#but just! whatever u think of first rather than having a long think

[babyblue-mind]

making my own lil tag game bc why not!

name the first five movies/tv shows that you like that pop into your head

back to the future

supernatural

dark angel

dead poets society

the talented mr. ripley

and name the first five songs (by five different artists) you like that pop into your head

eclipse - pink floyd

the song remains the same - led zeppelin

hot n cold - katy perry

lovin on me - jack harlow

photograph - def leppard

tagging:

@castrotophic @mothgardens @ididit-allofit-foryou @catboymishacollins @allthecryingdragons

@fleursfairies @a-novak-thesequel + anyone else who’d like to join!

[astrow1zar6]

Big Slay Placements to have in your chart

Jupiter in the 10th house: big boss placement, these people are usually so hardworking and ambitious at whatever job they do & have the ability to climb the financial ladder very quickly. Gives good luck in finding a career & making money. A lot of big business bosses & CEOs have this placement.

Jupiter in Leo: oh you’re the main character, this is such a lucky placement to find in your chart. Grants amazing level of confidence and charisma that can get you very far in life. Usually have good luck in dating as well & can be very good with children. This person will be very generous & big hearted, usually the party starts when they walk in. Very loud & unashamed of themselves. If afflicted however it can be big narcissists & have a hard time saving money. But overall these people are pretty lucky.

Venusian moon/degrees (Taurus + Libra, 2,14,19,26 degrees) gives a very pleasant personality and a charming mannerism. Bestows beauty on the native as well. I’ve never met anyone with these placements/degrees that are unattractive I swear. These people also have an easier time finding their soulmate than most. Can have very satisfying relationships that are usually long term. Their partners are also usually pretty attractive as well. These are truly bad bitches!

Venus in the 5th house: can charm the pants out if anyone. Even if they aren’t that attractive they can get anyone in their bed I swear. Although I notice their relationships can be rather short lived it’s usually not long till they have another admirer waiting to date them. They love to flirt.. and are usually very good at it. They see flirting & seduction as a game & have a lot of fun with it. It usually makes the native very physically attractive & have very beautiful children as well. U ever see those families where all of them just look so perfect?? 9/10 one of the parents got Venus in the 5th house. However they can struggle with addiction easily whether it be sex, gambling, dating ect.. so be careful you can get very overindulgent!

Venus/asc or in 1st house: a classic bad bitch astro placement. These people are just super pretty. They get noticed for their beauty and lot and usually have a lot of admirers. These people are easy to get along with and are agreeable (they hate arguments and confrontation). They can get popular easily on social media for how they look. Have a very ideal feminine body type (usually hourglass figures with a big 🍑). They can be love addicts as well just like Venus in the 5th house people. Tend to be interested in dating and had crushes at a very young age. They also attract pretty partners and friends as well (they do not fuck with ugliness😭). They can come off as pretty vain and superficial but it’s hard to fully hate these people even if they are a lil surface level. Also very blessed career and financial wise most of the time. (Their appearance helps them get jobs they aren’t normally qualified for) super blessed imo.

Venus conjunct Jupiter: idk why but I think of Santa Claus when I see this placement, just super generous & have big love for others. This placement also screams POPULAR. Your social life is always booming and really busy. People are just really drawn to you and you have amazing social skills. U attract all different people from all walks of life. Anything Jupiter touches it expands so when it touches Venus everything associated with Venus is multiplied in your life meaning you can attract nice things easily, attract a lot of wealth, partners, friends ect. They can have a very exotic look or be attracted to others with exotic looks (people from different cultures/ethnicities). They also can be very spiritual and have strong beliefs and a good amount of faith which gives them confidence and optimism. Beware of overindulgence and laziness because they can become pretty lazy if they don’t challenge themselves.

Sun in the first house: they are usually very flashy personalities (even the introverts). Every one I met with this placement had a big star quality about them like you can tell they have the skills to be very well known. They have a great amount of confidence & and lot of people I see with this dress soooo nice & are really good at taking pictures on social media. They love attention which is why a lot of celebrities have this in their chart they attract others to them like a magnet. This magnetism however attracts a lot of jealousy from others, you can have a lot of haters as well as admirers (it’s cuz you’re popping💋). These people can get too lost in the spotlight and become really egotistical & arrogant if they don’t watch themselves which can cause a lot of chaos in their life. But overall these people usually have a big fan base (even if they aren’t famous). Very good placement for the sun.

Neptune in the 1st house: they all look like they came out of a vintage Hollywood magazine. They are so naturally glamorous and glossy looking. They can have features that look very ethereal or out of this world like in a mystical way. When I think of this placement I think of lady Amalthea from the last unicorn. Many models and celebrities have this in their chart. They tend to take perfect selfies as well. These people actually can benefit from plastic surgery (not instigating it at all) but they can make themselves look even more unreal if they get it. (Ex; Kylie Jenner lips). These people can be big trendsetters too and can notice a lot of people try to copy them (it’ll never be the same effect however) they look so naturally cool and glamorous it’s hard not to copy. Most have very creative original styles that people admire so much. These people however can fall into addiction & mental health problems if they don’t take care of themselves… they have very fragile mental states due to their extreme sensitivity so it’s important for them to take care of themselves instead of using escapist tendencies. But overall these people are real life mermaids/fairies🥺

If you guys want a part two I will be willing to make more of these☺️ cuz I have a list of placements I find super cool to have. Lmk in the comments 💋

[amaiaqt]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤミㅤlike what you seeㅤ⋆ ｡˚ㅤ♡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤflustering them by staring for too long ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤwanderer, heizou, xiao, ayato, childe ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ( p.s. amai never proofreads)

"anonymous order; ...can i have the prompt 'screw you and your cute face' with wanderer, heizou, xiao, ayato, and childe ? — message cut."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤi just love the idea of flustering these guys ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthank you and hope u enjoy, xoxo ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤwanderer !ㅤ

if you think the easiest way to fluster this man is by staring at him with that lovesick look in your eyes, then you're absolutely correct.

he could be minding his business and you'd take your place beside or in front of him, and after a few minutes he can just feel the way you stare at him. your eyes burn into his skin, but not in the way he'd grow uncomfortable under your gaze, instead, in the way he could feel his face heat up.

he would huff before looking up at you, about to nag you for staring, but he always finds his words locked in his throat when he locks eyes with you. archons, the way you look at him is always so hypnotizing, it makes him feel vulnerable in a way that he'll never admit he likes.

he tsks, "can't you go, i don't know even just a minute, without staring at me ?" he snaps his fingers in front of your face, causing you to hum and look away from him. no, no don't stop staring. i didn't tell you to stop. his eyebrows furrow.

you chuckled, "sorry sorry," you turn back to him, chin resting on your palm, "i can't help it when you're so handsome." and you just had to back that up with a grin. archons you were doing this on purpose !

as much as he tries to fight back the warmth in his chest and the shudder your voice sent through his body, the shaky breathe he let out betrayed him as he opted to look back to the textbook he was reviewing.

he stuttered, "w - whatever ! just stop staring so much." before burying his nose back into the textbook as you laughed at him. "i can try ~"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤshikanoin heizou !ㅤ

in your relationship, it's usually heizou doing the flustering. and he does a whole lot of that staring too, especially when you're busy and he happens to be bored out of his mind, but ironically enough it's his weakness too. especially like this . .

the two of you had a free afternoon ahead of you, and what better way to spend it than to wind down in a hot spring ? you stepped into the water first, beckoning heizou to join you.

he turned his back to you, rather shy to take off his shirt, and you happened to make him even shyer by whistling once he slipped his shirt off. he turned to you over his shoulder, a smirk on his shocked red face, only for you to return a cheeky grin as you leaned against the rocks of the spring.

he shook his head, choosing to retaliate by teasing further. "so, you like what you see ?" he turned to you, hands on his hips with confidence that you'll be the one turning red, only to watch your eyes look him up and down. "yeah, yeah i do." you hummed, closing your eyes, missing the way heizou's face burned up again.

he cleared his throat, now stepping into the spring and taking a seat beside you, trying his best to brush off your gaze on him. since when did you know how to look at him like that ? he leans back, relaxing in the warmth of the spring and closing his eyes.

"if i get to see this sight everytime i take you here, i might just buy this entire place for ourselves." you spoke, piquing heizou's attention as he opened his eyes to turn to you, and not even the heat of the spring could compare to the heat he felt on his face as he met your gaze.

he chuckled, embarrassed, "well, aren't you bold today ?" he tried to tease, scratching the back of his neck. "why, don't you like it ?" you joked, cupping his chin to make him look at you, earning a shy smile from him. "i do, i do like it actually."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤalatus xiao !

being new to the concept of expressions and reactions to certain antics, xiao is easily flustered, though he is yet to realize it.

"is it a natural habit for you mortals to. . stare ?" he quizzed without looking at you, his eyes still closed as he savored the rich flavor of the almond tofu you had brought him. he opened one eye slowly and gazed at you you from the corner of it, perking up to the sound of you chuckling softly to yourself. "i suppose you can say that," you waved a hand in front of you.

"more like, it's natural for us to stare at something, or someone, we find interesting, puzzling, or alluring." xiao now fully turned to face you in curiosity, the bowl of half-eaten almond tofu set on the fencing of the balcony.

there was an emphasis on alluring, he mentally noted. was that intentional ?

"i see, so, which do i fall under ?" he asked, his gaze now fixated on you with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. you tilted your head at him, "what ?" "do you. . stare at me because i'm interesting, puzzling, or —" "alluring." you smiled at the way amber eyes seemed to widen for just a split second before they were replaced with the back view of messy sacramento green locks as the male turned away from you.

"i stare at you because you're alluring, xiao. very alluring, even." you hummed, leaning your elbow against the fence of the balcony and resting your chin on your palm ever so casually, watching and noting the way his shoulders tensed then relaxed.

he might consider being thankful that your view was locked on his back, hence you couldn't see the humiliating red he could feel his face burst into. he tried to clear his throat, his hand grabbing the bowl of almond tofu and spooning the rest into his mouth to distract himself.

"every part of you is alluring, even how red your ears are." and at your words, one of his hands reflexively came up to cover his ear, causing you to laugh out loud as the adeptus turned to glare at you lightly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤkamisato ayato !ㅤ

if this man thinks he's not easy to win over, he is funnily mistaken.

sure he's the smoother one with words, he knows all the right words and habits to adapt to make you swoon. but other than that, he's more vulnerable to your simple antics as he lets off.

"ayato," the way you'd say his name and drag on the last syllable, as if cooing at him, how he loves it. "ayato," the way your touch would linger on him even at the lightest taps, something so simple could tug his lips upward into a grin. "ayato !" a soft hit to the back of his head caused him to turn to you, finally.

"ah - good afternoon, darling." "i called your name three times ?" "ye. . yes, pardon me. i thought i was lost in my imagination again." he admitted as he took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles gently.

you hummed, "and what was so engrossing about your imaginations this time ?" you questioned, taking a seat next to him while his hand rested on your waist, now leaning his head against yours. "you, i was just thinking about you." he hums, "you smell sweet."

and a few minutes of comfortable silence followed after, enveloping the two of you in a rare calming atmosphere, ayato's head was now laid in your lap as you stroked his hair softly. ayato then started to feel your gaze on him, by how familiar it was. he smiled, looking up at you.

"staring much ?" he teased, sharing laughter with you as you playfully messed with his bangs. "i can't help it, you're very pretty like this."

"only like this ?" ... "stop staring at me, darling, answer my question." ... "please ?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤchilde !

"childe."

now, you wholeheartedly think your boyfriend's eyes are pretty, regardless of how lifeless they are whenever he's not gazing at you like this.

"tartaglia."

but, at this moment, you can't help but find them a little bit irking. just a little bit. just a tad.

"ajax."

it's the third call of his name, yet he's still sitting there, chin on his palm and everything, with that smug smile on his face ! while you're here, trying to cook a full course meal, he's sitting there staring at you like you're the food.

but in his defense, is there a law against admiring your lover ? there better not be ! he's done nothing but sit there innocently, just drinking in your pretty face, because if he can't do it no one else can !

it's when you softly pinch his side—not enough to hurt, but enough to make him snap out of his daze—that he finally raises his hands up in surrender. "what, i can't ogle at my own darling lover anymore ?" he makes a show of jutting his bottom lip out in a pout, but you just huffed at his antics. "you can, if you would actually help me cook." "help as in ?" "cut some carrots maybe." "but i can't stare at you intently if i'm cutting something." "maybe that's the point."

ah, how you wound him.. kidding, a day without your attitude is a day incomplete for him. he fakes a sigh before standing up from his chair. he grabs a chopping board, a knife, and a few carrots, then gets to work.

it's a few minutes later that he feels your eyes on him, so from over his shoulder he turns to see you, in your seat with your cheek propped up against your fist, smiling at him. he grins, "now you're staring at me." "what, i can't ogle at my own boyfriend anymore ?"

he raises an eyebrow at the way you turned his words back onto him, but he laughs nonetheless before shaking his head and going back to work, assuming you would too.

you did not go back to work. he could still feel your eyes burning into his back. and he would never, ever—he would, out of the blue just to fluster you one day—admit that it was starting to shake his focus. his cuts were starting to get uneven as a result.

"are you going to keep staring at me ?" "is there a law against me admiring my handsome boyfriend ?"

alright, you win. just this once.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ© amaiaqt, 2023 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤdo not plagiarize !

[amethystarachnid]

no bc why would a loki friends to lovers be so good?? 😭 ✋✋✋

can i request loki trope best friends to lovers with female avenger!reader from love is in the air? i have a whole plot and i am so sorry in advance so here we go:

reader is lokis best friend and they became friends bc she was the only avenger who was nice to him when he first came to the compound and they got really close. he still gets bad nightmares and when he does, he goes to readers room and she just accepts him and holds him while he cries until the nightmares are over!! (she’s so book boyfriend coded i literally can’t) and then this happens a lot but is only mentioned like a few times in the story (i really hope you understand this im so sorry my thoughts are literally all over the place) and then one night he goes to her room again bc of another nightmare and she comforts him and they fall asleep and he doesn’t have any nightmares while sleeping and then in the morning when they wake up (tangled in each others limbs) he goes ‘i love you’ and she smiles and goes i know and then he goes like ‘no, i LOVE you’ and she smiles more and whispers ‘i know’ and then kisses him!!!

thank you for making this new game and always specifying the as much detail as we want part i love u and ur writing soso much and you are so amazing and im so sorry for making you read this super long request

— anon 🌷

NIGHTMARES

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: just what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just some angst

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Loki has no choice but to be here.

It is a punishment, though not the kind he expected. No dungeons, no chains—just the ever-present weight of Midgardian hospitality, which is its own sort of prison. After Asgard’s fall and the madness that followed, Thor petitioned to bring Loki to the Avengers Compound rather than leave him to whatever grim fate awaited him elsewhere. It was a mercy, Thor claimed. Loki knew better. It was just another way to keep him under watch, to keep him leashed. So he plays along, lets them believe he is something tame and manageable, even if the mere presence of this place makes his skin crawl.

The others do not trust him. That much is expected. Even if Loki had miraculously decided to change his ways, there is too much blood between them all. Stark especially watches him like a vulture, always ready with some barbed comment, some clever little jab to remind Loki that he is not welcome. Rogers is quieter about his disdain, ever the noble soldier, but he does not mask it well. Romanoff does not bother with pretense—she does not speak to him at all. Barton is much the same, still nursing whatever wounds Loki left behind in New York. Maximoff has her own reasons to hate him. Strange treats him as one might treat an unpredictable wild animal, barely interested beyond the occasional veiled threat.

Thor is the only one who does not look at Loki like an enemy, though his efforts to bridge the gap between them are clumsy at best. Loki does not want his brother’s pity. He does not want to be here at all.

And yet, somehow, against all odds, you happen.

You are the only one who speaks to Loki without venom in your voice, the only one who does not look at him like a problem that needs solving. From the very beginning, you offer him kindness. Not the strained, obligatory sort Thor extends, nor the artificial niceties of someone waiting for him to slip up. You are simply… kind. It baffles him. It frustrates him. It keeps him awake at night, replaying your words and gestures in his mind, trying to decipher your angle.

He tests you at first. He is cruel, the way he has always been, sharp-tongued and dismissive. He tries to chase you away, because he cannot fathom why you would want to be close to him. But you stay. You take his barbs with an infuriating sort of patience, countering his wit with your own, refusing to let him push you into the shadows. And slowly, against his better judgment, he stops trying to push at all.

Loki does not know when exactly things change. One moment, you are just another foolish Midgardian trying to play nice with the villain, and the next, you are something else entirely. A constant. A presence that lingers in his mind even when you are not there. He finds himself seeking you out, watching for you when he enters a room. He makes excuses to be where you are, though he is certain you see through them all.

You are different from the others. Perhaps that is why he lets you in. Perhaps that is why, when you tease him, he does not feel the usual bite of mockery. When you speak to him, he listens. When you laugh, he does not wish for silence.

It is strange, this… whatever this is between you. He does not know what to call it.

There is a night, early on, when he realizes how much he enjoys your presence. The others are away on some mission, leaving the compound oddly silent. You do not know he is there when you slip into the common room, curled up in the corner with a book, lost in the pages. Loki watches you for longer than he should before making himself known. You do not startle when he speaks, do not tense like the others do when they notice him lurking. You simply glance up, meet his gaze, and smile.

It is a small thing. A meaningless thing. And yet, Loki feels it somewhere deep in his chest, in a place he thought long since turned to stone.

From then on, things are… different. You and Loki fall into an easy rhythm, one that does not require explanation. You are his friend, though he still struggles with the weight of that word. It is unfamiliar on his tongue, but there is no other way to describe what you are to him. You speak to him as though he is not a monster. You listen when he speaks, even when his words turn bitter. You do not pity him, nor do you fear him. It is a delicate balance, and yet, you hold it effortlessly.

The others notice, of course. Stark makes his comments, forever incredulous that you would willingly spend your time with Loki. The others exchange looks when they see you together, silently wondering what exactly has formed between you. Even Thor is perplexed by it, though he does not question it aloud.

Loki does not care what they think.

For the first time in what feels like centuries, he is not entirely alone.

---

The first time it happens, Loki does not intend for it to happen at all.

It is late—long past the hour when even the restless find sleep. The compound is silent, steeped in the kind of darkness that makes everything feel heavier, more oppressive. He should be resting. He knows this. And yet, as he lies in the too-soft Midgardian bed, the sheets tangled around his restless limbs, Loki cannot shake the remnants of his nightmare.

It is not the first time he has suffered such things. They have plagued him for years, twisting his thoughts into cruel shapes, dragging him into memories he cannot escape. Usually, he endures them alone, swallowing down the horror, letting it fester in silence. But tonight is different. Tonight, the weight of it is unbearable.

He sits up, dragging a hand down his face, breath still unsteady. The dream clings to him like a second skin. He can feel it—thick, choking, inescapable. His own screams still echo in his mind, a cruel reminder of how easily he unravels when left alone with his thoughts.

He needs to breathe.

Loki forces himself out of bed, out of his room, into the dimly lit hall. He does not know where he is going at first. He does not think at all. His body moves on instinct, his feet carrying him forward before his mind catches up.

And then he is standing in front of your door.

The realization strikes him like a blow. He should not be here. He has no reason to be here. And yet, something in him will not allow him to turn away.

He hesitates, jaw tight, fingers curling into fists. He should leave. The last thing he wants is for you to see him like this—weak, vulnerable, broken. You have only ever known the pieces of him that he allows you to see, the sharp wit, the clever smirk, the mask that keeps the world at bay. This… this is something else entirely.

And yet, before he can stop himself, he lifts his hand and knocks.

It is soft, barely audible, but in the silence of the compound, it may as well be a thunderclap. His heart pounds against his ribs, and he almost turns to flee before the sound of movement reaches his ears.

A moment later, the door opens.

You stand before him, bleary-eyed and wrapped in a blanket, confusion written across your features.

"Loki?" Your voice is thick with sleep, but there is no irritation in it, no impatience. Just quiet concern.

He does not know what to say. He does not even know why he is here, why he has come to you instead of locking himself away like he always does. The words catch in his throat, his pride warring with his need for something—anything—to ground him.

But you look at him, really look at him, and something in your expression shifts.

You step aside without a word, leaving the doorway open in silent invitation.

For a long moment, Loki simply stands there, waging a battle within himself. He should not do this. He should not need this.

But the alternative is far worse.

So, with slow, reluctant steps, he moves inside.

You close the door behind him, and the quiet settles between you, not awkward, but heavy with something unspoken. You do not ask why he is here. You do not press him for an explanation. Instead, you gesture toward your bed, a silent offer, as if you have already decided what he needs before he can admit it himself.

He swallows, shame burning in his chest, but he cannot bring himself to refuse.

Without a word, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. His hands tremble slightly as he presses them against his knees, his entire body taut with tension. He feels exposed, raw in a way that terrifies him.

And then you sit beside him, so close he can feel your warmth.

Still, you do not push. You wait.

It is this—your patience, your quiet understanding—that breaks something in him.

He exhales sharply, his composure fracturing at the edges. His shoulders shake before he can stop them, and then, before he even knows what is happening, his hands are gripping the fabric of his own sleeves so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

You move before he can react, before he can even think to stop you. Your arms come around him, careful but certain, pulling him into your embrace.

Loki stiffens at first, instinct screaming at him to pull away. He is not used to this—to being held. He does not know how to accept comfort, how to take something so freely given.

But you do not let go. You do not waver. You simply hold him, warm and steady, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

And Loki breaks.

A shuddering breath escapes him, and then another. His body sags against yours before he can stop it, his forehead pressing into your shoulder, his fingers clutching at the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. The dam bursts, and before he can stop it, he is trembling, shaking, silent sobs wracking his frame.

You say nothing. You do not tell him it is okay, do not offer empty reassurances. You simply hold him through it, your hands moving gently along his back, your touch grounding him in a way that nothing else ever has.

Time loses meaning. He does not know how long he stays like this, pressed against you, his breath uneven, his body betraying him. But you never pull away. You never make him feel as if he is too much.

When the storm finally begins to pass, when his breathing evens and the tremors fade, he feels exhaustion settle deep in his bones. He should move. He should leave before he humiliates himself further.

But then you shift, adjusting your grip so that you are holding him more fully, your chin resting gently atop his head.

"Stay," you murmur, the word barely above a whisper.

He does not fight it.

For the first time in his life, Loki allows himself to be held.

That night, he sleeps.

And then, somehow, it becomes normal.

It does not happen every night, but often enough that neither of you question it anymore. When the nightmares come, when the weight of his past becomes unbearable, Loki finds himself at your door.

And every time, without fail, you let him in.

The shame he once felt begins to fade, replaced by something he does not have the words for. You do not judge him for his weakness. You do not make him feel like a burden. You simply accept him, in all his fractured, broken pieces, without hesitation.

It is terrifying.

It is the most comfort he has ever known.

And Loki does not know what to do with that.

---

Loki does not know when it begins. Perhaps it has always been there, buried beneath layers of denial and self-preservation, something too delicate to acknowledge, too dangerous to name. But slowly, steadily, it grows.

He notices it in the quiet moments, in the spaces between words.

It is in the way he seeks you out without realizing it, the way his day does not feel quite right until he has spoken to you. It is in the way his chest tightens when you laugh, in the way his mind lingers on your voice long after you have left the room.

It is in the nights spent wrapped in your arms, when the nightmares become too much.

At first, those nights were a necessity, a last resort when his own mind betrayed him. But now, they are something else entirely. The shame that once clung to him has faded, replaced by something far more dangerous. He no longer fights the pull toward you—he welcomes it. He does not know when it became so natural to find solace in your presence, to lean into your warmth without hesitation.

But it is not just about the nightmares anymore.

It is the way he lingers when he does not need to. The way his fingers brush against yours in passing, the way he memorizes every shift in your expression, the way your touch lingers on his skin long after you have pulled away. It is the way his heart pounds in his chest at the smallest of gestures, the way your absence leaves an ache that he cannot name.

And then, one night, it happens.

It is late, but Loki is not in his room. He is in yours, as he has been countless times before. The routine is familiar—he wakes from a nightmare, the echoes of it still clinging to his skin, and without thinking, his feet carry him to you.

You let him in, as you always do.

Tonight, the weight of it is heavier than usual. The nightmare lingers in his mind, curling around his thoughts like smoke. He does not speak of it, and you do not ask. You simply pull him into your arms, letting him bury himself against you, his breath uneven against your collarbone.

For a long time, neither of you move. The silence is comforting, your fingers tracing gentle patterns along his back, grounding him.

And then, in the stillness, something shifts.

You sigh softly, a sleepy, content sound, your arms tightening around him just slightly before relaxing again. It is the simplest thing—an unconscious movement, a meaningless moment.

But it unravels him.

The realization hits Loki with the force of a thousand suns. It is sudden and absolute, as if it has been waiting for this exact moment to make itself known.

He loves you.

It is not friendship, not even close. It never has been.

His love for you is deep and consuming, something that lives in his very bones. It is in the way he looks at you when you are not watching, the way your presence soothes him in a way nothing else ever has. It is in the way he would burn the world to the ground if it meant keeping you safe.

The realization is terrifying.

Loki does not move. He does not breathe. He simply lies there, pressed against you, as the weight of it crushes him.

This should not have happened. He should not have allowed it.

Love is a weakness. It is a thing to be used, to be twisted and turned against him. He has seen it happen too many times before. He has felt the sting of rejection, the sharp bite of betrayal. He knows better than to hope.

And yet, it is too late.

Loki swallows hard, willing the ache in his chest to subside. He cannot tell you. He will not. You are his closest friend, the only person who has ever truly seen him, the only one who has never turned him away. If he speaks this truth aloud, he risks losing that.

And that is something he cannot bear.

So he does what he has always done—he buries it.

He forces himself to breathe, forces himself to relax against you, as if nothing has changed. Because for you, nothing has.

You do not know. You cannot know.

And Loki will make sure it stays that way.

From that night on, everything feels different.

He pretends it does not. He is careful, measured. He acts as he always has, keeps his words and actions the same. He does not allow himself to linger too long, does not let his touch betray him.

But inside, he is unraveling.

It is a constant war, a battle he fights every second he is near you. He is hyperaware of every glance, every touch, every breath. He cannot stop looking at your lips when you speak, cannot ignore the way his heart clenches when you smile.

And the worst part? You do not even notice.

You treat him the same as always, utterly unaware of the storm raging inside him. You laugh with him, tease him, pull him into your arms on those quiet nights, completely oblivious to the fact that every moment is torture.

Because he wants.

Gods, how he wants.

There are nights when he stands outside your door, debating whether or not he should knock. Not because of the nightmares—those still come, but they are no longer the only reason he seeks you out. He knocks because he aches for your presence, because the thought of being alone feels unbearable.

And every time, without fail, you let him in.

You do not question it. You do not ask why. You simply welcome him as if he belongs there, as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe, to you, it is.

But for Loki, it is agony.

Because he cannot have you.

Not the way he wants.

And so, he suffers in silence.

He lets himself be near you, lets himself feel your warmth, your touch, your kindness. But he never says a word. He keeps it locked inside, where it cannot hurt either of you.

Because if you do not know, then you cannot leave.

And for Loki, that is the only thing that matters.

---

It happens again.

Another nightmare. Another night where the ghosts of his past pull him under, drowning him in horrors he cannot escape.

Loki wakes with a sharp inhale, his breath coming too fast, his chest tight with panic. The darkness of his room feels suffocating, the walls too close, the air too thin. His hands tremble as he presses them against the mattress, trying to ground himself, trying to remind himself that he is here, not there.

Not falling. Not failing. Not alone.

The thought comes unbidden, as it always does.

Because he is not alone.

Without thinking, without hesitating, his body moves on instinct, slipping out of bed and into the hallway. His bare feet make no sound against the floor, the compound silent in the deep hours of the night. He does not question where he is going. He does not stop to consider if he should.

Because he already knows the answer.

Your door is slightly ajar, just as it always is. You never lock it. You never turn him away.

Loki hesitates for only a moment before pushing it open.

The room is bathed in darkness, the faint glow of the city outside casting soft shadows along the walls. You are curled beneath the blankets, your breathing slow and steady, lost in sleep.

He should leave. He should not do this.

But the remnants of his nightmare still cling to him, cold and suffocating, and he cannot bear the thought of returning to his room, to the silence, to the weight of his own thoughts.

So he steps inside.

The floor creaks beneath his weight, but you do not startle. You stir slightly, shifting against the pillows, but you do not wake.

And yet, as he stands there, lingering in the doorway, you sigh softly, murmuring his name in the dark. Not with fear, not with surprise—just quiet understanding, as if you expected him to be there all along.

Something in his chest tightens.

He does not speak, does not explain. He simply moves toward the bed, and when he hesitates, you lift the blanket in silent invitation.

He exhales, slow and shaky, before slipping beneath the covers beside you.

The warmth of you envelops him immediately, soft and steady, grounding him in a way that nothing else ever has.

He presses closer without thinking, without meaning to, his forehead brushing against your shoulder, his hands curled near his chest.

And then, as if sensing the last of his hesitation, you shift just enough to pull him fully against you, wrapping your arms around him in a way that makes everything inside him unravel.

Loki breathes.

The tension eases from his body, the nightmare fading into nothing, the ghosts retreating into the shadows where they belong.

You hold him, just as you always do, your fingers tracing lazy, soothing patterns along his back. He feels your breath against his temple, soft and even, and for the first time in a long time, he lets himself relax.

His eyes grow heavy, his body warm, and then—

Sleep finds him.

And for the first time in years, there are no nightmares.

The morning sun filters through the curtains, golden and soft, chasing away the last remnants of night.

Loki stirs slowly, caught in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, his mind still wrapped in warmth, in comfort, in you.

There is something different this time. Usually, when morning comes, he is awake before you, careful to slip away before you can stir, before you can see him in the vulnerable light of day.

But this morning, he does not move.

He is tangled in your limbs, his head resting against your chest, your arms still wrapped around him.

He does not want to move.

Your scent surrounds him, your warmth pressing against every inch of him, and for once, he allows himself to savor it.

His eyes flutter open just enough to catch the golden light spilling across the bed, the way your hair glows in the morning sun. You are still asleep, your breath slow and steady, your heartbeat a gentle rhythm beneath his ear.

And he is safe.

The thought settles in his chest, warm and unfamiliar, something he has never allowed himself to believe before.

And before he can stop himself, before his mind fully catches up with his body, the words slip out, slow and sleepy and utterly unguarded.

"I love you."

The words are barely above a whisper, a sigh against your skin, but you hear them.

Because you smile.

Loki does not see it at first, but he feels it—the shift in your body, the way your arms tighten around him just slightly, the way your breath catches for half a second before settling again.

And then, still drowsy, still wrapped in the warmth of morning, you murmur, "I know."

Loki freezes.

His breath catches in his throat, his body going rigid against you as his mind finally catches up with his words.

What has he done?

Panic rises in his chest, sharp and sudden. He had not meant to say it, had not meant to ruin this. He was supposed to keep it buried, to let it fester in silence where it could not hurt either of you.

But it is too late.

You know.

And then, just as he is about to pull away, just as the weight of his own foolishness threatens to crush him, you shift beneath him, tilting your head just slightly, pressing your lips to the top of his head in a touch so soft it makes him ache.

And then—

"I know," you whisper again, and this time, your voice is different.

He swallows hard, eyes squeezing shut, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

"No," he breathes, barely audible, as if saying it again will somehow change the meaning, make you understand the weight of it.

But you do.

You have always understood him better than anyone.

"I love you," he says again, more certain this time, more him, his voice rough from sleep and tangled in something too big to contain.

He feels you smile against his hair.

And then, gently, finally, you whisper, "I know."

And then you kiss him.

Loki stills, every thought in his mind vanishing into nothing as your lips press against his.

It is soft and slow, something delicate, something precious.

It is not hurried or desperate. It is intentional. Certain.

Your fingers brush against his jaw, tilting his face up to yours, deepening the kiss just enough to steal the breath from his lungs.

And Loki—Loki, who has spent his entire life running from things he cannot bear to lose—lets himself fall.

When you finally pull away, your forehead resting against his, Loki does not move. He cannot. His heart is still catching up with what just happened, his mind still drowning in the warmth of you.

You smile, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before murmuring, "Took you long enough."

A breath of laughter escapes him, something he did not expect, something light and unguarded.

He presses his face back into the crook of your neck, exhaling slowly as the last of his fear dissolves into nothing.

"You are insufferable," he mumbles, but there is no heat behind the words, no bite.

Only love.

And this time, he does not try to hide it.

[11cupids-tarot11]

How would your future spouse treat you on your moon cycle? <3

I was having such bad cramps when this question suddenly hit me and I figured we'd all love to know, right? Even though I get very cranky and like to be alone during my time of the month hehe.

1 -> 2

3 -> 4

Pile 1- Wheel of fortune, queen of wands, queen of swords.

So this person will literally try to pamper you, whatever that may look like for you. I'm hearing they'll respect all of your boundaries and will grant all of your wishes, they're very supportive. I'm hearing they don't like seeing you in pain and they understand how uncomfortable this time frame is for you.

I think this person is naturally caring and easily can read human emotions and they're giving therapists vibes tbh like they could work in that field or maybe for some I'm picking up on massage therapists, this person just seems like they know humans enough like maybe they studied it or it could just means they've studied you so well they know what you need (I said 'want' at first but was directed to switch it to 'need'. Someone's fs here likes being in charge lol) . Either way, I think they'd love to be your massage therapist around this time. I'm hearing anything to make you feel good.

THEY WILL LITERALLY TREAT YOU LIKE A QUEEN, pamper you, spoil you.

I'm hearing for some, around your moon cycle you get mood swings maybe? Your entire energy changes enough for this person to catch on and they'll know before/when you're on your period because of this. Maybe you're usually very chill and calm and around this time you're just more cranky than usual like me lol and your person will try very hard to just make sure your okay and not taking their head off? Lol, the way your person talks is very funny, they're very funny and so so sweet!

I think this person will treat you so well simply because they love you, you're their baby and they respect you so much. You're literally their queen. They love you so so much 😍 they want me to leave this rose emoji for you 🌹 (I think they're very giving, it's just in their nature 😭)

Other messages- my sweet girl, lots of chocolate and warm towels, hugs and I'm picking up on those who would rather be left alone for moments at a time they understand, they'll check up on you occasionally and will still be very affectionate (u can't refuse their hugs I'm hearing no escape lol 🤣😭 they're very cute. I think they like compliments? They might blush and smile a lot?) The type to randomly kiss ur forehead or cheek when ur literally just ✨chillin✨ just because.

Let me know how it resonates in the comments below! Leave a suggestion for the next pick a pile!

Pile 2- Ace of swords, temperance, the fool and the hermit.

So I think this person actually doesn't know much about a women's cycle, I think for a specific few they're the only child or maybe they just didn't grow up around a lot of feminine energy so this just isn't their field but I'm hearing they'd try damn hard to make sure everything's okay!

They'd follow your lead on this, like they prefer to maybe watch you from afar during this time? Like sometimes they don't know if they should bother or if they could help at all so they'll probably just straight up ask if there's anything they can do. This person isn't immature about it, but they do feel a bit awkward during those days? (I'm actually dying at ur person, they hardly know how to describe anything?)

Okay, for example, say you're having very bad stomach cramps and you've been in bed all day complaining, they would probably let you stay in bed as long as you'd like and would peek their head in the doorway to silently check up on you because they don't know if they should disturb you or not.

I think they'd love it if you just told them or ask for anything you need, I think they'd rather you rest and use them as a servant 😜 (ur person wanted me to add that, they felt very serious until now? I'm dying) until you feel better, they'll try different approaches tho, I don't think it'll always be this awkward. I think when you two have been together for awhile they'll pick up. I think then they'd mix up their own home remedies, and their own strategies by now, they're not very specific on what this could be or what it could look like because I think this person doesn't really want you to know?

They really want you to feel cared for and like they're there for you as much as possible so they're constantly thinking of new ideas for you!

This is not an 18+ reading and take it how it resonates but I think a very selective few wouldn't mind having intercourse on their moon cycle? 👀

Let me know how it resonates in the comments below! Leave a suggestion for the next pick a pile!

Pile 3- Death, Ace of coins, The tower, Page of wands

This pile feels different, I was getting the energy of your person being shy and excited to have their turn for the reading 🤣 maybe this person isn't someone who you see romantically at first, could be a roommate a friend but you do know this person or they will come into your life at some point and you guys will have some kind of friendship from the start. It's giving secret admirer tho.

With the death card I'm thinking y'all could've just made it official, it feels like this is something new to them. Maybe it makes them feel a step closer to you? They think it's very cool you're trusting them enough at a time like this. They really value it.

I think they'll be the type to really go all in, ask you probably 20x a day "What do you need?" I saw that scene from Aladdin, when the genie is explaining how tired he is of being in the lamp and he's like "What do you need?Poof! What do you need? Poof!"

This person is trying to charm you and maybe show you they really care for you by doing this, I'm hearing 365 days a year they'll be like this tho, not only when you're on your moon cycle. I think they want you to be vulnerable with them or can't wait to see more vulnerable sides of you.

Let me know how it resonates in the comments below! Leave a suggestion for the next pick a pile!

Pile 4- The moon, Kight of coins, Temperance, Kight of swords.

My pile 4's energy is different, I think this person could be older than you? This person overall isn't someone who's very cuddly or could even be very hard to read so moments like these really show that side of them in their own way?

For example, say you ran out of pads but your stomach hurts too bad to go get them yourself, your person wouldn't be thrilled to shop in the women's section but for YOU they will, they'll go get your pads and make sure they're the right size and everything (I'm hearing he'll literally call you and ask what size he should get).

They're very serious when it comes to you, they have dedication and it shows in the oddest ways possible.

So for your time of the month they'd be very chill about, the other piles felt all jittery and nervous like they were scared to mess up but your person is smart, he'll break down those walls for you, if you just want to cuddle in bed they'll hold you as long as you like. I'm hearing they're actually kind of "softer" at the right times (I'm sorry I can't think of a better word right now)

You'll love how this person will treat you and your needs and I'm hearing symptoms as well, they're very comfortable and reliable. He's like your big giant teddy bear! 🧸

Let me know how it resonates in the comments below! Leave a suggestion for the next pick a pile!

[giveafike]

Hi can you write Elliot euphoria and YN have a camping indoors sleepover that leads to more than just friends. Extra smutty please 🤭

TLDR: Elliot and Y/N planned a "camping trip" during college vacation and well, one thing led to another and...

Word count + info: 2.1k THIS ONE IS LONGGGG! Dialogue (it’s mostly sex talk and them being silly goofy guys). Female college!readerxElliot (no specifications).

Warnings + Content Ahead: NSFW this is 18+ MDNI, 420 mentioned, biting, oral sex, no protection (smh), lotta making out and mouth stuff, thigh riding 🤭 I think that’s it!

Azzie Notes ✚: Chat we are so back! sorry I took so long bro, IRL has been soo fkin messy atm but I just needed to write and get back on here. Why is my inbox ovulating so hard tho 😭  guys lets be demure too (kidding I need dom more than ever before now that Dominic has gone MIA)I hope u enjoy it's been a while! I also mentioned Euphoria like,.. the actual word and geeked out a bit go try n find it and geek out w me

————————————————————————

When It Rains, It Pours - D.F.

“Oh, dude you’ve got to be fuckin' kidding me” He huffs.

There you both were, like two idiots holding hamper baskets with blankets, snacks, rolling papers, and small pillows, staring out the glass door into the backyard as rain poured down heavy, the sound of wind whistling as the drops hit the windowed door hard.

You and Elliot had spent many summers “camping” in his backyard since High School and since college had separated your time together, what better way to reunite than kicking off summer in your hometown by camping? Only this year, you both promised to save up and go somewhere this time, but alas, it was just you, Elliot, his empty house and, the torrential rain outside. You both stood in matching tartan shorts and your graduation grey t-shirts from high school like a bunch of losers.

You sigh as you set down your hamper. “So much for that camping trip, huh?” you smirk, biting a smile down.

He sets his hamper basket down too and rummages through it to find his rolling paper and his little bag of weed. “Can’t believe our fuckin’ luck man” He murmurs angrily as he fumbles his papers up.

You sigh and reach over, grabbing his now crumpled paper, and, plop yourself down on the beanbag by the door before rolling his blunt for him. He sighs and sits on the floor between your legs, placing his chin on your knee before looking up at your face, and tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I missed this- I mean I missed you, ya know? Seeing your Instagram Stories and FaceTiming isn’t the same, you even look different. I really wanted to have something to remind you of me, like old times sake sort of thing, whatever that shit means” he mumbles, before pressing his cheek onto your knee, avoiding eye contact.

Your eyes widen at his confession and you stop in your tracks, your fingers moving away from the paper to his face, bringing his eyes back to look at you. Elliot had a lot messed up but one thing was for sure; he always had your back and was always there whenever you needed him.

You both were messed up together, he was your first kiss accidentally, you accidentally smoked weed together, and you both accidentally spent the night in a jail cell after trying to joyride an old car, only to end up crashing that same car within the span of a few minutes since neither of you could drive. Something about those accidents made your heart flutter and kept you around Elliot closer rather than push you away, even though your parents didn’t exactly take it well. Now, after spending almost 8 months away, you were worried Elliot felt like he was slipping away.

“Elli, you’ll always have me, you know that right? Like, you’ve fucked me up so bad that we have a trauma bond, you can’t expect me to slip away, dude. A-And remember one time it rained like this and we made an indoor fort? How ‘bout we do that then, yeah? We have all the stuff for it, the weed and all.” You smile, hoping to get a small laugh out of him as you hold his head, his eyes boring into yours while your fingers coil around his blonde-tipped hair.

He sighs and closes his eyes softly, before nodding, grunting as he gets up. He looks down at you before you lift your head to meet his gaze. Elliot lowers himself to plant kisses on your forehead with an overwhelming tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. It turns almost possessive as he trails it down to your cheek and peppers it with long kisses. Your breath hitches and you feel like melting under his touch. You had never felt a simple kiss to be so sensual but here you were, shivering with your breath hitching. He brings his mouth to your ear, his breath slow and almost ragged.

“If you left me, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do...” His breath is ragged against your skin as he nips at your earlobe before abruptly standing upright again. He digs into his pockets as he walks over and attends to unpacking the hampers, acting nonchalant despite the raw passion still coursing through him. Elliot has kissed and touched you before, albeit while high, but something felt so different, so desperate at this moment.

You try to shrug it off as you roll a few more blunts before crawling inside the now-built fort Elliot had made. He sits on his knees as he puts up some string lights and fluffs up some pillows before resting on his elbows and leaning back. You sit in front of him, holding a blunt between your lips. He can’t help but smile as he brings his old lighter up to you, setting it alight and bringing his face close. The first hit in your lungs feels like home as you exhale with a giggle, blowing the smoke directly into his face. His eyes narrow playfully as he leans in, not breaking eye contact. Instead of simply taking the blunt, his lips brush against yours—soft, lingering—before catching the blunt between them. The kiss is brief but electric, the blunt slipping from your mouth to his as his lips hover close, teasing. For a moment, his face stays just inches from yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with the haze of smoke.

It’s like you’re in his pocket and he’s in yours, both of you wrapped around each others’ fingers. Your back is almost pressed to his, your face tilted up to look at his while his hands wrap around your waist, under your shirt and the waistband of your shorts feeling your smooth skin. It must’ve been 20 minutes when you decide to put the blunt to the side on a small tray and reach up to his face, this time parting his mouth for a kiss. It’s lazy and relaxed as you shift your body to straddle his thigh, your tongue slipping in. Elliot moans into the kiss, holding your hip with one hand and gripping your hair tight with the other.

You grind and gyrate on his thigh, your hands pulling at his curls; you knew he went crazy for hair tugs. His lips trail your neck, his tongue and teeth trailing and gnawing as he laps the length from your collarbone to your earlobe. You let out a whimper as you continue to buck against his thigh, desperate for more. You pull away, pressing your forehead to his.

“Elli, please… don’t hold back” you murmur, pleading as you heave.

He doesn’t answer, instead, he nods and takes his hand under your t-shirt to lift it up and over your head in one swift motion before connecting his lips back to yours. You gasp as you feel the cold air hit your naked torso, the sensation fresh with the sound of you making out with rain noises in the background and the smell of marijuana burning away. It all feels so right, so real.

His head dips between the valley of your breasts, suckling while holding eye contact, lazily moving his mouth over your breast, gliding the tip of his tongue in painful slow circles before taking your nipple between your teeth. His eyes look into yours with pure innocence and attentiveness, as you moan and hold his head there, roaming his curls as you continue to rock back and forth on his thigh, desperately trying for some friction for your now soaking core. You roll his t-shirt up and take it off his torso, throwing it to the side.

Elliot holds you and places you down on the pillow and the mess of bedsheets covering the wooden floor. He leans down, planting soft kisses from the nape of your neck to the edge of your waistband. He perks up to look at you with those sweet eyes you can never get enough of.

“You’re stunning, you know that, Y/N? You always have been.” He whispers shyly before tugging at your waistband looking for approval.

You nod and lift your hips up as he pulls your shorts and underwear off in one swift motion, discarding them outside of the fort. Elliot almost groans at the sight of you completely naked, his eyes filled with desire and admiration. He grabs the blunt placed on the tray and takes a long drag. Smoke billows from his lips and drifts towards your glistening center, making you shiver with anticipation. You moan at the sensation, feeling a wave of heat rush through your body. His head dips down while he kisses your inner thighs, licking softly. He kisses your core, right on your bud making you gasp. Elliot gently spreads your lips, taking one long lick up, circling over your bud. Something about how easy and purposeful he was being had made this all the more arousing, loud moans and encouragement rolling out from your lips begging him to keep going.

Elliot eats you out as if it's his sole duty, his purpose in life, and takes his sweet time to savour you, to thrust his tongue in and out of you, to drink you up until it brings your next orgasm, and then do it all over again. His hand thumbs your breast, the other holding your hips down as you continuously buck up for each wave of pleasure he gives you that ripples through your body. Elliot reaches down to free his member as he carries you through yet another orgasm, this time jerking himself off in slow, lazy strokes, dedicating himself to you first.

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel like you’re seeing stars, everything is flowing perfectly and harmoniously for the first time in a long time. You prop yourself up on your elbows as you watch him gently guide himself to your wet core. Elliot rubs his head up and down before thrusting in, watching your face for any sign of discomfort or displeasure. You grab his shoulder with one hand and bite your lip, nodding to ask him to keep going. He pushes in further, bottoming out inside of you entirely. Your tight hole twitches around his member, adjusting to his size as he slowly moves out, before pounding back in.

It doesn’t take much for Elliot to lose control and find himself relentlessly thrusting into you, roughly gripping a hand to your breast as he moves at a furious pace. You let out provocative giggles and purrs, further fueling his intense desire as he thrusts in and out of you. The fort feels humid, the sound of rain and skin slapping filling the room. Your body craves this, needing more and more as every thrust sends a wave of pleasure through your entire body. Elliot's red eyes are locked on yours, his face contorted with pure passion, your name spilling out like a prayer. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to go even deeper. His breath hitches as he pounds into you, his hips bucking wildly. The smell of sweat and sex fills the air as he continues to pound, his name echoing from your lips with every thrust.

As you near the edge, you can feel yourself tightening around him, squeezing each time he slams into you. Elliot grabs your hips, holding you tightly as he thrusts faster and harder, his eyes locked on yours. His face is a mix of passion and desperation, knowing you are about to shatter beneath him. And then it happens. You both reach your peaks, sending a jolt of euphoria through the both of you before collapsing, rocking together in one final attempt to ride out your highs. Your nails dig roughly into his shoulder as Elliot bites down on yours, your arms holding him as he lies on top of you before he pulls out and falls to your side. You both breathe out with your mouths dry and skin slick with sweat as you stare up at the bedsheet lined fort ceiling covered in string lights.

Elliot sits up to lazily grab the blunt from the tray, accidentally brushing past one of the fort supports. He pauses for a moment, before exhaling and lying back, taking a drag before handing it to you, smiling.

“You know, for a second there I thought I fuckin’ ruined the momen-” He’s cut off by the fort caving in, entangling you both in sheets. You can’t even be mad at him, he just accidentally crashed his own fort after making your legs shake. God knows how the rest of the night goes, but at least it’s spent with good, old Elli.

[sugarypinecones]

DODGE!!!!! god i want dodge so bad i want to lay between his stretched out legs and wrap my arms around one of them and rest my head on his thigh while he plays with my hair while we watch smth together but it's all background noise because his dick is so close to me mouf and i js wanna run my nose against the little outline from his washed out jeans IS THAT A CRIME IS THAT SO TERRIBLE please oh my god his strong rodeo arms i just wanna sit on his lap and rub my hands all over him im sorry i think im ovulating

(in lois griffin voice) whoever that was.. thank you….

NO because ur SO real.. like i audibly went holy to this, had to screenshot, send to council, and come back to re read again like that one sarah paulson video.

this was meant to be a tiny tiny blurb but it turned out way longer than expected so sorry lolz + f!reader

ALSO! if you sent an ask i am working on it, but i was on vacation so now im finally home and yupppp

send more asks. anything. i will try and match ur freak as hard as i can pls god, and anyways that being said:

like, get me; it starts out somewhat innocent. tired and lazy because of all the panic bullshit, you two decide to just stay home rather going out to all the random parties and events thrown between each game.

dayna and his mom don’t care that he has you over — they find it nice he found someone, a nice distraction from inside his head.

as for the show, it’s probably some random documentary or reality show: first thing he saw when logging into the streaming platform. he, genuinely, is probably engrossed in it, but you’re engrossed in him: how close you two are.

you’re laying between his legs, obviously, and his hands are strung around you messily, just wanting to have some sort of hold on you. how he’s holding you, you probably have no idea what, focused on the washed-out jeans of his — weathered from wear by rodeos or helping anne or anything else.

he’s probably yapping about something on the TV — “i don’t see how bestfriends could do that to eachother..” bla bla bla, you’re not really focusing in on it - humming, trying to sound interested in whatever it is he’s actually talking about. some “oh really?” and “i know..” are strung throughout the humming, but you have no idea if it’s actually appropriate to his talking.

he seems to catch on, though, unbeknownst to you. it’s hard not to notice his pretty girlfriend’s eyes focused directly on his crotch every few minutes, head shifting back and forth ever so slightly — making his dick twitch with need.

you wondered if his jeans are always this tight — wondering if you looked earlier you could’ve seen it, but the truth was, you really couldn’t. this only happened after the fact you got in the car — but obviously, you weren’t keenly aware of his crotch up until the minute you got in bed.

his hands run up and down ur back softly, and god it just makes the URGE to run ur face along the outline so much worse !!! he’s fallen quiet, so u slightly wonder if maybe something’s wrong or maybe he caught onto your disinterest in his words, so you glance up out of the corner of your eye, only to realize he’s been watching you for god knows how long.

he probably says something stupid, like: “you know the tv’s over there, right?” or “interesting?” something really dumb and smart-assy. you roll your eyes, probably say something back, and one thing leads to another and he’s nonchalantly trying to suggest you could do it if you wanted to.

so you do. and god !! does it feel as good as u thought it would. he twitches beneath u and tries to act like it’s really not turning him on as much as it is, but it’s hard not to, a sticky, wet patch is already forming at the tip of his cock; itching to bleed through the light jeans.

he ends up pulling you closer, forgetting all about the tv, bringing you into a hasty kiss, needy and desperate but still filled with tenderness.

you fix yourself on his lap, smiling into the kiss, glad you got your way, like it was ever a fight to begin with — it never was, he would give you anything you asked for whenever you wanted.

he’s so gentle when he touches you. his large hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you even closer into his lap, his eyes closed, enjoying the kiss for a few more moments before pulling away, panting softly, breathless.

"you’re really not very good at paying attention." he mumbled breathlessly, a small smirk on his lips as he looked down at you.

he moved his hands down your sides, running them up and down your thighs, his thumbs brushing against the skin beneath the hems of your shorts as he shifted underneath you slightly.

“what’s going through your pretty little head, hm?” he mused, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face.

you hummed softly, looking up at him with a small, playful pout on your lips.

“well… i was listening,” you pouted, “kinda.”

he chuckled softly at your response, his hands continuing to run up and down your thighs, the touch of his palms warm and rough against your skin.

“you’re so cute,” he murmured, ��but i don’t think you were listening at all.”

he leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on your nose, before continuing to trail his lips down your jawline and down your neck.

“i think you were too distracted by something else,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin as he nipped at your neck softly.

he knew you far too well - he knew the way your body reacted to his touch. he knew how to make you melt.

he continued to nibble at your neck, gently, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to send shivers down your spine.

“can you even remember what i was talking about?” he murmured playfully, his hands still running up and down your thighs.

“of course,” you retort, clearly defensive. “you don’t get how best friends.. could do that to eachother.” it’s clear you were listening to him, but not the television.

he chuckled softly, his lips pressed against your skin as you spoke.

“of course you remember that part,” he teased, knowing damn well you were paying more attention to his jeans than the television.

he gently nipped at your skin, sucking on a small patch of it for a moment, before pulling away.

“you were paying more attention to something else, weren’t you?”

you flush. obviously you were — who could blame you ?? :(( he was just soo close to u and so there..

he caught the flush of your cheeks, a smirk playing at his lips as he lifted his head to look at you.

“aww, you’re so cute when you blush, you know that?” he teased, “especially when you realize you’ve been caught.”

he chuckled softly, his hands moving up to your waist, his fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

you pull him into a needier kiss this time, hands roaming all over, as if trying to find the right place to grab: but all seemed so promising, that you couldn’t actually settle.

he groaned softly into the kiss, matching your neediness with his own. his hands gripped at your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pulled you close into his lap.

he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, requesting access that you happily gave him. his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring it hungrily, as his hands roamed across your body.

he trailed kisses down your jawline and down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. he nipped at your collarbone, leaving small, love bites in their wake.

he slowly pushed himself back against the back of the bed, pulling you with him so that you were now laying on top of him, your legs on each side of his hips.

his hands roamed down to your legs, gripping your thighs as he shifted beneath you, his hips rolling up against yours.

he groaned softly as he felt the pressure against his lap, his lips still moving across your neck, leaving little love bites in their wake.

“you drive me crazy,” he mumbled against your skin.

you hum in response — too overwhelmed with pleasure to say anything other than jumbled messes, so simplify yourself with a hum.

his hands moved up, slipping underneath your shirt, and running his palms across your skin. he could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it only made him want you more.

he pulled away from your neck, looking up at you with his blue, lust-filled eyes.

“i want you,” he breathed, “so badly.”

your breath hitches — and you want to tell him to have you — right there, however much he wanted, but you can’t strangle any words out.

he moved his hands up to your hips, his grip tightening as he pulled you tightly against him, grinding his lap up against yours.

he let out a soft groan, his head falling back against the back of the headboard as he felt the friction against his straining jeans.

“you’re so beautiful,” he panted, looking up at you with a look of need in his eyes, “so damn beautiful.”

he slid his hands up further, pushing up your shirt as he did, exposing your stomach. he ran his hands up across your stomach and up to your ribs, his touch leaving chills in their wake.

he bit his lip as he looked up at you, studying your face, taking in your features as if he hadn’t seen you a million times before.

“i want you,” he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse with need, “all of you, darling.”

you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“well,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “what’s stopping you?”

he looked up at you, his eyes darkening with need.

“nothing,” he replied, his grip on you tightening as he spoke.

he shifted beneath you, pushing himself up so that he was sitting up properly against the back of the couch.

“except for these damn jeans,” he muttered, his hands moving to the button on his jeans.

you’re quick to help him — eagerly pawing at the button, undoing it with ease.

he let out a soft gasp at your eager touch, his hands moving to grip your waist as you undid the button on his jeans.

he lifted his hips as you began to pull down the jeans, a small, needy whine escaping from his lips as the fabric slid down his legs and hit the floor with a toss of your hand.

“so fucking needy..” he groaned softly, his hands running up and down your sides.

he pulled you back down onto his lap, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he settled you against his lap.

his hips bucked up slightly, his arousal pressed against your thigh as he moved.

“you’re so good to me,” he panted, his hands roaming up and down your back as he spoke, “i’m so lucky to have you.”

he tilted his head, his lips tracing a path down your neck, nibbling at sensitive spots along the way. he left a trail of little love bites, his teeth grazing against your skin in a way that made you shiver.

“i want to touch you,” he murmured against your skin, his hands running up your thighs. “please let me touch you.”

you could give him permission a million times over — and he’d still ask before doing anything else in the process, so gently; a contrast difference to his rough hands.

“please.” you retort softly.

he groaned softly at your response, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled you closer.

“always so polite,” he muttered, his lips still trailing down your neck.

he slowly moved his hands up your thighs, his fingers slowly sliding under the hem of your shorts.

“i need you so badly,” he panted, his hands moving higher, “can i..?”

you nod vicariously.

he let out a soft sigh of relief at your response, his hands moving further up your thighs, until they reached the edge of your panties.

he ran his fingers along the edge of the fabric, groaning softly at the realization that he was so close to what he wanted.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, “so perfect..”

you hum contemptibly, smiling.

he smiled at your hum, his hands slowly moving up, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

he ran his fingers over your skin, his touch gentle and soft, as he slowly moved towards your center.

he could feel you shiver with each touch, his own hips rolling slightly beneath you as he grew impatient.

he slowly moved his hand down, his fingers sliding across your sensitive flesh, his touch sending shivers up your spine.

“you’re so warm,” he murmured, “so ready..”

he gently began to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch light and teasing, as his other hand moved to your hip, holding you in place.

he groaned softly at the feel of your reaction, his eyes studying your face intently.

“so beautiful..” he repeated, his fingers slowly increasing their pace.

he watched as you began to move against his touch, your hips rolling in response to his touch.

he groaned softly as he felt you press against him, his own arousal growing more and more with each small movement you made.

“that’s it,” he panted, “just like that..”

he continued his movements, his fingers quickening their pace as he felt you growing closer.

he could feel your body shaking with need, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“just relax darling,” he murmured, “let go for me..”

he continued to rub at your sensitive core, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm, as he watched you grow closer and closer to the edge.

he could feel your body growing tense, your grip on him growing tighter, as you began to whine and pant with need.

“that’s it, just like that..” he repeated, his own hips rolling up against you as he continued his ministrations.

he watched as you grew tense, your body trembling as you reached the edge, your eyes squeezing shut as you arched your back slightly.

he kept up his movements, his hand still rubbing at your sensitive flesh, continuing to bring you closer and closer to release, “come for me, please..” he panted, his own need growing stronger by the second.

he could feel you growing closer and closer to the edge with each second, your breath coming in soft pants and moans as you teetered on the brink.

and finally, you came, your body shaking as you reached your climax, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

he continued to move his fingers gently against you, helping you ride out your orgasm, as he spoke softly, “so perfect..”

he gently pulled his hand away from you, his eyes watching as you came down from your high. he studied your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and messy hair.

“that’s it darling,” he murmured, “just breathe..”

he moved his hands to your hips once more, holding you tightly in his lap as he waited for you to regain your bearings.

[bitchface24-7]

dude i love jayce so much it’s a problem like AHHH i wanna request sum fluff but i literally don’t care what it’s abt i js want him bro. like it can be domestic shit or like whatever LMAO i’m so bad at doing requests but i love how u write

T-T

I LIKE THE BEARD… - JAYCE X READER

synopsis: your lovely boyfriend Jayce has changed his look as he's gotten older. His hair has gotten longer, messier; and he’s grown a wonderful beard. He wants to get rid of it. You say otherwise.

warnings: Jayce is hot, fluff fluffy fluff, appreciating Jayce, Jayce getting flustered, some insecurities mentioned, pre-established relationship, man I don’t know this is fluffy self-indulgence that this anon and myself are craving, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. Y'all don't understand how happy I am that people are requesting things and just talking to me in either my asks or my comment sections in my fics. Keep it up, love ya <3

Dating Jayce is a dream come true. You two have been friends for as long as you can remember. You've had a crush on him since you were both twelve; you're breaching into your thirties now.

He's always been a massive sweetheart, willing to help anyone out, incredibly smart, funny, witty, if a bit naive with a massive tunnel vision when he's inspired.

You love him with all your heart.

This new look has you blushing like a tween again, rather than you being his partner of almost five years.

Jayce isn’t a massive fan of it.

You can see it in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, or scratches his heavily stubbled cheek. You know he's only putting up with it for you. And you greatly appreciate that.

Jayce has always been handsome, but this… this elevated him to a whole new level.

So when you wake up one day, the other side of the bed cold, you know exactly where he is. He's contemplating how he looks in the mirror.

Judging every supposed flaw and imperfection he sees.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You trudge your way over to the ensuite connected to your bedroom. Your hair is a mess, you quickly threw on one of Jayce's massive button downs, and you think your underwear is crooked.

With a light sniff, as you rub one of your eyes, you enter the bathroom and see Jayce; nitpicking his reflection in the mirror. His shaving kit is out. You feel a jolt of energy enter your body as your eyes widen.

“Sweetheart… what’s that?”

Jayce looks at you through the mirror and lightly shrugs, “My shaving kit. Gotta look presentable at the next council meeting.”

Your eyebrows furrow at that, “You were so proud of yourself when you first grew out your beard, then like a switch you didn't like it. What's going on in that big brain of yours?”

A sigh escapes the handsome man and his shoulders drop, “Some of the council members made comments about my new look. Something along the lines of me looking more like a ruffian than the Man of Progress.”

You want to throttle those council members.

You walk up behind Jayce, hugging his back and putting your chin on his shoulder, “Well I think you look even more handsome! You're not in your early twenties anymore Jayce. How you look and style yourself is going to change, it does for everyone! Do I still have the exact same look when I was in my early twenties?”

“No, you've changed a bit over the years.”

You run a hand through Jayce's longer hair and bring it down to his beard; the back of your hand caressing his face, “Your opinion matters most. Do you want to keep this new look, or do you want to shave it?”

Jayce looks into the mirror in a contemplative silence, before smiling at you and putting the shaving kit away.

“I like this look. Those council members can kiss my ass, they're just too lazy to make new posters and cups.”

You laugh at that, throwing your head back before kissing his shoulder. Jayce whirls you around and gives you a passionate kiss, he wraps his arms around you and lightly lifts you into the air. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

“You better, you're stuck with me for all eternity.”

You beam a grin at him, “I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, when's this meeting? Let's dress you up so nicely that those members choke on their own spit and hopefully die.”

“Babe! You can't say that!”

“Oh yes I can, they sure as shit can't hear me. We’re at home. What're they gonna do? Send in a swat team of enforcers and put me in Stillwater because I'm offended they made my wonderful, beautiful, sexy boyfriend upset! I don't think so!”

Jayce boisterously laughs as you drag him back to the bedroom, “The meeting is in about an hour and a half.”

You smirk, “Time to doll you up then.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It honestly doesn't take that long to doll up Jayce. He's always been handsome.

You pull out his killer outfit. It’s an all-black ensemble with red accents. He's always looked so scrumptious when he wears it, and he knows it.

He gets dressed, puts a small bit of pomade in his hair so it loses its frizz, and sprays on some delectable cologne. There's almost fourty minutes left until he needs to leave.

He should've gotten ready a bit later. He's so gorgeous, you're itching to get your hands on him and ruin the work you two just did.

And he knows it.

He just keeps smirking at you, his dimples popping out each time. He lightly licks his lips, he even subtly poses for you. That bitch.

You walk up to him as he appreciates himself in the mirror (as he should) and squeeze yourself in between him and the dresser, you wrap your arms around his neck and fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“Would it be so bad if you were… a little late to the meeting?”

Jayce looks at the clock on the wall, “Nah, we got time.”

Before you know it, he's picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. He quickly follows suit as you unbutton his top as he kisses your cheek and goes down to your neck.

Fuck those councillors who talked shit about your boyfriend. He's the most handsome man in the world, and you'll make sure he knows it everyday.

JAYCE WITH MESSY HAIR, A BEARD, AND THE ALL BLACK OUTFIT WAS MY DOWNFALL IN S2. WHY DID HE ONLY HAVE IT FOR O N E SCENE ISTG WHY DID THEY DO THAT?!?? PAPA ME WANT MORE MOVIE 🫴🫴

[loveydovey-leviathan]

(for your recent post)

hmmm how about mal and reader were having an argument or sumn then he's like " hmph let's not talk to each other for now >:( " so you grant him some space/or silent treatment and mal is like dramatically waiting for u to talk to him for HOURS in his room just brooding there and when he realize you're still ignoring him, he's like a pathetic sad wet cat needy for ur attention now bcs he couldn't stand being apart from u.

im sorry for the basic ass idea lol 😭 im just a sucker for silent treatment scenarios like this

malleus x gn! reader

a/n: written as romantic -> FOAMING AT THE MOUTH, IM A SUCKER FOR THESE TOO 😔😔 hope i did this justice

.

one of the many things malleus adores about you is your stubbornness. the way you don't back down against what you think is wrong is something that will always set him ablaze with admiration for you.

though he doesn't quite like it when that pride is directed at him.

he's realizing this now when scornful words are spat between the two of you in the living room of ramshackle. clouds and lighting are beginning to gather as a response to his irritation and annoyance. he doesn't even know what this silly argument was even about or why it started in the first place, and unfortunately, malleus can be just as stubborn as can be.

"since you insist on being childish, i think it's best for us to not talk for a while," he isn't even looking at you as he says this, so when he disappears into pretty green firelights, he misses the hurt expression on your face as he leaves.

this is stupid, you think, but you bite your lip in worry as you walk upstairs and lay in bed, grim beside you snoring away. you said things you didn't mean so perhaps it's best to give him space, though how long that will go on is unknown to you since your lovely dragon is a fae with a rather skewed perception of time... whatever, he knows where to find you as soon as he decides he's comfortable enough to talk this out.

unbeknownst to you, malleus is now brooding in his room, lying face down on his pillow. the clouds around nrc have gotten worse, static brushing against the air as he waits for a phone call from you. preferably a sincere apology since he obviously deserves it after the things you've said.

...

well, he supposes it wasn't entirely your fault. he uttered words all to anger you as you did him, though none of them were true. you weren't childish, the opposite in fact-- having to take care of that first-year duo and that cat you're always hanging out with, taking precious time away when you could be stroking his hair and kissing his hands and petting his horns. as you do.

that's another thing he likes about you. even if you don't spend as much time together as he'd like, what you do to him is more than enough to compensate. you know he likes being kissed on the neck, you know he loves it when you take of his gloves and hold his hands, you know he loves when you lightly blow on his ear. you always look so happy when you do it too-- like seeing him smile makes you-

wait, isn't he supposed to be angry at you? he humphs and pouts when he realizes you still haven't called. he turns his head, eyebrows crossed and he stares at the phone on his desk. the only reason he learned how to use a phone was so you could contact him and send him texts and "memes" like you do with the rest of your friends.

he considers going to you himself but immediately shoves the idea away. he's still mad at you after all.

...

...

...

...

the clouds start pouring rain.

it isn't even the raging, storming kind-- the ones with howling winds and thunderous claps of lightning that illuminate the very sky. it's sad and cold that heavily drops on your already straining roof. your dampened mood worsens and you decide to get out of bed and make a hot drink to help you sleep.

you briefly glance at the alarm on your bedside table and see that it's 2:31 a.m., way too early to do anything at all.

just as you reach the bottom of the stairs, you hear 3 heavy knocks at the front door. any normal person would panic and call a friend for help, but your friends ace are usually the ones getting kicked out, so you figure something similar happened.

imagine your surprise when you see your boyfriend in all his 202 cm glory. his hair sticks to his face in an unfairly handsome way considering he's absolutely soaked, and somehow the look accentuates the pretty green hue of his eyes that have only ever looked at you like you were everything and more, even when he's angry at you.

...did he walk here?

you continue staring at him for a while and your realize that while your lover is incredibly beautiful- so much so the word beautiful could never begin to describe him- he is also very. pathetic. if only people knew how much of a wet cat he was. he even bumps his nose against yours as an act of affection sometimes.

and that fact is ever prominent right now. his arms are crosses and his lips are jutted in a cute pout, refusing to say a word.

"..."

"..."

"..."

you don't know what to do exactly, considering there isn't a manual for 'what to do when your draconic boyfriend stands outside your front door in the soaking rain while he remains completely silent', so you slowly turn and walk through ramshackle's living room and into your dainty little kitchen.

heavy footsteps follow close behind you, followed by a light thud of a closing door and the muffling of the rain. malleus continues to follow you when you boil enough water for two, when you take out your tea bags (gifted by kalim) and seep it into the water. you take the occasional glance here and there, wondering if you should speak before ultimately deciding against it. maybe he doesn't want to talk right now.

he sits closely next to you- so close your knees touch when you rest yourself on one of the seats against the table. your fingertips briefly touch when you pass him the newly brewed tea and it's almost like he wants to reach out to hold your hand, but he pulls away at the last second.

from there, you sit in silence. the heat of the mug spreads from your cold fingertips and you warm up as you drink your tea. already, your becoming tired. you look at mal once more and he still has that adorable pout on his face, but his eyebrows aren't as furrowed as before. usually, you'd gladly offer a cuddle during a rainy night, but tonight's been strange.

so when you try to leave your seat, a hand suddenly stops you. it's the first time he's looked you in the eyes the entire night and good god it's cute, lame and pitiful all at the same time. truly, a stray kitty in a box out in the rain begging for attention. his eyes look up at you in the saddest way possible and you swear you see a wet sheen-- and that damn pout that's going to be the fucking death of you one day is still there.

"i'm sorry," he mutters, and he shifts from one hand holding yours to two. "i can't stand being apart from you." the apology is blunt, honest and sincere, just like him.

you gently lift the hand he wasn't holding to his cheek and he nuzzles into it, closing his eyes as he enjoys your petting. something deep rumbles in his chest and you realize he's purring again.

"m' sorry too, mal. shouldn't have said what i said."

almost immediately, the heavy rain lessens before quickly coming to a stop. there's a smile on his face and the all-too-familiar, tell-tale blush on his cheeks. you place your finger under his chin and tilt his head before kissing him softly. he's dormant and still, like he's afraid of breaking this moment, but he tightens his grip on your hand like he's afraid you'll leave.

malleus chases your lips in hopes for more when you pull away all too soon. he's staring at you with a look as sweet and delicate as spun sugar.

"let's go to bed, mal."

he chuckles like he always does. "if you insist, my love." like he wasn't waiting, hoping you ask him.

[castillon02]

“You ‘have amnesia,’” Dr. Sharma repeated, her eyebrows arched. 

“Oh yes,” Q said. He cheerfully waved his hand at his bandaged head. “Mugged this morning. Terribly traumatic. Physically, not mentally, since I don’t remember any of it, of course.” 

Dr. Sharma’s eye twitched. “I see.” Over the past year of therapy, she had grown inured to Q’s shite, but this was perhaps a new level of it for her. “Amnesia,” she repeated. 

Q beamed. “Judging by the dark circles under my eyes, this seems like a bit of an opportunity for a fresh start anyway,” he said. “Past me looks overworked.” 

Dr. Sharma had been trying to get him a holiday for the past four months. Her “I see,” every time M had denied his request for leave had become steadily sharper. Now her eyes gleamed. “Amnesia,” she said, smiling wider than Q had ever seen. 

(Also on AO3)

—

“Amnesia,” M said, squinting at him from behind his desk. “Really, Q?” 

“M,” Q replied, tasting the name as if he’d just learned it. “Seems a bit funny to work for a letter, but I suppose my past self had his reasons.” He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes around the room as if those reasons might be visible if he looked for them. 

M’s hand twitched toward the security button on his desk lamp. “You answer to the letter Q,” he pointed out. “You clearly remember some things.” 

“The name Q has silent vowels,” Q said, straight-faced. “Q-U-E-U-E. A long line in A&E is the first thing I remember experiencing, so it seemed fitting. You know, waiting for something that never seems to come gives you a lot of time to think.” 

M glared. “If this is about your leave—” 

“I am leaving, yes,” Q interrupted. “I even have the paperwork filed for Queue Smith, since apparently you lot do that here.” He quirked his eyebrows. “You still haven’t told me what I do, exactly, but I assume it’s some form of tech support, not anything crucial. Something other people have been trained in.” Like Q had been training R and X for the past six months, for instance. Specifically to deal with M’s bizarre separation anxiety. 

“You are actually one of our most valuable assets,” M gritted out, clearly aware that said valuable asset was a lying liar who was lying to him at that very moment. 

Q smiled. “What a shame I can’t remember anything, then,” he said. “No value whatsoever now. In fact, Dr. Sharma distinctly said I was as useless as a pin-pricked prophylactic, and the rest of the medical department agreed with her.” 

M’s eyes narrowed and he sat a little straighter. “Dr. Simmons would never go along with this.” 

“Dr. Simmons thought the whole thing was very novel,” Q disagreed. “In fact, he said amnesia might be under-diagnosed, particularly in injured field agents being recalled for missions.” 

M frowned. “How patient-centric of him.” 

“Oh, terribly.” Straightlaced Simmons, head of Medical, didn’t always see eye to eye with Q, but they both prioritized the health of the people under their care. M wouldn’t find anyone in-house who would challenge Sharma’s diagnosis. Now for the killing blow: “Everyone says that if I’m lucky and have a nice long rest, then I might remember some things. But who knows? Amnesia is unpredictable. I could be out of the game for good.” Q gave an innocent shrug. 

“It can be dangerous, walking around ignorant in the world,” M said.

“Maybe,” Q said. “But I got mugged while I was working here with all my memories intact, so really, nowhere is safe, is it? Might as well be unsafe in the Maldives.” Q gave M his most beatific expression. It was rather cute of M to threaten him with being killed, as though Q didn’t have a dead man’s switch for exactly that contingency. 

M gave him a long look but eventually sighed. “I’ll put you on an indefinite medical leave. Don’t do something stupid with your free time.”  

Q stood. “I’ll do whatever I please. Since that is, in fact, the point of the term ‘free time.’”  

—

Q spent five days eating take-away and playing Elden Ring in his pajamas. On the sixth day, he had enough energy to move, so he took the train and then a bus to a little town in Andalusia, dreaming of egg-and-potato fry-ups and sunny olive tree-laden views. 

Warmth. Sunshine. Red roofs and white stone buildings. An outdoor cafe where he could drink his tea and people watch. 

Down the street, a wrinkled old woman stooped down to scratch a brindled dog whose whiptail flew back and forth at the attention. Q watched them until they rounded a corner out of sight. When he brought his gaze back to his own table, Bond was sitting across from him. Shite. 

“Amnesia,” Bond said. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Q stared him down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” If Bond asked about a mission, Q was going to send him back to R and X for replacement corneas. 

But Bond shook his head. “You can call me James. We don’t know each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we could change that.” Bond gave him a half-smile, somehow sheepish—different from his Target Acquired smile. His bright yellow I Heart España t-shirt was more camouflage than Q had ever seen him in. 

“Caminito del Rey has beautiful vistas,” Bond added, his blue eyes locked on Q’s. “Or I know a place with good tapas if you’d rather eat than hike.” 

This might be a work-shaped trap. But there wasn’t any tech in the Gaitanes Ravine, and yellow wasn’t the color Bond wore when he went anglerfishing. Additionally, traversing a treacherous one-meter-wide walkway carved into a rock face a hundred meters above a river sounded like it was genuinely Bond’s idea of a good time. “If we went hiking,” Q said, “it wouldn’t be efficient. I take pictures of cool bugs. I lollygag to look at spiderwebs. I get distracted by rock formations.” 

“If I wanted efficient,” Bond said, “I’d wait until you ‘got your memory back.’” He offered Q a wry tilt of his mouth. “I have it on good information that you’re currently useless, and I don’t expect we’ll need any of your skills from the office.” 

Bless the medical staff’s ability to gossip. Q exhaled and slouched a little. “You’re really here just because?” he asked.  

Bond shrugged. “We’re good at being useful together. I thought we might be good at being useless together too. If you like.” He tilted his head. 

Q stood without answering. 

Bond stood with him. His designer blue jeans stretched flatteringly around his thighs. No concealed carry. His watch wasn’t one of Q’s. He had a knife in his boot, but that was sensible enough. His t-shirt showed off tan arms criss-crossed with pale scars and a smattering of graying hair. He had a red España bucket hat tucked into his belt. 

007 on holiday. 

Q smiled. “Lead the way.” He extended his hand. 

Bond took it. In the center of a rural village steeped in machismo culture, Bond held his hand. “I have a car,” he said, and they walked, still linked at the fingers, to where Bond had parked his entirely normal Mitsubishi Mirage rental. Good god; a hatchback. Not even four-wheel drive. Bond was really giving this ‘useless’ thing a genuine effort. 

If this went well, Q would have to send 006 a basket of explosives. Rather than leaving his mugging-based amnesia up to fate, he’d rather desperately arranged for a surreptitious blow to the head from one of Six’s experts in cranial violence. He hadn’t expected that his memory loss would lead to something so lovely.  

[impish-baby]

Hai I'm finally back again, You’re werewolf family stuff makes my brain shake /pos can we please get more? Maybe about reader’s first time out hunting with the family/pack? Or maybe their first full moon? Whatever u come up with makes my day regardless, have a great day/night ^w^

-🐙

The moon will sing a song for me - platonic yandere werewolf brother x reader - 🐾

You hate it. It's not even nightfall and your body is restless, wanting to shift so you can run freely through the trees. No matter what it's like your human mind is constantly fighting your instincts, in more ways than one.

Liam pats your back sympathicly, trying his best to soothe your discomfort. Rowen and Madison hadn't been home when you had woken up, pitiful cries and whines soon following that discovery. They aren't your familly, they aren't, but it felt like you were abandoned until he scrambled into the room to comfort you.

You're cradled to his chest now, safe and secure with your big brother. The older boy keeps rambling on in hopes of distracting you, it's a little funny at least.

"So- she bit me, and I really did think she was just like, I don't know, a feral toddler! Because what kid goes up to strangers and bites them? And she was like, 'we're siblings now', so-"

You're tired and Liam is warm, his voice the perfect background noise to fall asleep to. He trails off when he realizes you've passed out again, gently laying down with you still on top of him.

"Am I boring?" He teases softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "That's fine, I'd rather you sleep a little more. There's a long night ahead of us."

Liam sighs, brushing your hair out of your face. "I'm sorry, I know it sucks. I was scared and confused at first too, but it gets better. You'll have fun eventually, I promise."

[hannieehaee]

not sure if you’ve done this before, i’m sorry if you have but svt and their s/o fighting bc of a misunderstanding?

fighting because of a misunderstanding

content: established relationship, mentions of arguments, pettiness, angst but nothing too serious, etc.

wc: 790

a/n: since this was such a general idea i went in a different direction with all of them and how they'd react if you or he had a misunderstanding and then it led to a fight. hope u enjoy <3

masterlist

seungcheol -

he seems super stubborn so i think that if he misunderstanding was on his side, he'd try to brush it off and pretend he didn't realize what the issue was. would try and drag it as long as possible due to embarrassment at his mistake, but it'd just create a bigger fight. eventually, though, he'd swallow his pride and admit fault.

jeonghan -

he'd gaslight you the entire argument and end up winning ... just kidding he'd actually be really open to admitting his faults and excusing you in your own T-T even if it had all been caused bc of a misunderstanding he'd still be willing to talk it through and resolve it. would NEVER go to bed if u guys hadnt resolved things.

joshua -

he's so annoyinjwhdjsks i think he'd be super annoying in fights so he'd take any bit of ammunition he could get. whether the misunderstanding was on his part or not, he'd still somehow argue it to his advantage. if things got out of hand, he'd wave the white flag and call a truce.

jun -

just confused the whole time. had he missed something or done something without realizing? his first instinct would be to be apologetic (even if he didnt fully understand how this argument had come to be). if he at some point realized either you or him had simply misunderstood the other, he'd just let it go, being content that you had already resolved it.

soonyoung -

lol i think he'd immediately act like wounded puppy the moment he realized that a fight had formed between the two of you. would do gymnastics in his head trying to figure out how you got here, only to realize that it had all been due to some misunderstanding between the two of you. he wouldnt care who was to blame, he'd just take responsibility if it meant the two of you could cuddle again.

wonwoo -

he's so in touch with his emotions and such an empathetic soul that i cant even imagine a fight breaking out with him, even if it was caused by a misunderstanding. like jeonghan, he'd be super open to talking it out and would never try to antagonize you during fights. had it all been caused by a misunderstanding, he'd still be very calm and understanding about it all, even taking blame if necessary.

jihoon -

gives me the vibe that he'd rather ice you out than actually get into a fight. this would, of course, only make things worse. he'd stand his ground, though, convincing himself that it'd be better to wait for you to go to him. after a few days of silence for both sides, he'd realize his mistake and have to crawl back to you with an apology.

seokmin -

would be so disheartened at the concept of fighting in the first place lol. he'd be willing to get on his knees to stop whatever argument was going on. he'd take on the blame of any misunderstanding if it made you happy.

mingyu -

another wounded puppy. would pout and whine and not really take the fight seriously, just wanting things to go back to normal so that he could hold you. would apologize for any fault of his and entice you into forgetting about whatever misunderstanding had come up.

minghao -

not sure if this is an unpopular opinion but i feel like he might be a lil bit stubborn when it comes to arguments. he might let his emotions get the best of him (he's a scorpio ..) and need some time to cool off before having a productive conversation. he'd have to hold himself back a bit in the case of a misunderstanding but would still never be mean nor disrespectful during fights.

seungkwan -

if for some reason you had picked a fight with him due to a misunderstanding on your part, he'd never let you live it down. would bring this up in future arguments (lightheartedly obviously!!) to give himself an advantage in any fight. would claim you had a previous record of being wrong.

vernon -

he's too chill to ever get into a serious fight. he'd be willing to admit fault pretty easily, but he'd also stand his ground when necessary. whenever a misunderstanding came up, he'd try to be the voice of reason and be open to criticism.

chan -

lol have you seen him when he banters with his members? he never backs down and he'd give you the same treatment. would argue til the end, even if things ended up getting a bit heated. in the end, though, he would calm down and understand that misunderstandings such as these needed to be taken care of with more tact and would apologize if he got too intense.

[squiddy-god]

thank u for the best neuvi fic ever 😭💕 if u ever have time would always appreciate more food, thank u for your service my most esteemed fellow neuvi enjoyer 💞🫡

(will probably still be screaming crying throwing up about this one in the mean time 😭)

Hehuewieewm kicking my feet reading that hehehehe im so glad that the neuvi fic didn't absolutely flop because it is really just written from a place of lust for this man because he is so fine, so here! Have some more neuvi 

♥︎Request open♥︎

Cw : fluff to smut, NSFW and SFW, soft neuvillette, gn reader, hints at fontaine’s quest, daycrafillia, more spit swapping (sue me) but not what you think, always implied chubby reader, brief mention of bottom/sub neuvi, oral (both reciving), 69, face sitting is a gender neutral sport, explicit aftercare (love it) 

Ok so as i stated this man's knowledge of relationships is, iffy at best

He knows about the basics, but the complexities of human relations escape him

That being said he's such a sweetheart, interaction may be something he struggles with but he is surprisingly emotionally aware and intune to what you are feeling

When he first finds himself falling for you, he almost doesn't notice, but once he does he is actually quite quick to come to the conclusion that he has developed a rather large “crush”on you

However it takes urging from others to make him do anything about it, he is content to be an observer 

At least before the fontaine quest, after witnessing furinas trial and experiencing the loss of focalors all over again he grown anxious, no longer content to simply forever be the impartial Iudex of fontaine 

He begins to court you slowly, as a gentleman would- and while its a bit old fashioned to call it courting rather than dating- its a sweet but delicate dance to neuvillette 

His draconic side plays a part here, instincts calling that he should gift you things, starting small with food and imported water

Then he begins to invite you to lunch or perhaps on his rare walks around fontiane

Gossip spreads fast and just about every citizen has not only heard about the Iudex’s fancy for you, but they are fawning over it 

After All the Iudex is incredibly popular with the people, and they are overjoyed to see him in such high spirits

The subtle smile that plays shyly against his lips as his pale violet eyes watch you with the tender affections of old lovers

It's really the small chivalric things that make it feel as though you have loved neuvillette for a hundred years, the way his slender gloved hands interlace with yours as he helps you down the stairs, the way he offers you his arm as you walk

To be loved is to be seen, and within the vast ocean of neuvillettes eyes you stand as a solitary bastion of his love. Your every toil no matter how meaningless is acknowledged as something with purpose, the way his eyes that are often hardened by long trials where they must scrutinies and analyze soften in a way that belongs to you alone

He cares for you greatly, to be loved by neuvillette is quiet, a peaceful love that feels timeless

to be loved is to be seen, to be cherished and wanted, to be loved by neuvliette is to know that even in the quiet sea of his love the tide will never wane, he will always see you, forever unbiased he sees you for who you are, and you know that you are see, that he will always cherish you, that you are wanted, that you are loved. 

He enjoys when you brush his hair, and he lets you put whatever style you desire 

Many may assume that he is a listener, afterall he appears very quiet and reserved, but much like another dragon he is a secret YAPPER 

Steeped in wisdom he loves listening to you talk, but there are several subjects he tends to ramble about, and his statements are quite wordy and verbose

Both before and during your relationship he is spotted at several fountains and popular wishing spots, tossing a coin of mora into the still water, silently participating in these little rituals just incase they aid him in winning your hand 

He often attends performances at the opera house, and he reserves a seat just for you next to his own usual seating, and while a private man, there is a small part of him that preens knowing that everyone sees how you are his, and he is yours

Smut time

Now i know i said most of my thoughts in the other one but come onnnnnnnn i still have more thoughts

I don't think i mentioned this but i think he definitely cries during sex, even a small amount of pleasure has this man's eyes watering

I think i did not focus enough on the gentle slow side of neuvillette, how he traces over your body and laveshes you with kisses, how he checks in, lower face dripping in fluids to ask if you'd like some water waiting for you to nod before he takes a swig of the cup he keeps next to the bed, crawling up to kiss you, the fluid benign pushed into your mouth mingling with your taste

Any access is licked away by Neuvillette before he returns to his favorite activity. 

Slow, letting himself relax and savor every touch, every sensation as if you where the finest sumarian water

In this more calm and relaxed state he whispers his thoughts, voice fleeting with the buzzing in your ears as grans out your praises

Your reassurance and comforting when he cries makes him a absolute puddle in yours arms, his head in your neck as he thrusts slowly into you, his moans reverberating on your skin until you feel the tell tale wetness of his tears, cupping his face to rest your foreheads against each other you reassure him, trying to comfort him

He's so conflicted, he loves your voice and sweet nothings but he wants to be honest and tell you that these are tears of pleasure. 

Ride this man he's mesmerized, pupils wide as saucers as he watches your face above him, feels your hands on his shoulders, your plush tummy squished in his hands 

Would low(read high) key be down for you to peg/top him, and hes a moaning mess when the tables are turned, voice wavering as he grips the sheets so hard he might just rip them

…dare I say 69? Yes the funny number, i feel like he would enjoy it immensely 

Face sitting regardless of your sex, he is trying to bleed you dry here 

He may not know that he's a total freak, but he does know that you are exhausted and spent by the end every time (he wouldn't have it any other way) so he takes great care in ensuring you are taken care of

Holds you close for a moment before sweeping you into his arms and drawing you a bath

Washes you clean of the fluids he much rather keep you covered in longer, and fetches you a regression glass of water- and whatever other drink you prefer

He even feeds you snacks as he slips into the bath and rubs your sore limbs, placing soft kisses to the crown of your head 

[deathbxnny]

HEBUAWBIAHWUW HEY POOKIE!!!

Sorry I just love the open requests😍😍 ANYHOW!

I've been requesting too much romantic shit.... Sooo, I've got an unusual mixup of characters! Kinich, Neuvillette and Wanderer with child, fem! reader. (I'd like age for reader to be like, 9-11 or even a bit younger but you can play with whatever age you want based on the scenario!)

So, in Wanderer's scenario reader has to be like adopted, since he's a puppet and all.

But for Neuvi's scenario (sorry I can only see him as a girl dad) I think reader could easily be his biological child, kinda like Sigewinne (she's old but looks like a child so that could work). Being Neuvi's daughter EUGHHHHHH I would die for that

In Kinich's scenario reader can be his 'adopted' or biological little sister you can choose!!

(apologies if it's very specific but my cravings for fanfiction are like those weird pregnancy cravings women get)

Anyways, I hope you're doing great mootie! Unfortunately, I haven't been getting better at all... health wise, yeah I got better, but mental health wise? I think I'm just getting worse. But I hope all's going better for you!!! xoxo and flowers for u🪻🌼🌸

Genshin men with a Fem!Child!Reader. | Neuvillette, Kinich, Wanderer

Thank you sm for the cute request, dear moot!! I appreciate it a lot! Also, I completely get how you feel, as I've been feeling the exact same way. If you need someone to talk to, my dms are always open for all!!<33

Content: Child reader, platonic relationships, fluff, slight angst?, sfw

Reader is requested to be female!

((Not fully proofread))

》NEUVILLETTE

This man was elated when he first held you in his arms as a small infant. It was a rainy yet sunny day at the same time, his excitement showing in the tears he attempted so hard to hide. Deep down, Neuvillette felt his loneliness finally lift at your presence, glad to have someone in his life that he could cherish and love to his hearts content.

Therefore, it comes to no surprise that he spoiled you greatly with anything you wanted. He dressed you in frilly, lavish dresses, never sparing any expenses for your many fulfilled wishes. He arranged grand tea parties for you, never shying away from spending as much time as possible with you, despite his awfully busy schedule. It hurts his heart to be away from you for long periods of time, but he makes it up to you with sweets and gifts everytime.

Despite how much he spoils you, he also makes sure to instill a deep sense of justice into you. You are raised to seek truth and handle difficult situations with a righteous yet empathetic moral compass.

Seeing you advance and grow makes him prouder than you could ever imagine.

》KINICH

You were an orphan child he had taken in when you were just a very small baby. Growing up together, he often tried his best to provide you with everything he could, even with his rather difficult upbringing. At times, he worries that what he does isn't enough for you, but he tries his best to make you proud of him as an older brother and caretaker. You are what he fights for every day, and he keeps you in his heart during the annual tournament, especially.

He'll often also bring you trinkets and clothes back from his travels. He tries to spend a lot of time with you otherwise, too, like playing games or taking you out for some mildly adventurous walks.

Unfortunately for Kinich and you, Ajaw is ofcourse always there with you. He had initially banned any contact between you two until he noticed that the grand and allmighty dragon seemed rather docile around you at least. His goal was to make Kinich miserable after all... not you.

Either way, even when he worries that he isn't doing enough to give you the best life possible, it fills him with pride to see you beam up at him so happily. It makes all the hardships he goes through so worth it.

》WANDERER

He took you in mostly against his will at first. Your parents had abandoned you to pursue their academic dreams, and so you were, at the time, temporarily put into his care. He warmed up to you pretty fast, though, as your situation reminded him of his own. And something about that scared him deeply.

He knew that he wasn't the most ideal man, and his erased past very much highlighted that exact fact. But under Nahida's calming and wise guidance, he found himself reluctantly falling into fatherhood for your sake. It wasn't easy, and there were a lot of internal battles he still faces daily years later, that oftentimes can make you bump heads. But he does his best to provide you a good and better childhood than his own.

He tries to be loving, caring, and understanding, even if he doesn't know how to. Wanderer can be harsh and even very blunt, but he learned how to be patient and gentle through you. He spends a lot of time with you even whilst he's working around the Akademiya, often just dragging you along to make sure nothing happened to you in his absence.

He ultimately may not be the most greatest father out there... but he'll be damned if he didn't at least try to be for your sake. Just so that the cycle didn't repeat again.

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy XIII

a yandere art professor John Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU... (also featuring Matt from River's Edge. If you haven't seen the movie that's ok, I will fill in the gaps as we go...) warnings: dark adult themes, violence, sex, drugs, yandere shit. plz don't read if u can't handle it ->chapter map

XIII.

-You thought you’d done a good job talking yourself up to it, but you are so embarrassed, when you get up on the model stand, and it's time to start class…and you simply can't do it. You freeze, absolutely unable to bring yourself to take off your robe, to expose yourself again after your near brush with…whatever the fuck those creeps intended to do with you. 

“I…”

You don't even know where to begin to explain. You wait for John to say something cutting or sarcastic. To be a jerk about it, annoyed that you're stalling his class.

You watch warily as he approaches the model stand, hands in his pockets, the very picture of the brooding artist. Yet when he looks up at you…there’s an empathy in his dark eyes that squeezes your heart with a fist. He could have pushed you over with a feather when he asks, “Are you alright, y/n?”

Sadly, you shake your head, hugging yourself. “I’m…not sure I can do this right now. I'm so sorry.” You sway on your feet, and he must sense something wild inside you, a mare threatening to bolt, or a statue ready to tumble, because he holds up his hands as though to steady you–those large, eloquent hands with their impossibly long fingers.

You don’t know what possesses you, when you take his fingers in yours, holding on to him like he is a life line. They’re strong, and calloused, and for the first time since waking up after your mishap you feel somewhat anchored to the world around you. 

He lets you hold on to him, his expression softening for you the way it used to, before you had your heated little tiff over Matt’s work. His voice is low, and calming, acting like a balm for your troubled soul. 

“That's ok, y/n. It's your choice. Do you maybe think you could sit for us with your robe on?”

You think about it a few moments before nodding. 

“Alright.” He squeezes your fingers encouragingly. “Let's do some warm ups, then we'll pick a pose.”

You nod, and somehow, this small gesture of support empowers you again to do your thing. 

- You're not sure how he knew you needed it, but in the end you decide on a reclining pose. John produces blankets and pillows from the closet to make you a comfortable nest on the otherwise hard model stand, and you hate to admit it, but…you fall asleep. 

You haven't been sleeping well, and something about being here in this place you love, rather than your cold and lonely apartment fulfills something you've been missing the past few weeks. 

By some miracle, as though even your sleeping brain knows, you do not move from your position even in slumber. It takes a gentle hand upon your ankle to rouse you,  and you wake with a start to find John standing over you. 

The room is empty of students; through the windows you can see that night has fallen outside. Fuck.

“I'm so sorry,” you immediately apologize, bolting up right. The class ends at six. How much longer did you keep him here?

“It’s ok,” he says in his soothing baritone. “Are you…ok, y/n?”

You look at him looking at you so earnestly with those infinite dark eyes–it ties you up in knots, and you feel like you can't hide a thing from him. Like…he already knows, and just wants to give you an outlet to talk about it, if you want. 

“Something …bad happened at the Monster Masque,” you admit in a whisper, looking fixedly at the corner of your blanket beneath you. “I've just…felt weird, ever since.” 

His frown is like a thunderhead, forbidding and beautiful. “Do you need help, y/n?”

You shake your head. “No. I think…the matter is closed.”

“Oh?”

“I think…someone took care of it for me.”

“Who?”

“I…don't know. Maybe someone I met at the ball. I think…” You look to him, drowning, and you can't help but compare his stare to the black satin shine of your Lone Wolf’s eyes. Dear lord, do you have a type. “I think he saved me.” 

John lifts a single dark brow to this. “Sounds like you have a guardian angel, y/n.” 

A shaky little laugh escapes you. “Yeah.” You think that guardian demon might be more likely, but you don’t say it aloud. 

When you dismount from the modeling stand the concrete floor is shockingly hard and cold beneath your feet; your leg tingles with pins and needles, having fallen asleep. You take a step and would have stumbled–-but John catches you, holding you in his strong arms. 

You swear you didn’t do it on purpose, but you find it’s a very nice place to be. There is something hauntingly familiar about being held like this, tucked against his chest with his arms around you. You look up at him from so very close, and you realize something is different. 

“You cut off your beard,” you say, maybe with way more wonder in your voice than the observation actually warrants, but there's something about being able to see the sharp lines of his jaw that moves you to your toes. 

“I trimmed a little.” He doesn't scold you for staring at him like a star struck idiot. He seems…content, to stand like this with you, while you are reeling in this bottomless freefall into deja-vu.

He has a distractingly beautiful mouth, lips full and infuriatingly kissable. You cannot tear your eyes from the lower half of his face; the sum total of its lines strum some forgotten chord inside you.

Is it possible?

Your memory is so fractured from that night. Nothing is clear amidst the bits and pieces that remain to you. The gaps are large as a canyon in your mind, yawning fissures in the landscape of your memory. Whatever those boys drugged you with…it really fucked you up, and just thinking about it makes you want to hide under John Wick’s chin and not come out for a week. 

You decide that you are wishfully projecting your hopes onto this man. That he had much better things to be doing on Halloween, than masquerading around in an animal costume just to flirt with you. 

“Have you been eating, y/n?” he asks, squeezing your sides gently. You suppose he remembers how much padding you had from the last time you were in his hands. The memory of that lightning-charged squabble compared to how he handles you now makes you weak all over again. 

You shrug, embarrassed for some reason. “Not…well.” 

He nods, because he already knew the answer. “Come home for dinner with me.”

“I…would hate to bother you.” Deep down you want to say yes, and yet you cannot shake the dogged mantle of your hesitance. 

“No bother. I think it would be good for you.” 

He's being polite, yet there is a firm insistence in his tone that leaves no further room for argument.

“Okay.” You manage to keep the tremor out of your voice as you agree, and you decide to give yourself a point for bravery. Your score’s been running in the negatives lately, and maybe this will be good for you.

Or maybe you'll ruin it, the way you ruin everything, eventually.

TBC...

___

->chapter map pinterest board/ photo credits

[gatorbites-imagines]

Perhaps Hal Jordan or Clark kent with cuddling. Like just them coming home after a stressed day and you just take care of them the best you can. U offer sex but they don’t want it. Just wanting to be in ur presence for a bit yk yk

Clark Kent x Male reader

Headcanons

Hey nerds, guess who’s not dead. I feel like I am, but apparently, I’m not. Classes are kicking my ass because of very cramped timelines and long days. Who’d have thought becoming a caretaker (idk the English word) would be so difficult. A shorty, but still something I enjoyed writing.

It wasn’t a common occurrence. For Clark to come home so worn out and tired. As a man powered by the sun, a man of steel as he so regularly gets called, its very difficult to him feeling so worn down.

For the most part, the days he comes home in this mood, is not because he’s exhausted physically, but rather mentally. Be it from difficult missions, or just long days at work where he’s talked down too or pushed aside.

There is something soft and cute about him like this, though you would never tell him that. he’s always a little whinier and poutier, but also cuddlier, if that’s even possible for a guy who seems to live off affectionate contact with you.

The first thing Clark does when he comes home from days like this, is kick off whatever he’s wearing and change into something else. Most days its some ancient washed-out sweatshirts from his university days. The kind that’s been washed so many times the logo is mostly gone, and the fabric is worn thin and soft.

Its either that, or if you’re bigger than him, then it’s one of your shirts. That or just a pair of boxers and socks, so he can crawl into your space and flop down there like a big lazy cat.

If possible, Clark tries to crawl up into your shirt, laying his head on your stomach or your chest, ear pressed against your skin to listen to your heart, even if he can easily do that anywhere on the planet. Being so close just puts him at ease.

You cant hear it, but you know he’s purring, even if it’s a frequency you can’t pick up. At this point you can only really rub his back and let him soak up the affection and touch he needs like a wilted flower in the sun.

When he starts pressing featherlight kisses against your torso, you start to think maybe Clark wants something more, since he starts kneading at your sides, like you’re made from playdough, and he wants to mold you into something else.

His hands are so big and strong that you almost feel like playdough, with how insistent his rubbing and kneading can get. His kisses never go beyond soft pecks and barely there brushes of his lips, Clarks head just moving from side under your shirt as he lays on top of your legs.

You don’t need words in a situation like this, your hands becoming more exploratory, rubbing between his shoulders and tapping your fingers at his spine, like he’s a harp you’re plucking the strings off.

The change in your scent must catch his attention too, as Clark lifts his head just enough for you to see him through the collar of it, his eyes soft and glistening. They remind you of marbles, in a way. So shiny and with that clash of shades of blue.

The small downwards pout of his lips and minimal shake of his head is all you need to know, that going farther isn’t what he wants. So, you just give a nod in reply and place a hand on the back of his head, bringing him back down again.

You don’t really understand why he feels so much comfort under your shirt like this. Maybe it’s the enclosed feeling of it all, the shirt, and sometimes blanket you put on top, closing him off from the rest of the world.

Maybe its just the closure, and being surrounded by your scent, which always seems to put him at ease, or rile him up, depending on your own mood.

You don’t hate it though, you never could, not when its Clark. So, instead you just lay back, rubbing your hands slowly up and down his back and Clark nuzzles deeper against you, letting him rest there for as long as he needs.