underpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you underpacked, either. This really shouldn’t be that hard. You’re about to get back up, say screw it, and throw a mixture in there, when you hear a knock on your door. 

“Come in,” you call, unmoving.

“Hey, honey,” your dad says as he creeps in. “Just got off the phone with Joel.” 

You sit up at this. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, he figured you might want some advice on what to pack.” 

Oh thank God. 

“Said he’s gonna be puttin’ you to work, but to bring some pretty clothes if you want. There’s a pool at the place you’ll be workin’ at, and a beach nearby.” 

You nod along, thanking all that is holy that Joel had the idea to give you some input. 

Your dad eyes your empty suitcase and raises a brow in your direction. 

“He’ll be here around 4:00am, so be ready by then.” He looks back at you. “I love you, sweetheart, I’ll see you when you get back.” 

He gives you a hug and closes your door. 

You take Joel’s advice and pack mostly for work—with a few pretty things just in case. 

*****

As expected, Joel’s truck is in your driveway at 4:00am on the dot. You’re in the passenger seat and headed for the airport by 4:03. 

The ride is less tense than you thought it would be, mostly because the two of you are so tired. You’re practically in a coma against the window, the dull classic country music playing quietly from the old truck’s speakers lulling you to sleep. Joel is in about the same mindset, the lazy drumming of his fingers against the wheel the only thing convincing you he’s still awake. 

Buildings pass in a dark blur, everything mushed together into one big half-dream. Joel’s scent fills the cab, sealing the state you’re in. You glance at the clock: 4:48. You blink, and it’s 5:20, the truck is stopped at the airport, and Joel is gently nudging you awake. You squint at him, the cab light rudely intruding, and you can just barely make out the faint smile on his lips. You have a strong urge to lean forward and kiss him, but thankfully you’re conscious enough to not make a complete fool of yourself right now. 

“C’mon, darlin’, we got a plane to catch.” 

You nod, trying to get your bearings. Joel slides out of his side of the truck, and you follow out of yours, getting a good stretch in before leaning back into the cab and retrieving your suitcase from the narrow backseat. When you make your way around the truck to Joel, he gently grabs it from your hand. 

You look at him, mouth open and ready to argue, but he gives you a look that makes you shut it just as quick. Your stomach flutters at the gesture, and you kind of want to slap him for it. Or maybe yourself. Either way, you keep close to him until you’re entering through the sliding doors out front. 

It only takes about an hour to get through TSA and in line to board the plane, but you’re wide awake by then. And hungry. 

“Hey Joel,” you whisper. He hums at you but doesn’t look down. 

“I’m hungry.” 

Now he looks at you. “I don’t think we got time to grab anything now, darlin’, but we should have a layover at LAX in about three hours. Think you can hold tight ‘till then?” 

You nod, trying not to overthink the conversation. It was literally a few words exchanged between the two of you, but it might be the first time you’ve conversed alone outside of your dad’s house. It felt domestic to you in a way that makes you feel like an idiot. It was one conversation. 

Of course, you have to ruin the moment by humming “Party in the USA”. I mean, it’s Joel’s fault. He was the one to mention LAX. 

He laughs and nudges you. “Quit that,” he commands, though you can tell he thinks it’s funny. You giggle but indulge him. 

“Fine,” you draw out. “Somebody hates fun.” 

He scoffs another laugh, but says nothing. 

Finally, the two of you are next to board. You stop around the middle of the plane, and Joel hoists your bags into the compartment above your seats. Then, he moves aside to let you in first. 

“By the window, darlin’,” he says.

You smile with excitement and settle in, Joel sitting next to you a second later. 

“Your dad said somethin’ about it bein’ your first time flyin’, so I figured you might want a window seat,” he explains. 

Your heart warms at this. Why does he have to be so thoughtful? 

“Thank you, Joel,” you say genuinely, flashing him a smile. It may be the lighting, but you swear you see his cheeks pink up just a little before he nods and faces forward. 

The flight goes by relatively quickly. Joel does some sort of paperwork on the little desk in front of him, and you pop your earbuds in and listen to a downloaded playlist while you read. The light romance you chose was cute, but it failed to distract you completely from the hunk of man beside you. 

You’re not sure how many times you caught yourself staring at the flex of his wrist as he wrote whatever down. It was maybe once or twice that your eyes found their way up to his bicep, possibly a few times that they landed on his lower lip, his teeth bitten into it in concentration. You definitely got heated more times than you would’ve liked. And as your book started heating as well, you had to put it down. You really hope it’s not just you that feels this new tension.

For the last twenty minutes or so, you’ve been looking out the window, content to listen to your music and watch the land go by. For the last five, you’ve felt Joel’s eyes on you. You refuse to look back at him, though, just in case it’s your imagination. 

But you swear you can feel the weight of his stare. You fidget, trying to ignore the feeling as you stare out the window and at the clouds. Then you hear a sharp sound from the speakers 

through your earbuds. 

You take them off and look back at Joel as the pilot informs you that you should be landing in about ten minutes. 

He was staring at you, and he didn’t look away. You don’t look away now, either. You don’t say anything.

“Thank you for comin’ with me, darlin’.” 

You’re taken aback. Of course you would go with him. 

“It’s no problem, Joel,” you say. He gives you a short smile. “I mean, really,” you joke. “You’re the one taking me on a free vacation.” 

He smiles fully this time and rolls his eyes. He tends to do that a lot with you. It makes you smile too. 

The speaker dings again:

“Should be some light turbulence, but we’ll be on the ground soon, folks.” 

Joel looks away after the announcement, gathering his work to put back into his bag. You shake yourself off and choose not to acknowledge whatever the hell that was. 

******

You knew LAX would be busy, but. Holy shit. This place is insane. 

You keep close to Joel as he navigates the two of you through the crowds and to your next gate. He keeps slightly in front of you, and you keep getting the urge to grab his hand to keep up, but you don’t. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many people in one place—and you thought the Austin airport had been overwhelming. 

There are a million shops and restaurants and gates as you make your way down the massive hallways, up and down the escalators, and through trains. It takes an hour and fifteen before you can even see the sign for your gate. Your legs hurt from walking, and your head hurts from all the noise. 

You keep an eye on some of the closer restaurants you pass so that you can backtrack to them and grab a bagel or something before you have to get on your plane. You catch a glimpse of a Burger King when you’re suddenly slammed into. 

You gasp as you’re sent flying onto your ass by a man who couldn’t be bothered to glance your way to see if you’re alright. Joel whips around and sets the bags down, quickly helping you up. 

“Shit, are you alright, darlin’?” he asks, a deep concern in his eyes. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment even though it wasn’t your fault. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Joel looks you up and down to make sure as you stand on your own two feet. He turns around, trying to scope out the man who bumped into you, and turns back when he finds that he’s long gone. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he finally says. “People don’t give a rat’s ass here.” 

You nod, smiling at his choice of words. “I’m alright, Joel.” 

He sighs and picks his bag back up, slinging the large weight over his shoulder, and then picks your suitcase up in one hand. WIth the other, he grabs onto yours. His hand is rough but warm and comforting. 

“Just stay close ‘till we get to the gate.”

Practically glowing, you hold onto him and let him lead the way. It only takes a few more minutes before he’s telling you to sit down at the waiting area. 

“I’m gonna grab you somethin’ to eat, ‘nd I’ll be right back.” 

You decide to read while he’s on his errand, picking your book back up to a particularly smutty part. You’re not going to pretend like you aren’t picturing the characters as you and Joel as he eats her out on a countertop. You bite your lip, consuming each word with fervor.

You’re just finishing the chapter when Joel strolls up with two breakfast sandwiches, a coffee, and an orange juice. He hands you a sandwich and the latter drink, and takes the seat next to you with a groan. 

“Probably have at least thirty minutes,” he grumbles. 

You nod as you thank him and unwrap your sandwich. It’s silent for a few minutes, before you can’t bear it and break the peace. 

“What all are we going to be doing?” 

Joel looks at you, almost flustered. He must have misheard you. “Huh?” 

“Like when we get there, what are we going to be working on?” 

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee. “Mostly flooring ‘nd some drywall, but there should be somethin’ to do in the kitchen if I’m hearin’ right.” 

You nod and take a bite of your sandwich. Joel continues. 

“Should have a few days to relax, though, if we get everythin’ done in time.” 

Your stomach flips at the thought. A few days to relax with Joel. 

“Sounds easy enough,” you say. 

Joel nods again. “Atta girl.”

“Flight 332 is ready to begin boarding.” 

You and Joel take the last bites of your sandwich in silence and stand up to get in line once again. This flight is going to be longer, about six hours. 

Joel throws your trash away and comes back to grab your bags. Same as last time, you have a seat by the window. Not like it matters much in the long run, because just after Joel takes his seat and the plane takes off, your head falls onto his shoulder, and you promptly fall asleep. 

******

Thank you for reading!! Part two should be coming soon.

Itty bitty mini taglist: @callachloe @kewwrites @casa-boiardi @pastawench (love you guys)

Pls let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt. 2!

[luveline]

hello might i ask for sassy badass reckless reader who is the #1 leading cause of aaron's gray hairs pls 🤞🏻 he is SO exasperated with her like he is TIRED™ but also tweaking bcs he's horrendously down bad for her he's gna throw up

Good morning. I hope you slept well, honey. Can you come to work early, say 6.10AM? I’d like to see you and talk about something in person. 

You squint at the text that’s just come through. Another follows as you’re finishing, lighting the dark of your room.

I love you. Sorry, I know you don’t like when I forget to tell you in the mornings. 

Your own response is sent without propriety. I love you too handsome. 6.10 is not gonna work.

Can you make an effort for me? he asks. 

You do your very best. 

“It’s almost seven,” Hotch says when you finally get there that morning, his frown audible and plain to see. 

You hold up the bag of sugar donuts you’d purchased from the truck on the square just outside of Quantico’s endless parking lots. “Necessary delay.” 

“Unnecessary. I asked you nicely to come early and you’re barely on time,” he grumbles. 

How adorable. You put the bag of donuts on the desk and ignore the paperwork laid out waiting for you in favour of his side of the desk. He smells like cedar, his suit sleeve starched under your hand. You lean back against the lip of his desk and pretend you hadn’t been thinking about climbing into his lap —he’s formidable and lovely and that’s the best combination for lounging about atop someone, especially when that someone is very good at pressing you backwards, and better at kissing your neck. 

He knows what you’re thinking. “You’ve woken up in a mood,” he murmurs. 

“A good one,” you promise. 

You take his coffee and steal a sip. Hotch, resigned, lays a hand on your thigh. “I have important things to talk about, you know? I thought I made that clear this morning.” 

“You made a couple of things clear.” 

“Don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like I…” He tilts his head to the side. “Like I’ve been sending you dirty texts or photos.” 

“Is that an option? I don’t think I’ve subscribed to those emails.” 

“You make me out to be this salacious lark–”

“Aaron, I don’t do anything of the sort.” You can hardly hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry I implied you were sexting me, okay? I wish you had been.” He sighs a long-suffering sigh as you carry on. “But you were very formal. I’ll be sure to tell HR the same thing.” 

His hand slips between your thighs. Nowhere it shouldn’t be, just trapped between soft flesh. “Don’t tell HR anything.” 

His coffee is lukewarm and unsweetened on your tongue. Would it kill your uptight love to add just a dash of cream and sugar? Wrinkling your nose, you set aside the mug and press your mildly heated hand to his cheek. Just quickly, brushing a thumb up to the skin below his eye before you let it fall. “Tell me what you wanted me to come in early for. And, for the record, I’m sorry for not trying to get here before, just I didn’t sleep well, and my neck hurt too much to rush.” 

He looks like he wants to ignore your apology. He doesn’t ask you for much, and showing up when he’d wanted you to would’ve been the kinder thing to do —he can be annoyed as both boss or boyfriend. 

But he doesn’t have it in him. 

“Why didn’t you sleep?” he asks softly. 

“Thinking too much about my nice boyfriend.” 

“Really?” 

You slouch a little. Cover his hand where it rests between your legs. “I don’t know. It was really hot, and my mattress is getting old, probably.” 

He ushers you down for a sympathetic kiss. He’s always so sorry to hear about your minor ailments, he must like you too much. 

You attempt to crawl into his lap, curling an arm behind his head. He, disgruntled and yet far from reluctant, lets you take a seat. 

[evanescencelovrr]

You have a tough week at work

hey yall—tough ass week here. i needed to write this cute fluffy moment with reader x simon x price ughhh. my poor heart is mush atp. enjoy!! pls like comment and reblog to share the love <3

notes: she/her pronouns used, lots of fluff & reader struggles for acceptance affection. Lovie, lovebug, love nicknames are used.

I think after a long week and shedding tears over a tub of ice cream—Simon & Price decide you’ve had enough.

First you come through the front door frowning, your usual scowl and eyes twitching from the lack of sleep. Your neck sags, shoulders hunching from the heavy bag and responsibilities weighing on you. You feel like you’re never enough.

Immediately Simon rounds the kitchen corner, not hesitating to take your shoulder bag off—lengthy fingers curling around the strap. You could see the warm lamps are lit, the fireplace on and going which never failed to make you feel at ease in tough times. The flames roared with life.

You trace your eyes to look up all puffy eyed and your nose red—most likely from just crying in frustration. You stiffen up for a moment at him seeing you like this, and faintly you could hear Price cooking in the kitchen. It smells of warm food.

“Lovie, give it up.” Simon said gently—much gentl(er) to you than he would with anyone. His brow was raised and he’s got that scolding look to him.

One that told you to bite down on any resistance.

So you did, too tired to fight and knowing it would be useless. You give the bag to him, and Simons’ hunky form maneuvers to the couch, where he placed it down. His mask if off, wearing sweatpants and a longsleeve knit you got him. His rugged features glow softly in the fire light, oranges and yellows lighting his irises.

Price then calls out from the kitchen, “Is the love bug back already from work?”

“Aye, I got er’.” Simon responds gruffly—turning around when he heard you groan.

There you were trying to take your shoes off, bent over and fingers sluggish working the laces. Damn thing wouldn’t undo itself. Tears sprung up in frustration, finding the simple task so demanding and exhausting. And it didn’t help every muscle protested in pain.

“Lovie—“ Simon closes the distance with his house slippers and holds up upright by your elbows.

“I-I can’t do it.” You say weakly, frowning. Apart of you feels like you needed to “adult,” better—but this week? This week was a mess.

You hear a clank from the kitchen.

“Lovie, come, none f’that, yea? Let’s get you sorted.” Simon briefly caresses your cheek with warm tender fingers, and you find yourself aching for more when he pulls away, round wide eyes gazing.

Simon doesn’t miss the look you gave him and knows. He knows what you need. He gently leads you to the couch, making you sit. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed and places one behind your back to support you, and occasionally hearing your sniffles.

“I’m sorry—“ You begin to say, voice shaky and on the verge of sobs. You felt guilty for making them care, but then again it was their job as well. They looked out for you, you looked out for them.

Simons heart aches as he hears you. The woman he knows who is determined, strong and wise is now hurting. Vulnerable, cracked open. He knows what this must feel like, since he did too at some point of his life.

It was a hard choice—sharing how you felt. And be found himself appreciative of how you let him take care of you tonight. He was determined to put your stressed soul at ease, doing whatever you asked for if you did.

So, his warm voice floated in, as deft fingers loosened your shoe laces, gentle warm eyes peering up at you from under his brows.

“Lovie, its a’right. A big man like me can untie y’er shoes, no?” Simon says lightly, lip lifting up slightly.

That earns him a swift grin from you despite the tears and your chest warms. You know Simon could do a lot more. It was so secret anymore who he was, his past, and Price as well. His large hands slide under your ankles, supporting it up into his lap.

Price then turns the stove off and you hear soft padding. Simon slips off your shoes and tosses them aside—his attention immediately back onto you. He could care less of the shoes. He wanted-needed to know if you were okay.

Price wiped his hands on the rag—his face falling when he saw you, his love bug all teary and crestfallen.

“Dove, let me make you a cup of tea.” Price said firmly, without question. He knows you must be a bundle of nerves and felt frazzled. A nice tea outta do it, he thought. Inside, he was worried.

He worked with ease at the kitchen, tall form hardly needing to stretch an arm up to open the cupboard. He already reached its height anyway.

Immediately he steeped a bag, a nice peppermint tea. In your cute little mug you always loved—the one with pink and white fluffy clouds, with golden stars painted and the moon. He found himself warming at the sight—you.

You were everywhere and he loved it. Little remnants.

He returned and Simon got up to sit next to you, a hand rubbing your back. He softened at the sight and crouched down in front your resting form. He saw the eye bags wearing you down, the redness of your eyes and how irritating the skin was from all the rubbing. Most likely wiping your tears off.

He could see the frown lines, the way your eyes had glossed over in exhaustion.

He felt even more concerned—maybe even livid at the way work had drained you. Nonetheless, his priority was you, not blowing up because of your work.

“Love bug, d’ya think you could sit up for me?” Prices’ warm voice said, one large hand holding your cute mug, the other resting on your knee.

You gently nudged your head in acknowledgement—which was resting on Simons shoulder. All warm and content.

You moved to sit up and uncurled your legs, warming at the sight of Price holding you mug.

Not just any mug.

And the tea you loved too.

Tears sprung up again and you grabbed at the mug, holding it.

“Lovie—“

“Love bug—“

They both said immediately at your tears.

“I’m okay…just overwhelmed by your support.” You managed a small smile, eyes flitting to meet both their concerned ones.

Simon had his brows furrowed, an arm slung back behind you. But now he moved to lean in, a hand touching your back again.

He nodded, meanwhile Price continued rubbing your knee in a comforting manner, thumb drawing circles now.

“Love, you have nothing to apologize for. We know its been hard for you lately.” Price said in a soothing low tone, brows raising. He lowered his head to get a look at you—although not staring holes into you.

He watched as you drank your tea, sighing in relief.

“I-It was.” You began, “I lost track of time and missed some deadlines at work. My Boss has been upset.” Your voice cracked as you explained, and the tears sprung up.

Both of them knew how late you were staying at work, and to hear your inconsiderate Boss only add fuel to the fire was maddening.

Simons’ chest puffed out, taking a breath in—and Prices’ eyes flashed momentarily, only to soften when he spoke to you.

“Just let it out lovie.” Simon said softly, a large hand brushing your hair aside as you cried. Tears dripped down and Simons calloused hand cupped your cheek, rubbing them away. Gently. He wasn’t used to this—but with you, it came so naturally.

There was this feeling in him you reached deepest. It only amplified in moments like this. He didn’t even know he was capable of being gentle still, yet you brought it out in him.

Price patted your leg softly, “Easy love. Let me get you some good food in that tummy. I made you your favorite.”

With that you look up at him as he arose, and Prices’ eyes crinkled underneath with his warm smile. His heart melted—a mixture of concern and care as your eyes were watery and half lidded. He reached a hand to cup your jaw, stroking the tender skin before gliding to the kitchen.

You sniffled and leaned into Simons arms, needing warmth and comfort. Immediately he accepted—no questions asked. He didn’t stiffen up the way he would when you first met him. He let you in completely, loving you the way you did to him when he was lost.

He knew you needed someone to lean on. Both physically and mentally.

“Love, we got this, aye? You jus’ let us do the big work. Don’ worry bout’ bein’ big. And doin’ the big things.” He would whisper soothingly into your hair, a large arm wrapping around your shaky form.

It curled around you so easily, and you closed your eyes, cheek nuzzling his chest. He softened even more, hand reaching up to wipe your face.

But before he did, he made sure to tilt your head up so he could get a good look to clean it.

“There she is.” Simon whispered, affectionately.

He heard Price shuffle back and you gave a soft smile—although weary.

The rest of the night was spent with Price feeding you, even if you complained about doing it.

Simon held you, your back to his chest while he figured he could learn to braid your hair. Halfway, as Price fed you a spoonful, perched onto the coffee table—Simon grumbled and spoke up.

“Lovie, you ave’ such nice hair—I don’t want to be an arsehole, but how in the hell do you manage it?”

Simon whipped the braid over your shoulder so you could see it. Price held the spoon up, cocking a brow at the braid—to which Simon glared.

What you saw had you laughing. It suddenly bubbled out—chest shaking and smile breaking out. Hair was sticking out, untucked properly in the braid. His tension was off so it looked like some braids were bigger than the other, and he fumbled with the hair tie which was slipping off.

“Lovie.” Simon whined roughly—although he couldn’t lie, seeing the lights on in your head again and the way you laughed—it had this man crumbling.

And Price—Price looked proud. Almost like: I knew we’d get her back. His smaller eyes were wide in joy, drinking in the way your shoulder scrunched and lips stretching.

“Simon—this is so sweet.” You say, sighing. God, laughter really was the best medicine, you thought.

And with that, Simons fingers began gently prodding your side to tickle you. You squirmed and hands scrambled to hold his broad shoulders—once again laughter pouring out like bubbles.

Price grinned, a lip quirking up, as he set the bowl aside, “I’m tryin’ to feed her.” But he was enjoying this well enough—

“Oh come on old man, you like this.” Simon teased, his voice slightly shaky as he tickled your squirming form.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Okay! Okay!” You stated, panting, and face red. You were still smiling, leaning to the side and holding up your hands with the widest grin at Simon.

“Good, lovie?” Simon asked.

“Good.” You repeated.

——

Lets just say, HR received multiple complaints from “two” anonymous sources who relentlessly called over and over.

It piled up until both got what they wanted—your Boss suspended for verbal harassment and having employees work overtime.

When you heard the news—you were glad and relieved. Didn’t need to deal with him ever again, you thought.

As you hummed and blasted your music in your headphones, tucked away in your room for the night, both Simon and Price grinned at each other.

[bitterbutblue]

our times

turns out, you're the fortune i want to keep most ☆ multi x reader

~ this is a multi x reader!! hatssun was talking about writing angst and i really said omg my turn! sorry hatssun ur idea was so good and it works so well w yukong and feixiao... ill credit u so hard bro i swear. WVERYONE BE PREPARED FOR WHEN THINK FAST DROPS🙏🙏🙏

UMM ALSO THE FEIXIAO ONE IS SOLONG FOR NO REASON LOTS OF DIALOGUE SORRYYYYY

characters: feixiao, yukong, ruan mei

 song: 小幸運 - Hebe Tian ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

i was too busy chasing shooting stars in the sky ☆ feixiao

The day Saran ran away, something in you ran with her. The day Saran ran away, you didn't know if you would ever see her face break into a smile again, or if you would see her hanging the next day. The trace of her slowly faded with time, but even when you finally had the guts to bolt for it she was still the only thing on your mind. That day, you didn't mind if you died running, because it would've been better than staying there but alive. You didn't mind if you died running, because you died with her on your mind.

God knows how many decades had passed since the Luofu took you in. You only count days in how much your heart ached for her. Eventually it dulls down, it goes from a sharp thud to a muted nudge every time you see a dash of silver hair in the crowd or a sharp but soft smile on Jing Yuan's lips. You've heard of how far she had gotten, and you wished it didn't hurt so much to hear about it. You forced yourself to forget about her, because you couldn't keep living every day haunted by her. You were finally able to live your days how you wanted to, even if it meant without her by your side.

"Yukong, can you run these by the general for me?"

You were absentmindedly sitting at your desk, filling in whatever forms the general had sent to you about all the legality things they had to sort out for the Wardance. You spin your pen, signing your name down and ticking the last of the boxes. You huffed at the lack of response from the woman who should be sitting across from you.

"Yukong?"

"She's not here."

You look up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, and the world decides to take a break for a moment. In that small fraction of a second you feel yourself going back in time for decades until you are standing face to face with the young foxian, bruised and battered with an undying flame in her eyes. She is now much taller, her face pale but not the sickly kind that she harboured before. Her eyebags faded, hair flowing as if it had been just washed- a sight you never saw before in those camps.

She looked healthy, she had everything she wanted.

So why did she look like she was about to break down in front of you?

It wasn't fair.

"Saran?"

She only nods, standing with her arms by her side like a fool who doesn't know how to speak. She clears her throat, moving to cross her arms so she looked less awkward standing in front of you.

She wears clean clothes, she smells of petals.

Her scent of blood long faded, but you feel the pain behind her stance.

"How have you been?" Is all she asks as she eyes your desk warily, as if not knowing how to approach the conversation.

"Well. You?"

"Good enough."

Your old banter had long faded now, your previous ability to make each other laugh despite knowing the imminent death that looms over you two every day.

"Neergul died."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

It's like talking to a wall, or to just a mirrored version of yourself with how either of you refuse to look at each other.

"I never knew if you died or not until I came here."

Your shaky voice finally cuts the tension that has been simmering for far too long. She swallows, looking up and you know she is holding back tears because she has only ever looked up when the night sky is open and she can see the stars that granted her hope.

"I found out you became general. I was happy for you."

She says nothing.

"Why didn't you reach out?"

The edge to your voice has her breath knocked out of her lungs for a second as she tries to formulate an answer. She tries to weave incoherent thoughts and jumbles of emotions into a sentence and it's much harder to be done than she realised.

"I couldn't."

Of course she couldn't. Why would she admit to you how much of a coward she was? Knowing she had abandoned you after kissing you goodnight that evening.

"Why?"

But you want answers. It's not every day your presumed dead lover comes back to see you after years and years of crying yourself to sleep and hoping that in another future you could be in her arms without having to fear for your life.

"I was scared."

The general cannot be scared, or show any signs of fear in any situation- especially emotional situations where they need to stay calm so that people can feel secure around her but right now it all falls apart.

"Of who?"

"You."

"Why?"

You really did not like to raise your voice but you couldn't help it- she infuriates you. From the moment she flooded your heart you realised why love and hate go hand in hand because you hate that you love her.

"Why now?"

"I don't know."

Is all she manages to stutter out after an incredulous minute of silence and you just sigh.

"Why didn't you come find me?"

Her question has you going speechless now.

You were a hypocrite.

"I don't know."

She just nods with an unreadable expression on her face.

"I don't regret what I did that night."

You squeeze your now-fisted hand tight, taking a deep breath in to try to not only steady your voice but calm your racing heart that threatens to beat so hard it shatters in your chest.

"But why? Why make me love you for decades if you never planned to return?"

"I wanted to return. I always did."

Her words come out much more rushed than she intended it to come out. You feel your world shatter in that moment as you speak your next words.

"You never moved on?"

She steps closer.

"I dreamt about you every night. Under the sea of the shooting stars."

You shake your head, quickly wiping away at your own tears and she has to take a sharp breath in so her tears don't fall.

"Don't say that." You whisper "We can't. Please."

She looks at you, more intensely than ever as her voice quivers.

"Why?"

You shake your head.

"It'll only hold us back."

You still adorn matching scars from the torture you both had gone through in those camps. You love her, but she also left you.

"We can't." Is all you say.

She turns around and you want to pull her into your arms, you want her to be able to look at you but from that moment on, the look on her face as you showed her your soulmate would be the face you see every night you close your eyes.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

somewhere in the sky i could not see, was you ☆ yukong

The evening Caiyi died in her arms, Yukong vowed to never see the skies again. That was the same evening you went missing, the same evening she breaks down because how can she lose two of what she loved most in her life within the blink of an eye? The reason for her to wake up every morning, the reason she smiled even through the roughest of the days- now faded into nothing but memory and a distant bitter taste in her mouth.

You were not presumed dead, only missing. The false sense of hope had Yukong staying at her desk for hours every day, going through files and files, records upon records to try and maybe find some trace of you somewhere but after years of searching she finally gave up. She had to care for Qingni for Caiyi, she had to keep loving you because if she doesn't then she feels like she's lost herself.

It was the day Qingni flew to the skies when she finally looked up once more. She looks to the planes to see her daughter flying the same path that doomed her from wanting to live but the sky was the reason she had the two people who made life worth living. It was that day a plane crashed and Yukong felt the familiar, sickening feeling from decades ago as she runs to the sight. She's panicked, flustered, heart racing and feeling like throwing up as she pushes past crowds amongst crowds-

She doesn't know if she should scream or sigh in relief when they pull the lifeless-looking figure out of the starskiff. The model was old, the same she used in the war where she lost....

You. The figure they pulled out was you and she feels like she's going to be sick. She runs up to them, asking if you're okay and the medics are telling her to back off but she needs to know. She puts her head down, ear against your chest and almost sobs when she hears your heart thud weakly. It's so soft she really could've missed it but she hears it.

"Oh baby..."

She whispers as she cradles your head on her lap.

She sits by your side in the hospital until you wake up. She doesn't move, doesn't eat or drink or anything unless Qingni drags her to the bathroom or to the cafeteria. She holds your hand weakly, squeezing it every once in a while to see if you'd respond.

A cough jolts her awake and she quickly scans the dark, dimly lit room to find you- blinking weakly as you scan the room wearily.

"Oh, oh my god."

She quickly gets off her chair, rushing by your side.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling? Nurse-"

"Yukong."

She never thought she'd hear her name fall from your lips, to hear her name mumbled out so softly and hoarsely again.

"I'm here, I'm right here."

You don't say anything as you close your eyes, taking in a deep but pained breath as you close your eyes. She can feel her hands go cold, trembling violently as she tries to calm herself down. Her fingertips feel like they've been dipped in ice water and her throat feels like its closing up violently.

"You're here."

Yukong couldn't help the sob that escapes her lips at your words.

"Yes, yes baby. I'm right here."

The tears are already falling before she can even bother trying to control them, and she can already feel herself slipping away when you smile softly at her because she had always been a fool for you. She put the whole world down for you and she would lift it up for you if you needed it to be lifted again.

"I- I came back."

"You did, you did baby, you're back." She whispers, finally moving to take your hand in hers. You feel so much smaller, your hand much rougher than it used to be and when she finally takes in how scarred you are she feels like breaking down.

"Wanted to see you..." you whisper weakly, voice shaking as you look directly into her eyes.

Your eyes were nothing like the eyes she used to look at every night before she drifted off to sleep. Now they were hollow, every trace of who you once were has faded into the past that only resides through her dreams.

You were back, but you'd never really be back.

She just squeezes your hand gently as she tells herself it's okay, telling herself that you're physically here and you were somehow still alive and that's all she's been praying for since the day you fell.

So why does it hurt so much?

If all she's ever wanted was to have you back in her arms, why does it hurt so much to have you back now? Looking at her with a smile that no longer meets your eyes and a sense of coldness washing over her like a suffocating blanket every time she sees you.

She still loves you.

She still loves you and it hurts that her lover has died, reincarnated into a broken version of who she once loved. But she doesn't care. She will learn to live with the cold if it means being able to hold you once more. She would spend as long as she needs, puzzling every piece of you back together until you are able to smile at her without the history of all that happened haunting your every waking move.

She vowed, from that moment on, she'd start looking at the sky again because the sky brought you back. Every evening she stares up at the moon, watching it dim the lights to another day, and whisper her gratefulness to have her lover back. Every evening, she brings you out to look at the moon, the same moon you looked at during the two decades apart where the only thing you had together was the moon draped in the sky that she was too scared to look at.

"I love you."

You just lean your head against her chest.

You just listen to her heartbeat, and with each thud the cracks in your body begin to renew themselves- you would never be who you were, but you would always love her.

"I love you too."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

every scene was you ☆ ruan mei

The day she left, she vanished. No note, no text, nothing. Ruan Mei had become nothing but a shadow on earth when she decided to leave your house and you questioned if it was even worth searching for her at that point.

She had always been obsessed with aeonhood, aeons, power- whatever. You knew she was. Yet you still loved her for it, and she always promised you that one day you two would be able to love each other for eternity, for as long as you wanted to and until time itself faded into nothing but what was a mere idea of the past. She held you close that evening when she promised you, your head resting on her chest as she wrapped her arms around you.

A week later, she vanishes.

Lab empty, notes packed away, it was like as if your house had gone back in time to before you met her with how empty it all was. You called her number, texted her phone, contacted everyone she knew which was not a lot but you still tried because you loved her.

The day she revealed herself as the 81st member of the genius society, you felt your entire being shatter into pieces of who it once was. That was why she left you. Ultimately, Ruan Mei was selfish, and she had always been a selfish person.

You were foolish for loving her.

But you couldn't stop.

By the time you finally encountered her again, your history had become just a speck of dust in her mind but it was still your reason for hurt. It was still the reason why getting out of bed was a bit harder and why looking in the mirror hurt just a bit more than it should.

"Oh, it's you."

Her monotonous voice has you wanting to squeeze her throat, strangle her until she can't speak but you don't move. You stare at her, her lack of reaction, her poker face and you just swallow.

"How are you?"

That was the only sentence you could manage out and if you looked closely enough, you could see her eye twitch slightly as her throat tightens- her composure begins breaking at the sound of your voice.

"Well." She nods. She sounds too composed to you despite all the pain she is desperately trying to hide. She hates you for making her feel this way. She hates how weak she feels when you make that face at her, when your eyes widen and your mouth tightens into a line, body tense and breathing shallow. "You?"

She notices how your body tenses even more at that question, how your eyebrows begin to furrow as your face grows pink from anger.

"Not very good."

"Oh."

Her response had you fuming even more. How she was so careless and thoughtless towards you and how you felt drove you off the walls. She doesn't give a shit about you, why would she even ask?

Because you don't see the guilt that eats away at her heart every night as she stares at the photo of you that she has on her bedside table.

"Congratulations. You did it. Genius society."

It came out bitter and harsh, and Ruan Mei doesn't flinch but she feels this twist in her gut that's too unfamiliar and too painful for her to fully register. She doesn't understand this feeling. She wants to, because she wants to know how to stop it.

"Thank you."

You scoff at her response, physically unable to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you stepped closer to her, jabbing a finger into her chest.

"You're a fucking bitch."

She hates how her heart leapt at the feeling of your touch, she hates how your words actually manage to hurt her when it really shouldn't be affecting her at all. She's been called so much worse, so why does this, coming from you, hurt so much?

"Is this because I left?"

How can she be so dense?

"You left without saying a word! You just disappeared off the face of the earth, I don't hear from you saying where you are. I don't know what happened, I thought I did something wrong, but no- I remember who you are. A narcissistic bitch who only cares about herself."

The last part hurt more than it should've.

"I don't only care about myself."

You can't help but falter at how soft her voice suddenly goes as she looks down, not making eye contact as she shifts her bodyweight from foot to foot.

"I really cared for you."

Those words shouldn't affect you. You should've moved on from what happened almost twenty years ago now but you can't. You just stare at her and you hate how you feel tears start to form in your eyes as you blink violently, trying to hold it back.

"Don't say that to me."

She goes silent.

"I hate you."

She looks down and you don't see the tears that well up in her eyes.

"I really hope you succeed. I hope you get everything you've ever wanted."

She doesn't even get to see your face for the last time, because by the time she finally gets the courage to look up you were already gone. Your last words to her haunt her every time she begins her studies, or every time she tries to focus on figuring out creating a new life species. She knows you didn't mean it, yet she can't help but want you to notice her just one last time.

Maybe this time, she could fulfil her long broken promise to you.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

@44rtem idk ifthis is the ruan mei content u wanted... but here u go <3

[mal3vol3nt]

https://www.tumblr.com/longing-for-rain/755847912227028992/here-we-observe-the-aang-boymom-in-its-natural?source=share

Hi! I'm curious on your thoughts of this meta.

hi anon! so sorry for keeping you waiting with this response, i know it’s been months. unfortunately this probably isn’t gonna be the response you wanted to hear—me breaking down this zk brainrot rant and subverting their claims with canon content. please allow me to explain though (this is gonna be long sorry):

the reasons i’ve been slow to answer this ask and others that have sent me zk rants are:

since joining atla twitter (@arrsapphics if you’re cool) i’ve been exposed to a lot more zk coke-fueled rants and just do not have the energy to torture myself by willingly reading their shit

a lot of these zutara stans on tumblr are a lot more deranged and genuinely horrible people now that i’ve been exposed to the twitter zks. of course, zks are stupid and ship-obsessed on every platform and some of them (one in particular comes to mind—if you’re on twitter then you know) are genuinely just as bad, but i feel the ones on here have a special type of hatred considering they can tag their posts to ensure their hate stays within the echo chamber

CONTENT WARNING: RAP3

the second reason is the biggest part of why i will no longer entertain posts from longing-for-rain. i have recently found out via twitter that they write rape fanfiction of katara. being a chronically online shipper is one thing but to write fanfic of katara being raped so that zuko can save her is truly where i have to disengage. they have also posted rants of them analyzing katara’s body in the show, measuring the size of her breasts and hips to support the delusions in their head about this 14 year old girl. i truly cannot engage with this person’s rants as if they’re just regular shipping war bullshit. this person is a sick individual who not only projects onto a 14 year old brown indigenous character but also sexualizes and adultifies her

for these reasons, i refuse to read a rant posted by her and other big zk blogs on this app. people who take their obvious fetishes and racism and project them onto underaged asian and indigenous characters have gained too much attention from me on this blog. i can’t continue reading rants from these people and analyzing them because i know these people are not treating this show and its characters under an appropriate lens and arguing with their points will do absolutely nothing but enrage me, other people in the ka fandom, and fuel their delusions with our anger as “proof” their arguments hold any weight. on twitter, i’ll continue interacting with what comes up on my tl from my atla moots and if that includes shitting on a deranged zk then fine. but on tumblr i refuse to engage, especially since this app has a tagging system that i use religiously

and i would like to encourage anyone who reads this to also refuse to take this person’s rants seriously and look at them as nothing more than cope-hatred by a sick individual with sick fantasies and thoughts about these minor characters. of course, if you choose to still engage then i won’t stop you and will probably like and reblog your posts 😭

i will just no longer willingly click on links to their rants and subject myself to their bullshit. however, if you’d like for me to argue against zk claims then you are more than welcome to send me a summary of what they’ve said and i’ll do my best to organize a response! i absolutely do not want to discourage anyone from sending me asks because i truly do enjoy answering yalls questions and i love knowing that people like hearing what i have to say on these things lol. please, send me asks about anything and everything! just please understand that i won’t be clicking any links to their posts and blogs or be entertaining anything that comes from the three main delusional zk blogs 🙏

i hope this has made sense and again, i’m sorry anon for taking so long to answer this ask and for not giving the expected response 🫶

[halfwayhearted]

Arda Güler fic where he feels you are being distant and starts to overthink which leads to him asking if you were going to break up with him out of nowhere and it causes a small argument…. angst to comfort perhaps. Get back to me as soon as possible. Thank you for your time!☀️

Velvet Mood — Arda Güler.

Pairing: Arda Güler x Fem!Reader

Summary: Something’s on his mind, and you don’t know what it is. You’re determined to find out; you just didn’t think it’d be about whether or not you’re planning to break up with him.

Word Count: 810+

Disclaimer/s — Nothing, angst to comfort!

A/N: I’M ILL. THIS. + their argument wasn’t what I had hoped but I lowkey got stumped so, let’s knock it off. Thank.

Arda was distant. Too distant. It worried you a lot.

It all began when you came home one day, utterly exhausted from a long day at work. You longed for nothing more than a shower, some food, and to collapse into bed. That was all you could muster.

Arda brushed a hand over your hair, and you felt the soft touch of his lips against your temple. “Hey, how was work? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“‘M tired,” you grumbled, “It was very grueling.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to watch some TV?”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you shake your head in response to his question. “Not now, please.”

It was a small, simple response, yet it had him thinking the absolute worst. Most days, you’d agree and just fall asleep with your head resting lazily against his chest and your legs thrown over his lap. But to receive a ‘Not now, please’?

It was… different. He didn’t quite like it at all.

Since then, the things you used to do were starting to become memories. A simple thought now captured the feeling of contentment.

You tried to talk to him. He simply brushed it off. Brushed you off. In all honesty, you were slowly becoming tired of it. Day by day. Like a routine.

Today would likely end the same way. You’d try to talk to him, he’d give you nothing to work with, and then you’d call it a night. You’ve fought. Maybe not subtly, but you still fought. Tried to.

“Arda,” you started softly, “How was your day?”

His eyebrows raised for just a split second before he shrugged his shoulders. You saw the way his jaw clenched, it confused you. “It was fine. You?”

“Fine, too. Can… I want to talk to you about—”

That was when he uttered your name, cutting you off, “Listen, are you going to break up with me?”

What? You voiced your exact thoughts, “What?”

“Are you?” He echoed, his voice firm. Though you could tell he was clearly upset. Arda was upset.

You were at a complete loss for words. The only question that escaped your lips, filled with curiosity, was, “Where is this coming from? Did I do something, Arda? I need you to talk to me.”

Did I do something, you had asked. He could’ve laughed. “Did you? Or, did I do something.”

“No, you didn’t do anything. Where is this—I’m confused, why is this even a question? I love you, you know that. So, where is this coming from?”

“Don’t give me that,” the man sighed, averting his gaze. “You’ve changed. You seem tired. Tired with me. Of me. And if that’s the case, I need to know.”

‘Tired of me.’ Tired of him? You were never tired of him. You never have been, and you were sure you never would be. Ever. Your job had been weighing you down, of course, but you never thought it’d slowly but surely impact your relationship like this with your boyfriend. It never crossed your mind.

You felt a crushing weight of guilt in your heart.

Taking a step toward him, you began, “I’m not tired of you. And… no, I’m not breaking up with you. God, never that, okay? I’ve been working extra hours, and it’s starting to take its toll on me. I didn’t mean to put you in that position. I don’t want you to keep thinking that. Trust me when I say that I love you. Because I do. So much.”

His expression softened at your explanation. You weren’t planning on breaking up with him. Arda couldn’t help but feel a little foolish. He knew the promotion you got would have its effect. He just didn’t realize how worn out it’d make you.

It all started to make sense. Oh, how dumb.

The brunette felt his entire body relax and let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I should’ve just asked you. I didn’t mean to just let it out. Put you on the spot.”

“No, no, hey, I’m glad that you did,” you assured, quickly lifting your hand and using it to cup his jaw. “I’m glad that you did. I wouldn’t have found out how you felt. How about we make one of those calendars? We can set, like, dates, and days where it’ll be dedicated to just us. How’s that?”

“You’d let me know if you’re too tired for them?”

A smile slowly spread across your face, “I would.”

Arda hums softly at that, leaning down to place a gentle peck to your temple. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer to him.

“I’m really starting to hate your job,” he muttered.

And you laughed. Of course he did. He would. All you did was let out a laugh, “But, you love me.”

The Güler man hummed once more, “I love you.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[midsommarbearsuit]

💖Alphabet Boy-a Ford Pines x Reader Fic (18+)!💖

Hi! Still here still writing about old men lol. I wanted to write a fic in which the reader takes Ford's virginity and low key tops him. Small warning for breeding talk and VERY SLIGHT dubcon. Also shoutout to @cosmicdahlias they're eating it up lately with their fics.

THIS FIC IS 18+! NO MINORS!

Ok, enjoy!💘

You had been dating Ford for a little while, but not long enough to know everything about the man. In a lot of ways he was a mystery. You could tell his time spent in other dimensions had hardened him, and you were intimidated by the walls he built up. Even toward you, the one he loved, he could sometimes be cold, official, and distant, especially if he was working in his lab. He was an unknowable mountain of a man, tall and commanding and strange. However, this aspect of his personality only made you more intrigued and, frankly, turned on. You fantasized about having this man more than twice your age crumble beneath you in the best way possible. The only missing piece was how to make it happen.

---------------------------------------------------------------

The set you chose was lacy and pink, your outfit a tad more revealing than usual. You were determined to put your plan into action, no matter how much Ford demurred. The two of you hadn’t had sex yet, but you stayed up nearly every night touching yourself to the thought of it. You knew today would be the day. 

Ford sat at his desk, head bent and posture terrible. He was scribbling away in a new journal, pausing every now and then to rub his chin and stare off into the distance with unfocused eyes. You took special care making his coffee just the way he liked it, even adding a small splash of whiskey. You punched the code into the vending machine and made your way down into Ford’s lab, the cold air covering your exposed legs in goosebumps. You set the coffee down on his desk. He simply grunted in response, reaching for it without looking up. 

“Aren’t you gonna say thank you?” you asked playfully. 

“Thank you, dear heart,” he responded, using his favorite nickname for you. You simply stood there, waiting for him to look up. But no such luck. You knew you’d have to take initiative, unsurprisingly. You reached for Ford’s shoulders and began rubbing them soothingly. He moaned, rolling his neck a bit before going back to writing. 

“You should take a break,” you suggested, leaning forward so your breasts pressed gently against his back. 

“Can’t,” he grunted. “Sorry. I have a good train of thought going here.”

You sighed internally, frustration causing a lump to form in your throat. 

“Please sweetheart, I need to talk to you,” you said.

Ford simply didn’t respond.

Finally, your frustration got the better of you, rising up and coloring your face. You reached forward and swiped the coffee mug off the desk. 

Ford gasped, yanking his journal away from the spill. “Y/n!”

“I’ll clean it up,” you grumbled. And just like that, a golden opportunity presented itself. You grabbed an oil soaked rag from the desk before dropping to your knees in front of Ford, your back to him. You sank to your hands and knees, arching your back so your ass was on display. You felt the cold air through the thin fabric of your panties, your skirt riding up.

When you were done cleaning, you rose to your feet again and spun to face him. His jaw was slack, his eyes heavily lidded. He turned back to his journal, clearing his throat. You threw the soiled rag to the floor and put a hand on Ford’s shoulder, pushing him gently so he sat back, his legs slightly open. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, still seemingly clueless. The frustration you felt pooling in your core was steadily transforming into something else, something very familiar to you. You leaned forward and brought Ford into a kiss, intense and passionate. He made a choked noise, his hands stiff at his sides. You climbed onto his lap. You felt his erection rub against you.

“Did you like that view, sweetheart?” you whispered in his ear. “I knew you would…I wore these panties special for you.”

Ford stuttered your name, clearly overwhelmed. You dipped down and sloppily kissed his neck, feeling his skin rise with goosebumps. You ground yourself against his clothed length, getting wetter by the second. 

“Oh…” he moaned, his hips bucking up. You felt heat radiating off of him.

“You can tell me to stop,” you said quietly, reaching down and palming his erection. The noises that came out of him were far from the reserved, intelligent words he typically uttered. He sounded like a kitten, mewling into your neck. 

“Please I…I need to tell you something,” he begged. You stopped, looking into his deep brown eyes. 

“Y/n, I’m a virgin.” Your heart plummeted into your stomach “What?” You couldn’t believe this sixty-something year old man had never had sex before. 

Ford looked incredibly embarrassed, glancing to the side. You had never seen him so shy. “You heard me, dear heart. I’ve never ah…known a woman. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“I’ll be your first?” you said, voice hushed in awe. You couldn’t believe this incredible opportunity in front of you. 

He nodded.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Oh, in that case…” you said, returning to kissing his neck between words. “I say we move this to your bedroom. What do you think?”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Ford laid back on the bed, staring at you with huge eyes. 

“Do you want me to strip for you?” you asked. Pure power flowed through your veins in place of blood. You had never felt something so empowering in your life. This man, with his multiple degrees and his high IQ and all his life experience, was powerless against the raw, intimidating sexuality of your young body. You knew if he touched your skin, it would burn his hand. 

He nodded. “Please…strip for me.”

You grinned, taking your time removing your low cut shirt. Next came your miniskirt. You wiggled your hips as it fell down your legs. Ford sucked in a breath, his eyes roaming your body.

“Good Lord,” he muttered to himself, his hands gripping the bed sheets. You watched as his erection surged in his pants. You sauntered over to him, slowly climbing on top of him, keeping your bra and panties on. 

Ford wasn’t a small man. In fact, he practically dwarfed you. You straddled his hips, your small hands reaching forward to pin his large wrists to the bed. “Please tell me if you get uncomfortable, sweetheart,” you cooed before licking a line up his neck. You felt him shudder.

“You have to understand, I was never popular,” he was blabbering now as you kissed down his neck, his chest. “No one wanted me in high school, o-or in college…and then I fell into my research and it simply never came to pass…”

You nodded, your hand traveling from his wrist to his belt buckle. You deftly undid it, inching his pants down. You kissed down his happy trail before taking his cock in your hands. 

“Have you ever felt someone’s mouth before?” you asked sweetly, gazing up at him. He shook his head, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“You’ll enjoy this,” you grinned before taking him in your mouth. He was well endowed, and you could only take a couple inches before you started to gag. Ford immediately started bucking his hips so his tip pressed the back of your throat. His moans were high and sweet as he desperately yanked at your hair. You could tell he was immediately overstimulated, and you were hit with another intoxicating wave of that powerful feeling. You could easily become addicted to it. 

“Oh God y/n…” he groaned. “Slow down, darling…I don’t want to finish too soon…”

You did as he asked, giving his tip little kitten licks as you stared up at him to gauge his reactions. His entire face was bright red, splotches of it spreading down his neck and chest. His eyes were shut tight, and his six fingered hand remained buried in your hair. 

“No one’s ever made me feel this way,” he said. “Thank you…”

You removed your mouth from him with a pop. “There’s no need to thank me, Ford. It feels good for me too.”

You made your way back up, taking him into another kiss. You pulled your panties down and teased your entrance with his cock. His hands flew to your hips and he held on for dear life. 

“You’re not even inside me yet, Sixer,” you laughed. You took in the sight of him underneath you. Hair tousled, his arousal written all over his face, his pupils blown. He was normally so reserved, but he couldn’t hide now.

You sat up and began lowering yourself onto him in earnest, making sure to go slow. 

“Ask for it, darling,” you said, deciding to have some fun. “What do you want?”

“I-I…I want your…” Ford swallowed hard, visibly shy once again. “Oh, don’t make me say it…”

You moved up to straddle his stomach, crossing your arms. He whined, thrusting up so his cock rutted against the curve of your ass. 

“Cmon, smart guy. Normally you’re so good with words.”

“Your pussy,” he finally managed, practically pleading now. “Please, dear heart, I want to feel your pussy.” You grinned wickedly and moved downward once again, giving him what he asked for.

“My God,” he said, voice soaked in awe. You could tell he was having a religious experience as he gazed up at you with soft eyes. “Feels…oh, it feels…”

“How does it feel, Ford?” you asked, beginning to bounce up and down on him.

“Fucking incredible,” he finished. With that, you decided to  put on a show for him. You took your hair down, shaking it out and gyrating your hips. You unclipped your bra and pinched your nipples, licking your lips. He stared at you like you were his own personal porn.

“However did I get so lucky,” he moaned. “Such a beautiful creature…you know I’m going to draw this later.” This last part he said with some of his signature dryness, then he went right back to a whimpering mess as you clenched yourself around him. He was big enough to hit all the right spots, but you didn’t want to completely unravel. You were enjoying this control way too much.

“Such a dirty old man,” you said, even shocking yourself with your words. “Fucking someone so young…”

“I know,” he groaned. “It’s revolting, isn’t it?”

You nodded, the grin never leaving your face. You felt Ford swell inside you and could tell from the look on his face that he was close.

“Y/n…I’m going to-”

“I can feel it,” you said, bouncing harder and faster, milking his orgasm out of him. “Cum inside me, Stanford…maybe you’ll even get me pregnant…”

His eyes widened even more at that, and he shook his head. But even as his head shook, you felt him come undone inside you. He shouted your name, shutting his eyes and thrusting through it. “Ah…thank you,” he panted. “I couldn’t ask for better…”

You smiled down at him. “I’m not done with you.”

There was something like fear in his eyes and you continued to ride him. 

“I haven’t cum yet. You do want me to cum, don’t you?” you asked sweetly, biting your lip.

“You’re cruel,” he whimpered. “Please dear heart, I can’t take any more…” His moans were taking on a wild tinge, more and more of the walls he put up falling down around him as you reduced him to a trembling puddle of a man.

“I-I can’t…ahh yes…I mean no! Please, enough…”

You felt your orgasm coming. “It’s almost over, sweetheart…almost done…”

When you came around him he grabbed onto your hips hard enough to bruise, his voice going higher than you’d ever heard it before. After a moment that felt like an eternity, you removed yourself from him, feeling his cum dribbling down your thighs.

“I love you,” Ford said, his voice deepening once again. “That felt better than I could have possibly imagined. 

“I love you too,” you cooed, climbing into bed next to him and cuddling up to his solid form. In mere moments, you had both fallen into a content sleep.

[patchesproblem]

Thoughts on each Anti-Entropy member?

It depends on what you mean by thoughts, like if it's just my general opinion or if you're meaning the ideas I have for each one. If this isn't what you meant feel free to send another ask.

Tesla, Einstein, and Schrodinger are my favorites and I love them more than anything. Their relationships with each other and on their own absolutely drive me insane.

Tesla in general is a huge favorite of mine because of just how she is. Her story + how interesting the historical aspects about her are (I won't go into detail because it's a long rambling but it's interesting to me.) Plus I love how she depicts ADHD because it aligns with my own experiences and it makes me happy lmao. Especially with her relationship with Einstein.

Einstein is tied with Tesla just because they're a pair and I refuse to separate them. She's a nice person but is mischevious and and will not hesitate to tease her friends and I love it. There's a shit ton of other stuff I want to say about her but I don't know how to word it, so it'll just be an add on for later maybe.

Schrodinger.. I love her so much I want to throw her. Like yes she attempted murder however we all have our silly little moods. Joking aside I'm so sad that she's not appearing in the main story more.. Her relationship with Reanna, Tesla, and Einstein should've been expanded upon more and the fact it wasn't kills me. Kira came home from war why can't Schrodinger </3

Welt Joyce is good, but he's not my favorite tbh. I don't think about him much. His lores interesting and he's sweet, but I just can't get myself to get attached or really be invested beyond looking into historical aspects (i.e. me starting to read James Joyce's works to see if there's anything relating to him there.) That's not to say I hate him, quite the opposite actually. It's just. He's not a character for me essentially. He's well written and he deserved better tbh. He's also my friends favorite so he's basically a fav in law.

Joachim / Welt Yang I don't really have an opinion on. He's interesting, but I tend to avoid stuff about him for my own reasons. Him and Bronyas father daughter relationship is really sweet to me though.. I love it. Though also I'm still interested on where that man went when he ran away from his moms with ADA. What was he doing during all that time.

Cocolia is someone I want to punt into the sun along with the Welt Joyce clones. I support womens rights and wrongs however she tried over throwing Tesla and Einstein and had full intention on getting Einstein either killed or trapped in the SoQ. I will support your rights and wrongs until said crimes are against my favorites. (I like her character / story I just hate her as a person.)

The Welt Joyce clones unironically remind me of emo boy band members who probably have a few crimes on their criminal records. Wanna be cool kids but really everyone hates them.

Planck and Karl (I know he's technically not apart of AE but he's an honorary member in my book) are my beloveds. I love them both. Insane midlife crisis lady and father figure who is just there. I know Karl has 2 lines and we know nothing about him but I'm delusional.

I hate Edison with a passion. I unironically hate her more than Otto. I'm not elaborating. There's nothing redeeming about her and I wish she didn't exist.

Joffrey is just a child. I don't know what is going on with him At All.

Sin Mal is just kinda. There. I forget she exists in HI3rd tbh. I mainly know her from HG2..

ADA my beloved. I love her. She deserved better. Come back from war I miss you honey.

Reanna Brigantia... I loved her so much. She was such a sweet person and deserved SO much better than what happened to her in the end.

I think this is all of the major characters? I could've put the Schicksal Valkyries in here since they all were apart of AE at some point but they're with Schicksal again so.

[khalixvitae]

@katabaesis No but you’re right. Like granted Idia does have a pretty broad stroke hatred/dislike for the world at large but that’s more of a personal issue than something he takes out on others. While I would argue that he can be petty and bitchy and vindictive, he’s not innately cruel. when he does do cruel things (because he has an impressive capacity to do so, let’s be real) it’s not a demographically targeted thing nor is it driven by a particular ideology. He may be a very calculated and deliberate person who people should take more seriously, but hes the one who undermines himself socially and does so with the intent of being alone.

Also I don’t think he’d gain anything from the incel “community” anyway, mostly because his personal philosophy is fundamentally different. Incels blame their perceived loneliness on others (primarily women), but Idia’s adversary is something way more personal. Idia’s isolationism is insular- he doesn’t blame any particular demographic for his condition, but instead blames something in his literal blood. I mean he also pins his fate on his ancestors, but again that’s way more internal than the outward projecting incel think pieces rely on. Idia doesn’t think anyone besides Ortho is capable of understanding him anyway (both the original and the android, but for different reasons). Idia is the one who believes he can’t/shouldn’t make personal connections and that he is ultimately the root of the issue. He’s sparing himself the trouble and inevitable pain of cutting social ties when he returns to STYX, and he’s sparing the people around him. He doesn’t want to drag anyone else into the mess he was born to inherit. In short, Idia’s personal philosophy is diametrically opposed to incel behavior. He’s the one that has decided he must be alone, and he doesn’t pin that on his peers. He’s lost enough already, so in his mind there’s no point in subjecting himself to the awkwardness of socializing with anyone face to face. Not to mention the ABYSMAL socialization he received growing up at STYX, like holy shit. Being offputting to people by nature doesn’t help his situation and definitely contributes to his built in self loathing. Also it’s insinuated at multiple points that his physical appearances are picked at in the twst universe, so like. He’s got several complexes going on there that he ultimately blames himself for.

Anyway yes I hate the incel Idia trope because it totally washes out the layers of nuance built into his character. It obliterates his self awareness and his open distaste at his ancestors, as well as his fear of being let down. Idia is his own worst enemy, and frankly his isolationist tendencies are what reflect his worst traits back at the audience ten fold. His lack of socialization during his upbringing only makes it worse- I mean he was literally born and bred for a life of secrecy and scheming in the shadows. There are plenty of things wrong with him as a person, but misogyny isn’t one of them???

And on a personal note, I think he’s too intelligent to pin the blame on anyone else. I think the incel trope dumbs him down to an almost unrecognizable point. Idia is way smarter than that.

[redysetdare]

Something real weird about how people only want to truly accept aromantic/asexual people when they're "closer" to being het (in their eyes). People are all about aroaces being sex positive, and being allowed to be in relationships, and being allowed to have sex, and that's fine! But yknow, funny that when aroace people DONT want to have sex or be in relationships of any kind, when people can't just pretend they're 'straight with extra steps' then people don't wanna accept it. Or almost wanna push them into that role. Real funny.

It's the aphobia. A lot of allo people like to say they're supportive of aspec identities but in reality there is a hard line they draw in what they view as a valid and acceptable aspec identity and it pretty obviously is the identities they can pretend aren't aro or ace at all. You can see it when they support Ace people. They'll say "Ace people can still love" with "still love" being the qualifier here. You can see it when they support Aro people. They'll say "Aro people still love their friends/family!" with "Still loving their friends and family" being the qualifier. "Ace people can still have sex" with "Still have sex" being a qualifier. "Aro people can still date or enter a QPR" with Partnership being the qualifier.

Some Allo's cant comprehend that people DON'T want these things, so when they hear about non-partnering, Loveless, or repulsed folks, they break and suddenly you can see their aphobia bright as day. It's all a facade. It helps no one. It hurts all of us, even the aros and aces they find "acceptable" because in their heads they aren't seeing these people as aro or ace.

This doesn't even touch the surface for when you get into people being aplatonic or afamilial, or other a-attractions. When you suddenly don't have the "still love" qualifier, everything falls apart. people use love as a moral standing. if you don't love then you're morally corrupt because the opposite of love is hate. people think not feeling love means you feel hate instead, ignoring the fact that is just not how things work. ignoring that the feeling of love or lack there of means nothing in terms of morals. The world isn't black and white "Love = good" and "Hate/apathy/lack of love = Bad" It's childish to think of the world like that.

so yeah, in the grand scheme of things it is funny. all we can really do is laugh while people continue to act like children because their world view is being shaken up by someone else's very existence. I hope one day they can laugh with us as they realize how silly it was to think in the way they did.

[pikkish]

idk if this is a good prompt but put doomguy in myhouse.wad I think he would find it enriching

Right, so I've been mulling on this one for a little bit now, n I'm not opposed to writing something for you, I'm just not... entirely sure what to write? Because the thing is, myhouse.wad doesn't actually really have anything to do with Doom as a story. Sure, Doom is important in that it's the vessel through which the story is told and one of the connections between the narrator and his dead companion. But as far as Doom itself goes, and the story about a man who was too angry/stupid to die, fighting demons and saving earth, none of that is at all relevant to myhouse.wad and its story. For all intents and purposes, Doomguy isn't actually a character in myhouse.wad. So I'm not really sure how exactly to fit him in there.

[yoihino]

Auuaghh undertale fandom video essays my beloathed. Is it really so much to ask for just one (1) of these to be made by an actual fan who was in the fandom? Like it is so clear they are talking about it from an outside perspective or that they got into it just fpr the video and uggh. Where is the love? The appreciation for the aus and their creators? For the history for the fandom? Honestly I just want like a text post of someone saying 'hey remember those times? They were wild and they may not have been perfect but we sure had a lot of fun'.

[no27-autonation-honda]

thank you to everyone who gave me advice on preparing for my first ever Tisha b’av service last night! I was surprisingly well prepared and it was a beautiful service