#why would you say that???? that’s a big accusation to make

[writingfromabox]

Alone on Thanksgiving? (adamsapple)

Working on a fic using this ad as a prompt because all I can think of is Adam making this post:

Not done yet but I think if I manage to finish it, I’ll put it on AO3. What I have written under the cut:

Adam had placed the ad out of sheer perverse humor, absolutely certain that no one would bother to call him on it. For a short while, he achieved some internet fame as people passed it around on social media, obviously getting a kick out of the idea. He’d joked around with the girls at the bar and tattoo parlor he worked at, saying his Thanksgiving plans were all wrapped up and this was the way he’d be swimming in pussy by the end of the month.

Obviously, the whole thing was meant as a fucking joke. So, when he got the email from a Charlotte Morningstar, he’d been tempted to send her back something rude about her reading comprehension. Like, was it not clear that this was comedy? The fuck. 

He showed it to Lute, who was in the middle of sketching out something for a client: a lion, holding a dagger in its mouth. Her skilled fingers easily traced out the minute details of the animal’s mane, her mouth set into a frown in concentration. The frown slipped into a wicked smirk as she read the email, her eyes lighting up slightly. 

“What’s the problem?” she asked, setting her pencil down and giving him an expression that attempted innocent curiosity. Lute’s face wasn’t made for that, and her sharp amusement made her look like a cat waiting on a mouse to walk into a trap. “I thought this was your big holiday plan. I thought you were looking forward to all the ladies with daddy issues and the ‘fuck you dad’ sex.”

Going to Lute for sympathy for his bad decisions never turned out right, but for some reason he kept trying it. He just grumbled and put the phone back in his pocket.

“Anyway, why not do it?” Lute asked, turning back to her sketch. “It’s free dinner. Your ass doesn’t have family to go to on Thanksgiving. I’m too busy this year to do our usual ‘neither of us can cook’ dinner. You’re extremely good at being an annoying asshole, why not turn it into a fun way to get free turkey?”

Adam folded his arms and tried to be more insulted about that accusation, but the wheels in his head were already turning. Unfortunately. It wasn’t even as though this would be the worst decision he’d made on a holiday, really. That would have been the time one of his biker friends convinced him to dress like the grinch and steal their ex-girlfriend’s Christmas tree. 

The night had ended in mayhem, with the tree sparking a minor electrical fire and Adam ending up tossing it into the outdoor pool. And then ripping off chunks of flaming grinch suit, screaming, as his accomplice hosed him down. 

Apparently, the ex-girlfriend’s kid still had nightmares from watching it out his bedroom window. 

Compared to that shitshow, this would only be a minor sort of shenanigan. Probably something he wouldn’t walk away with a property damage felony with. It wasn’t technically illegal to pick fights by antagonizing someone’s probably elderly, decrepit dad. Unless he, like, actually punched him. And Adam had some amount of self control as long as he didn’t dip into the recreational beverages. 

“Well? Figured out what you’re doing yet?” Lute asked, looking up at him from her spread out stack of sketches. Someone seemed to have ordered one of a goth bear holding a chainsaw. The holidays always brought out the weird shit.

He shrugged, mulling it over. The girl had a whole screed laid out, with a father who was being a dick about her attempts to house and reform former criminals. She’d gone on some rant about the program itself and he zoned out every time he tried to read it, the whole thing seemed like she was some kind of charity ball debutante getting pissy about her dad giving her some hard truths.

Not like it mattered either way to him, in the end, as long as he got a dinner. Adam would be lying if he said it didn’t sound like fun to fuck with someone and get rewarded for it. 

And so it came to pass that Adam decided to agree to be the fake dinner date of this do-gooder princess for Thanksgiving, with about the same amount of logical thought that went into his usual decision making. Which was to say, absolutely none. 

[neongalaxiie]

Caught In 4K - Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4/5

Hero's big eyes blinked up at Villain as they rubbed their head, whincing. At Hero's question, they scoffed. "Oh, y'know, just taking a nap," Villain replied, gesturing wildly with their hands.

Hero examined the space Villain had crawled beneath. "Under the seat? That's not very comfortable." They gave Villain a small smile, raising a brow.

Villain scoffed again. "You can't possibly be this naive." They rolled from under the row of seats and glanced up at the only other person in their train car, an older man who was scrolling through his phone, half asleep. Good. They probably didn't notice Villain.

Villain strained themselves upward to a standing position even as all their joints screamed, and they leaned backward to crack their back, planting their hands on their hips. Hero just watched them as they stretched their arms over their head, all the bones popping. Then Villain started with their neck and Hero flinched away in disgust.

"Okay, then what are you doing here?" Hero asked as Villain finished, taking the seat across from Hero and spreading their legs out. Villain didn't answer right away, opting to scratch the plague off their teeth. "Wait—" Hero's face shifted in contemplation before they pointed an accusing finger at Villain. "Were you following me?"

Villain inspected their finger and rubbed it. Their eyes flicked over to Hero as they raised a brow. "No. Why would I do that?"

Hero frowned, but didn't say anything. The train began to slow down and Hero stood up without offering Villain so much as a glance.

Villain made a move to get up and realized they hadn't figured out a plan this far. The doors rumbled open, and Hero stepped out, peeking backward to see Villain rushing out of their seat.

"Ah ha!" Hero exclaimed once they were both on the platform. "So you were following me."

"Woah." Sarcasm layered Villains tone. They rolled their eyes and held their palms up. "Amazing deduction, Sherlock. Really, what did you think I was doing?"

Hero hummed, turned, and walked away with bothering to give a response. Villain slouched over, gaping, before hurrying after Hero.

"So, why were you following me?" Hero asked as soon as Villain stood beside them. Villain side-eyed Hero, who was looking directly at them.

Villain turned their head away. "I was told... to keep an eye on you... after what happened." They met Hero's eyes. "To... make sure nothing... uncalled for happened."

It was Hero's turn to look away. They rubbed at their eyes and sniffed, but wouldn't let Villain see. Villain's forehead creased. Was Hero crying?

The duo climbed up the steps and emerged into the dark city, lit up by streetlights. They walked in silence for a while, Villain not daring to be the first to speak.

Then Hero's broken voice came. "I— I'm being executed."

Nothing could have prepared Villain for that. Their eyes went wide and they clutched their chest, breaths coming ragged. They felt like they were having a heart attack. Hero gave them an irritated look.

"Stop being so dramatic."

"Sorry," Villain said, dropping the act. "When is it happening?"

More tears, but Hero forced it out. "Tomorrow... is my last day. At 5 pm they'll..."

Hero broke down, unable to finish their sentence. Villain offered them a comforting pat on the back.

"Hey, Hero, it's okay. We'll figure it out, okay? Let's just get home and we'll come up with a plan."

"How?" Hero wailed. "It's not like—"

"We will, trust me." Villain patted their shoulder. "Hey, look at me."

Villain turned Hero toward them by their shoulders, and they stopped walking. Villain stared into Hero's eyes. "Listen," Villain continued, "You will not die. Under no circumstances will I let you, especially not for this ridiculous reason. This system the Hero Organization has is messed up and we're gonna fight against it, okay?"

Hero nodded, not trusting their voice, and wiped the tears off their cheeks. "Good," Villain finished, leading them down the path. "Now, let's get home. We'll settle down and then we'll make a plan."

[ipoddymouth]

tbh i don’t think anything m*tty’s said or done is like……THAT bad to warrant all the media around it BUT I do think the way him/taylor and her team have chosen to handle it is WILD dkdkssksksk

[toytulini]

i feel like the makeup standards are not necessarily going to get Worse, just. stay the Same. "raised by sephora and ulta" christ alive yall act like this shit is new. as if this hasnt been the standard to blast young girls with makeup ads and shit via magazine and tv and imposed beauty standards anyway. the only real difference is like, idk, accessibility of tutorials for how to apply it well

[sunny-bunny-bird]

I’m gonna be deadass I am so pissed abt the bullshit I just saw.

Schizophrenia is not an excuse!! I’m sorry those fucks were being mean to you. I agree they are being like, genuinely ableist. But as a PROFESSIONAL ECOLOGIST you have a responsibly to say “I’m sorry, I was wrong” not edit a tumblr post (which you admit on this site isn’t effective) and then deflect any blame by focusing on the backlash you’re getting.

And I swear to god before any says “this is tumblr who cares lol” maybe the other schizophrenics like ME who LIVE IN THAT AREA and had to be in your delusional over-reaction with you for a bit while they did the research you AS A PROFESSIONAL, SOMETHING YOU ARE CURRENTLY TALKING ABOUT AS AN EXCUSE FOR WHY YOU WERE SO UPSET could not be assed to do because you saw a twitter post???

you have not plainly apologized and recanted your statement. anything that could be remotely taken as such has been padded in layers and layers of you talking about how bad YOU feel. fuck. off. oh my god.

[inkskinned]

we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.

"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."

i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.

you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"

i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.

what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.

i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.

"don't make a big deal about this," you said.

this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.

"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.

you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."

the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.

afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Constantine Is Having Fae Problems

Not as in 'problems with the fae', but as in 'the Batfam don't understand shit about fae and it is somehow Constantine's problem'

"Thank you."

Whatever thoughts Constantine had before come to a screeching halt. He slowly turns around, praying he's misheard, but, unfortunately, no. He heard that right.

The black-haired kid - he looks like a kid, but, really, he is not, and he is not even human to begin with - is smiling at Nightwing, who just laughs and ruffles the boy's hair.

"Don't worry about it, it's nothing," the moronic eldest batkid says, like it's not a big deal, and Constantine just... can't. He is not dealing with this right now. He needs a drink.

And then it happens again. Not with the Nightwing, though. This time, it's Black Bat. Now, in all honesty, Constantine is not so sure about her being human either, what with her appearing out of goddamn aether and being silent as a ghost, but the point still stands. The new addition to Bat's menagerie of children, the fae boy, the changeling who insists he is Robin's brother, thanks her.

It's quick and easy, just like a human would say it, and Black Bat just nods back at him, but Constantine knows what it means. He knows the weight of fae gratitude.

The big question is, do the Bats know it?

He promises himself to address this issue later with the Big Bat himself. But every time he encounters the man, he just forgets to bring it up. Constantine strongly suspects it's not his bad memory at fault here, but a certain fae. Not that he is going to outright go and blame the damned creature, of course, Constantine values his life, mind, and consciousness. Also, he is very aware of the consequences of talking to the fae, unlike the furry brigade.

Alas, he can't forget something if he witnesses with his own eyes. So the next time he is in the Batcave, he makes it a point to wait until the same thing eventually happens. And, score for Constantine, it does.

"Thank you," the kid - again, not a kid, not a human, but whatever - tells Red Robin, and Constantine immediately snaps his head to him, pointing a finger at the smiling fae.

"I mean no disrespect, but what are you doing?"

The kid - Danny, as he insists to be called, although Constantine knows better than to call a fae by any name - tilts his head to the side. He looks confused, but there's a sly glint to his blue eyes. Oh, the fucker knows exactly what he means. He just doesn't want to admit to it.

"What do you mean?" It's not him, but Red Robin asking, and Constantine turns to look him in the eyes. Mask. Whatever.

"He is thanking-" a terrible thought crosses Constantine's mind, and he stares at Red Robin with horror, "Oh, don't tell me you were all thanking him and apologizing to him like he is a human being."

"I don't see how this is your business," Red Robin scolds, and his eyes narrow. Constantine can't see his actual eyes through the mask, but he knows the Bats well enough to know the kid looks as deadpan as he can.

"You can't do that!" He reaches down to the pocket where he keeps his cigarettes, but stops halfway. Right, no smoking in the Batcave. Wait, he never obeyed that rule! Constantine turns to glare at the fae boy. Danny appears as innocent as a newborn baby. Little bastard.

"Quit making a scene," comes another voice, and this one John recognizes, turning to look at little Robin. Now that he thinks about it, the demonic child claimed the fae as his brother, and he definitely should know how to talk to fae!

"Why didn't you tell them about the rules?!" He asks Robin, and the kid doesn't even bat an eye at him.

"You will not accuse me of incompetence in front of my brother," Robin huffs, not stepping closer and keeping one hand on his hip, "I did."

"You-"

"Okay, how about you calm down?" Danny interjects, and John is positive this is the first time he's heard the boy say anything other than 'thank you'. He turns to the fae, facing him, and, oh, Jesus, those are not human eyes. Or teeth. Or face. Holy fuck how do Bats live with this, it's like uncanny valley but hundreds times worse.

"If I tell you I use it for easier access, will you leave it be?" The fae tilts his head again, and this time it is not in confusion, but in the eerie manner of how all very much not human beings do it. Constantine swallows, but doesn't back down.

"Access to what, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Transportation," Danny provides. This does not explain shit and he knows it. Red Robin groans and rolls his eyes.

"We use it to summon Danny if we need him. It's faster than calling or texting."

Constantine freezes.

These fucking kids. Are using the fae debts. To summon him. Because they don't like texting.

Do they know that they can literally ask a fae to destroy a small country to fulfill a debt like that? It's not just a small favor, it's a gratitude. Fae take their gratitude very seriously. They value it. A lot.

Actually, you know what, no. John is not going to be explaining that part to them because God knows the batkids are all batshit crazy and this is an opportunity he is not willing to give them.

So he just nods stiffly, turns around, and heads to the zeta tube.

"Thank you for caring about my family," he hears a voice behind him, full of mischief and joy. Constantine feels the weight of the newly acquired debt, or better call it a favor, bind itself to his soul, and, great, he now has the power to part the sea like Moses, but only once.

He needs a drink. No, correction, he needs a whole bar to himself.

Wait, that's an idea.

"Get me a bottle of good bourbon, and we're even," he throws around his shoulder, stepping into a zeta tube.

When he steps out of it, there's an unlabeled bottle in his hand. John sighs and opens it, foregoing the glass or cup and drinking straight from the neck.

...It's good bourbon.

Inspired by @blackfoxsposts

| <-prev | next-> |

[hawnks]

You're jealous. It makes you lash out, makes you meet Keigo with claws and teeth and cruel, irrational accusations.

You pack a bag after your last big blow up, shame dogging your every move. A week. Maybe a little more. However long it takes you to stop feeling like a monster, to rein in these dark impulses that have taken hold of you.

He stops you at the door with a firm grip around your arm. Looming over you, leaning down until he's in your space.

"Why?"

How can you even respond. Why? Isn't he angry with you? Doesn't he see how unreasonable you're being?

You tell him the truth. "I'm embarrassed, Keigo."

His hold on you tightens. "So you're running away?"

"I'm not--" You let out a long breath. "I just need to calm down. Get a hold of myself."

"You can do that here. At home."

You tug. He doesn't release you.

"I don't want you to see me like this."

His expression turns stormy.

"You want to keep secrets from me?" You can't even question this before he's continuing, eyes amber bright and sharp as he pulls you further into his space. "You don't want me to see you what --jealous? Don't I have a right to know? Don't I deserve to be with you for this? We're lovers, and you still want to hide pieces of yourself from me?"

Trembling, you let yourself be drawn back into the penthouse. You couldn't fight him even if you tried.

He sets you on the bed, so he can push you down, curl up on top of you, all around you. Caging you in.

"There," he says. "You're not going anywhere. Would it help if I told you about all the times I wanted to kill anyone who touches you? How about how I want to lock you up, forever and ever? I can show you the collar I picked out, if that would make you feel better." He leans up so he can nibble your ear, whisper, "Or you could put it on me, if you want."

[stick2vamp]

.. sebatsian meets an old friend again (reader) after he was put in prison and taken by urbanshade… reader was sent to the blacksite by urbanshade but they don’t recognize sebastian (i’m in need of angst)

𝜗 ˖ ❝ why can't we laugh now, like we did then? ᵕ ♡

— in which time has flown by: you look the same, yet he looks so different. ✧

↷　 sfw 𓈒 decided to lump these two asks together cause they're similar 𓈒 angst 𓈒 sebastian backstory spoilers 𓈒 lowkey (highkey) rushed

12 years.

It's been 12 years since they took him away for good.

12 years since he died.

You knew he couldn't have done it: sure, SEBASTIAN has a bit of a smart tongue, but he would never actually harm another person. Let alone kill 9 others. Yet, the charged him for it. Yet, they sentenced him to death row. Yet, they electrocuted him to death.

And only 2 years after they killed him, did they finally realize he wasn't the murderer. 2 years after they took him from you, did they finally realize they made a mistake.

How old would he have been now? 32? No, 31: his birthday hasn't passed yet. Speaking of his birthday, you should probably celebrate for him soon.

But it's hard to celebrate when you ended up in prison yourself.

Same as your late friend, you had been falsely accused. Same as your late friend, you had been sentenced to death row. Same as your late friend, you were going to die.

You wondered: would they put you on the same chair he once sat on?

You would never find out.

A company—Urbanshade, as they called themselves—showed up within your final days. They offered a way out, a chance to live, a chance to redeem. Of course, given the awards, it was nothing short of sketchy. It would be a big risk.

You signed up, along with many others.

It didn't matter anyway. Worst case scenario, you would die either way. You had to try and live for Sebastian. To make it to his birthday, and celebrate it for him.

Suited up in diving gear, a collar-like mechanism attached to your neck, you were ready to go.

You passed door 31.

While you were expecting the dangers that came with a mission like this, you weren't expecting them to be.. well, this.

Entities whose entire body was simply a face rushed up and down the halls, mangling everything in their path. Their razor, jagged teeth could easily tear your human flesh to shreds. Shrouded squid-like entities that scream as you shine your light at them or stand too close. A deformed bull shark with its thousands of eyes pulling you, ushering you to look at it. All entities that didn't make sense, yet still existed before your very eyes—and ears.

Door after door, you awaited a threat to show up. Would the lights flicker? Would they already be off? Would a giant window be looking into the whole room?

None of those.

Instead, a vent flew open,

—and for once, you heard a humanoid voice.

The thing—person, you reminded yourself—in the vent was not human, though. His voice did not belong to... his appearance.

His skin was a grey-blue color, matching the color of a fish more than a human. He had hair, though, and front-facing eyes. Predators eyes always faced forward, didn't they?

The.. being looked up from his tail, glowing cyan eyes scanning over your figure. He suddenly fell silent, loosing whatever words were on his tongue—well, if he had a tongue.

A look of recognition flashed in his eyes as if he had found something familiar within you. Admittedly, you found his voice fairly familiar yourself.

His tail lowered, no longer flaunting the items on display.

Eventually, he spoke up.

"[Reader]?" His name escaped his mouth (which, you now realized he did in fact have a tongue) as an almost hushed whisper. He hesitated, his mouth staying open for a few seconds more as if about to say something else before it slowly closed. He continues to stare, stare and fall silent once more.

The way he said your name was a tone that screamed yearning.

And it pulled at your heartstrings.

The way he said your name as if he had known you for his whole life, made you pause for a second.

He knew you—or, at least thought he did—but you didn't know him.

"I'm sorry," you started, speaking before you could realize just how wrong you were, "But, do we know each other?"

He blinked.

You learned his name was Sebastian—and you figured that was probably why he seemed a bit familiar to you. He reminded you of your friend, of course. Same name, similar voice, snappy tongue.. It's as if you were looking at a reflection of your late friend.

Sebastian let you stay for a bit and buy from him, occasionally making small talk. You were amazed by how low the prices were. Only 30 for one battery? You were sure it'd be something like 75 instead!

As you picked up yet another battery, he spoke to you. "Wise choice to stock up on those. There aren't very many of them down here."

"Really? I've found quite a few," You mumbled as you stuffed it into your pocket, simultaneously taking out some research and placing it on the table.

"Of course you did," Sebastian mused, grumbling slightly. He fiddled with his claws, glancing away from you.

You paused, "What's that supposed to mean?" You casted a narrowed glance over to him.

"Nothing, nothing."

Of course he couldn't expect you to recognize him. Not when they had turned him into a monster. Mutated him until nothing but his voice was slightly recognizable. Even then, years of smoking and being stuck here made his voice more gravelly than it used to be.

Sebastian knew this, but it still stung when you looked away from him without any indication you knew who he was.

Nothing was left between the two of you anymore.

But his heart, bruised and bleeding, still wished for you.

Maybe that's why he gave discounts to you. Maybe that's why he contained his snappy tongue for once. Maybe that's why he casted you an almost desperate look when you told me you were going.

And maybe that's why he wished he reached out for you—but he didn't. He let you crawl back through that went. Sebastian let you leave him just as he left you.

So when you met him again, in the dimly dark room where he slid you a file,

—maybe that's why he vowed to make sure you make it to celebrate his birthday with him.

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Pining, yearning, idiots in love?? (an angsty moment as well)

a/n: What am I doing!! I don't know!! This is part one and there will be one or two more parts :) Thank you for reading ily ♡

Part 2

~~

You were having an epiphany—of that you were certain. 

Sitting in the main room of the townhouse, a glass of wine spinning in your hand, many things were beginning to make sense to you. It was ridiculous that you hadn’t come to this realization before. All of the hints were right in front of you. 

You leaned back in the armchair, a scrutinizing gaze pointed toward the corner of the room. You took a sip of your wine—a contemplative sip—and then ran through the facts in your head. Yes, it made perfect sense. 

You wanted to kick yourself for not noticing before. 

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard.” Cassian’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. You blinked up at him as he took a seat on the arm of your chair. “Want to share why you’re staring a hole into the wall?” 

“I was just… noticing something,” you murmured over the rim of your glass, voice low. 

“And what’s that?” 

You paused, pursing your lips. It would sound silly if you were wrong. But Cassian looked at you expectantly, so you simply whispered, “I think Az is in love with Elain.” 

The sudden, rumbling laugh bouncing off the walls set your cheeks ablaze. The entire room halted their conversations to look at Cassian as he doubled over, holding his stomach with no signs of letting up. You stared up at him, mortified, and smacked his arm as his laughs lowered into senseless chuckles. 

“Cassian, quit it. It’s not that funny—stop it or I’ll hit you again.” 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sorry, that was just… that was a good one, y/n.” 

“What’d she say?” Rhys asked, perking up from the other side of the fireplace. 

“Nothing to warrant that reaction,” you grumbled, sinking lower into your seat. 

Fighting back the vibrations in his chest, Cassian took a deep breath. “Inside joke, Rhys. You wouldn’t get it.” 

Rhys huffed out an offended breath, quirking a brow at his antics. He looked to Mor and Feyre to garner some support, but they only giggled back at him. 

“Maybe we would.” 

Azriel’s gravelly tone only made you collapse further into the armchair. If you’d known there would be consequences to sharing your epiphany with Cassian, you would have kept your mouth shut. Cassian was usually wonderful at keeping secrets. 

“Oh, brother, you’d find it funny as well, surely,” Cassian shared, heaving up from the chair. “But, alas, I have to go. No inside jokes for the room.” 

“Well that’s not fair. You don’t get to cause a riot and then leave,” Mor whined, her cheeks rosy and her eyes glassy. Clearly, she had been having her own drinks throughout the night. 

“Lovely. Now you want to know? Where was that attitude while you were giggling with my mate?” Rhys accused. 

Feyre jumped in this time, pinching the high lord’s cheek and cooing, “Oh, you big Illyrian baby.” 

The focus was no longer on you and your apparently laughable realization. Cassian’s reaction did little to deter you from the thought, however, and you were still quite resolute in your observations. Looking over at the couple in question only solidified that. 

They were huddled close, Elain’s knees pressed against Azriel’s thigh as they spoke in low tones. Azriel would occasionally take a glance around the room, lingering on you as he went, but that was natural for the shadowsinger. His shadows were gone, where they went you had no idea, and his wings were held tightly behind his back. 

And he stared at her—intently—as she nodded her head and answered whatever it was he had asked. 

He had to be in love with her. 

You were usually quite good at reading these types of things. 

“I’m taking you home now,” Cassian spoke, holding out his hand. “We’ll walk.” 

“What if I don’t want to go home?” you asked, taking his hand and following him despite your words. 

“After all that nonsense, I think it’s clear you need a good night’s rest. Plus, you and I are in the ring bright and early tomorrow morning.” 

You groaned, knocking your head back at the reminder of your obligations. It always sounded like such a good idea over breakfast. Cassian had clearly learned that you would only say yes to early morning trainings when you were half-asleep. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.” 

You let him yank you to the door, your feet dragging behind you, when a warmth encased your shoulders. You recognized the material of your coat instantly and turned to see Azriel smoothing it down over your arms. 

“For your walk,” Azriel quietly explained. “You left it on the back of my chair.” 

“Oh!” you chirped, feeling the early licks of embarrassment barrage your chest. It’s not like he heard you talking about him, right? “Thanks, Az. I almost forgot.” 

He offered you one of his soft, rare smiles. “I know. I remembered.” 

He nodded over your head to Cassian after that, and you heard Cassian’s low, I got her, Az, only because you strained your ears. 

You ended up being extremely grateful for Azriel’s forethought to grab your jacket. It was freezing outside. You could have winnowed home instead, but Cassian hadn’t really given you the option and no one ever let you winnow after you’d had something to drink. 

You landed in Summer Court one time and suddenly everyone treated you like a hazard. 

Your shoes scuffed against dark cobblestone as you walked. It was really dark, now that you looked at it. Maybe it had rained? Or a merchant had dumped their excess water? 

Or maybe it was nighttime and you were a little drunk. 

It was then that you noticed the silence. When Cassian walked you home, especially when Cassian was tipsy and he walked you home, he never shut up. So this was unusual. You squinted as you looked up at him, but he gave nothing away, keeping his gaze forward and his steps in steady pace with your own. 

“Okay, out with it,” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest. “What was so funny earlier? And why are you walking me home all stoic?” 

“I’m always stoic. Adds to my charm.” 

“Liar.” 

Cassian smirked, shaking his head, and then schooled his expression into one that was a touch more serious. “You really think Az likes Elain?” 

You watched your breath puff out white. “Don’t you?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Well, then you’re wrong. I’m good at picking these things out. I knew Feyre was Rhys’s made before the rest of you figured it out, didn’t I?”

“It was pretty obvious, y/n,” Cassian scoffed. He took a fleeting glance down to the ground beneath your feet. “Honestly, I’d wager that you’re actually the worst at picking these things out.”  

You gaped at him, bringing your coat closer to your body in a ploy to protect your damaged pride. Cassian only shook his head—again—and then flung an arm over your shoulder. 

“Don’t take that the wrong way. Just…take a second look, maybe.” 

“A second look at what? She was practically sitting in his lap tonight.” 

“If you say so,” Cassian hummed. 

“Stop being cryptic and buy me a snack on the way.” 

~~

The following days were… strange to say the least. 

Everywhere you went, Elain of all people was sure to follow.

And she spoke of Azriel. A lot. 

Azriel did this and Az is so sweet isn’t he and oh, did I mention that…

Obviously, she was just as in love with Azriel as he was with her. 

You were so, so right. 

There was something off-putting about that truth, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. After a few days of hearing the younger girl rave about the shadowsinger, you chalked it up to the novelty of it all. You had known Azriel for over a century, and things were changing. Of course a serious love interest in his life would make you feel strange. 

Azriel had had lovers in the past, but—now that you thought about it—you hadn’t heard him talk about another woman in months, much less seen him with one. 

Well, other than Elain. 

Perhaps it wasn’t healthy, nor productive, to be so caught up in Azriel’s love life. He was plenty capable of managing it on his own, and it’s not like you had that much of an interest, anyway. 

You blinked, shaking your head and attempting to focus back in on the book you were reading. Elain had followed you into the library under the house, but thanks to the priestesses and their admonishing looks, she kept quiet. She flipped through her own book as you continued your research assignment from Rhys. It wasn’t very interesting, which was clearly the most plausible explanation for your mind drifting to Azriel. 

Boring texts were the leading cause of nosiness.

“Do you have dinner plans?” Elain whispered after an hour of silence. 

You sent her a small smile, looking up from the archaic book. “No, are you inviting me out?” 

“Perhaps. I was thinking of asking Azriel.” 

A suffocating sort of pressure clawed at your skin. “Oh?” 

That was new. 

“Yes, but I would really appreciate it if you came,” Elain continued, eyes downcast. “It could be fun.” 

You bit into your bottom lip until the pain was uncomfortable. This was no different than her talking about Azriel all week. And you already figured that they liked each other—that they loved each other. You had relished in the discovery just a few nights ago. 

So why did it suddenly feel so different?

“I wouldn't want to intrude,” you whispered. “I think a dinner with just the two of you would be nice. Azriel would surely agree.” 

Elain shook her head. “I think he would be more inclined if he knew you were coming.” 

As a buffer. She was asking you to come to displace any awkwardness that would arise on a first date. You had done it before for Cassian. You’d done it plenty of times for Mor—even making it a double date with random men you never spoke to again. But you’d never done it for Azriel. 

Something about it felt… wrong. 

“I could come,” you found yourself saying anyway, words tumbling out before you could catch them. “But I really do think he would love a dinner alone. I might be a bit of an outlier.” 

Elain gave the closest thing to a smirk you’d seen on her face. “I somehow doubt that.” 

“What does that—” 

The ground was shaking. The faelights began violently flickering and the ground began shaking with even more vigor. You pressed down on the book in front of you and braced yourself as the air grew frenzied. The priestesses ran down the many stairs of the library as panic began setting into your bones. The last time something like this happened… 

You shuddered at the thought. 

This couldn't be an attack on Velaris. 

Elain called your name. You answered with wide eyes. 

“Get under the tables!”

You both dove beneath your table at the call, clutching at the legs with shaking hands. There was a commotion as books fell from shelves and lights popped, but there were no screams. No one was hurt. There was no attack. 

Realization coursed through you, but it did little to quell your fear as the shaking continued. 

“It’s an earthquake!” you shouted to Elain. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine!” 

Velaris hadn’t been struck by an earthquake of this magnitude in many, many years. The last one was centuries ago, and it had led to many rebuilding efforts and a handful of injuries. You hoped this wasn’t on the same scale. Or at least that Rhys’ magic was enough to abate the worst of the damages. 

After another moment, the shaking ceased. You let the panic and adrenaline run its course as you caught your breath, Elain right beside you. It didn’t seem so bad now that it was over and the building had stayed intact. With a hand at your chest, you shook your head in disbelief. 

“By the cauldron, that was unexpected.” 

Elain let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt an earthquake before.” 

You offered your own breathy laugh as you both got to your feet. “Well, you have plenty of time to get The Mother scared out of you and experience another.” 

She opened her mouth to reply but was abruptly cut off as shadows materialized. Heavy footsteps rushed up stairs and it was only another beat before Azriel was upon you. Scarred hands cradled your face, turning it back and forth as hazel eyes took in every inch of your skin. Light became sparse as wings flared out behind him, shielding you from nothing.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, voice still low despite the urgency. “Were you covered?” 

“Azriel? What are you—How did you know we were down here?” 

“Are you hurt?” 

You attempted to reconcile the chaotic present with the very calm, very expected past. Sitting in the library with a boring relic in front of you and a new reading partner compared to an earthquake and a frazzled shadowsinger clutching at your face. 

Gripping his wrists, you answered him with a slow and confused, “I’m fine.” 

He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath. “Good…. good.” 

When he released your face, he ran his hands along your hair. And then your shoulders and your arms. It wasn’t until he had touched most of you that he took a step back and ran a hand through his own hair. It was then that he seemed to remember Elain. 

“And are you alright?” he asked, far more composed than he had been a moment ago. 

“A bit overwhelmed, but I am fine as well,” she sighed out. 

Azriel didn’t touch her as he nodded in relief. 

“Was it as bad as the last one? Is everyone okay?” you cut in. 

Azriel, who had gone back to unnecessarily looking you over, furrowed his brows. “What?” 

You mirrored his expression. “The earthquake. Do you remember the last one? Was this one that bad?” 

“Oh. No. Not as bad.” 

“And how is everyone else?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

Azriel was typically short with his answers, but right now he was being particularly short. And he was never one to not have information. Ever. 

“Are you okay?” you asked instead. 

“I am now.”

You left the library wondering why Azriel had run to you and not Elain—why that moment felt so monumental in the face of all others. 

Maybe being right wasn’t what you wanted anymore. 

But maybe that wasn’t your decision to make. 

[ellecdc]

Hey elle!! ABSOLUTELY LOVED the grumpy x sunshine with Reggie

But what if McLaggen fucks up so bad that not only do people realise that our sunshine has a whole new side of her just to protect her bf

I mean, the happiest people ARE one of the most terrifying when angry🤷‍♀️

Hope you have a great day/night!! Drink lots of water and stay healthy!!

there's nothing like the moment when the sunshine character snaps, you're so right. thanks for your request!

Regulus Black x Lupin!reader who defends his honour [1.2k words]

p1 // p2

CW: fighting/violence, reader breaks McLaggen's nose, Reg thinks it's kind of hot, Sirius is a proud brother(in-law) and Remus is an exhausted (and secretly proud) big brother

Regulus Black wore a tight fitted mask from the moment he woke up most mornings to the second he went to bed, and generally, that mask fell for no one.

There were some instances that the mask would slip for Sirius, and it fell far more frequently for you, but generally, the mask was air tight.

And to the untrained eye, most people weren’t even aware that there was a mask being worn, but Sirius knew better - Sirius could see the signs.

Which is why when Regulus’ steps faltered ever so slightly as McLaggen leaned over to sneer something into his ear before his jaw clenched and he continued marching forward, Sirius was quick to blurt “what did he say?” once Regulus had made it to where he, Remus, and you were standing in the Central Hall. 

You stopped in your excited ramblings to cut a look to Regulus immediately - expression falling in a way that would be comical if it didn’t look so foreign on your face - asking “who” before he’d even had a chance to answer his brother.

“Nothing.” Regulus grumbled, standing tall and looking just past Sirius’ shoulder; though he couldn’t help but notice Regulus positioning his body directly between Sirius and McLaggen, whilst keeping his arm protectively behind you.

“What did who say?” You asked again looking between the Black brothers when your own didn’t seem to have the answer either.

“McLaggen.” Sirius said, never looking away from his brother who refused to make eye contact with him as he gestured to the sod with his chin . “He just said something to you as you were walking over here and now you’ve got that look on your face.”

“There’s no look on my face.” Regulus spat quickly. “This is just my face.”

“Did he say something to upset you?” You asked softly, and Sirius watched as Regulus’ shoulders fell slightly and he seemed to look at you apologetically.

“No, amour, it’s fine.”

“No it’s not fine, he’s lying.” Sirius accused, causing Remus to groan as he pulled on Sirius’ shirt sleeve, translating roughly to  ‘knock it off’. 

“What did he say about you?” You demanded then, and any signs of the bright, bubbly, effervescent girl you’d been mere moments ago as you excitedly explained the progress you and Pandora had made with the bowtruckles to your brother and his boyfriend were completely gone and overshadowed with worry.

Regulus seemed just as desperate to relieve you of that worry as Sirius was to never see it again. 

“He didn’t say anything about me.”

“About me?” You asked quietly.

“No, amour.”

“No one could possibly find anything bad to say about you, bubs.” Remus complained with a fond eye roll. 

“What’d he say about me, then?” Sirius questioned, causing three sets of eyes to point at Regulus in anticipation.

Regulus sighed and rolled his eyes - very un-Black and aristocratic of him, if you asked Sirius - and spared a look at McLaggen over his shoulder.

“Do you promise not to overreact if I tell you?”

“Absolutely.” Sirius agreed readily - though he knew damn well that what constituted a reasonable reaction was very different to Regulus than it was to himself. 

“He said our parents ought to throw me out like trash as they had with you.” He muttered quietly, and Sirius saw red.

But unfortunately, both Remus and Regulus had been so (correctly) prepared to grab Sirius by the back of the shirt and the arm respectively that he had no chance at enacting his very reasonable reaction to that news. 

Rather fortunately, however, is that both Remus and Regulus had been so prepared in stopping Sirius from storming over to McLaggen to correctly-react to that news, that neither of them even realised you’d gone storming over instead until your fist connected with McLaggen’s nose. 

“What the fuck!?” McLaggen hissed as he cradled his nose protectively with one hand and grabbed you by the arm with the other, though all that managed to do was limit your assault on him to one hand rather than two. 

“You’re a pathetic pile of shite McLaggen!” You screeched as your brother hauled you off of McLaggen (though Sirius was happy to note you got a few more good swings at him before), neither Black brother having realised Remus had left their sides as they both stood there staring at the spectacle dumbly. “Mummy and daddy told you it wasn’t your fault that they split but it is because she should have fucking swallowed you when she had the chance!” 

“Christ, bubs, stop it.” Remus hissed as he wrestled you over to Sirius and Regulus; the latter seeming to be brought back to reality now that you were standing in front of him.

Though, standing was a generous term, seeing as you were still being held captive by your brother as you tried to find a way out of his hold.

“Merlin’s tits, Y/N.” Regulus breathed out in disbelief, and only then did you stop fighting Remus and turned to look at your boyfriend. “What did you do?”

You seemed startled for a moment; eyes darting frantically over Regulus’ face as if looking for any signs of anger or disapproval. 

“You hit him.”

Your face broke out into a beaming smile as your usual bubbling energy vibrated through you and you stood on your toes in front of him. “Did you see that, Reg?” You asked, almost like you couldn’t believe it yourself. “I beat him up!”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of Regulus that surprised both Sirius and Remus just as much as your violent outburst had as he pulled you closer to him by your chin. 

“Did you just defend my honour, amour?”

“I’d rather say she was defending my honour, Reg.” Sirius argued. “You’ve got a wicked right hook, Trouble! Who knew!?”

“I did!” Remus nearly shrilled then. “I’ve been telling you all this; she’s been practising on me for years!”

“It’s not practising on you when you’re the one who taught me, Rem.” You countered as sternly as you could muster, but Sirius could still see that dimple near the corner of your mouth giving away the fact that you were trying really hard not to smile.

And by the way Regulus drew a gentle finger along the side of your face, he knew Regulus could see it too.

“What’s the damage on your hands, hm?” Regulus asked then.

“We’ve got a stash of wraps in our dorm for Moons that you can use.” Sirius added, pausing when Remus made a tentative sound.

“Perhaps we should get out of here before McGonagall starts asking what happened to McLaggen’s face though, yeah?” He muttered as the deputy headmistress came sweeping into the central hall. 

“They’ll never believe it was Y/N.” Sirius scoffed, causing Remus and Regulus to shoot him unimpressed glares.

“Exactly.” They said in unison before Regulus continued. “You’ll end up taking the blame for it.”

Sirius blanched at that. 

“Hey, didn’t she say that you’d be scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush until you’re fifty if you got one more infraction?”

Your question was met with silence, though, as Sirius was nearly half way up to Gryffindor tower before you turned back to look at him.

“Seeing as I’m the next most likely suspect, we should probably go too.” Remus announced, and the rest of you made like Sirius and quickly left the scene of the crime.

[cherryredstars]

Not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m new to tumbler :D but hi love ur writing followed you in an instant!

I was wondering if you could write something for a very low self esteem, inexperienced reader who goes to uni so is like 21 or something and is Miguel’s neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesn’t dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader can’t tell her to f off. Reader is just such sweet chubby lil cinnamon roll :(

Idk if I should have been less descriptive or more TvT; ?

Anyway hope you’re doing great :D don’t forget to hydrate ♥️

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Sexual Touching (With Clothes on), Slight Fluff

Summary: He helps you, you help him.

A/N: This is perfect, don’t worry, love!!!

Word Count: 2.4K (Not Edited)

This is most definitely going to leave you a crying wreck in your bathroom later.

Your nerves were already on high alert with finally becoming independent and moving out of the college dorms, that pesky exam and assignment you procrastinated on working on, and your job has been firing and hiring people left and right. The last thing you needed was your cranky old neighbor, (it is crazy to think that you once thought she was going to be a kind old woman who would give you cookies when she was lonely), to come banging on your door with a  list of complaints and reasons why she could get you evicted. You do not know what to do, never being in this type of situation before. Honestly, you do not even know about half the things this woman is accusing you of. 

You can only stand there, hand tightly holding the door open as you try not to cry from stress. In your head, you are counting in an effort to make sure your breaths are coming out evenly. The last thing you want is to have a panic attack and have your neighbor add the threat of a mental hospital to the list. You nod along weakly to what she says, letting out whispered apologies that only seem to make her angrier. 

“You useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, don’t think I forgot when you tr-”

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice is deep and smooth, causing the both of you to jolt. You visibly relax when you turn your head to find Miguel standing outside his apartment door. He has just gotten back from work and running errands, his lab coat draped over his arm as he holds paper bags in his arms. His hair is slightly tousled from the autumn breeze, and a few strands of his black hair are scattered with grey. His sweater hugs his arms and torso in a way that is mouthwatering, and you quickly look away when his eyes meet yours.

Miguel is the only neighbor you really know. He had helped you the first time you moved in, hearing the way you struggled to bring some things up to your apartment. He offered to help, carrying in boxes faster than you could into your apartment. When you had gotten furniture, he was happy to come over and assemble it for you. He is so kind to you, offering to help with a leaking pipe or to answer any of your questions about how to do something. You might have grown a slight crush on your neighbor, something that slightly freaked you out when you realized because of the obvious age gap the two of you have. You have not even finished college yet and he is in his mid-thirties working in a big corporate lab. 

Miguel clears his throat and you look back at him. He stares at you expectantly, totally ignoring the stuttering woman who tries to answer his question. He is only ever interested in what you have to say. You flush under his intent gaze, quickly shaking your head. You do not want to cause more problems, and you definitely do not want to have your cranky neighbor form a bigger vendetta against you. 

Miguel’s eyebrow raises, definitely catching the anxious expression on your face. He hums dismissively after a minute, eyes lazily trailing back to the older woman. His nose scrunches up slightly at the sight of her and he looks away again as the woman stops trying to defend herself. Miguel shrugs, the paper bags rustling with their contents. He turns to face you, once again ignoring the older woman. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Can’t get my keys with my hands full,” Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl. 

You are quick to nod your head in agreement, stepping out of your doorway and closing the door. The woman steps back, a displeased look on her face as she watches you walk over to Miguel. Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you, watching everything you do. You are shy when you smile up at him. With your back turned towards the old woman, you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. His eyes instantly snap to your lips, intently studying your exaggerated words. His eyes seem to darken for a second before he blinks and it is gone. His eyes trail back up to your eyes and he tilts his head slightly down. 

“Keys are in my pants pocket.”

You quickly nod, whispering out an ‘okay’. Your face burns as you have to get closer to him to not knock into his arms. The angle is slightly awkward, your hands slip into his pants pocket and your face burns from having your hand so close to his…thing. As you try to find his keys, Miguel looks down at you with a heated look. He watches silently for a few minutes before looking back up and over your shoulder to the older woman. His face is masked in indifference, maintaining eye contact with her until she fidgets and turns away without saying a word. 

At the same time she walks into her own apartment, you make a sound of victory as you finally retrieve his keys. You dangle them in his face with a proud smile, and he gives you an amused smirk. He steps away from his apartment door, giving you room to step in front of him and unlock his door. As you insert the key, you feel Miguel press up against your back. His warmth seeps into your spine and you are quick to bite your tongue so you do not let out a squeal.  

His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. “What did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?”

The question rumbles with his voice and you have to hold your breath in order to not make an embarrassing sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and instantly regret it. He has not moved his face yet, and you are a breath away from him. If you leaned forward the slightest bit, your noses would be touching. You gulp nervously, and Miguel’s eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously. 

“I- she’s not that mean to me.” You whisper out in the older woman’s defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes. 

Miguel scoffs at your defense, finally backing away from you. He shifts his hold on the bags, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. Your hand is still there, and your breath hitches when his large hand encompasses yours. His hand moves both yours and the doorknob, making a combined effort to open the door. You are still watching him from over your shoulder, mouth slightly opened in awe. Miguel looks down at you, something playful in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. 

“You’re blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.”

Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. It’s warm, and you’re hit with the smell of him. You find the light switch and turn on the lights, flooding the whole place with a warm glow. Miguel follows you into the kitchen, placing the paper bags on the dining room table. He rummages through them, glaring at you when you try to grab one to start helping. His hands connect with something cold, and he pulls out a personal pint of ice cream. He hands it over to you and you turn it around to see the label. Your eyes instantly light up when you read the brand and flavor. Last week you had ranted to Miguel about how the grocery store did not have your favorite ice cream in stock as he was fixing a problem with your internet. The whole time he just hummed along, you did not actually think he was listening. 

He smiles softly at you as you beam up at him. He turns back to the groceries, sighing when he sees your hand reaching for the bags again. He turns to you with a bored expression. He gently removes your hands from the bag, telling you to go eat your ice cream before it melts. You grumble playfully under your breath, complaining about how you were supposed to be helping. He chuckles as he follows after you, getting a spoon out for you. 

“I thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.” 

Your complaining is cut off by a yelp when Miguel grabs your waist. He lifts you up, putting you on top of the counter. Your eyes are wide as you look at him and his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You squirm slightly from his proximity. 

“You can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.” 

He pulls away then, returning to the dining room table and carrying a bag to the counter next to you. Your eyes are still bashful as you watch him, quietly opening your ice cream and beginning to eat it. Miguel starts to pull contents from the bag and looks over at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you begin to go through your day, easing into it the more you talk. You speak between bites of ice cream, half paying attention to Miguel as he walks around the kitchen to place things in their proper places. Occasionally, he looks over at you as you speak, his eyes trained on the way you place the spoon in your mouth and lick at the delicious treat. 

You are almost done when he puts the last thing away. He walks over to you as you continue talking absentmindedly, just finished slipping the spoon out of your mouth again. You stop talking when Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, his thumb coming up the swipe at your lower lip. When he pulls it away, a bit of melted ice cream is stuck to his skin. His eyes meet yours again when he brings it to his mouth, licking it away. He hums in appreciation for the taste. 

Your mouth drops open with a gasp as you watch, eyes trained on the pink muscle. You watch as his lips form a sly smile, and you blush as you look back into his eyes. But his eyes are still trained on your parted mouth, eyes dilated and hungry. He leans forward slightly, hand returning to rub at your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. He is not kissing you exactly, only sucking on your lip until it is swollen and red. He gives it a small nip before he pulls away, his hands falling to rub your thighs. It causes a small whimper to escape your mouth and Miguel basks in the noise. 

His hand seeps closer and closer to the area between your thighs, grabbing the carton of ice cream and moving it to the side. His hands hastily return to the area between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center. Your breath hitches and you look down to where his hands are. Your attention is snapped away when his gravelly voice meets your ears. 

“Continue with the story, querida. You don’t sound like you finished.”

You stutter over your words, the topic of conversation blanking from your mind. Miguel chuckles knowingly, his fingers continuing to brush up and down until they land on your clothed bud. He presses into it hard enough so you can feel it through the fabric of your pants and panties, gently reminding you where you left off. You nod nervously, hands snapping up to meet his shoulders as you feel wetness rushing into your panties. You stutter and choke on your words, eyes shutting as you rotate your hips sloppily into his hand. The movement is jerky, and you feel slightly embarrassed at how painfully obvious it is that no one has ever touched you like this before. But Miguel seems to like it, likes the idea that you’re untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this. 

It gets even better when you make those soft noises, cutting yourself off and having to be reminded about what you were saying. Miguel continues his hand movements, pressing into you and rubbing and stroking. Your wetness has seeped through your panties, dampening the material of your leggings. If you were not lost in how good it feels, you would have been grossed out and uncomfortable. A weak call of his name escapes you and Miguel looks up from your cunt to look at your face. He hums in acknowledgement, watching as you try to pull his face closer to yours in a kiss. 

He swiftly avoids it, and you would have curled into yourself at the blunt rejection if you did not become distracted by his mouth suck and licking along your neck and jaw. Your mouth falls open with a moan, head leaning back to give him more room. He groans against your skin, fingers pressing tight circles to your clit. With a few hard circles, your back arches and your hold on him tightens. Gasping moans leave you and you feel the band in you snap, releasing more wetness into your panties as you finish. Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, keeping his fingers to your bud as you ride out the orgasm. Once you slump back down, he pulls his hands away. As you catch your breath, Miguel cleans up the mess on the counter. He reaches over, closing your melted ice cream and putting the spoon in the sink. 

You are still in a daze when he pushes the warm container in your hands, his own hands gentle as he lifts you off the counter. Your eyes are glossy in after-lust as he gently guides you out of his apartment and into yours. His warm hand leaves the small of your back, massaging your sides before he whispers a thank you into your ear for your help. You are only pulled completely out of your daze when you hear your door lock and close as Miguel leaves. You turn to look at the door, cheeks blazing as you clutch tightly onto your ice cream.

You are totally getting a noise complaint for that old woman tomorrow.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

Extra 1

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[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @itsafullmoon

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning! This turned a lot more funny than expected, the werewolf is basically a himbo and the events are very fast-paced. Hope you enjoy!

Request: I’d like to request a NSFW-longer story Werewolf x fem!human, werewolf saves her from what could’ve been a fatal fall/accident in the woods or….was that his secret plan all along😏 (stalking, future mate?) I love your writing and leave the rest up to your creative mind🫶

The spiral to insanity happens in a hole

Werewolf x fem!reader || induced heat, knotting, semi-public sex (cave), implied stalking

“Help! Help me!” You cried out.

A head appeared at the top of the hole you fell into. “Hello there, stranger. Seems like you are in a hole,” his words made you want to hit him with a rock. “Do you need some help?” Was this dude for real?

Not wanting to be mean to the stranger that could have your way out of the hole you sighed and told him: “Yes, please.”

He reached inside the hole with his long arm, and you reached up trying to grab it. Before you know what happened there was a big crash and the stranger was next to you in the hole/cave. “How did you fall, too?!” You accused. Now both of you were stuck in the hole. Fuck.

“Oops,” he giggled. He actually giggled. Who was this dude? You glared at him and he rose his hands in a calming motion. “No worries, I work as a keeper in the reserve and called my college when I heard you calling. They’ll come to get us soon enough.” That did calm you, and you sat down on a big rock and stared at him.

He was pretty in a rough way, like a lumberjack. He was big as a wardrobe and looked like he could break a tree if he wanted to. You were kinda okay with that, he looked good. In other circumstances, you would have hit on him. Probably. And well, being completely truthful, you would probably hit on him here, too. Your body was tingling just by looking at him, a strange sensation boiling inside of you.

He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t either. You sat in silence as he paced up and down the little cave and you thought about all the dirty things you would let him do to you. At some point he stopped and looked at you. “We could do something to pass the time.” That made sense, but at that moment you wanted to do anything but to talk. He was handsome, and maybe you wanted to fuck him a little (understatement of the century), but definitely not in a hole in the forest.

“What do you suggest?”

And then he went and deadpanned: “We could make out.” You looked at him trying to decipher if he was being serious.

You were so surprised it took you a couple of seconds to respond. “Are you fucking insane? I don’t know you!” You didn’t want to say no, but it was fucking insane that he was asking you that, you didn’t know each other’s name.

This dude was completely crazy, 100%. You didn’t know how you found yourself in that situation, but there you were. In a hole, in the forest, with a crazy dude who wanted to make out. And what was more surprising: you were okay with that. The idea of making out with him wasn’t as bad as someone could think. You kinda wanted to say yes, but you also knew that was a bad idea.

“Well, we could know each other.” He proceeded to tell you everything that came to mind about himself as you looked at him astonished. Who the fuck was this guy and why did you find him so adorable? He kept talking and talking and his blush became more and more prominent as you stared. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna shut up now.” He went from weird to endearing very fast, your heart beating erratically inside your chest. You were charmed by that big fool.

“You are kind of adorable,” you blurted out. You covered your mouth instantly, you didn’t want that to escape.

“You think so?” He asked back, flushing harder. Cute.

“Yeah. I feel this…. This connection to you. I don’t understand why, I should be scared or anxious about it, but looking at you brings me some kind of calmness. It’s like I already knew you.” And it was true, you felt some kind of deep connection to him, like something inside of you could recognize something inside of him.

“You do?” He sounded so hopeful and excited that you wanted to hug him and kiss the tip of his nose. What was wrong with you? “You a… Well, you see… Youaremymate.”

“I’m what?”

“You are my mate,” he told you, slower this time. At your confused look, he continued, “let me explain. So…. I’m a werewolf.” At your not-impressed look he changed before you. His face contorted and his bones cracked and before you knew it he was a fucking werewolf.

For both of your surprises, you didn’t scream, you didn’t panic, you just stared at him until your brain came back into action. “What the fuck!? How are you even real?!” You must have hit your head when you fell down. That’s it. That’s why the dude in front of you was a werewolf and why he was saying you were his mate. Yep, that’s the reason. He pinched your arm and you slapped his hand. “Why did you do that?”

“You aren’t dreaming. Or hit your head. I’m a werewolf and I’m real.” You stared at him for what felt like an eternity but was probably just a couple seconds. For some reason, you believed him and that made you question your sanity even more.

“You know what? I believe you. My life couldn’t get any messier, but apparently it can.” You laughed at that, hysterically. He looked at you with concern all over his face. “I’m okay, I’m okay…” You repeated as you wiped tears off the corner of your eyes. “I’m just having a bit of a breakdown.” He hugged you then, pulling you against his furry chest and embracing you tightly.

Weirdly enough, it made you calm down. Your breathing evening out to match his and your body relaxing in his arms. “So… do you want to make out?” He asked again, making you chuckle and looking up at him incredulously.

“Are you serious right now?” His kicked puppy face was answer enough. “Of course you are. I- No I don’t- You know what? I do. Let’s make out. If my life is going to get this crazy, I can surrender to it and also be insane.” You felt completely out of control, nothing made sense anymore and why not... Kissing a werewolf didn’t sound like the worst idea in that moment. He was handsome as fuck and he looked even better with all the furriness he had going on. You wanted to kiss him when he was human so… why not? Insanity was as good option as any other.

“You are not insa-” He didn’t finish that thought before you launched for his mouth and started kissing his wolfy face. The fangs against your lips made some deep part of you tingle. The danger and the anticipation making everything so intense you could feel your pussy getting wet. He sniffed the air and groaned against your mouth. “I can smell your desire,” he growled against your ear, breaking the kiss. You groaned in response, feeling hot all over.

You felt like your body was burning from the inside out, like your blood was made of lava and you were about to burn down completely. Your pussy felt so wet and so ready you could feel your heartbeat in your clit. “What is happening to me?” You asked, fanning yourself.

He looked down at you, guilty as fuck. “You started the mating process. You kissed me and now your body is going to react strongly to everything we do. You are going to get really horny, really soon.” You shook was rapidly replaced by a new wave of heat. Fuck. You groaned and kissed him again.

He tore a hole in your pants and ripped your panties, exposing your pussy to his hungry eyes. He stared at your center and slowly circled your clit as he pushed two fingers inside of you. You cried out and came around his fingers.

“More. More. Give me your cock.” You were frantically pulling at his pants, trying to free what felt like a dick bigger than anything you’d experienced before. He got himself free and you gasped when you saw. It was different from humans, larger in every way, but also had a different shape. It was fat in the middle instead of the tip, and there was a big bulge at the base that looked incredibly to grind against. “Now. Now. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” you chanted. Your brain couldn’t understand anything else but the heat burning inside of you and his dick being the solution.

“Are you su-?” He tried to ask, but you weren’t having any of that. You needed to be fucked and you needed it NOW.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I swear to God I’-” He grabbed your hips and lowered you to his dick in a second, his dick fitting inside of you in one long thrust that had you throwing your head back and crying out in ecstasy. It was perfect. His dick was perfect.

He didn’t give you time to adjust to his girth, he started a punishing pace, his hands on your hips as he moved you up and down. You were grateful for that, your legs turned into jelly and you doubted you could do anything to help him right now. His movements were perfect but not enough. You rubbed your clit frantically as he told you how pretty you were, how good you looked and how lucky he was having a mate as beautiful as you.

You came apart in his lap. Once, twice, three times… He wasn’t stopping. He had super stamina or something like that because his dick was hitting all your perfect spots and you were seeing stars as he just kept going. Your pussy felt used, but you wanted more, so much more…

You needed, you needed something… Something. And then you felt it. “What is that?” You asked between groans, your body limp because of the pleasure.

He grunted and moved your hips up and down faster, making you see stars. “My knot. Do you- Do you want that?” You nodded, not knowing what you were getting yourself into, but too lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

It took some work, but he moved your hips against it until it was coated in your juices and it could slip inside. You blacked out for a couple seconds when you felt the extreme fullness inside of you. Your pussy was stretched to the max and it felt better than anything you’ve ever experienced. You felt like you reached nirvana. And then you could feel him coming inside of you, so much, so hot and fast… You were being stuffed, and it felt... marvelous.

You came a couple more time grinding his knot against your G-spot and when you couldn’t take it anymore, you deflated against his front. His knot was still firm inside of you, spurting cum every once in a while. You didn’t care anymore, you could take a nap right there.

“Can I confess something to you?” He broke the silence, his hands caressing your back in a hypnotizing motion.

“Well, it’s not like we can move, can we?” You asked, his knot firmly pressed inside of you. You rolled your hips experimentally and groaned at the sensation. So good.

“I hid the hole so you’d fall into it,” he confessed, hiding his wolfy face in your neck, licking that spot behind your ear that made you shiver. The combination of his knot pressing onto your G-spot and the licking was making your brain foggy with pleasure.

But then his words registered, “Dude, what?!”

[moonstruckme]

hellooow i love your writing and characterization is so good 🤌🤌🤌 could you write something about james and r talking about their future together and james is like "yess and we'll live in a nice house with two or three little us running around!!" and reader is like "haha thats so cute love but i don't want kids... ._."

Thanks for requesting!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You tsk, adding a picture to your pinterest board. “It’s decided. Someday, when we move out of this apartment, I simply can’t live without a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.” 

“Mm.” James’ hum vibrates on your chest. He’s been lying there for some time, in and out of dozing while you’re on your phone. “I think that can be arranged. I want a fireplace.” 

“You just want to chop up wood.” 

You feel his smile spread against your skin. “And so what if I do?” 

“It wasn’t a criticism. So long as I can come watch.” 

His laugh is a warm puff of air, followed by a soft kiss just below your collarbone. This commences a fascination that involves his lips making a slow, idle perusal of your skin. “Do you think you want a big house?” 

“Not really.” Your attention has been pulled from your screen, the sight below you too adorable to ignore. You thread your fingers into James’ hair. “Too much cleaning. Honestly, if you have any questions you should just look at my pinterest. I’ve got it all laid out. We can make room for whatever TV you want, though, I suppose. Plus a secret tunnel to Sirius’ and Remus’.” 

“Obviously,” he agrees. “Yeah, I’m the same. All I need is my fireplace, you, and maybe a nice backyard for the kids.” 

Your hand stills on James’ head as a heavy weight drops into your chest. 

You’ve managed to evade this conversation, you’re not sure how. You’re not sure why either. Maybe just to make a good thing last, for as long as you could. But you know how much James loves kids. And if you’re honest with yourself, this, the proof that he does expect them one day, has always felt inevitable. You feel like a liar for not bringing it up with him sooner. 

Maybe it worsens your deception, but you keep your tone light as you ask, “Would you settle for a backyard for a couple of dogs instead?”

James gives a little laugh, tinged with bemusement. It makes you feel worse. 

“Or cats,” you say, voice growing smaller. “Or no pets, up to you.” 

It’s probably your obvious unease that tips him off. James looks up at you. You straighten his glasses for him automatically. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, and there’s no accusation in his tone, only curiosity. 

A low buzzing burrows into your ears, not unlike how you imagine it’d sound if you were drowning. 

“I don’t really want kids.” 

James’ face falls, and your heart splinters. 

“You don’t?” It’s like he thinks he might’ve misheard you. 

You shake your head. “I’m sorry,” you say, immediately angry with yourself for apologizing but not angry enough to overshadow your guilt. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and I just don’t. It’s not that I hate kids or anything, I just, I don’t want to have any of my own.” 

“Oh.” The word seems to leave James on a breath, faint and hollow. “Okay.” 

Your eyes burn, and you cannot cry right now but you can’t seem to shut up either. “If I ever did want to, it would be with you. But I just—” your voice fractures “—I don’t want to bring kids into a home that doesn’t want them, even if—if it’s only me that doesn’t. It’s not fair.” 

“No, you’re right.” James’ voice sounds a bit more like him now. He’s nodding, slowly, like he’s still wrapping his head around things. “You shouldn’t have kids if you don’t want them. For you and for them.” 

You nod. Hot tears trudge down your cheeks. 

Wordlessly, he sits up and wraps his arms around your shoulders. James is a really good hugger. Tight and warm, like he’s given and received plenty in his life. You know he’d be a great dad. Any kid would be lucky to have him, someone who comes from a love passed down and strengthened through generations. You’re just not meant to be a mom. 

You hold onto each other tightly, and you wonder if it’s the last time you will. You know in your heart that you’re doing the right thing for yourself, that you should never make such a life-altering choice based on someone else, but right now you’re desperate enough to consider it. You think you might do anything to keep him. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

James pushes his face into your neck. You think, to your horror, that he might be crying too. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I don’t want you to be sorry, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.” 

“I wish that I wanted to.” 

“You don’t. It’s okay.” 

You sit there like that for long minutes. When James pulls back, he sets his hands to your face, smiling ruefully as he thumbs away your tears. You choke out a little laugh and do the same for him. You have the urge to kiss his cheek, warm and beloved, but you don’t know if you should. 

“We can have pets,” he says in a quiet, rough voice. “And if Sirius and Rem or Lily or anyone has kids, I can just be their favorite uncle.” 

“You would be,” you say. “Being their aunt would be fun, too.” You study him anxiously. “Are you sure?” 

James’ lies down beside you, seemingly exhausted. “Sure about what?” 

You chew the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know, I guess that you’re okay with this.” 

He doesn’t answer right away, which you appreciate. You want him to think about it. A sigh leaves him, long and heavy. “It’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea,” he says finally. 

“But…for right now, you don’t want to break up?” 

“What?” James turns to look at you. Whatever he sees makes his face soften. “Oh—no, honey, I don’t want that. That wasn’t even…I wasn’t thinking like that.”

“Are you sure?” you ask again, though it threatens to bring another wave of tears. “I know you pictured things differently. I’d get it.” 

“I always wanted all of that with you,” he says, soft and yet somehow firm. “It’s going to take me some time to change how I picture the rest, but you’re not going anywhere. Not if I can help it.” His mouth curves slightly as he holds out his hand in invitation. You place yours in it. He brings your palm to his lips, kissing your heart line. “It’s you and me, yeah?” 

A pleasant feeling skitters up your arm to sit in your chest. “Yeah.”

[soov]

RUMOUR HAS iT。 park sunghoon

princess fem reader & prince sunghoon ᗢ 1OOO words ━━ fluff ꕀ royal!au, arranged marriage, repost ⌗ WARNiNGS pet names, kissing.

“I suppose you know about the rumours by now?”

The prince’s deep voice tugged you back to reality, making his presence known by leaning onto the same balustrade as you.

“Why do you think I would’ve called you here if I didn’t?” You asked back, to which he responded with a smile, looking at the scenery in front of him.

Sunghoon appeared somewhat unkempt. His hair dismissed the usual slicked-back style, soft black bangs falling on his eyes. He had a white linen puffed-sleeve shirt on, with the first three buttons undone. Once, he had admitted that he owned twelve of the shirts, them being his favorite piece of clothing.

As your stare lowered, his high-waisted black pants and boots piqued your curiosity, “What is the reason behind the informal clothes?”

“Why the question?” He turned his head in your direction. “You also have an informal attire on, my love.” Sunghoon still had a cheeky beam plastered across his face, attentive eyes observing the way you toyed with his sleeves.

“My maids said that this color and dress would look good on me.” You reasoned and pushed one of the puffy sleeves slightly up his arm, tracing the delicate veins enmeshed beneath his flesh. “I asked because I only see you wearing this outfit when it’s your birthday or a commemoration.”

“They were right; you do look good.” He seemed to be enjoying how you were caressing his arm. His muscles flexed and relaxed every time you touched him, making him feel like you were painting a masterpiece across his bare, pale skin. “And well, it is a happy day for me.”

“Even with the rumours?”

Right. The rumours. The gossip that spread around the castle like wildfire about the soon-to-be King and Queen that didn’t truly love each other, only keeping up their looks because of diplomatic problems. That, and the supposed cheating accusations, claiming that you were seeing a close friend behind the prince’s back.

In part, it would’ve been true if the false talk started a few months ago — though only the comment about real love being absent in your relationship. You used to think that the boy was a spoiled little brat who leeched off his parents’ high status. Yet, you fell right into his trap when your arranged marriage was announced.

With his eyebrows tied together and the smallest pout, Sunghoon gave you his trademark confused face. “Why would they matter? We love each other and will get married soon, isn’t it? Let them say whatever.”

The raw and honest responses from Sunghoon were one of the many factors that brought him to the center of your heart. His unfiltered remarks, reminding you of your infinite worth (his words, not yours), slowly guided you to the path without return that is loving him.

You huffed out a breath. There were a bunch of servants whispering and stroddling through the garden close to the bandstand where the both of you were. If Sunghoon wasn’t right next to you, you would have cussed them out, even knowing that you couldn’t. They were your fiancé’s people, and briefly, they would be yours too.

“I don’t appreciate how they talk so lowly about us…” You mumbled, chin on your palm. Neither of you were big on PDA, that was a fact, but you wondered if it was that bad to make the word even more convincing. “I just wanted to shut their mouths and show them that we long for each other.”

“Do you, now?” Sunghoon grinned, embracing you from behind as his pointy nose went to your neck. “We could give them a little sample of our love.” He muttered, the low timbre of his voice being more than enough proof of your effect on him.

You nearly choked on your own breath, a lump closing your throat. “I thought you were uncomfortable with showing affection in public?” The words left your mouth in a nervous whisper when he gently turned you in his hold to face you.

“Princess,” he began, the pet name almost sounding sardonic due to your title, “that was seven months ago. I hated you at the time, you know it. But I only want to kiss you right now.”

There was something in his eyes, blended with the dark brown hues and the sparkly melted stars that captivated and hypnotized you. Sunghoon was so intense that you could never bring yourself to break eye contact, or reply coherently, when you were drowning in his gaze. A nod was all that came out of you.

The prince chuckled, the act so genuine and lovesick that your knees threatened to falter, “You’re so annoyingly beautiful.” He voiced, and leaning in, his lips parted to taste the sweetness of your mouth.

With a gasp, you carded your fingers through his raven hair. It had gotten so long in such a short time. The only place that your hands went to during your kisses was in between his locks.

A soft rumble escaped his chest, body beginning to relax when you played with his hair. In a second, Sunghoon cupped a side of your face in his palm, still being smug enough to slide the other to the small of your back, gripping that part. A smirk curled his lips up as he felt the low cut back of the dress, tracing your skin like you did to his arm earlier.

His actions induced a shiver to run down your spine, and you couldn’t do much except feel yourself covered in goosebumps. Softly, gently, slowly — that was how your fiancé enjoyed kissing you.

“Sunghoon…” Tugging at the loose collar of his shirt, you tried to regain your composure after the scandalous scene. “Did they go yet?”

Your breathy voice calling out his name only fueled the pure adoration the man felt. “Not yet.” He hummed, glancing at the flustered maids that giggled amongst themselves. “Seems like they’re slow walkers.”

“At least that will make them stop talking.” You grumbled.

He squeezed you tighter in his arms, almost trying to express the extent of his feelings in the way he held you. “It surely will.”

And it didn’t, since, now, rumour has it that the prince is too greedy to go for only a single kiss.

𔓕　LETTERS FROM REi ━━ i wish prince sunghoon was real (work inspired by mr. queen!)

2024 © SOOV

[ckret2]

What's your stance on Ford as a person? Honestly, I believe that for thr majority of canon he is a bad person. But I believe he grew. Still not great though XD

(Love him anyways obvs)

I disagree entirely! I think he's equally as good a person as any of the other main cast.*

*Except Mabel, who, as we all know, is always right about everything.**

(**This is a lighthearted joke. For the love of god, I don't want Mabel discourse in my inbox.)

His biggest sins in the show:

After telling his brother that he was thinking about changing their shared life plans, and then discovering that his brother had gone to the high school that night for no good reason and gone to the science fair for no good reason and messed around near Ford's science project for no good reason and broke it and didn't tell Ford about it... Ford believed Stan did it intentionally and held a grudge for it. You know what, it WOULD be pretty damn hard to believe it was an accident.

Hilariously ill-equipped to cope with Fiddleford's mental health. A guy who responds to "I have anxiety" with "have you tried yoga, it helps me" isn't a bad person, he's clueless. "Character cheerfully enacts a bad idea while a loved one in the background goes NO PLEASE DON'T DO THAT" describes half the episodes of Gravity Falls.

Was successfully manipulated by a professional manipulator into believing his best friend wished him ill. Man, what a terrible person Ford is for being manipulated by a manipulator and saying cruel things to somebody he'd been genuinely convinced was trying to harm him.

??? Didn't say thanks to a guy he was still mad at after the guy fixed a problem he himself had caused. This is a solitary example of stubborn bad etiquette, jesus christ. There's half a dozen different reasons why it makes perfect sense Ford wasn't in the right mindset to feel grateful, this is not something worth indicting his entire character over.

He had high ambitions, which everyone seems to lambast him for, but high ambitions that wouldn't have required doing anybody harm! (Until the professional manipulator started manipulating him into harming the people around him, but we are going to demonstrate some reading comprehension and not blame Ford's underlying morality as a person for things he never would've done if not for Bill's bullying, con artistry, and outright lies.) Like, what is it that he wanted to do with his life? Use his talents to get rich and famous? Shit, that's exactly what Stan wanted to do with his life. It's what Dipper fantasizes about doing with his life. Even Mabel, who thinks about her long-term future the least, dreams big with her art & performances and is already making big money off cheap-ass commissions. What terrible people they all are, for—let me check my notes here—uhhh... unrealistically fantasizing about achieving success in life by doing the things they're good at.

When their dad accuses Stan of lying as a child, Ford puts his entire summer on the line to defend Stan even though he knows Stan is a habitual liar and has no reason to believe Stan is telling the truth this time.

When his new college roommate he barely even knows gets laughed at for proposing an outlandish scientific theory, his first emotion is outrage at this injustice and he drops everything to convince his already-despondent roommate that he was right and help him prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

When he moves to a new town, he tries again and again to befriend his new neighbors, and fails not because he's rude or a jerk, but because he's awkward as hell, tells terrible jokes, and sucks at identifying phoenixes.

When Fiddleford gets hurt around him, he cares about it, feels guilty about putting him in that position, doesn't want it to happen again, and tries his best to help even though he's bad at helping.

When he gets kidnapped by a weird holiday folklore creature, he concludes without even thinking about it that he's now in charge of protecting and rescuing the kidnapped kids. Yeah, then he immediately starts hollering at the folklore creature for trying to impose his religious beliefs on Ford and the kids—but like, Ford was right tho, he just had bad timing.

When he discovers that the Northwest family committed atrocities against their poorer neighbors a century ago, his first instinct is to march up to their house, find the first Northwest he can locate, and give them a piece of his mind for it. Like, this won't even FIX anything. He's just THAT OUTRAGED over the injustice.

When he sees what he thinks is a fortune telling fraud conning the people, he attempts to debunk her because he's mad to see someone cheating other people with lies—and when he can't debunk her, he just leaves her alone rather than harass her about it. Typically, if assholes think somebody's doing something wrong but don't have any proof of it and fail to get proof when they look, they decide they're right anyway and keep giving that person shit. Ford doesn't give her shit. That's the opposite of an asshole move.

When he discovers his Portal To Knowledge (And Fame & Fortune) is actually a Portal To Doom (But Still Possibly Fame & Fortune, Maybe Even Godly Power), he isn't tempted for a second to keep working on it anyway. There is no moment where Bill manages to tempt him. No matter what Bill offers, no matter how long Bill offers, never, at ANY point, does Ford have a SECOND of "but what if I did make a deal with the devil?" the way so many heroes in similar situations often do.

You ever notice that? So often moral moments in the show are presented as choices the characters make. Will or won't Dipper give Bill a "puppet" in exchange for knowledge. Will or won't Stan fight a pterodactyl to protect Mabel's pig. Will or won't Mabel hand Bipper the journal. Ford is never given a "will or won't he" moment over Bill's threats, offers of friendship, or offers of infinite power—he steamrolls straight past them without a second of consideration—because, to him, the selfish, cowardly, easy choice ISN'T EVEN AN OPTION. He doesn't even SEE it as making a choice because the possibility of doing the wrong thing is invisible. A character who wavers first before turning Bill down would look more noble for "overcoming" temptation—it's harder to notice just how much stronger Ford's moral compass must be to not even feel temptation in the first place.

Greed and pride never tempt him to join Bill's side. Exhaustion, despair, and fear never tempt him to give up. He bears up under weeks, possibly months of extreme sleep deprivation, physical torture, psychological torture, emotional torture, threats of death, threats of brainwashing, threats to his family. He doesn't hold up so that he can pat himself on the back for being a hero—if that was all it was he would've gone "screw it, this isn't worth it and nobody would know I'm the one who gave up" a week in—he does it because he simply knows it must be done and because he's so isolated (half because of Bill's influence!) that he believes he's the one who must do it, all alone.

Thinking he has to do it by himself isn't egotism or pride; it's helplessness. He thinks no one else stands a chance. He thinks he's alone.

And, when he discovers his Portal To Knowledge is a Portal To Doom, he immediately feels guilty. No trying to deny the situation to protect his ego. No shuffling the blame off to someone else. No "maybe the apocalypse could have a silver lining!" No locking the door and trying to ignore the problem. He blames himself for being fooled—he IMMEDIATELY takes full responsibility for his actions—and he CONTINUES to take responsibility FOR THE NEXT THIRTY YEARS.

He takes more responsibility than is even warranted—he treats himself like he's an idiot for believing in an APPARENT GOD who's been practicing manipulating humans for thousands of years and who had never given Ford reason to believe the portal was anything but what Bill said it was. He beats himself up to no end every single time his past with Bill comes up. He even keeps beating himself up thirty years later when he's shoving warning notes to future readers in Bill's evil unkillable book!

When he falls into the multiverse, he dedicates his entire life NOT to finding a way to rescue himself, but to finding a way to permanently stop the CHAOS GOD who's still at the threshold of destroying Ford's world and countless others. He makes himself a hated criminal in the process, just to stop Bill. He's ready to spend the rest of his life trying to protect a world he doesn't think he'll ever see again. He does it because, as he sees it, somebody has to stand in between the children and the obnoxious folklore cryptid menacing them, and he's the only adult in this damn cave with the skills and knowledge for the job.

When he gets home, he doesn't tell his family about Bill and his quest because he's afraid that doing so will get them involved and endanger them too—and because he's too deeply ashamed of himself and his mistakes to stand the thought of his family knowing about the horrible things he's done (AGAIN, WHILE BEING MANIPULATED BY THE GOD OF MANIPULATION).

He loves his great-niece and great-nephew the second he lays eyes on them; he nevertheless tries to steer away from them to keep them safe from Bill; and yet he caves to the very first temptation to emotionally bond with his great-nephew he gets, because in spite of his noble "keep them safe" intentions, he wants so so badly to be close to his family.

As pissed as he still is at Stan and even though neither of them can look at each other without hissing like cats, he still makes an attempt to start bridging their divide by inviting him to play DD&MD.

When the apocalypse happens, he immediately puts his life on the line to try to kill Bill.

And when he's captured, isn't fazed for a second by Bill's offers or threats... until his family is threatened. The exact thing he'd been trying to avoid & prevent from the very start.

And when he's reunited with Fiddleford, his immediate reaction is to point out that Fiddleford's well within his rights to hate him—which isn't a new revelation, it's not like Ford had to do any soul-searching to reach this conclusion, he'd concluded that 30 years ago the instant he realized Bill had played him and that he'd been lied to about Fiddleford.

And then he tries to kill Bill again.

And then he's ready to sacrifice his own life to kill Bill—and the only reason he doesn't is because he has a metal plate preventing him from making the sacrifice... but, Stan doesn't have a plate. If Ford hadn't had the metal plate, he would have gladly done the exact same thing Stan did—and he would have thought it was right for him and only him to make that sacrifice, because it's VERY clear he feels (and has felt from the start) that this is all his fault and he's obligated to fix it.

Over and over and over, these are Ford's two defining character traits: getting so pissed off at injustice that his common sense shuts off and he goes into terminator mode until he's righted this wrong as best he can, even when he can't actually do anything about it; and feeling like he's Atlas, weighed down with the full responsibility of fixing everything he's done wrong and made to believe that, for everyone else's sake, he has to do it all alone. Even when doing so puts himself in harm's way, even when he has to put his entire life on hold for it, even if it might cost him his life. Scrape off his awkward social skills, his loneliness, his nerdiness, his endless curiosity, his zealous love of the strange, his starry ambitions, his yearning for recognition and success—scrape his personality down to the bone and that's what you're left with. A man who believes in defending the exploited so strongly that it makes him a little stupid.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that you probably don't think Stan's fundamentally a bad person, and that you probably think that isn't even worth questioning. Stan's made a whole career out of swindling people, conning them out of as much money as he possibly can, stealing, lying, committing a long list of goofily-named crimes, and attempting douchy pick-up artistry on women; and to cap it all off, he held the safety of the entire universe hostage to demand a goddamn "thank you." Don't send me any "But he had reasons—" "But it was only to—" I don't need it, I don't want the essay, I'm not arguing that Stan's a bad guy, it's fine.

But. You can look at Stan's moments of cruelty and unkindness, his uncharitable thoughts, his character flaws, and think, "that doesn't define him. He's more than his cruelest moments and worst mistakes. He's imperfect, but he cares so much and his heart's in the right place, and beneath all the flaws his core is good."

And if you can't do the same for Ford, it's not because he's a worse person. It's because we got two seasons with Stan and five and a half episodes with Ford—and while we saw Stan yearning to fish with the kids or encouraging Mabel to whoop Pacifica's butt at minigolf or crying over a black and white period drama or punching zombies to save his family, we only saw Ford at the worst moments in his life and under the stress of a prolonged apocalyptic crisis—and, it so happens, all the moments he was pissed at the guy we spent two seasons learning to love.

Ford's got moments of cruelty and unkindness, uncharitable thoughts, and character flaws. But, at his core, he's a good person, and he always has been, and he still is.