#it kind of feels like i'm never writing them. i'm always writing someone else

[suplicyy]

heyy hope you’re gonna take this request, can you write something about canon kuroo confessing?

No time skip please. Like with a female reader which doesn’t act in love with him like the rest of the girls, she’s not pick me or stuff like this.

So Kuroo can do nothing but finally talk to her because he can’t stand the fact that she’s different from other girls.

I can’t really picture canon Kuroo confessing, that’s why I’m asking, I really like your writing!

Thank u so much

Notice me Please!!!

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

— Summary: He has his eyes on you, but for some reason you don't look back.

— Tags/Genre: Fem!Reader | Fluff

— Warnings: None!

Kuroo drums his fingers impatiently on his desk, and with one hand resting on his chin, he stares at your figure across the classroom. You seemed quite entertained listening to music, which he has no idea what it is, but that sight makes him feel something inside him.

Frustration. He admit that he can't stand seeing you like this, because you're never like that when he tries to talk to you, and that made him feel a kind of jealousy, even if it was for something inanimate.

Every time you talked to him, you seemed indifferent, almost as if you were uninterested. Damn, why don't you look at him with the same twinkle in your eye when you're listening to something on your stupid headphones?

It's been a while since Kuroo started to have strong feelings for you, your heart skips a beat every time you pass each other in the school hallways, with Kuroo always looking back when you pass by him. But he never revealed that to you of course.

And no matter how many bad jokes or flirtations he told you, how many little gifts he left in your locker or on your desk in secret and then hinted that he was the one who left them there, it seemed like you never cared about his desperate actions for your attention.

At first, he thought this was just the way you acted, that you were more shy and reserved. But then he noticed the giggles you had with your friends, how talkative you seemed to be around them.

Now he thinks the problem is with him, that maybe you hate his presence, or just don't care about him.

He is a relatively popular person at school. His volleyball team reached the Nationals, which gave great prominence to all the team members, especially him. So it's no surprise to hear girls gossiping about Kuroo in the hallways.

To tell the truth, he didn't care much about it, sometimes he would even tease Yaku for having more fans than him, but that was it.

The only person he craves attention from is you.

But he doesn't know if you feel the same way, or at least care about his existence.

So that's why today would be the day he would bring the whole truth to light. His only option now would be to confess to you. Maybe it was a last choice made out of desperation and doubt, but he can no longer bear your indifference towards him.

Your club activities are over, so you can finally go home after a tiring day of boring classes and uninteresting people.

Now, you were walking towards the school exit, but you soon stopped when you saw a certain boy with a peculiar hairstyle standing at the gate, almost as if he was waiting for someone.

You figured he was waiting for Kenma to go home since they were best friends, so you didn't care much about it and continued walking to the exit.

"Hey, [Name]!"

A familiar voice calls you. And as you turn to the side, you see Kuroo walking towards you, waving at you.

"Let's go home together, shall we?" you look around, and then you look at him again, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you going with Kenma?" "He said he needed to go somewhere else to buy a new game, something like that. And since I'm alone... I thought about going with you."

He gives you a smile that would make anyone fall in love immediately, but it never seemed to have any effect on you.

You looked at him with an enigmatic expression, almost as if you want to read him through his actions and words. "Um, sure." You say as you adjust your backpack hanging on your shoulder, soon starting to walk, with Kuroo by your side.

Your house wasn't that far from the school, but in the situation you were in, it felt like an eternity had passed since you left the school gates and started walking.

Neither of you exchanged a single word, except for Kuroo who was humming some random song.

"Y'know..." he says after a moment, which made you direct your gaze to him, who was still staring at the path ahead.

"I once heard you listening to this song. You turn your music up so loud that anyone who passes by can hear it coming from your headphones." your expression changes to one of surprise.

"S-Seriously? I never realized that..." you laugh awkwardly, looking away to the floor.

"Yeah... but it's not because of music or headphones that I called you to walk with me." Kuroo stops walking unexpectedly, making you stop too.

Looking back, you notice his expression is more serious, almost as if he is a little nervous.

"Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you."

His tone of voice seemed to have changed too, which left you confused, or even a little nervous, as much as you didn't want to admit it.

"I...like you, [Name]." As he uttered these words, it was almost as if a weight had been lifted from the boy's shoulders, his previously tense posture allowing himself the luxury of relaxing, even if for a brief moment.

However, the opposite seemed to manifest in you. Previously unconcerned about what this simple walk would offer you, it was almost as if your breath was suddenly caught in your throat. Your heart soon feels like it's leaving your body, hammering in your chest in a fast, nervous rhythm.

"Huh?" you say in disbelief at what you heard. Shock quickly turns to annoyance, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "Look... don't think this kind of joke is funny, because you won't hear me laugh about it."

"Joke? Why would you think that?" Kuroo says this right after with a nasal laugh.

He walks closer to you, and you instinctively step back, until your back is in contact with a large tree that was close to the sidewalk. He stops right in front of you, and looks at you with a touch of doubt, almost as if he had heard something incredible.

"Why do you think I would make fun of something like that? You- my feelings for you... would never be a joke to me." he says with an affectionate tone, his eyes softening for a moment as he maintains eye contact with you.

"Maybe this could have been just a challenge your friends arranged for you, like in those cliché movies." your tone conveys sarcasm, but with a touch of bitterness "Or maybe some pretty girl rejected you, and is now looking for solace in anyone even remotely close to you..." "Or even-"

Your words are cut off as you feel Kuroo's lips land tenderly on your cheek. His hand reaches out to cup the other side of your face, and the other lands on the tree behind you, pinning you there.

"I like you, [Name]." he whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "And I will tell you this until you can't prove otherwise."

Kuroo takes his hand off the tree and takes your hand, then looks at you seriously. "And I mean it."

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you quickly compose yourself, and a small smile appears on your face, but this time it's genuine.

"Hmm, so you want to win me over, huh?" you push yourself away from the tree, placing your free hand on his shoulder. Your sudden closeness makes Kuroo surprised, making him suddenly feel shy.

"Only words won't convince me... you better work hard for it, Tetsurou." you move away from him, and start opening your backpack, looking for your headphones.

You give a small wave to Kuroo, but without turning towards him, focusing only on the path in front of you.

Dumbfounded, Kuroo waves back, his cheeks dyed with pink in embarrassment.

"Thank you for accompanying me, but I can go on my own from here." You say as you fit your headphones onto your head, putting on a random playlist that you made in honor of your little crush, who is definitely not Kuroo Tetsurou (it is).

— A/N: Uh........hi........I'm back.............

First of all, I want to apologize a thousand times to whoever sent me this request, I'm really sorry it took me SO LONG to post this. In addition to apologizing to everyone who follows me here, for not having given any sign of life for more than a month....😭

I really don't have a real excuse for doing this other than a total of 0 creativity and several hours of my life in hell (school), so I really needed to take this time for myself, until I felt more comfortable coming back here again.

I'm currently feeling quite creative artistically, mainly because I'm watching MHA again (which I'll probably bring here on my page) and also because I'm reading the Haikyuu manga. Plus, I passed pretty much every subject at school, so I don't have to worry so much about grades.

So...I'm officially back now!! I apologize again, and in compensation for this, I am already writing 3 more new things for you (2 are from MHA😜😜🤪); and I also won't open requests until I finish writing these, so stay tuned!!

[allsassnoclass]

Hazel’s 2022 Writing Roundup

some of you may be thinking “but hazel, you just did a 2022 writing self-evaluation” well this is DIFFERENT this one is almost completely by the numbers and includes GRAPHS

a summary of my writing this year is under the cut!

Let’s start out easy.  How many fics did I write?  What was the fandom distribution?

11 5sos fics on AO3

2 1d fics on AO3

1 fic for the It movies on AO3

1 fic for Stranger Things on AO3

1 fic for High School Musical: The Musical: The Series on AO3

1 fic for Cobra Kai on AO3

13 ask box prompts right here on tumblr (all for 5sos)

Here’s a handy little pie chart:

As you can clearly see, 5sos still totally dominated my writing year.  I assume this will continue, although it could possibly even out slightly next year depending on how much cobra kai retains its claws in me and if I expand into any other fandoms.

Total word count: 147,702  wahoo!  That’s more words than Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austin or One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Main pairing distribution (for the 5sos ones)(friendship fics are counted under the overarching pairing, as it focuses on those two (or four) characters)

Cake: 2

Cashton: 5

Lashton: 1

Malum: 2

Mashton: 10

Muke: 2

OT4: 1

Roylum: 1

I think it’s no surprise that mashton is by far my favored pairing, but i’m surprised that cashton had so many fics when malum and lashton did not, as previously I favored those two pairings a lot and I would say cashton is tied for my third or fourth favorite pairing, rather than above either of those.  In fact, the fact that lashton has less than cake (who i historically do not write) is very surprising.  it looks like i should step up my lashton game a bit next year, although I have to confess that I don’t have any strong ideas for them right now (besides unmute, which constantly haunts me).  I also only got 1 lashton prompt request this year  out of the 15 total i received, which definitely impacted how much I wrote them.

Here’s a little pie chart, to fully show just how much mashton dominates my writing:

For ao3 ratings, I had 15 teen, 1 for general audiences, and 1 mature fic.  All of my ask box prompts are rated teen as a general rule

For my 5sos writings I wrote:

10 fics or ask box prompts that I had the ideas for or received before 2022

10 fics or ask box prompts that I had the ideas for or received during 2022

One of the ones from before 2022 has not been posted, as it’s chapter 6 of an ongoing work.  There is another fic from 2022 that is complete that I’ve been holding on to until the right now.

I started keeping track of all of my ideas and when I got them (or received the prompt for them) this year because I was curious to see how many of my fics were new ideas or not, and I’m honestly surprised that it’s so even!  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.  Looking at which specific fics got completed, only one of the 2022 ideas that I posted was an AO3 fic (when i watch the world burn).  The other 9 were ask box prompts from my follower milestone celebration.

I added 30 ideas to my 5sos ideas doc in 2022!

For word count, all of my AO3 fics are somewhere between 1,395 and 50,140.  pas de deux (the 50,140 word fic) is the longest fic I’ve ever written by over 20,000 words!  I will likely not stop talking about it any time soon lol.  It is also my favorite fic of the year, as it includes ballet, minnesota, and hotei within his sack, which are all things that I love dearly.

Looking ahead, what does the future of hazel fic hold?  I have no idea!  We’re playing it completely by ear.  Hopefully, it’s enjoyable for everyone involved.  If you’ve read this far, I am giving you my affection

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[northern-passage]

one last post about this, since i’m receiving multiple Essays on why people hate Merry so so much:

i’m not trying to say that you have to like every single female character. that’s silly. particularly with Merry, i am Aware of her personality, i know she is abrasive and your first interaction with her is her picking a fight with Lea - i wrote her that way, i know.

what i’m trying to say is whether you dislike Merry or not, there’s still nothing she’s done to deserve active hate and violent misogynistic messages in my inbox - hate she gets only because she’s a woman. now if Merry was a man, would her actions make you this angry, or is it just because she was mean to your male fave? is it just because she’s “competition” for Lea? if it was possible to have an m/m poly with Lea, would you like the dynamic between them more rather than how it is now, with a mean, evil woman?

it’s really okay if you don’t Love Merry. i’m not asking you to, and i’m not calling you a misogynist if you don’t like her (which seems to be what a lot of you think). it’s fine!! i wrote her to be a bit of an antagonistic character, and i’m glad that she seems to be polarizing. the point of what i was trying to say is that Merry in particular gets a huge amount of hate, despite not really... doing anything. the hunter can be just as mean (if not even meaner) to Lea in the game, and i don’t think there’s anything Merry has done that warrants the kind of backlash she has received. she gets the same level of hate as Duncan, though i’ve received more violent messages about her than about the literal villain of the game.

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[inkskinned]

i don't mean to sound ungrateful, but as a content creator on this site, there's a part of me that's like. they absolutely just stole my work.

i'm not, like, unaware that tumblr has been shuffling downhill for years now. sometimes i play with the idea of switching platforms, turning myself into the shark. i often get tens of thousands of notes - i could be "doing numbers" on a platform that actually pays me to do so. i could have statistics that i could use to sell myself, i could rebrand and make content pay-to-play and make brand deals. i could have the other life, i mean.

but i don't want to. i like the quiet nature of tumblr. i like that it still feels like i'm writing poetry, not like i'm fulfilling ad spots. i like the community, and that i can sometimes still take someone by surprise and write something that really speaks to them. i like the tags and reading things like oh of course it's fucking inkskinned i love you inkskinned you gay mess. my girlfriend recently told me that people tag things "inkskinned" because they assume it is similar to tagging "creative writing". that's wild. i made this word up when i was 19, and have always assumed people tag me in things so i read it (and i often do). i have nothing but love and gratitude for you all, for this tiny scoop of family.

and i haven't made any money off it. i had opportunities, and i turned them down. i could have sold this thing like a thousand times. i thought about moving my work elsewhere - over and over and over i thought about it. i weighed each option specifically. but my tumblr felt like ... it's for you guys, only. if you're still here and reading this, you deserve to do it for free.

tumblr has now, most likely, skimmed my work (and yours) in order to make money. i will never see a single cent for that violation. something about landlords, i guess - my work pays their rent.

i just lost my job on valentine's day, and am working on scrambling for solutions. i am writing this to a blog that they will probably scrape with AI. and like, what number to do you think it was? do you think it was only a couple hundred thousand? no way it was close to a million, right? my time, effort, energy - it belongs to someone else now. how many silver pieces for them to completely sell out their user base.

and it's kind of like - funny? when it isn't very-sad. because i personally don't know what to do, ya know? i might as well move to a different platform, where my efforts are ai-scraped but could eventually pay me. where i know my privacy is the cost - but it could result in actual money. anyway. i need to figure out how i'm paying for meds. i need to email like six people about COBRA benefits.

my work is powering someone else's AI. it will be a beautiful fabricated poem, made from words i've already said.

[ginevrapng]

I saw that you were accepting requests and I was wondering if you could write something about best friends’ dads!marauders x reader or something like that?

If not, I completely understand! <3

i've never written bestfriends!dads before so i hope you enjoy it! i didn't know if you wanted me to include peter but the majority of marauders fics leave out peter and i think this concept works better without him. <3

there was a lot of great things about being harry potter's best friend, one of those things happens to be getting to spend time with his hot dad james, completely off limits dad. that doesn't stop you from thinking about how charming he is though.

you've seen photos of james when he were younger and harry is a spitting image of him. now with age he's changed in all the best ways, his hair less messy, neater with slightly having the appearance of being slicked back and with thicker frame glasses. a distinction between him and harry, both younger and older is his build, james being more built with broader shoulders and more muscular.

he's kind and considerate and always calls you 'sweetheart' making you flush and every time leaves you wide eyed. you've never heard him call anyone else sweetheart so it's always leaving you feeling bashful.

james tells you that you can come and visit and stay whenever you want and you're always welcome so whenever you spend time at harry's you also end up seeing his two godfathers who also spend a lot of time there. whenever that happens you are rather reluctant to leave the house, not just enjoying all the company that they deliver but also how attractive they are, just like james.

remus somehow always memorising you. like when he rolls his sleeves up so you can see his arms or how you swear you sometimes see in the corner of your eye glimpses of him looking at your lips while you're talking. his jumpers and cardigans always looking so comfortable and soft, you wonder what they'd look like on you. you think about his sandy hair that covers his eyes and his beautiful hazel eyes that crinkle when he smiles and how he always looks tired and how you'd happily let him rest and sleep on you. he never talks about his work but it must be pretty rough for him to constantly look so tired.

sirius is ruggedly handsome always leaning against walls instead of sitting down, even when a seat is available. leaving you watching longer than you should as you watch his pose and see him stretching causing his tshirt to rise, exposing a bit of his torso. he has his long jet black hair which now has streaks of grey that he constantly runs his hands through.

you're going back into the living room, where everyone is, after you went to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water due to the heat and see sirius moving in a way that momentarily makes you freeze.

"you alright doll?" sirius smirks at you after spotting you. you nod but are unable to stop shifting side to side nervously after being caught, causing him to raise his eyebrow, looking amused as he chuckles at you.

this is the first time any of them has addressed your behaviour towards them but they have all noticed your longing looks and shy glances.

they've all been waiting for the moment to make a move and they're starting to lose their patience. you were none the wiser with their intentions, trying to get you alone, away from your friends and away from harry, asking you personal questions and give you special attention.

"you got a boyfriend or girlfriend doll? sirius asked you out of the blue one day, catching you completely off guard.

you splutter and try to answer while james starts speaking. "you're not dating my harry are you sweetheart?"

"what! of course i'm not! we're just friends." you say probably louder than you should, wanting to defend yourself.

you hear someone coming up behind you, "good." remus clasps your shoulders with his hands, slowly rubbing them and making patterns with his thumbs before he moves away and goes to help sirius with the washing up.

fiddling with your fingers you watch them all clear the table and sort out things that needed to be doing in the house with a small dreamy smile on your face.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.” 

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown. 

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better. 

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her. 

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!” 

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug. 

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted. 

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum? 

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise. 

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.” 

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear. 

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?” 

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits. 

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.” 

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks. 

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.” 

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.” 

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.” 

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.” 

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment. 

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[velvetures]

Honorifics

A/N: Yeah... I don't know about this. I'll probably take it down since I'm unsure if it's got enough of a consistent vibe. Let me know if it's actually something you enjoy since I don't write angst or hurt/comfort often. I ALWAYS WRITE HAPPY ENDINGS THO. That's a damn promise. Summary: You've given Ghost a title he hates, and takes it out on you. The situation goes too far, and you're both left trying to figure it out. Reader is nicknamed "Brass" since she's a long-distance shooter/sniper. T/W: angst, cursing, Ghost being an emotionally unstable human, yelling, the reader having a breakdown, smidge of not eating, smidge of not drinking anything, comfort, feelings, female reader, not proofread.

When you joined the task force, things didn’t exactly go as smoothly as you had hoped it would. Training sessions usually ended up with you either getting your ass beat or nearly surviving a full-on embarrassment by the skin of your teeth just to be told that you still weren’t in good enough shape to keep up with them in the field. Surely being a woman didn’t excuse you from being in shape for the kind of work Laswell and Price had brought you in for, but damn if it wasn’t difficult to try and have a one-on-one fight with someone like Soap or Ghost without the benefit you would typically have in a real-world battle situation. The reality that all of the men in the squad were literally the best of the best aside, there could be just barely enough room for you to compete on the same level when it came to sheer physical strength. While that wasn’t your specialty anyway, the Captain made it clear you needed to prove you could handle your own against serious physical fights without assistance. After nearly five weeks of having one of your squad mates slam you on your ass one too many times in the training hall, you finally were able to prove to Price that you could go out in the field and he didn’t have to extend any extra worries for your ability to survive.

Logistically as a sniper, it meant you frequently held a much more distant role in missions. By watching from a scope you could ensure that infiltrations, covert ops, and other hush-hush kinds of operations that typically the 141 wouldn’t have the luxury of. Being the skilled marksman you were, it made sense to take advantage of your talents and also extend you a job that progressed past what you’d experienced in your “standard” military career and multiple tours overseas. However, that meant communications were essentially the backbone of your usefulness aside from your rifle. Next to nothing else, your daily and mission-based work almost exclusively went through Lieutenant Ghost. Which… often proved to be the largest obstacle that you faced aside from making sure that your scope didn’t get bumped off sight the -often- rough flights and drives to insertion points.

The Lieutenant was particularly mean… he certainly didn’t give a single thought to if anyone thought that he was a little too harsh of a personality to swallow. That went for everything you came to learn about Ghost. From his lack of willingness to speak unless required of him, to his unique ability of appearing and disappearing from anywhere without the slightest sound or hint of where he’d come from or gone to. Trained as a distance marksman, even you were impressed that such a massive man could move around like smoke on water. That and his physical appearance; good god above. Surely a man like Ghost had never graced the face of the Earth before, else he’d have been just as mythical in his legendary life and would’ve been known by thousands of people. He stood towering over just about everyone, in whatever room he was in, and compared to your own height it was downright laughable the difference between the two of you as operators.

The one thing that made the biggest impression on you after meeting the Lieutenant was his voice and how he spoke. That thick accent always sounded rough and a little gritty. His deep timbre gave such a commanding authority that if given the choice between getting yelled at by Captain Price or Ghost… there was no choice you’d sit for hours listening to Price threaten you over Ghost. He just sounded so scary and attractive all at the same time. Unsurprisingly, it developed into a subconscious dynamic where you saw Ghost as such a superior officer -and human- that no matter how much you liked to daydream about Ghost in less-than-professional situations… You gave him the utmost respect at all times. Easiest of all to recognize was that from day one, you had never addressed Ghost to his face as anything other than ‘sir’. Not even his rank gave enough nuance to his character and presence, so for you, Ghost was inextricably attached to the name.

Ghost however… didn’t like it.

Such a simple address actually made Ghost grit his teeth beneath the shield of his mask. When he heard you call him that, he automatically related it to how he had called General Shepherd ‘sir’ as a subtle sign of mockery and defiance. Thinking about that made him more than necessarily angry and confused, but he couldn’t really accuse you of having ever been given much of a reason to detest him. Therefore, he had to come to the conclusion that you were doing it out of some kind of respect that a drill sergeant or boot camp instructor had bashed into your brain so hard that it stuck permanently. Not surprising since you were much different from the rest of the task force. Yet he had to revise that after the first six months of you being with them permanently. You had gotten settled in. Enough so that you called the Captain, ‘Cap’… Soap, ‘Johnny’… and Garrick, ‘Gaz’ like everyone else did. Exceptionalities only appeared when it came time for you to be around him or have any sort of interaction that wasn’t the occasional silent nod of acknowledgment when walking past each other in the hallways.

He honestly tried to ignore it and you altogether for that matter in an attempt to keep his bitter anger at a minimum. Seeing such a small and fucking happy woman always lingering around somewhere in the corners of his sight couldn’t be anything but a distraction waiting to happen. A bad habit that he didn’t have the mental capacity or emotional willingness to take on. Fuck… he already had to worry about the 141 as a whole, to begin with. Now you on top of that? It was more responsibility than he’d signed up for initially. Hearing you call him ‘sir’ day in and day out began to take its toll on his self-control. Ghost needed to either find out why you were hellbent on calling him that, or at least be enough of a bastard to you to be reassured that you did it because you wanted a polite way to tell him to shove it up his ass sideways.

The Lieutenant had been being nothing short of a prick in the last few months.

He was making paperwork back at HQ a nightmare that couldn’t be solved alternatively through someone like Gaz or Soap who often didn’t mind playing the part of the unbiased third party. Refusing to sign things when you stopped by his office, outright ignoring your necessary questions, and stonewalling you at every single stop along the way just to yield at the last moment and do everything you’d been asking for so the both of you wouldn’t face heat from any higher-ups. That alone was enough for you to consider talking to Soap privately since he knew Ghost the best… but you’d kept putting it off hoping that it was just a passing phase of shitty attitude.

Your patience and emotional strength fell through the floor after attempting for the third time in a week after something so fucking simple as trying to get his approval and official signature on a post-mission report Price had delegated to you after being called to Washington D.C. for a meeting. It wasn’t a major task, but knowing that the Captain had given you the responsibility first over anyone else made you want to impress him and take care of business without incident. God forbid you do something as simple as ask Ghost to pick up a pen and scribble his name at the bottom of a page so that you could send it on through the higher-up channels. It resulted in the Lieutenant straight-up yelling at you in the middle of the hallway outside his office when he’d found you standing there patiently waiting for him to show up. He wasn’t threatening physically, but it cut much deeper into your pride and feelings than it should have.

With every word that dripped venomously out of his masked mouth, you lost a little extra peace of mind on having such an untouchable and unshakably good opinion of Ghost for so long. This moment of undeserved verbal punishment was enough to make the corners of your eyes burn with inner disgrace, self-doubt, and plain old sadness which motivated you to get the hell out of there before the Lieutenant saw you cry. When you turned your back and walked away right in the middle of his berating for you being “too fucking annoying to tolerate”, your only destination was your personal quarters on the other end of the building where a lock on the door could shut out the entire base for as long as you saw fit. Upon the first estimation, it would be after Captain Price returned so that you could have at least one single chance at not getting a second punishment or dismissal from the squad. The sound of your door slamming shut and your back sliding down against it on your way down to the floor silenced the entire room around you, leaving just enough room for the papers clenched to your chest to flutter onto the ground and your weak cries to sounds amplified.

It was hours before you could drag yourself off the floor and into bed, too tired and wanting to fall back on the trained and instinctual desire to hide away somewhere isolated and not move for hours on end. Being a long-distance marksman gave you the talent of patience insurmountable to the average person, allowing days to pass by without you needing to do more than go to the bathroom before coming right back to a motionless position. That’s what you wanted tonight. You needed to focus all of your energy into your brain alone and use it to sort through the hurt burning through your eyes and throat, and the questioning that gave such a sickening feeling a chance root in your stomach. Questions of if it had been foolish to trust Ghost as much as you did the others, knowing how you’d been warned that he would be difficult to work with. Hoping you hadn’t been truly so ignorant of judging behavior to think that the Lieutenant was something much greater than his behavior had been not only today but for the past months.

The next two days were spent laying near motionless… not hungry or thirsty.

Just thinking, sleeping, and staring at the wall across from your bed.

A solid knock on your door was the first human sound that hadn’t been made by you in over forty-eight hours. You’d not looked at your phone or any communications since locking yourself inside, and there was a good chance someone from the squad had come searching for you after such a long period without seeing or hearing from you. When you refused to answer right away, another harder knock banged on the door twice and rattled the steel in its doorframe. Impatient. Testy. Quite familiar with everything you’ve been through lately. Recognizing the Lieutenant was the one outside made your gut churn all over again. Questioning whether to get up or not wasn’t hard. Laying perfectly still in bed, you waited. If you were being honest though, it’d been a long time since you’d spent so long restricting yourself from basic needs for the purpose of acting like a living phantom. Close to three years since any sniper position had left you utterly abandoned without resources. Only this time it was self-induced and nothing short of a trauma response you wanted to hide away from. Truthfully you couldn’t tell if walking to the door was an easy feat or not. After not drinking anything, using the bathroom wasn’t necessary and the last time you’d stood up didn’t cross your memory clearly.

Ghost slammed his fist against the door again one last time. But he didn’t wait long enough for you to answer before rattling the handle to the door with a heavy sigh that was audible through the cracks separating you. Metal on metal gritted softly and moved the door handle a bit further. Recognizing that as nothing short of Ghost picking the lock to your quarters without the slightest care of how he’d be breaking multiple stipulations laid out for them living in HQ. Either your physical or mental state kept you from giving a damn when the handle gave way fully, leaving a bright fluorescence light flooding in from the hallway into your pitch-black room. It made your eyes water and the urge to turn your head away was strong enough to budge your head into the blankets and pillow surrounding. Heavy boots made the paperwork scattered on the floor crunch softly and the sound of his deep breaths gave away his current state of frustration. Clearly not appreciating being locked out of a room that he had no fucking business being in. A long pause led to shuffling around, and the sound of your desk chair creaking under his weight.

“Gonna say somethin’?” He sounded no less irritated than the last time you’d spoken.

It made your throat burn to even think you’d allowed his to get in your head so deeply just to utterly rip every last bit of security and respect away from you for no damn reason. Your silence made quite the statement, even if the actual task of speaking hadn’t been a totally voluntary one. You’d not moved your jaw in days at this point.

“You’ve missed five drill sessions, two mandatory meetings, and one phone from General Shepherd.”

Listing off your offenses hardly bothered you. The consequences of this had been fully accepted days ago, and Ghost would have to do a lot more to get you up from this bed. You’d trained for hell, and no matter how badly Ghost had ruined your almost loving and patient view of him there weren’t enough men on the planet to make you get up voluntarily. Drastic… yes. Satisfying to your own pride… undoubtedly. When you didn’t even let out a single breath loud enough for Ghost to hear instead of that instant apology or willingness to appease him… please him even, with that little quip of ‘sir’ ready on your tongue, the Lieutenant was up out of that chair so quickly you heard it roll into the wall behind him hard enough to thud against the drywall.

“Goddamn it Brass, I demand a fuckin’ answer!” His loud bark caught your attention, but the feeling of your blankets being ripped off your body was a far more startling sensation.

Baring you to the cold air of the room, all your body managed was to raise chills on your skin in a feeble attempt to keep you warm or alert you to seek out that heat again. Tension exploded into shocked silence when Ghost didn’t utter more than a sharp inhale after getting one, shadowed glimpse of your body totally frozen on your stomach. You knew it couldn’t look great. Snipers could come back looking like skeletons sometimes after a long mission if they were given the orders to stay put. You’d not been laying nearly long enough for that to be the case, but dehydration was certainly a symptom you were ignoring quite easily, as well as the possibility of some minor pressure ulcers that would linger for a few weeks if you didn’t move soon. Ghost wasn’t as familiar with the sight of how you felt internally. Snipers weren’t commonly used or in collaboration with Task Force 141. You’d been their first real look at how the inner workings moved or didn’t, and much of your personal way of doing things had dispelled or blown away any misguided assumptions they’d made about your skills early on. Viewing a sniper after days of doing literally nothing, of her own free will…? That wasn’t healthy or accepted in general military companies. Lucky Ghost got the front-row seat though.

When you heard his movement next to you, weight pressed down the mattress at your side in the shape of his hands, and a low sigh registered.

“Brass…” Failing to even say something, you wondered if your own assessment of yourself wasn’t accurate. “It’s been five days.” His faltered tone was truthful, and it destroyed your semblance of time that had been misled by the absence of sunlight coming in through your room.

You thought about trying to say something, resolve falling flat when swallowing felt difficult. A gloved hand rested against your thigh and Ghost almost growled again, sounding a lot more like he was resisting the urge to squeeze you hard. Only his fingers traced along your hip and over the curve in your waist with a tense and heavy swallow. He was being gentle beyond your concept of his depth of emotion and understanding. Nearly loving as he paused over your ribcage with another pinched sort of sound. Staying like that for what felt like hours, you struggled to keep yourself awake. It had been a struggle to move your tongue in your mouth, testing what mobility you’d lost in the short term. Only Ghost wasn’t leaving like you expected, and suddenly his voice returned it its normal stature.

“This’s Ghost. Get a bay ready now, I’m bringin’ someone in.” The reverb of his voice crackled in a radio you knew hooked to his vest. A backup short-range alternative in the case that SAT couldn’t be established or wasn’t clear enough to rely on in the field. Apparently, he used it to keep in contact with someone on base. Or multiple people for all you knew.

“Copy Ghost.” A static voice could be heard and quickly the room was pitched back into a silence you wanted to remain in, but Ghost was adamant to keep infracting alone with a whole list of other rules that, for whatever reason, just didn’t fucking matter or apply to him.

His other hand searched around the dark until he found your face resting amongst the fabric of your bed, curling his hand around your head and meticulously lifting you so very slowly away from the bed with his other arm steadying your legs that had also been taken up off the mattress. You’d never touched Ghost once in all the time you’d known him. Understanding that with his sour attitude, there couldn’t be a single chance in Hell that touching him was an acceptable action. Whereas with Soap, Gaz, and even on occasion Price: hugs, handshakes, shoves, and other physical touches were common, Ghost totally ignored all human contact. Maybe Hell had frozen over outside of your quarters for your weak and still motionless body to be lifted up against the Lieutenant’s chest and carried preciously outside of your room into the burning light of HQ. His chest heaved deep and quickly against you. Both hands curled around you and flexed tighter each time you were able to hear another set of shoes approaching closer to you. Possessive like a soldier. Silent like a Ghost. Determined.

He takes you straight to the medical hall where three nurses and two of the on-shift doctors are fast to respond to your condition. Only Ghost refuses to let them take you away from him for any reason. Stoically stonewalling them just like he habitually did to you as they begged him to lay you down on a transport bed so they could take you back to a room for assessment. The Lieutenant took you there himself, with the group of nurses and doctors hot on his heels and surrounding your bed once Ghost had you settled down inside a private room.

The whole place smells sterile and like alcohol. It’s not the first time you’ve been here, but these are far different circumstances. You’re still too sensitive to open your eyes, but hands are all over your body, gloves fingers touching around the sore places on weight-bearing points on your body, pricks in your fingertips, and a needle poke to the back of your hand. It’s overstimulating, to say the least, and you’re worried they’re going to think you’ve tried to starve yourself to death or decided that living altogether wasn’t worth it and simply wasting away into your bed was the solution. Right away, one of the voices of the medical professionals breaks that worry in your mind by calling for some of the tests to be staggered, needing time between them for nothing other than your own benefit.

“Treat this no differently than prolonged active reconnaissance,” The female voice states softly. “Being on-the-gun for this long is detrimental to all senses, and she’s going to need a while to wake up in a meaningful way.” She added, voice coming clearer the closer she got to your head.

“You’ve been working very hard, I suspect. Maybe not in the field… but you’re one tough lady.” She commented to you quite personally, her hand falling to your shoulders. “We’re going to get you plenty of fluids and start you on a vitamin drip to get everything running as it should again. You’ve also got some slight bedsores, but as long as we take care of them now, you’ll be right as rain soon, sniper.”

Tests were run, treatments began, and nurse after nurse was brought in with both doctors running rotations in and out of your room for the rest of the night. All of them were under the hard watch of Ghost who’d not moved from his position sitting in the corner of your room where he could see not only you but anyone approaching the door. He’d been very quiet throughout the process, watching and waiting for someone to give him some news about your condition with actual certainty. Stewing over the guilt he felt knowing damn well he was the reason you’d shut down so far and were still unable -or unwilling- to come out of it yet. You’d been nothing but the perfect little woman, doing her job with skill and grace, making everyone around you happier just with one glance in your direction. But fuck, he couldn’t stand seeing someone do the callous profession of killing people with one single squeeze of her finger and still have so much innocent and emotional humanity inside such a small body. Ghost couldn’t wrap his mind around it. So instead of trying to do the right thing and figure it out, he did what a man so out of touch with empathy did: Try to snuff it out.

You threatened him whether you or he realized it in the beginning.

But now he could see it with that crystal fucking clear hindsight. How monstrous he was for punishing you with no foundation other than his own selfish fear of seeing a dynamic he didn’t know was possibly wrapped up inside of you. Sweet and little you, never saying anything to him other than a ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’. Goddamnit Ghost knew he’d nearly killed you in a way. Seeing days of neglect in your sallow expression, darkened under eyes, and weakened body was more than even his cold heart could take all at one time. Wasting away for someone as useless as himself, all because he’d never given you enough credit for finding something worth liking in him where no one else had. Screaming at you. Cursing your existence. Right in your face, while he’d been too big of a pussy to even take off his own mask he hid behind every day as he utterly destroyed your meaningful position and life working alongside of his and his squad. Owing you his life wouldn’t nearly cover his offenses. Laughably, Ghost admitted his own life or death couldn’t measure up to yours. So instead of saying any kind of bullshit apology, he sat in the corner of your room and denied himself sleep, food, and water because there wasn’t anything else he could do until you’d been considered healthy and strong again.

Almost one week to the day you had been signed off for return to duty with zero restrictions. Your physical and mental evaluations came back clean, and with both Price and Ghost signing off on the doctor’s orders, you returned to your quarters where you expected to see your room exactly as you’d left it before Ghost brought you into the medical wing. Only nothing was as you’d left it. All the paperwork left on the floor was gone, as well as the other documents that had been left on your desk that still needed finishing. All of it was gone. Your bed and all of the bedclothes you’d been taken from were also missing. Replaced with totally brand new bedding in dark hues of dark green and navy blue with a decidedly feminine pattern on the quilt. Items you didn’t own. Or have any idea where they came from. Even the smell of stale air was traded for a woody, and familiar smell that wasn’t of a candle, or room spray; It was from a person. The person who sat in the corner of your room in your desk chair with his massive arms crossed over his chest and dark eyes staring at you through the painted visage of a skull gracing a black compression mask.

“Sir,” You greet hoarsely, still working through some of the non-significant parts of your recovery that lingered. Ghost stood from his seat and met you halfway across your room with a silent nod, his hand reaching out and motioning for you to step closer to him. Warily but complicit, you make the few steps forward and watch his hand turn to slide against your jaw and stay there firmly. “I expected you to be at drill.” You say with a tinge of surprise at the touch of his bare hand resting against your cheek.

“Should be,” He replied flatly. “But I’m not.” You nod a little, biting your tongue when his fingertip rubs over the curve of your ear. His eyes were soft and his unarmored physique was highlighted by the shadows made by the lamp on your side table. He’s inspecting you, you know as much. Clear by his thumb pressing over your pulse point and the minute exactly that he waits before speaking again.

“Do you like the color green?” His question knocks you off guard and his eyes slide over the quilt laying neatly over your bed. You were quick to answer honestly out of mere habit.

“Yes, sir.”

His hand stiffens against your cheek, and Ghost takes another step closer. His boots graze the tips of yours and his chin is nearly tucked against his chest to look down at you properly. You’re breathing a little harder, anticipating another break of his patience and an onslaught of screaming all directed at your apparent mistakes made right in front of his face. Judgments you’d still be unable to solve no matter how much you thought about it or what you did to try and find a solution of healthy -or not- motives. Ghost doesn’t yell though. He actually lowers his face down to yours, eyes locked right on you and an intensity burning there.

“Why do you call me that?” His low growl made you shiver, especially when his hand dropped lower to your throat. Now squeezing, but holding your gaze steady on him, reminding you of his strength. The power over you he’d always held, and given you the instant to call him ‘sir’ in the first place. Everything about Ghost was overwhelming, and you’d always been one wave away from drowning under him.

“You deserve the honor…” You answer, certain. Even if he’d broken your spirit and came back in the aftermath with questions you still believed to be much too complex for a single-sentence answer. Hopefully, he understood a little bit better but the way you leaned against his hand, letting him actually feel the pressure of your throat pressing into his palm. Literally offering your trust in him over again, testing the Lieutenant and watching as his eyes widened. His other hand came up to your face, counteracting the pressure you’d applied to keep your breath and blood flow uninterrupted. His face is still only inches away from yours but unflinching at the close contact.

“Brass,” He murmured, masked face teasing closer with his own lack of control. “I’m not what you think I am.” Your chest tightens with his words, soaked in desperation that heats your lips and cheeks.

“What’s that, sir?” You question, earning another flinch of his fingers against your skin.

“Safe… Trustworthy… Honorable.” He replies, getting even closer. The smooth material ghosted over your lips, and his breathing fanning over you wetly through the damp material. You sigh, feeling lightheaded. Weak in his hands, confused yet happy to have your life held in the palms of his hands. Confused about where his mistrust comes from, but gaining perspective every time he flinches when you address him in the way you always believed he’d feel the most revered and… loved.

“You’re wrong,” You challenge, hands moving from your sides to run up the thin shirt covering his chest. “You’re a man of fear. One that death shakes at the mention of. Even looking at you through my scope a mile away is enough to remind me you’re capable of inhuman things…” Your voice lowers, hearing thoughts straight from your soul escaping without filter from your brain. “Yet you’re human. So much more than anyone sees. Because it’s not evil that keeps you going. It’s the fear and hatred of losing anything that means something to you.” Your hand rests over his chest, hearing his heart thundering against his ribs.

“You’re not a monster, you are terrified of losing everything. That is why I call you ‘sir’, is because you’re a man unlike any other, Ghost.”

Hearing your own voice say his name like that feels so foreign. Coming off your tongue with the letters not fitting together in a way that you’d experienced. But Ghost… he reacts differently. His hands tightened around you and he hugged you against his chest tightly. His chest heaves up and down and the thunder of his heartbeat impossibly quickens until your left ear can’t hear anything but the repetitive thrum of blood coursing through his body. Heavy arms snake around you, one around your head to secure it to him and the other clinging to your waist with his hand fisting into your shirt until it’s skin-tight on your stomach. The Lieutenant practically shakes against you, using your much smaller frame to steady himself.

Yet he’s dropping to one knee on the ground, bringing you down with him until he’s nearly cradling you and softly rocking your weight back and forth. Soothing himself in much the same way a child would after scraping their knee on the sidewalk and the tears have begun to dry up. God, it made the massive man feel so weak; much like you did after he’d yelled at you a week ago. Both of you kneeled on the floor now with all of your wounds opened up to each other and had silently found a calm within the eye of a destructive storm that had been raging against the pair of you while everyone on the outside had been simply looking on with bated breath to see how the ending would play out.

“Brass - I…” Ghost’s voice choked up again, his arms tightening around you. “God, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t ignore you anymore… I’m losing my mind.”

You lean into his chest harder, arms struggling to reach all the way around his wide back in an attempt to support him a little bit. You understood through the way he was grabbing at anything on you he could desperately. So you did all you could and rubbed your hand up and down his back quietly allowing him the time to work through his thoughts. Both of you had been hurt by this, and while the Lieutenant’s form of apology came in the way he’d ushered you for help when you needed it most and unquestionably been the reason behind the way your quarters looked. Now it was you, cradling a man who’d never shown a single crack in his armor, feeling the weight of so many emotional wounds that he was practically bleeding out with pain and palpable regret.

“You don’t have to…” You whisper, resting your forehead against his.

Ghost just nods his head, panting heavily and giving a low sort of whine. “I’m so sorry…”

You smile sadly. “I’m sorry too.”

His eyes soften more, blinking away at wetness brimming at his waterline. “Say it again… please. I need to hear it. God, please.”

“It’s okay…” Your hands cradle his cheeks, feeling the sharp lines and hard muscles. “I’m right here, Ghost. We’re going to do this over again… Together, Ghost.”

Nodding weakly, he meets your gaze as you say his name again. Reveling in it. “Together… together, with you.”

[slashercult]

pick an image to find out how your future spouse is with you

reminder that not all of the messages in this reading may apply to everyone. so with that i urge you to take what resonates and leave the rest. don't force anything if it does not fit. this reading is mainly just for fun. don't forget to follow or reblog if you want to see me do more readings like this.

pile one

this person is obsessed w you, like they are in LOVE love. & i dont mean in like a creepy "they are never going to leave you alone" type of obsessed, more like you are their favorite person ever and they love hanging out w you all the time. some drake lyrics were coming thru while doing this reading: "everybody has an addiction, mine happens to be you." i feel like very rarely will this person ever not get excited to just be in your presence during your whole marriage. like i can still picture them looking at you the same way they did on your wedding day even when you're both old n grey. they also happen to be a huge romantic so it makes a lot of sense. whenever they have good news they rush to tell you bc they want you to be the first person to share their happiness with. they're overall very sweet, i don't see them being the jealous type - i think they trust you enough to be scared of you going off with some other person. and you'll never even think about anyone else when you're with them because they treat you so well.

pile two

this person's love language is deff physical touch and it'll show when you're around them. they love hugging you and being intimate and doing all that sort of stuff. they honestly do not care where you both are because nothing is going to stop them from giving you forehead kisses or hugs. they love the way that you smell, it reminds them of walks in nature and pieces from their childhood. they love teasing you as well, they're very affectionate w you. they're incredibly supportive and also humble. i see you both being on a ton of trips, particularly road trips, but normal traveling is also coming through. i feel this person may not be as outspoken ab how much they love you, like they won't outright say "i think you're the most beautiful person i know" to you but don't worry bc they definitely think that you are. they have a very unique way of showing their love and i feel that you are someone who tends to pay more attention to details than others which makes you perfect for this person because while others may overlook or misinterpret them, you see them for who they are.

pile three

this person is super fun to be around, like they have the best energy ever. & i dont mean in a "they're always the life of the party" way, more like they make even the smallest moments feel special. i feel like whenever you're having a bad day, this person knows exactly how to cheer you up without even trying. they're the kind of person who surprises you with little thingamabobs and trinkets all the time just to see you smile. like they'll randomly bring you food that you like without you even asking them. they also happen to have a great sense of humor (that's kind of subtle but you like it) so you'll always be laughing a lot together. they’re overall very supportive of you, i don’t see them being the type to criticize your dreams. you'll always feel appreciated bc they will never take you for granted. though his laid-back and relaxed personality are behaviors you see often, you know your future spouse better than anyone. they're very inspiring and honestly i feel like you both will work on a project together bc you share similar dreams (i'm seeing some sort of art form, probably like writing or smth along those lines)

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed or resonated please heart and reblog so i can do more of these readings.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: F.L.U.D.D. (Flash Liquidizer Ultra Dousing Device)

Debut: Super Mario Sunshine

F.L.U.D.D. was Mario's first ever Platforming Buddy! Unless you count the Lakitu Bros. from 64, but they just operate the camera and don't affect Mario's platforming moveset, so I do not. So really, F.L.U.D.D. is- hold on, I really don't want to write every individual period each time I write its name. I'm just going to leave all the periods at the end of the post and you can put them where they belong yourself, or anywhere else you think is funny. Or you can keep them, I don't mind. Put them on a bagel and tell a friend they're poppy seeds!

FLUDD is a big deal. A landmark for the series in terms of mechanics. Not that these specific mechanics returned, but the concept of a buddy granting Mario some new abilities has become a recurring thing. FLUDD even talks, and is fully voice acted! In a robot voice! Like mine! A cute and silly little robot buddy for Super Mario.

So then... why don't I absolutely LOVE it? I feel like I should! But I'm just not getting that urge to imagine it driving a kart or playing tennis like I do with far less important characters. Does it work so well as a Tool that I have a hard time viewing it as a Character? Let's See!

I think FLUDD's design is honestly kind of perfect. The two massive screws that evoke eyes are really clever, and especially great is that they give it + shaped "pupils"! Aside from that, the nozzle's funnel shape is an extremely funny shape for a mouth, and FLUDD does indeed speak out of there. Excellent head! Though I feel like the excitement fizzles out once you look past the head, because the rest is much more "equipment" than "character". That's fine, this IS a piece of equipment! It just makes it feel less like a character, when I'd like it to have a bit of a balance of both. Maybe if the handles also functioned as little feet that it could walk around on? I don't know. Maybe that would be stupid... but I do love when creature designs are stupid!

FLUDD was made by E. Gadd, but that's all the backstory we get. We never learn why it was just there on the Delfino Airstrip, and that's really weird! The perfect tool to combat the game's main conflict is just there immediately when Mario arrives. It could have been a cool little mystery, but I guess the reality is just that some Pianta ordered it when the Goop Incident happened and got express delivery. Or maybe someone already had it and was just waiting for a calamity like this to happen, to justify the purchase!

I don't need to go over everything FLUDD does, right? I'm not the Super Mario Wiki, it's not my job! I'm here for the Weird. And a weird thing is that FLUDD freaken dies.

During the final boss against Bowser's Hot Tub, FLUDD starts stuttering, as if breaking down. And then in the final cutscene... it Dies! Mario goes to it, it tells him it hopes it was of assistance, and it dies. And Mario is sad, because this was his friend. But then in the very next scene FLUDD is back! Some Toads fixed it and it's fine now. So this ends up having the emotional impact of Mario needing to change the battery on his TV remote.

Even though it's our and Mario's friend, FLUDD is still an object, a product. It's technically not just FLUDD, but A FLUDD, one of many, mass produced. I have to wonder if it actually formed any bond with Mario, or if it was a one-sided friendship. Is it even capable of friendship...?

Whatever the case, the others absolutely consider FLUDD a friend, and well, that's just so sweet. During the credits we get to see some extremely compressed pictures of Mario and friends enjoying their real vacation, and FLUDD is there with them! It's not even on Mario's back anymore, or always WITH Mario, for that matter. Sometimes it's hanging out with Peach and some Toads, sitting there independently. I think it is safe to say FLUDD is a real true friend, and likes to just Hang Out sometimes! Even better, maybe it wasn't originally sentient, but learned how to love over the course of the adventure. Such a wonderful robot thing to do!

As expected, thinking in depth about FLUDD has absolutely endeared me to it. Hooray! It's about time. Well, it's too late for FLUDD to be relevant again, probably. I'm not saying it should be a driver in Mario Kart, but I AM saying there should be a kart based on it, and I'm also saying that this kart should canonically be the FLUDD, now upgraded. This feels like something that should have happened long ago!

This has been a long post, but it is far from all FLUDD has had to discuss! So next time, I will post about FLUDD once more, and its various appearances during the GameCube days and beyond! There is milk involved at some point. Get excited to learn what milk has to do with any of this!

Here are all those periods you were promised! I hope you like them.

....................................................................................................

[hyuuukais]

heyllo :3

can i request reader x chan? reader is overwhelmed but keeps it in because that’s what they see chan doing a lot of the time. but eventually it builds to a breaking point where the stress causes them to completely shut down. chan doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong so it might be cute if he just sits on the floor in front of reader and plays clips from a song he’s working on and asks for their opinion (by basically talking out loud to himself) and then after reader calms down they are able to verbalize they just need a human weighted blanket and to be told they are doing amazing and their efforts are not going unnoticed.

im fine. 🥲

just hold me, tell me you love me

pairing : chan x reader

notes : me vs the long title. anyway thank uuu for being my first request! i hope this lives up to ur expectations and can provide u some comfort 🫶 sending u hugs and love 🫂💙 sorry it's taken a bit long to get back to! kind of was getting this feeling myself and have been unable to write, but i think i'm getting back

warnings : reader is overwhelmed, mentions of anxiety, fear of opening up to someone, reader is called pet names (love, baby), reader breaks down

wc : 1.4k

All week there's been a growing pressure in your chest threatening to spill all over the floor and leave you a mess, lying on the ground with nothing else to give. Give, you've given all you can, and now that you're home, you can't do it anymore. You seek peace in the quiet of your shared bedroom, your boyfriend still at work in his studio.

Your boyfriend, who works hard day and night. Your boyfriend, who's loving and caring and sweet. Your boyfriend, who you're scared to open up to when things get really hard, because he doesn't share with you either. Although the relationship isn't fresh, going on a year and a half, there are still things you don't talk about. You don't want to burden him with your struggles when you've always been able to power through by yourself.

Fisting the sheets under you, you can feel the need to cry in your body, the hollow feeling in your chest and the tightness in your throat, but nothing comes. It's like your body knows you're too tired for even that simple of an action, for even one tear to slip. So instead, you sit the the blanket over you, face peeking out to stare at the wall with tired eyes. You can't sleep. If you close your eyes, you know you won't drift off and wake up feeling better, you'll just lie there for hours.

"Baby?"

Something spikes in you when you hear Chans voice ring out through the apartment, curling into yourself more. He shouldn't be home this early and yet, here he is, calling your name and wondering where you are; you're never in bed this early. Chan continues to call out for you until you hear the bedroom door opening quietly.

"Love?" Chans footsteps get closer, and you can feel the edge of the bed dip with his weight as he sits down. "My love..."

His hand brushes over your shoulder, but you can't face him. When you bring the blanket over your head more, he seems to get the hint, shifting to lean against the headboard next to the statue that is your body, unmoving and heavy. You can feel him fiddling beside you, and soon, a soft melody fills your ears. It's enough to distract you temporarily from the raging storm in your head, focusing on the beats, and when Chans voice comes through, it's like you can feel a sense of comfort washing over you. Although it's not enough to completely take these feelings away, you're grateful for what he's doing.

"This song has been giving me trouble," Chan comments over the music, sighing heavily. "I can't figure out if I like the chorus or not, and it feels like it's missing something in general, but I don't know what. What do you think, baby?"

Unable to answer verbally, but still wanting him to know you're listening, you roll around so you're facing him. He chuckles as you bury your face under his thigh when you see he's sitting cross-legged, the pressure on your face oddly comforting. Chan places a hand on your back, his arm resting behind your head as he rubs small circles over your thick layer of blanket. Another song starts playing after a while, another soft one, too. You relax under his touch, feeling the vibrations through his body as he hums along to this one and makes occasional comments about changes he'd like to make.

Exhaustion hits you like a ton of bricks, your eyes fluttering shut as he keep playing different songs and telling you all about them. Both of you are aware that he shouldn't be playing so much unreleased music, but all Chan cares about in this moment is you, helping you, calming you, loving you. The company will never know anyway.

"Chan," You whisper, voice barely audible. His humming stops and he pauses the music, looking down at your limp form with furrowed brows. Moving your head slightly, you're able to look up at him on an angle, the cool air of the bedroom breaching your blanket cocoon.

"What is it, baby?" Chan moves some hair from your face, leaving this palm to rest on your cheek.

"Can you just-" You clear your throat, one hand coming up to play with the hem of his shorts at his knee to calm you more. "Just hold me, tell me you love me?"

Without words, he shifts down to your level and nods. Carefully, Chan guides you to face away from him and brings you close to his body, your back pressed tightly against his chest. His chin rests on your shoulder, now enveloped inside your blanket as he holds onto you tightly, scared that if he let's go, you'll fade away. The thought of you being in so much pain, whether physical or emotional, is something he can't bear; he can't sit on the sidelines and watch you wither away. Neither of you speak as you lie there for what feels like hours, although it must only be a few minutes. The feeling of Chan's breath on your neck is oddly comforting, your own hands finding his arm around your waist and holding onto him.

Something about the way Chan is holding you, comforting you without the pressure of being asked what's wrong, has you finally breaking down. It starts small, holding back a few tears, but a few escaping despite your efforts. Then Chan shifts closer, pressing soft lips on the skin behind your ear.

"I love you, you know that? So, so much," He whispers, inhaling the scent of your shampoo as he buries his face into your hair. "You're doing amazing, baby, and I mean that. I thought... I thought something might have been wrong, but I didn't know how to go about this. I'm sorry it got to this point, I should have asked. I want you to know you can always turn to me, okay?"

His words have the dam breaking and soon enough, the sobs ripping from your chest have you gasping and hiccupping like there's no tomorrow. You don't register the way Chan tries to soothe you as he pulls you around and into his chest. Subconsciously, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and roll his body onto yours, his head sitting in the crook of your neck. The weight feels nice, grounding, and you can finally hear Chan speaking again.

"Shhh, it's okay, you're okay." Chan whispers into the skin of your neck, one of his hands smoothing back your hair. "You're okay, I'm here, now breathe, alright? Breathe, baby."

He inhales deeply, and you do your best to mimic his movements. It's shaky, but you're doing it.

"Good job, you're doing great," Chan keeps his voice low as he speaks. "Keep breathing."

It gets to the point where you don't need to think about breathing anymore, your head throbbing slightly from the sudden outburst of emotion. Chan's body stays on yours, but he props himself up enough to look at you, his palm on your cheek and his thumb wiping away any remaining tears. You can barely look him in the eye.

All he does is stare at you with those pretty, dark eyes, but you realize there's a dampness under them matching yours. You open your mouth to question it, but he shakes his head, a soft smile on his face.

"I don't want you to be in pain alone ever again." His thumb continues to caress your cheek, even though the tears have dried. "I love you too much to let you go through that. Whatever's going on, tell me when you're ready, yeah? For now, just let me gush about my beautiful partner until they're feeling better."

You can't help the small laugh that escapes you as Chan surges up to pepper your face in kisses, saying praises in between each one. With every kiss, you can feel your face heating up until you try and cover it, but he just grabs your wrists and pulls your hands away. Eventually, he slows down, pressing one last kiss directly on your lips, and settles back onto you.

"Let's stay like this for a while," Chan suggests, knowing you need it, but so does he. "My favourite place is in your arms."

-

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom

[its-avalon-08]

Can you write me something for Lando? Where his girlfriend is scared, he's going to leave her because everyone eventually does. (Like a bad home life and never had good relationships) And she's just waiting for Lando to dump her, but Lando resizes this and assures her that she is it for him and he would never abandon her.

i'm never giving up on you (ln4)

avaspeaks: at this point i'm just a lando norris fanclub, and i have no issue with it whatsoever

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, neglect, fears of abandonment, comfort

Y/N sat in the dimly lit living room of her small apartment, the shadows on the walls a stark contrast to the memories that haunted her. Her fingers traced the worn edges of a photo album she had found while cleaning earlier, each page a painful reminder of her past.

Growing up, Y/N's home life was far from stable. Her parents' relationship had been a volatile cocktail of arguments and broken promises, their voices often raised in anger rather than love. The air in their house had always felt thick with tension, a palpable force that suffocated any semblance of comfort or security.

Y/N flipped through the album, her eyes lingering on a picture of her younger self. She was smiling, but the smile didn't reach her eyes, even then. Her parents stood on either side of her, forced grins plastered on their faces for the camera. She remembered that day clearly—it had been one of the few times they had tried to act like a normal family, but the effort was short-lived.

As the years went by, the arguments escalated, and the once infrequent absences of her father turned into a permanent departure. Her mother, already struggling with her own demons, fell into a deep depression, leaving Y/N to fend for herself. She became a master of hiding her pain, putting on a brave face at school while silently dealing with the chaos at home.

Friendships came and went, most of them fleeting. Y/N had learned early on not to get too attached, as people seemed to drift away just when she started to rely on them. Her heart had been broken too many times, not by romantic relationships, but by the countless times she had opened up to someone, only for them to leave.

Closing the album with a sigh, Y/N glanced around her apartment. It was small but cozy, a space she had made her own. The walls were adorned with pictures of places she hoped to visit one day, a reminder of dreams she refused to let go of, despite everything. Yet, the emptiness of the apartment echoed the loneliness that had been her constant companion.

Meeting Lando had been a beacon of light in her otherwise dark world. His infectious energy and genuine kindness had drawn her in, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of hope. But with that hope came fear—the fear that he, too, would eventually leave, just like everyone else.

The sound of the front door opening pulled Y/N from her thoughts. She quickly wiped away a tear that had escaped, not wanting Lando to see her like this. She loved him deeply, but the scars of her past were not easily forgotten.

Lando entered the room, his eyes immediately finding hers. He could sense something was wrong, the way she held herself, the distant look in her eyes. He walked over and sat beside her on the couch, his presence a comforting contrast to the turmoil in her mind.

"Hey," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Are you okay?"

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Yeah baby, I'm okay"

time skip

The tension in the apartment was palpable as Lando and Y/N stood facing each other in the living room. The argument had started innocuously enough—a simple conversation about their busy schedules—but it had quickly escalated into a heated exchange.

"I just don't understand why you can't make more time for us," Y/N said, her voice tinged with frustration. "You're always so busy with races, interviews, and events. I feel like we're barely together anymore."

Lando ran a hand through his hair, his patience wearing thin. "I have obligations, Y/N. This is my career we're talking about. I can't just drop everything whenever I want."

"I'm not asking you to drop everything," she retorted, her eyes flashing with anger. "I'm asking you to make an effort. I want to feel like a priority, not just another item on your to-do list."

"That's not fair," Lando shot back. "You know how demanding this job is. I can't control the schedule. And it's not like you don't have your own commitments."

Y/N crossed her arms, her voice rising. "But I still try to make time for us! You promised me that we'd find a balance, but it feels like I'm the only one trying."

Lando's frustration boiled over. "I’m doing the best I can! Why can't you see that?"

"Because it doesn't feel like it!" she shouted, tears of anger and hurt welling up in her eyes. "I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one making an effort in this relationship."

A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Lando shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and helplessness. "I'm driving around the bloody globe and this - Y/N I'm just- I need some air," he muttered, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.

Y/N watched him leave, her heart sinking. She stood there for a moment, her mind racing with thoughts of abandonment. This was it, she thought. This was when he would realize it wasn't worth the effort and leave her like everyone else had.

Y/N sat on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against her skin. The city lights flickered in the distance, but her mind was far away, lost in the painful memories that had shaped her.

She was six years old, hiding under the kitchen table as her parents screamed at each other. Her father’s voice was a thunderstorm, her mother’s a desperate plea. "I can’t take it anymore, Marie! I’m done!" Her father stormed out, slamming the door so hard it rattled the windows. He never came back.

Years later, her mother’s addiction had taken hold. Y/N would find her passed out on the couch, empty bottles and needles scattered around. "Mom, please," she would whisper, shaking her gently. "Wake up." But her mother’s eyes remained closed, her body unresponsive. Social services came and went, but nothing ever changed. The house felt emptier with each passing day.

Her first boyfriend seemed kind at first, but the facade quickly crumbled. "You’re too clingy," he said, pushing her away. "I need space." He left her in tears, feeling like a burden. The next relationship was worse—manipulation, emotional abuse, constant belittling. "You’re worthless," he sneered. "No wonder your family abandoned you." She believed him, internalizing every cruel word.

Y/N hugged her knees tighter to her chest, the tears slipping down her cheeks. The patterns of her past replayed in her mind, a cruel reminder of the pain she had endured.

Her best friend in high school promised they would be friends forever. But as soon as things got tough, she disappeared without a word, leaving Y/N to navigate the tumultuous teenage years alone. "I thought we were friends," Y/N had said, voice breaking. But there was no answer, just an empty silence.

Her college roommate had been kind, at first. They shared secrets and late-night talks until one day, without warning, she moved out, leaving a note saying she couldn’t handle Y/N’s “drama.” Another abandonment, another confirmation that Y/N was too much for anyone to handle.

She wiped her eyes, the heaviness in her chest a familiar ache. Lando was different, she knew that. He was kind, loving, and patient. But the fear that he would eventually leave her, just like everyone else, was always there, lurking in the back of her mind.

The balcony door slid open, and Y/N didn’t turn around. She felt Lando’s presence as he stepped outside, the silence stretching between them.

"I'm sorry my love," Lando finally said, his voice soft and weary. "I didn't mean to storm out like that."

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "I just… I don't want to feel like this anymore, Lando. I don't want to keep waiting for you to leave. It's not your fault, it really is not. I'm just- my past. It has been hurting me so much even when I try for it not to."

He moved closer, sitting beside her on the balcony floor. "Y/N, I'm not going to leave you. I didn't realize how much this was affecting you. I thought we were okay but I need you to speak to me, to voice your conerns."

She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I was scared to tell you how I really felt. I didn't want to seem needy or make you feel guilty."

Lando reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "You have every right to tell me how you feel. I need to know if something's wrong so we can fix it together."

She looked at him, her eyes filled with vulnerability. "But what if you get tired of always having to reassure me? What if you decide it's too much?"

He squeezed her hand, his gaze steady and sincere. "I won't. I'm here because I love you, Y/N. I want to be with you, and that means working through the tough times, too. I know I haven't been perfect, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work."

Y/N's heart ached with both fear and hope. "I want to believe you, Lando. I really do."

"Then let me prove it to you," he said softly. "We'll figure this out together. I promise."

She nodded, a small smile breaking through her tears. "Okay. I trust you." He could see the pain in her eyes, the scars left by a lifetime of abandonment and disappointment. He knew this was the moment to make her understand how much she meant to him.

"Y/N, look at me," he said softly, lifting her chin so their eyes met. "You are perfect for me in every way. I don’t just love you because you’re beautiful or because we have fun together. I love you because of who you are, inside and out."

She tried to look away, but he gently held her face, making sure she was listening. "You are the strongest person I know. Everything you've been through, everything you've survived—it hasn't broken you. It's made you who you are, and that person is incredible."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn't say anything. Lando continued, his voice full of conviction. "You have this amazing heart, Y/N. You care so deeply about the people in your life, even when they don't deserve it. You give so much of yourself, and that’s something truly special."

He brushed a tear from her cheek. "You make me want to be a better person. Every day with you is a gift, and I don’t take that lightly. I see how you look after everyone, how you’re always there for others, even when you’re hurting. You inspire me."

Lando's voice grew more intense as he spoke. "You’re not a burden. You’re not too much. You are exactly what I need in my life. You’re my anchor, the one who keeps me grounded. Without you, none of this—racing, fame, everything—would matter. You’re my reason, Y/N."

She sniffled, her tears falling freely now, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "I know you’re scared, and I get it. But I’m here to stay. I’m not going anywhere. I promise you that. We’re in this together, and I will never, ever leave you."

He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes again. "Please believe me when I say that you are my everything. I love you more than words can say, and I will spend every day proving it to you. You are my future, Y/N, and I’m not going to let anything take that away from us."

She clung to him, her sobs quieting as his words sank in. "I love you too, Lando," she whispered, her voice shaky but filled with hope.

"And I love you," he replied, kissing her forehead gently. "Always."

For the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to make it work. And for now, that hope was enough.

[elaacreditava]

Have I found you, flightless bird?

Azriel Shadowsinger x reader

Summary: Rhysand brings back home a mysterious girl with a distaste for Illyrians. Azriel feels attracted to her and compelled to change her view on things.

Warning: angst, blood, gore, pinning and fluff

Word count: 4.661k

Note: This is my first writing ever. Never thought about writing fics, only reading them (obsessed) but I couldn't take this fic out of my mind so I decided to write and share it.

After Amarantha's death, Rhysand winnowed back to Velaris with an unknown female. As soon as he saw his family, Rhys fell to his knees and was hugged by Mor while cried and said repeatedly "she's my mate". His cousin, Amren, Cassian and Azriel stared incredulously at the mysterious woman in the corner of the room.

"Who are you?", the Illyrian commander asked after the shock of the situation has passed.

"I'm Y/n and no, he's not talking about me, I'm not his mate", Y/n answered feeling the need to get rid of any misunderstanding. No one asked any more questions while all of them sat down after Rhysand had calmed himself enough to start explaining everything that had happened since the beginning.

When Rhys was done hours later, Azriel noticed how little he knew about Y/n, as if Rhys was leaving her out of it as much as possible intentionally, only saying that she was Amarantha's slave just like him.

Seeing Y/n rounded ears, no scales, horns, wings, slitted eyes or anything that made her high fae or lesser, Azriel deemed she was human, the most beautiful female he has seen in his life with her smooth long hair, slender body and sharp face, no older than 25. But what got Azriel most about her were her eyes, more than the exquisite color they had, the look she gave at them, the kind of look of someone that had been through a lot and would never let it happen again was always present. He needed to know more about her, so he decided to pry for answers.

"Why did you bring the human back with you? Why not send her back to the mortal lands?" Az asked Rhysand but as soon as he finished his sentence, Y/n eyes turned in his direction and the shadowsinger knew he had made a mistake. "The 'human' is no human at all and she hates when someone talks about her as if she's not present." Y/n said in a disgusted tone and with such fury that Azriel felt like he's been electrocuted, but being the spymaster he is, he didn't let show how much the storm in her eyes affected him.

"Y/n isn't human, she's... something else, but that's not my story to tell. She will tell whenever she feels ready to share." replied Rhys trying to keep the conversation under control. Azriel and Y/n kept staring at each other for a while and he had a feeling she didn't like him very much. When the silence was uncomfortable enough for everybody else in the room, Azriel was the first to speak "Apologies, I didn't mean to, I see you and know you can speak for yourself." That caught Y/n off guard. Was it possible for an Illyrian to be different from all the ones she has meet before? Apologizing and looking at her as if had worth stirred something in her chest, something she hadn't felt before, like a tug in her heart. But she decided to not let it show and only nodded in return.

After introducing Y/n to his family, Rhysand decided the conversation would be over for now. "Y/n and I must rest" Rhys said to everyone and turning to her he finished with "Nuala and Cerridwen will help you getting settled." With that, the High Lord left and everybody else went to their own affairs while the half-wraiths took Y/n to the room she would be staying.

A warm bath was waiting for her and since she was feeling the need of washing away everything that happened she went in. Scrubbing the skin raw has become a tradition, the necessity of getting rid of Amarantha's touch and smell she could feel on herself after she was used, like Rhys was. Even now, with Amarantha dead, Y/n could smell her as if it was impregnated on her skin, as if she would never be free of it. So she scrubbed and cried and scrubbed some more like she did for years and years.

Having left the bath and changed into a short sleeved knee length dress, Y/n felt as clean as she could get. She was thinking about taking a walk around to explore the house when someone knocked on the door. Y/n went and opened it coming face to face with Azriel. Looking at him from this close, she could see the green in his hazel eyes, the light freckles on his cheeks, how his sharp jaw could cut anything. He was breathtaking. And breathless she was... until she realized they were staring at each other, so she cleaned her throat and said "Can I help you with anything?"

Azriel noticed her puffy eyes from crying during her scrub session and the raw skin of her arms and neck, so red that looked very sensitive to touch. The dark blue dress she was wearing complimented her curves and skin tone. He could only think about how was it possible to someone to look so mesmerizing even with puffy eyes, raw skin and a simple dress.

After a moment he averted his eyes "I feel like we started with the wrong foot. I'm Azriel, spymaster of the Night Court." he extended his hand, palm up, his shadows went to his fingertips, eager for her to make contact so they would jump to her warm fingers. Y/n put her hand on his and he kissed it and gave her a little bow while he saw his shadows circling her wrist and caressing her forearm "They seen to like you" his lips twitched trying to hold a smile before he continued "I was wondering if you need anything. Perhaps a tour around the place?" he said looking at her eyes now with a little smile, still holding her hand, and Y/n was wondering how soft his lips would feel against hers.

No! She couldn't get involved with him! After everything she's been through, she didn't need an Illyrian brute controlling her choices, taking away her freedom like she knew was part of their culture. As soon as she thought about it, she snatched her hand back and said "No thanks, I don't need to go anywhere with your kind" dismissing him. She was ready to close the bedroom door but he stopped her, holding the door ajar. She could see hurt and fury in his eyes, his shadows back around him were bristled when he asked "What do you mean with 'my kind'?" at that moment she thought he probably didn't always need to torture to get the answers he wanted, the look he was giving her and the tone he voiced his question was almost enough to make her apologize and cower in a corner. But she didn't suffer all she did all those years to run and hide when confronted any male.

"I don't need an Illyrian male telling me what to do and where to go, soon enough you'll start telling me what to wear and how to behave" she replied coldly.

"What?! I was just trying to be nice since you just got here and don't know your surroundings. Never wanted to control you in any way, just thought you would feel more at ease knowing how to come and go." He took a step closer, she could smell night-chilled mist and cedar coming from him "Don't compare me to other Illyrians you have met before. You don't know me", his low voice giving her goosebumps and making her heart race.

Azriel felt an anguish in the current situation he hasn't felt before. Being compared to everything he had fought against his whole life.

"Whenever you feel like leaving your prejudice behind, I'll be around." with that he left leaving Y/n stunned by the door. She was so shocked by his words that she didn't remember closing the bedroom door, walking to her bed and laying down. She felt a mix of rage and shame, how he talked to her, after she patronized him, how her prejudice made her think they're all the same when all he showed her was kindness. She took a deep breath and got up ready to find him and apologize but as soon as she got to the door and opened, Rhys was there. "Hey! I just saw Az leaving, looking mad, what happened?" he asked, so Y/n told him everything about their encounter.

"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Y/n. The brooding face, shadows and bat wings might give you the wrong impression but once you get to know him, you'll see that he's nothing like you ever knew. Let the past in the past and try to be open minded" the High lord said, making her feel even worse about the situation. So she got up fast and said "I need to go, Rhys. Do you know where I can find him? I really need to apologize."

"He's probably at the library, it's where we usually find him when he's pissed. It's on the lower floor, fourth door to your right." he instructed her knowing she had no idea where was anything in the house. "Thanks Rhys, wish me luck!" she said passing Rhysand and giving him a peck on his cheek.

"No problem! And you won't need luck, Az is a nice male and you are you. He will understand and both of you will be fine." he said with a smirk looking at her as if he knew something Y/n didn't. She went to the lower floor and the fourth door to her right was a large one, very library like so she got in and started looking for him. The place was so big, with endless shelves full of books. She will definitively spend some time here in the future. For now she had to find him, but had no idea where to start.

Something on the ground was trying to get her atention and when she stepped closer she noticed it was one of his shadows. When she bent down to touch it the shadow moved to an aisle luring her to follow it and so she did. After some twists and turns she found him sitting on a sofa with a pile of books and reports laying on the table by his side. He looked very comfortable, with his legs spread, one hand holding a report while the other arm was resting on the back of the sofa holding his head in place. His wings were behind the sofa resting, just as spread as his legs. And damn, if the rumors about wingspan were true, the male in from of her was very blessed. Fuck, she comes to apologize and can't stop thinking about those things, not nice!

As soon as she came into view, he stiffened and fixed his posture, looking tense and ready to fight. "I've come in peace!" She stated quickly while holding her hands up in a surrender position for him to see. "I was so unfair comparing you to others, I am very sorry about it. I've had some bad experiences in life but that doesn't excuse how I treated you." Az looked her over, her guilty ridden face told him she was being sincere.

"It's okay, I forgive you" he replied and she instantly looked so relieved and for a couple of seconds he just kept gazing at her, something in her was so entrancing, he couldn't take his eyes off of her until -"wait, how did you find me here? This library is like a maze" he said imagining the trouble she went through until finally finding him.

"Uh, as soon as I entered the library one of your shadows found me and guided me to you" she said and his jaw dropped. His shadows always helped him to hide, not to be found. It didn't matter who was looking for him, they never gave his whereabouts to anyone. "You little traitors" he scolded them playfully. Even feeling a bit betrayed by them he felt glad that they did it and the air between Azriel and Y/n could be cleared.

"So, I feel like we started with the wrong foot. I'm Y/n. Would you mind giving me a tour around the place?" she used almost the same words he did hours before by her door so he barked a laugh, got up, took the hand she extended, kissed it, put it around his byceps and told her "It would be my pleasure."

He didn't fail to notice how his shadows would naturally run from him to hers, excited to touch her warm skin and back to him bringing her smell with them.

Months have passed and the dynamic between them both was as if they have known each other for centuries. They would talk for hours about a book they read, go to a cafe to have their favorite pastries, walk down the Rainbow while chatting about the future, training hand to hand combat, since Y/n begged to learn anything because she felt the need since she was never able to fight back in her slave days or before that.

Everything was great between them, except for the fact that Y/n still didn't disclose anything to him about her past. He didn't know what she was, where she came from, how old was she, and that made Azriel confused. She was comfortable enough to have him around, to do almost everything together, even sleep on his shoulder once when they were reading together side by side on the couch and she fell asleep, laying her head on his shoulder, then moving to his chest, and when waking up, not being embarrassed about it, as if it wasn't the first time this was happening and as id it wasn't almost gave him a heart attack.

Her head near his face, he could smell her hair, feel the softness of it on his cheek, he wanted to run his hands through it, feel it between his fingers. Then she moved a little bit to get more comfortable and her nose was almost touching his chest. He could feel her breath on his skin since the V neck he was wearing showed some skin. It tickled him and gave goosebumps.

He couldn't concentrate on his book any longer. All he could think about was how would it feel to have her hair between his fingers while she kissed his chest, his abs, his- never mind! He took a deep breath and tried very hard to take his mind off of it. They would be very flirty with each other all the time but it was just a joke, she would never be interested in him more than friends. She was so kind, brave, smart and pretty. And he was just him.

Today was training day and they were stretching at the center of the ring before starting with hand to hand combat. Y/n was wearing leggings and a long sleeved shirt. Azriel noticed Y/n never wore sleeveless clothing, she would show her arms sometimes but never her back. He tried to dismiss this information but it kept nagging at him.

Azriel was wearing his combat leathers, and Y/n couldn't stop staring at his muscles, how good he was looking. He kept giving her a welcoming smile, an encouraging one since they were about to start fighting and he would handle her ass to her. She has been training for months now but he has been training for centuries, it didn't matter what a great professor he was, she would never win a fight between them, even so with her getting distracted when their skin touch, when he imobilizes her and she can feel his breath on her neck, when he's so close that everything she can do is do her best to keep herself under control and not kiss him then and there.

It was impossible not to fall for him. He was amazing, she could spend the whole day with him and would never tire of his company. Everyone saw him as a serious fae, never smiling and always in the shadows, but with Y/n he was funny, attentive, respectful and smart. Gods, she wanted him so much. But he would never want her, a broken girl, her years as a slave only left a shadow of the person she was. He would answer her flirtation with the same tone but of course it was just a joke to him, he could have anyone, why would he choose her?

"Okay, today we'll test the grappling you've been learning lately. We have tested your kicking lessons and punching ones in the last classes. Today, no kicking, no punching, only imobillizing, got it?" He asked and even knowing what was coming, she got nervous. He was very built, tall and large so she would have trouble dealing with it.

He taught her how to take down bigger opponents but one thing was just theory and training other was to use it to really win the fight. Y/n just took a deep breath and nodded in confirmation.

They started to circle each other, looking for a weak spot to take advantage of. She tried to trip him tackling his legs but he just pushed her back and gave a little laugh. She knew he was playing her, that he could have finished it already but he wanted to see what she had learned. So back at circling she remembered a takedown she read about, trained the movement in front of the mirror many times but never really did it on someone. If she was able to execute it, Azriel wouldn't be expecting it since it was one he never taught her.

Y/n keep a natural stance while moving closer to him. She then gripped his left wrist with her right hand and hooked his left armpit with her left arm. Taking a big step forward, she rotated her body and dropped to her knees between his legs, with her back to him, using the momentum to change Azriel's center of gravity and pull him over her shoulder and onto his back on the mat. He looked so surprised that Y/n kept staring at his face with the biggest smile he has ever seen. He took a second to save that scene in his memory and in the next he dropped her and mounted her waist.

"That was one hell of a takedown, but instead of gloating you should've held me down so I wouldn't get up and take you down" he said looking down and smiling at her.

Y/n was breathless. She didn't know if it was because of the takedown, or of when he caught her off guard after it or because he was sitting on top of her with that smile that melted her every time.

"Hey, are you okay?" He whispered thinking she could be hurt and moved his hand to move her hair away from her face. Lost in his actions, he didn't notice the mischief in her eyes. She hugged his forearm and bumped her hips to the side, making him loose balance and falling on his back again. This time she learned her lesson, before he could close his legs around her hips or get up, Y/n moved fast and mounted him as he did to her minutes ago but now, she held his wrists above his head.

They both were breathing heavy, their noses inches apart, looking at each other's eyes. His eyes moved from hers to her lips and back to her eyes.

"I yield" he breathed against her lips. She threw all control away and kissed him deep and hard. Moving one hand to his hair and the other to the back of his neck she tried to show him through that kiss how much he meant to her, how glad she was to have met him and how she wanted a future with him.

With his arms now free from her grip, Azriel buried with fingers in her hair and his other hand moved to the small of her back. He waited so long for this to happen and to have her kissing him back, gods! He hoped she could feel how in love he was with her, how he never wanted to part from her, have her in his arms all the time would be everything.

Y/n lifted her head a little bit, just enough to look at his face, that's when she felt it. That tug in her heart so strong that made her gasp. The bond snapping into place. She widened her eyes in disbelief. Azriel was her mate.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The shadowsinger asked, noticing the change in her demeanor. He moved his hand from the small of her back to between her shoulder blades and saw when she instantly winced in pain and pushed his arm away, getting up and turning her back to him, ready to leave.

Before she could go, Azriel grabbed her arm, keeping her in place. When she looked at him, her eyes were shining silver with tears. He knew he didn't hurt her back, had mastered enough his fighting skills to be sure of it. The pain must be from a wound badly healed from her time Under the Mountain.

"Please, talk to me" her mate pleaded, "please, I want to help, I want you!" With that, she looked at his hazel eyes and saw all the love he had for her. It was time to trust him with her secrets since her mate always showed himself to be loyal and reliable.

Y/n moved her arm from his grip but didn't walk away, only turned her back to him. When he thought she would ignore him, she started taking her shirt off. Under that she had a spaghetti strapped top and where he touched her back before were scars. The red and twisted tissues were in the same placement of his wings.

"I'm Illyrian, Az. Amarantha severed my wings with her sword after I tried to run away from Under the Mountain years ago" she told, looking at him over her shoulder with tears running down her face. "My father was Rhys' father Illyrian commander. The night Tamlin's family was killed by Rhys dad at Spring Court, my father was there helping them. So Amarantha slaved Rhys and I for our parents part in her ally's death."

Azriel was at loss for words. Y/n had wings once. And they were cut off of her with a sword. The pain she must have felt. It's a wonder she's still alive. He had so many questions but afraid of overstepping he started slow with "that's how you know about Illyrian culture, why you thought I was like them all."

"Yes, I grew up witnessing how females were treated by males in our village. Always being submissive, ready to serve, never fighting back" she told him with rage in her voice. "When I was old enough, my father clipped my wings. Told me it would be easier to marry me to someone this way, as it was a display of submissiveness. He died the same night as Rhys' father, by Tamlin's hands. And when Amarantha came for me, I couldn't fly away and didn't know how to fight to defend myself. So she took me." Her father made her a flightless bird, always caged, never able to feel the wind on her wings ever again.

By now, Y/n was on her knees with her forehead on his chest, the conversation having taken all her strength, while the spymaster kneeled before her, holding her as if he could prevent her from breaking, from falling to pieces.

"After years of serving in Amarantha's bed whenever she felt like it, I tried to run away. It was the best chance I've had in years, I would have made it if I could fly after leaving her court, but with clipped wings I had to walk, that's when the Attor got me" Y/n was sobbing so hard that Azriel was shushing her, caressing her hair and promising he would never anyone hurt her again. She believed him, knew he would burn the world down to keep her safe.

After taking deep breaths to calm herself, she continued, "Amarantha said that clipped wings weren't enough to make me submissive, she would need to try harder. So she grabbed her sword and severed them. I'll never forget the pain I felt that day, the sound of my screams, the blood spilling from my back. After that, she called for Rhysand, told him that his mission was to not let me die of blood loss and left.

"Rhys found a healer and they did the best they could in the conditions presented to them. I survived, but a wound this bad needed better conditions to heal properly, that's why is more sensitive than a normal scar. Madja's already working on it, prescribed some balms and potions to lessen the pain and make it less sensitive but she said it will take a while to be completely painless."

"Y/n, I'm so sorry this happened to you, all of this! What your father did, the price you paid for his actions, all you suffered before and during Amarantha's reign. I wish you never went through situations were you had to show your strength but going through it all, you were so strong, so brave!" Azriel said with choked voice while holding Y/n face in his hands, touching her forehead with his, drying her tears with his thumbs, caressing her cheek in reassurance. The shadowsinger himself was on the verge of tears, keeping a hold on his emotions while trying to comfort Y/n. "I would do anything to save you from all this suffering, anything" Azriel whispered to her.

Y/n felt so light, having someone to share the burden, someone she trusted, was like having a boulder removed from her chest. And to hear all reassurances he was giving her made her feel so safe and seen. She gripped his face in her hands and kissed him lightly but with so much love that he felt the bond snapping into place right away.

Azriel gasped, opened his eyes and Y/n was staring at him with a smile on her face, eyes rimmed with tears. She gave a tug on the bond and he gasped again, she laughed and said "Can you feel it?"

Her mate just nodded gaping at her. She laughed harder then said "thank the cauldron! I thought I'd have to endure ages until it snapped to you too!"

"You're my mate" he whispered, she nodded. "I've found you... I can't believe it" he was stunned. "When did it- oh, minutes ago when you were looking at me after our kiss!" He realized, dumb struck.

"For a spymaster sometimes you're very clueless, you know?" She said giggling. "I've been giving you clues about how I feel about you, flirting and spending as much time as I could with you. Mates or not, I've been in love with you for a while now."

Azriel was dreaming, he was sure of it. No way this was real, it was too good to be truth. Y/n was his mate and was in love with him. He never thought he was deserving of a mate, much less deserving of her and here they were, mates and in love. The Mother blessed him with the greatest gift.

"Looks like you bested me this" he said smiling, then cupped her jaw to to lift her face and capture her eyes and said "I will protect you with my life. I'd die and kill for you."

Y/n knew he was speaking the truth because she could feel through the bond and also that's how she felt about him. Knowing all he has been through since a child, she would die and kill to keep him safe.

Her lover, her mate, her Azriel.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Dating After A Toxic Relationship

A/N: Not requested, just an idea I had 😊 Remember, requests are open! Be sure to read my rules and please respect that I'm only interested in writing for these characters. Thank you! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher is very vocal. He knows you jump and scare easily, so he always makes a point to say where or if he's going to touch you, if he's upset and why (so that you don't worry you're the reason), when he'll be back, etc. This takes a lot of trial and error between the two of you. Butcher is an angry, violent person. You knew this going into the relationship. There's always a worry it could turn on you, and that's what he fears most: that you'd ever be afraid of him. He reassures you constantly he would never, ever hurt you. He knows all about what your ex did. You wanted to be up front and honest, knowing some of your behaviors might seem strange or out of place. The last thing he ever wants to do is emulate your ex and though it takes a lot of rewiring and assessment of his actions, he's trying to be better for you so that he doesn't lose you.

Hughie hates what your ex has done. Bit by bit, you give him the overview of your relationship, what they were like, and how they treated you. Sometimes you jump or flinch and he's reminded all over again that, despite what he does, there will always be this underlying fear and distrust. It took a long time to date him let alone tell him everything. He's patient and gentle and makes sure you're okay with every step you take further into the relationship. He takes every relationship show regardless of past history. When you see your ex again you have to pull Hughie away, not wanting him to start anything. He can't help it. He looks at them and he sees red. He's filled with disgust and hatred. Hughies always been on the timid side, but the thought of someone hurting you like that boils his blood.

Annie never wants you to feel like you have to hide that kind of thing from her. She knows all about power hungry people who take advantage of others. Still, she can't believe it. You're kind and funny and sweet and you always have everyone's best interest at heart. You know what it's like to get hurt, you wouldn't dare hurt someone else. She knows you don't want any trouble with them, you just want to move on, but she can't help but light up when she sees them. Secretly she goes to them and makes it known if they so much as look at you, even think about you, they're done. She's always asking if what you're doing is okay and wants to be as open as possible about boundaries. You're grateful she likes innocent touching, mostly hand holding, and when you're having a hard time you know she'll grab your hand and squeeze it, reminding you she's always here for you.

M.M knows all about your ex. He was the one to help you get out of that relationship in the first place. Since then you've become really close, so close he's now your boyfriend. After your ex shows up at your work one day, Marvin decides to take things into his own hands. The Boys make a special appearance at their apartment where they make it known they are never to go near you ever again. You have a lot of fears about trusting someone again, especially in a relationship, but M.M. is patient. He never wants you to feel like you have to do something you don't want to or aren't ready for. He's more than okay with taking things slow. He actually prefers it that way. He's extremely protective over you and, unfortunately, are his biggest weakness. If Homelander ever found out about you, M.M. would be done for.

Frenchie met your ex a few times before you broke things off. The way they spoke to you, wanted to control you, all the sings were there. He feels awful that he didn't see it sooner, but you could never blame him. You're just glad you got away from them. Frenchie is attentive and devoted and males sure you're comfortable with every step in your relationship. He offers, jokingly though not jokingly, to have your ex killed when they start sending calls and texts and emails. You assure him it's okay, you'll handle it. He knows you're more than capable, but he's always got a back up plan ready just in case they want to try anything more. He's extremely patient when you decide to tell him. He knows there's more to the story than what you're sharing, but he doesn't push it. He's grateful you shared anything at all. It's a big step and means a lot that you'd trust him.

Kimiko is learning to trust just like you are. You've both been through a lot, but you find a great solace in one another. Kimiko isn't sure who this random person is that shows up looking for you, only that the rest of The Boys are suddenly cagey, angry, and very protective. They're grateful you're not there. When she asks about them, you finally tell her. You dated a while ago and it wasn't a safe relationship. You thought you could get away from them, but they seek you out. They like to know they're in control. She feels awful. You're genuine and smart and sweet. Those terrible things that happened to you only made you softer and, unfortunately, more prone to anxiety and distrust. She leaves it up to you to take the next steps in your relationship. You appreciate more than you could ever put into words. You love her, but you need to take things slow.

Bonus! Homelander killed them a long time ago. The moment you showed up in his life, he knew there was someone who'd hurt you. It takes a long time to tell anyone, let alone him. One day the phone calls and texts and emails just stop. They stop showing up at Vought looking for you. You think you've finally scared them off or perhaps they got bored, but it was actually your new boyfriend. Normally he'd like to boast all about how he tortured them, h9w easy it was to kill them, how stupid they looked when he pulled out all their teeth, but he knows you wouldn't like that, so he keeps it to himself. He knows no one will miss them. You certainly don't. You're sleeping better now and getting more comfortable in your relationship without the constant threat of them showing up or following you. Homelander rests easy knowing they can never hurt you again. He lacks a lot of self-awareness in this department.

[crucialplayer]

Thoughts on Mars placements 

!! everything is based purely on my experiences with signs, written with no other purpose than to share my observations and be unserious.

Aries mars. Practical jokes lovers, gentle touch haters. Hit u while laughing. Love the banter, sometimes a lil too much. Go for it (whatever it is) fiercely and without a single backthought. Explosive in conflict, but in a sense of crying screaming throwing up banging against the wall. 

Taurus mars. Life could be on Mars but they still be going on and on about that one thing. Sudden outbursts of anger. It might seem out of the blue but they’ve probably been brooding some hurt for a long time. They just hoped it’d go away… naturally. Also surprisingly horny. 

Gemini mars. Mind fuckers. That one guy defending polygamy «as a concept» rather too enthusiastically. Can talk their way out of hell with one leg already in the hottest boiling cauldron. I suppose it’s a placement most people will find charming at some point (says a lot about society…). 

Cancer mars. Rumors are true, the sky is blue, and they are manipulative. Watching anybody else display vulnerability is the same as watching a children’s play to them. Ur rawest and most disturbing moment? To a cancer mars its a chill Tuesday morning. Humanization of a silent treatment. 

Leo mars. You’d gather that its serious by the sheer scale of their reaction but I promise its not. 9 times out of 10 will cause a huge scene and won't be able to remember it 2 days after. Very defensive. Won't put themselves out there if they’re not guaranteed a 10-minute standing ovation. 

Virgo mars. They believe that they make sense but usually they don't. They’re calculating but it’s like they do it backwards resulting in some of the most unhinged decisions made. Want to be praised for… um… existing as they are. Kind of a menace in conflict. 

Libra mars. If u think it's hard for you to wait for them to make up their mind imagine how they feel. It’s similar to watching a plant move without a time-lapse. Cry when they’re angry. Go with the flow not because they’re chill but more cause it's easier for them. 

Scorpio mars. They ARE vengeance and I'm scared. Slash 3 tires after one fight mars. Not the person you’d try to make jokingly jealous. For further information read the lyrics to… really any Taylor Swift song. 

Sagittarius mars. Don't think before they do and think after they’ve done smth only if u make them. The kind of people that will try everything once just to know how it feels (and then present that to everyone as if they’ve found god by bungee jumping one time). Very easy to dare. Also are always checking someone out. 

Capricorn mars. Blood is cold, the heart is beating twice per minute. ISN’T IT lonely on top of the world fellas??? If u get them to like u your love language better not be words of affirmation. Instead of arguing chances are high they disappear for a while or just go into a rock regime. 

Aquarius mars. Are only attracted to intellectuals so naturally in a room full of sweet gentle people will go for the most narcissistic motherfucker out there. They’re sorta very patient but I feel maybe it's just them dissociating… Ponder a lot before making a move. 

Pisces mars. I'm afraid no one knows whats going on there. It's like they’re never actually present. Therefore often times can have a delayed reaction to smth, which people might read as passive aggression. Very sentimental, will write u a song or a poem on a second date. Also low LOW energy.