#i do have a prompt request for her so ���

[mggslover]

‘spencer’s “first” time showing you his jealous/possessive side’. bau reader and spencer just started dating and are a bit reserved when it comes to showing affection in the office. a new agent starts flirting/trying to get readers attention and for the first time spencer make sure everyone knows who his girl friend is <3 thank you !!!

the first time spencer gets jealous genre: fluff word count: 965 a/n: oh how i love this prompt!! thanks for the request

Spencer Reid wasn’t big on PDA, so it didn’t surprise you when he suggested keeping your relationship under wraps once it became official. You didn’t mind much—sure, it was a little frustrating when he’d pat your hand away at the round table or create distance the morning after a particularly fun night, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you—but in general, you were glad to keep things private. You had no problem avoiding the “no dating between coworkers” policy drama, and it gave you the opportunity to focus on the cases and enjoy Spencer’s company even more when you’d sneak off home together at the end of the day. 

So, when you found yourself chatting with the new addition to the team—Agent Owen Rogers—you didn’t expect the effect it would have on your boyfriend.

“Of course he’s taken an interest in her. That woman makes everyone fall head over heels,” Penelope half-sighed, her voice a mix of awe and envy as she watched you talk to Owen from the office window. Her words caught Spencer’s attention, and he turned to the scene, spotting you mid-conversation. He recognized the looks his colleagues were giving Owen—those same dreamy, admiring glances they'd had for Hotch’s brother whenever he visited the office.

Spencer’s posture stiffened as the understanding sank in. If he were being honest, he’d liked the new agent when they first met, but now, seeing the way Owen was smirking at you as he moved closer, that initial fondness had quickly morphed into distaste. He could still hear his colleagues gushing over the agent as he quickly got up and headed down the stairs toward you.

“So, I was thinking Italian? Do you like Italian?” Owen asked, his voice upbeat.

Before you could even open your mouth to turn him down, you felt the familiar warmth of your boyfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“We love Italian.”.

You stood there, completely bewildered, as your boyfriend not only inserted himself into the conversation but also made the boldest display of possessiveness, wrapping his arms around you without a second thought. It was so un-Spencer-like—especially in the office—but you weren’t about to complain, your hands instinctively resting over his arms.

“Actually, Owen—I can call you Owen, right?” He doesn’t wait for confirmation before continuing. “You know, it’s fascinating how often people pick Italian food for a first date. Objectively, it’s a terrible choice. Think about it: you’ve got these long, slippery noodles—spaghetti, for instance—that are practically designed to humiliate you. The odds of splattering marinara sauce all over yourself—or worse, your date—are alarmingly high. And then there’s the garlic. People convince themselves that a mint will magically erase it, but we both know that’s just a delusion. Why anyone still thinks it’s a good idea is beyond me. Kind of stupid, don’t you think?”

You bit your lip, struggling to suppress your laughter as Owen’s face crumpled. You truly felt sorry for the poor thing—he really was a nice guy—but seeing Spencer get this sassy, especially when it was all because of you, was strangely entertaining.

“I—uh, yeah.” Owen gives a nervous laugh, his fingers awkwardly brushing the back of his neck. “Pretty stupid.”

“But we’d love to have Italian food with you! Right, baby?” Spencer gives your waist a subtle squeeze, his silent cue for you to play along.

You cough slightly, trying to cover your laugh. “Right! Yes, totally—Italian sounds great.”

“Yeah, that’s cool, guys. But, uh, now that I think about it, I’m swamped. You know, being a new agent and everything.” Roger’s voice wavers just enough to betray his weak excuse.

“So unfortunate. Maybe another time,” Spencer replied smoothly. Owen nodded stiffly, forcing a tight smile before quickly walking off.

You scoffed a laugh as Owen disappeared down the bullpen, the shock still lingering. You turned to Spencer, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“What in the world has gotten into that pretty head of yours?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a little, suddenly aware of how much of a spectacle he had just made in the middle of the office.

“He was asking you out,” he said quietly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You chuckled, reaching up to adjust his collar. “And I was just about to say no.”

His arms found their way back around your waist, leaning into your touch as if he’d forgotten where he was. His eyes flickered from your hands to your face, his expression softening. “I know you were. But he should know not to ask you.”

You smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, amused by how the man who’s so intent on keeping your relationship discreet in public is now letting his clingy nature shine through.

“You know he can’t smell that I’m taken, right?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Well, maybe we should change that,” Spencer whispered, his voice low as he leaned in, his face brushing against your neck, causing you to giggle.

Unbeknownst to you, the whole team had quietly tiptoed their way down the stairs, and gathered around on the other side of the bullpen. They stood there, wide-eyed, like they were watching an episode of their favorite drama.

“Derek… Am I seeing this right?” Garcia whispered, voice dripping with curiosity as she watched Spencer's face disappear into your neck.

Morgan’s chuckle echoed through the bullpen. “Oh yes, babygirl. You’re seeing it just right.”

Spencer’s grip on you tightened as he sensed the peering eyes, but instead of discomfort, he radiated a quiet pride. He wasn’t hiding anymore—he was proud of what you shared, proud to be yours, and for you to be his, and he wanted the world to know it.

[icypopz]

coming over when they're drunk ♡

↬ request from anon ; Hiiii, may I please request the LADS boys getting really drunk, and they decided to come to her house late at night (they either live together or just came to her apartment). It can be only Zayne, tho.

↬ notes ; caleb, rafayel, sylus, xavier, zayne x gn!reader

↬ from ice ; hihi!! it's been like 7000 years since i last wrote but caleb's announcement has resurrected me!! this prompt was so fun and silly... anyways i hope you enjoy this!

↬ warning(s) ; all LIs are drunk, caleb antis dni, mc is described as shorter than all of them, sylus + zayne's are p suggestive

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

[ caleb ! ]

"caleb?" what are you doing here?" you gasp as you open the door and see his familiar figure leaning against the frame. he's so tall that he has to duck to enter your apartment, and he stumbles as he does, making you rush to support him. "y/n..." he mumbles, his voice deep and husky, and you feel your heartbeat speed up at the way he says your name, "missed you..." "tsk, you're so dumb," you scold, though your heated cheeks betray how flustered you really are, "going and getting drunk even though you know you can't handle alcohol?" "mmphhh..." he groans as you both somehow manage to land on the sofa, his head resting on your chest, "sorry." you roll your eyes affectionately, threading your hands through his hair, "it's fine, silly. you're going to be the one hungover tomorrow." he nuzzles further into your chest, making you squeak, "hey! caleb!" "just let me sleep here..." and just like that, he's out like a light, his head tucked perfectly in the crook of your neck even though he's so much taller than you. well, you've known him for so many years that being this close is fine, right? it's totally fine that your heart is racing at a million miles per hour from how your dear childhood friend is sleeping on you... right?

more content utc !

[ rafayel ! ]

"ugh, raf, get off!" you groan, trying (and failing) to shove the purple-haired artist off you. "you're too heavy!" "but miss bodyguard~" he whines, lifting his head from how he's draped all 183cm of himself onto you, arms wrapped tight around your shoulders as if daring you to leave. his cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol, crimson dusting his ears when he gazes at you, "you're so warm! and it's sooo cold! you don't want your precious rafayel to freeze, do you?" he pouts, jutting out his lower lip in a way that's deceivingly adorable, and it almost makes you fold. keyword: almost. "well, you don't want your precious miss hunter to get crushed, do you?" you retort, even though you press yourself further into his comforting embrace. "if it's with me, then it's fine," rafayel teases, "i'll take care of you even if you're a pancake." "you're so annoying," you huff, though there's no real anger in your tone as you tuck a strand of purple hair behind his ear. "i'll even get you the best maple syrup and everything!" "...go to sleep, rafayel."

[ sylus ! ]

"sylus?" the two of you are in his mansion in the n109 zone, and he's just returned from another protocore auction. you help him slip off his masquerade mask, though you know he doesn't need to conceal his identity in someplace like this where his name is fear-inducing enough. "are you okay?" your palm presses against his cheek and forehead, checking if he has a fever, "you seem a little flushed." his eyes flutter shut and he leans into your touch, exhaling slowly, "it's nothing... i might have drank too much earlier." his large hand envelops yours, and he opens his ruby eyes once more, fixing his intense gaze on your face, "you're making me want to do very bad things, kitten." "i haven't even done anything- ah!" you argue, but your sentence is cut off as he sweeps you into his arms, lifting you easily into a princess carry. "you talk too much," he teases as you half-heartedly punch his chest, "ugh, sylus!" "i can think of several better ways for you to use that mouth of yours," he smirks as he kicks open your bedroom door, "so let's put those pretty lips to good use, hm?"

[ xavier ! ]

it's two in the morning when you hear a thump on your balcony. arming yourself, you stalk forward slowly, only to see, "xavier?!" "ah. hello, y/n." he stands up shakily, only to lean sideways and fall into a chair. "i was trying to teleport back home... but i guess i ended up at your apartment instead." he looks at you with his irresistible puppy eyes, and you can already guess what he's going to say next. throwing your hands up in defeat, you sigh, "sure, you can stay over." but as he stands up once more, almost toppling over again, you raise an eyebrow, "xavier, are you drunk?" "...not really." he looks away, and you can see how his neck is flushed, "liar. come here, let me help you." as you help him balance with his arm around you and head back inside, xavier's familiar scent wraps around the two of you like a soothing hug. "do i get to share a bed with you?" his eyes light up when you push open the bedroom door, "yeah, i feel too bad making you sleep on the couch when you're like this." his other hand sneaks up underneath the back of your shirt, pressing against your bare skin and sending waves of heat through your body. a gasp slips past your lips, and when you look up at xavier, he merely smiles, "i guess it's a good thing that i ended up here tonight after all."

[ zayne ! ]

"hmm..." you pretend to look thoughtful, gaze roving over zayne's tall figure as he sits on your couch, "is the famous dr. zayne perhaps... drunk?!" your voice turns dramatic, "how scandalous!" zayne looks at you confusedly, dark eyes seeming even darker and rounder than usual like a pair of twin boba pearls, "...what?" "aw, zayne! you're so cute like this!" you gush, giggling and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. "my senses are not that impaired," he retorts, though his voice softens as he feels your familiar weight on his lap, "i am just... tipsy." "mhmm, whatever you say~" you tease, pressing a flurry of kisses along his neck. "d-don't do that..." he gasps, breath hitching as your lips drag over his pulse point, "i might not be able to hold myself back." "so don't." you lean back and tilt your head smugly, knowing that he's putty in your hands, "who said i wanted you to hold back anyway?" his eyes narrow behind his glasses, "don't say things you don't mean." "i mean it one hundred percent~" you smirk, leaning forward to steal his breath with another heated kiss. zayne's hands tighten their grip on your waist before he pins you underneath him, "whatever you say, y/n."

✧ thank you for reading ! if you have a request, feel free to send it in 🌠

© icypopz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[kawoala]

Your requests are opennn and I just saw the tsukishima fic and i luv ittt! May i request a prompt wherein kei and managerf!reader have been dating in the middle of the school year for a while and the team finds out? Thankss

𝐊𝐄𝐈 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 what is going on word count ; (1,225) content warning ; (sorry it took me so long to answer - i want to say i was perfecting it but really i was procrastinating, secret relationship unveiled, talkative mom, second year! tsukishima)

The gym is hot. It’s usually hot, what with all the players running up and down the court, breaking a sweat, breathing heavily, but today feels different. Maybe the twenty year old AC system has finally kicked the bucket.

The bleachers on either side of the gym are packed with people from both Karasuno and Ichibayashi. You’re not sure why so many people showed up, but you don’t really care. You sit next to Yachi on the bench where the team sits during time-outs, fanning yourself with your clipboard.

“This sucks,” you say to nobody in particular. Yachi is on one side, but there is a first year on the other side. You turn to the blonde girl, who’s staring intently at the court, and exhale dramatically. “Yachi, I said this sucks.”

“No, I heard you the first time,” she says nonchalantly, though you can see her trying to fight the smile threatening to break out on her face. She turns to look at you, letting her head lull to the side. “How can this suck, Y/n? We’re winning!”

You blink at her a couple times. “We haven’t lost a single set to Ichibayashi since before Suga-san’s first year. If we lose, I’m quitting as a manager.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the game. You scrunch up your face, but do the same, eyes dead set on finding Kei. 

He always looks so handsome on the court. You often tell him that he goes into The Zone when he plays volleyball, but he just rolls his eyes and calls you weird. It would make you sad if you didn’t realize pretty early that his love language is shit-talking.

You watch him leap off the ground, effectively blocking Ichibayashi’s ball and scoring a point for Karasuno. You don’t realize until the crowd behind you erupts in cheers that the point he scored was the winning point.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, and you stand quickly, clapping your hands together in excitement. Yachi does the same beside you, and so do the rest of the benched players.

You watch Karasuno shake hands with the other team, thanking them for a good game, and then it’s done. You’re packing up your stuff, the team, including Kei, is headed to the locker room, but the call of his name startles you both.

“Oh, Kei!” You could hear that voice even if you were deaf. You turn slowly, watching your mother flag the tall boy down, calling his name like it means stop. “Kei! You played so well! I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner after this? You’re always welcome, but I’d like to invite you myself. Heaven knows Y/n will forget. How does that sound? I can call your mother if—”

“Mom!” Your voice echoes off the gym first, your sneakers against the waxy floor is next. You skid to a stop in between the two of them, eyes wide. “What are you doing?” You exclaim incredulously at her.

She raises her brows, obviously offended. “Excuse me, little girl. I’m inviting Kei to dinner tonight.” She clicks her tongue, putting her hand on her hip. You hate to say it, but this is where your attitude comes from and there’s no denying it. “I didn’t think you would have a problem with that.”

“I don’t, I just—” you cut yourself off, glancing around as you realize the whole team is staring at you. “I, um, was going to do that. I remembered, so you didn’t have to.”

She purses her lips, lifting her eyes to where Kei’s eyes presumably are. “Can you believe this? Angry with her mother because I invited someone she was already going to invite.”

“That’s not why I’m—”

“I know,” Kei cuts you off, patting you on the head a couple times. “Terrible, isn’t she?”

Your mother laughs, placing a hand on her chest like Kei is the funniest person she’s ever met. Spoiler alert; he’s not. She does have you in her life, after all.

“Okay.” You place your hands on her shoulders, turning her around towards the exit. “Time for you to go home and start working on dinner, yeah? We’ll be there in, like, thirty minutes.”

“Okay, sweetie,” she calls back with a wave of her hand. She glances back once more, giving Kei a tiny wave and big smile. Unbeknownst to you, he waves back.

When you turn around, you find the whole team still staring at you.

“What was that?” Ennoshita asks, narrowing his eyes.

You furrow your brows, tilting your head. “What was what? My mom’s crazy, don’t mind her.”

He hums, but Narita is nudging him into the locker room, mumbling something about post-game dinner ritual. Nishinoya and Tanaka are narrowing their eyes at you too.

“Why is your mom inviting Tsukishima to dinner at your house?”

“Yeah, why him, of all people. Why not me? I’m funnier and way handsome-r.”

You roll your eyes, but turn your attention to Kei and glare at him. “‘She’s terrible, isn’t she?’” You repeat in a mocking tone, scrunching your face up. “Do you hate me?”

”Wait, I’m confused.”

You look at Hinata and press your lips together. “When are you not?”

He. gives you a faux laugh and narrows his eyes— too many people have done that already, you’re starting to get a little annoyed. “Why is your mom inviting Tsukishima over to dinner and not one of us? Why does your mom like the meanest person in our year.”

Now, you hesitate. At the beginning of the year, you realized just how good Kei was at keeping secrets. You realized he didn't want all the drama that came with a public relationship, and neither did you, so you kept it a more private thing. That’s what was most comfortable for the two of you. However, it quickly became a nuisance. There were rumors of you two dating anyway, when Kei started being just the smallest bit nicer to you. It was harder to be around him and keep your feelings in check because, if you didn't, other people would find out and that would be a tragedy for the both of you.

”She’s my girlfriend, idiot.” The words coming from Kei shock you. Your head whips around to look at him so fast, you fear there might be a touch of whiplash involved. Your eyes are wide, eyebrows raised to your hairline.

”What are you doing?” You ask through gritted teeth, tone walking the line of sing-songy and mad.

He turns to you now, smiling softly. “It’s getting tiresome having to hide our relationship, isn’t it? Plus, people already thought we were dating.” He shrugs. “Give the people what they want, right?”

You smile back at him. You think Kei has changed a lot since first year— in a good way, of course. He’s kinder, softer, stronger. All of the hinges that have changed about him, also changed with you. You don’t know it yet, but you two have made each other better people in the time frame of your relationship at this moment.

”What?” Hinata exclaims, putting his hands on his head. “What do you mean you’re dating? How could you date him? He’s so— and you’re so— what is going on!”

[pixiekiwi]

love your works! How about lokixreader (friends to lover). Where the reader decides to try to get over loki by going on a date because she thing loki doesn’t like her like that. So how loki finds out about her going out on a date and I’ll leave the rest up to you!

You Mischievous Little Thing | Loki Laufeyson x Fem!Reader

HELLOO!!! Thank you so much for this ask :3 I may have not written exactly what you were imagining, however I had a lottt of fun adding to this prompt. I also... wrote quite a bit more than I was expecting, the words just kept coming!! I hope you enjoy!! :D Reminder, asks are still open <3

Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Description: Loki finds you on a date, with another man, wearing his colors.

Warnings: Slight NSFW content, no set timeline, jealous Loki ;), feminine reader, no use of (Y/N), slight knife play.

Word count: 3.8k

mea columba: my dove

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

All Mother Frigga was not only known for being one of the smartest and beautiful women of Asgard, but also for the grand soirée’s hosted almost every other week. Typically they were hosted for events, however Frigga also loved to host gatherings for the sake of it, this being one of those times.

You had actually managed to get a date for this ball., and wasn’t an accident. Using it as an opportunity get your mind away from your childhood best friend - The Young Prince, Loki of Asgard.

You had recently come to the realization you had feelings for the man. You noticed your heartbeat would speed up at the littlest of glances, the smallest of smiles, the sweetest of looks.

How you had come to this conclusion was finding your cheeks the brightest of red in the mirror while allowing your mind to fall to the idea of the Prince. You cursed yourself that day, and cursed the God of Mischief for fooling you into these feelings.

You couldn’t help it however, his bashful smiles, his bright blue eyes that seemed to just do things to you - you couldn’t get him out of your mind.

And you knew, he did not feel the same way. I mean, he was Loki of Asgard, and you were you, of… Well, nothing really.

You had met him in the gardens when you were young. Your father was a nobleman on the war council and you had been visiting the castle for a few weeks when you had bumped into the boy. Immediately the two of you clicked, it was easy. You had the same curiosity for the world, the same mischievous and playful spirit, the same yearning to know more, to be more.

And now, centuries later, you lived in the castle. You had moved to the castle at Loki’s request, to help him with his studies to become the Crown Prince for when his brother finally was crowned. Now, you had a rightful seat at the war council - just as your father had.

It had been years of the two of you being side by side, you had become inseparable. Everyone knew it, everyone saw it.

You had both dated others, but nothing ever stuck for either of you. You didn’t mind, until you realized you had feelings for the Young Prince.

So now there you were, down in the Ball Room as hundreds of other Asgardians danced around you all the while awkwardly standing next to your date. Ironically, the only dress you had at the moment to wear was a dark green gown, laced with gold ribbon.

The man you stood beside wasn’t terrible, he was sweet, but just… Boring. It was nothing against him, he was handsome, but he didn’t get your jokes, your sarcasm, or even your compliments. It seemed he truly didn’t have a brain.

You smiled at him as he spoke about battle, in a dramatic fashion - explaining something about decapitating an enemy. You had stopped listening minutes ago, but yet you sipped your drink politely, letting your eyes wander slightly, looking for… Well you know who you were looking for. To your dismay, you had yet to see the blue eyed man.

So you moved your eyes back over to your date, whose name, you actually could not remember for the life of you. He had seemed to now be distracted by one of his friends who had come to speak to him. Seeing as they were now enthralled in a conversation, you took this as the best moment to step away.

You moved quickly, giving a quick muttered excuse to leave and moving carefully to the large banquet table. The foods and deserts upon the table made your mouth water. You reached for a rosatum, thankful for the sweetness that dissolved upon your tongue.

You let your eyes wander again, you watched as couples danced happily upon the dance floor, their lovestruck gazes never leaving each other’s. Your heart panged in an odd manner, was that jealousy? Yearning?

You didn’t know, and preferably, you didn’t want to.

As you were finishing one off of the many drinks you had tonight, you felt a pair of eyes studying you from afar.

You had grown a knack for sensing Loki from what felt like miles away. You were not one for magic, but his magic you could feel. You didn’t know why, you assumed it had something to do with the time you had spent together. However you didn’t mind, he wasn’t able to sneak up on you anymore - he had done it enough.

As your eyes snapped to his, a velvety feeling filled your lungs. A small smile crept up upon your face as you gave him a small curtsey, a running inside joke between you two.

You could see a smile creep up his expression as he bowed his head to you.

You could almost see his eyes graze your figure, but he was too far away to truly tell. Standing the upon golden steps across the room his aura bled confidence, that you could see from hundreds of feet away. He was wearing a beautiful dark green and gold suit plated with golden armor, a show of his status.

You wanted to wave him over, and you almost did - until your date grabbed your shoulder.

“You disappeared back there,” he smiled politely, pulling your attention, albeit begrudgingly, away from the Young Prince across the hall.

You didn’t see how his face fell.

“I apologize,” you smiled half-heartedly.

“I was just getting to the best part,” He laughed, his face red and flushed from alcohol, “I hadn't told you about the beheading!”

He did, a thousand times already.

You hoped your true emotions were not showing upon your face, as that would be quite rude. But truly, you could not stand to be around this man anymore. You had already listened to enough battle re-telling while on the council. You wanted to come up with some excuse to leave, maybe that you had fallen ill - but before you could even get another word out, the hairs on the back of your neck stood.

“Would you care to dance My Lady?”

You spun to the side, unaware of your date’s narrowing eyes upon the man now in front of you both.

“Loki.” you had almost gasped out in relief, he was finally here to rescue you from this horrid date.

His sharp features seemed to soften as they took you in, admiring the gown you had put yourself in. Loki’s eyes met yours again and his feathery gaze fell into an odd stoic wall you could not break through. He smiled politely at your date before holding out his arm for you to grab.

You took it willingly, wrapping your arm with his.

You didn’t even glance back to your date as Loki took you through the crowd, finding a perfect spot for the two of you to dance. You felt yourself become relaxed at the mere presence of him. His familiar oaky and leathery cologne invaded your senses, sending your heart into a frenzy of beats. His hold upon your arm was sturdy and powerful, almost as if proving something. You didn’t question it, happy you now had space between you and the man you were just with.

“A date?” The black haired man finally spoke out. His voice was solid, there was a strong lack of emotions behind his question, throwing you off.

You nodded.

“Y’know, Adrián is one of the stupidest Asgardians I’ve ever met.” He quipped. His tone was void of the typical teasing you were used to, but you smiled and laughed anyway, moving your body with his as you turned to dance with him.

“I realize that now, I actually didn’t even remember his name. I’m not sure he does either, he’s had enough mead for a lifetime.” You smiled, a genuine smile as you gazed up to Loki. Truly taking in his striking features. You had danced together time and time again before, however you always jumped at the chance to admire him. His hair was slicked back and styled, and his blue eyes almost looked green from the reflection of your clothing. “I think I could only handle the same story twice, and I have heard it enough already for a millenia.”

A small smile crept up to Loki’s face at your comment, but yet his stoic facade still stood between you and him. He spun you around once, stepping into place with the others dancing around you.

There was an odd silence between you two at this moment, it made you uneasy. Quiet was normal between you two - time spent together reading by the fire, studying in the archives, or even just spending time going on walks in and around the palace - but this quiet, it was different.

You kept your eyes on him as he failed to meet yours, “Is there something wrong?” You finally asked, your voice filled with genuine concern. You wanted to reach and brush the stray hair from his cheek back behind his ear, but you refrained.

Loki shook his head, licking his lips as he danced your body with his own. His eyes finally falling upon yours as he spoke, “It’s insulting for you to parade yourself out here in my colors, with your arm around another man.”

His words held a certain… frustration, that you could not decipher.

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, your eyes staying upon his as your eyebrows raised, “What?” A small nervous laugh escaping you.

His own eyebrow perked up, spinning you around with him as he scanned the crowd of people beside the group dancing, “Did you do it on purpose?” The irritation in his voice was certain as his eyes met yours again.

You had seen Loki frustrated before, angry even. However this was different - it was an emotion you had not seen upon the man. Your mouth went dry at the accusation, you were confused as to what he was implying - had you understood, you’d probably faint.

“I’m sorry?” You asked again, your voice still holding the nervous laugh from before. Avoiding his gaze you spoke again, “I do not understand what you are insinuating.”

While you failed to meet his gaze, you didn’t fail to notice the pink that seemed to climb up upon his neck. His own eyes flickering away from you to the crowd that surrounded you, he seemed… Nervous.

Suddenly, as if seeing something in the crowd - his eyes glowed with frustration once more before snapping to you again. He spun you around again, your gown glittering under the soft light from the chandeliers. Before pulling you close to his body, leading you two into a gentle waltz. The dancing had now become the background of your focus, giving Loki the authority to lead you was easy.

“Look at you, mea columba. You are adorned in gold and green.” Loki’s eyes scanned you up and down, a dangerous emotion flickering through his blue eyes. “You’re practically mine in those colors.”

Your eyes snapped to his blue ones in surprise. You opened your mouth to respond, but you had nothing on your mind to respond with, you were still mulling over his words in your mind.

Practically his.

You gulped as you closed your mouth, your eyes flitting from his eyes down to his lips, where a small smirk had begun to form upon them. Of course, he was playing a game with you, it seemed he always was. As your eyes met his again, you found the wall that was once there was now broken. You could see his frustration now melt into something different, confidence.

You hadn’t noticed Loki had led you both near one of the many exits of the ballroom. You now had stopped dancing, his arm still leading you two wherever he pleased. You looked around finally, seeing you had stepped past the beautiful archway leading you both down a quiet hall. You didn’t mind, the music was becoming overwhelming.

“It was the only gown that was decent enough for the ball.” The words tumbled from your lips haphazardly, it was the first response you could manage. You cursed yourself internally for drinking as much as you had. Deep down you knew that wasn’t the key to your flustered state, however it was easier to blame.

Loki’s eyebrow perked again at the excuse, leading you to an open isolated balcony looking upon the beautiful Gardens lit under the moonlight below. He turned to you, his arm unlacing with yours and taking a few steps away - keeping his eyes trained to your figure he spoke, “I thought you wore those colors for me.”

You froze, the soft chill of the wind sending shivers up your spine, or was that from him? You couldn’t tell. Swallowing thickly you moved to the edge of the balcony, looking down upon the gardens. Your nerves were on high alert, feeling his gaze upon you as you attempted to ignore him.

You couldn’t, his presence overwhelmed you in a way you couldn’t properly comprehend.

Wearing colors for him? Why would he care? Has he ever cared before?

You couldn’t recall a time where he had.

The silence enveloped the two of you, the only sound being the laughter from the ball room and the soft melody of music that echoed down the hall. Loki’s eyes fixated on you, and your own refusing to meet his. It was a silent battle of push and pull - a simple game which you knew you were losing.

You didn’t notice him pulling nervously at his fingers behind his back.

Knowing you couldn’t just let yourself lose, you pushed back. You felt confidence consume you, as you had played this game with him many times before. Straightening your posture you turned to him, your eyes finding his already upon your form.

They hadn’t left.

And finally - you spoke, bringing the silence to an end.

“I hadn’t realized you laid claim upon a color.”

As the jest fell from your lips, excitement flashed through the prince’s blue eyes. His hands falling to his sides as he moved closer. His body was now mere inches away from yours, you could feel the unusual cold chill from his body that you had grown to find comfort within. His hand reached to lift your chin, his eyes meeting yours.

It seemed as if lightning struck as they connected, your body tensed as the confidence you had just felt faltered for a moment.

A knowing smirk slowly made its way upon Loki’s face. “And anyone that wears it.”

Your breath hitched at the implication, your eyes flicking down his figure before meeting his eyes once again. You gazed at him through your eyelashes, your teeth finding your bottom lip as you returned his playful, smirk.

“Well,” You paused, taking your time to mull over your words as a certain heat rose in your lower half, “If I must, I may just have to - take it off?” You glanced away briefly, “If that pleases you,” you met his blue eyes again, “Your Highness.”

You lowered yourself into a curtsey, your head now below his abdomen. Before you could sink any lower, his cold hand grabbed your upper arm - pulling you back up to him. He was leaning over now, your faces just threads apart.

You could feel Loki’s breath upon your lips as he spoke, “Oh you mischievous little thing,” his tone low and rasping.

Lifting you and setting you upon the bench like railing of the balcony, one hand finding your lower back, his grasp the only thing between you and the gardens below sending a wave of adrenaline through you. His other hand - crawling up your leg under the flurry of skirts you adorned, your own hands finding his neck. He whispered finally, leaning over so that his lips now at your “You know I would like to do that myself.”

Stunned by his sudden actions, his declaration, and the closeness of the two of you - it had seemed as if you had suddenly lost the ability to speak. Your lips parted in surprise, his strong grasp steadying you just enough.

Your nervous gaze fell upon him - his attention fixated upon you. Your lungs shook as you took in a shuddering beeath, searching for the words to say, to continue this game.

But you couldn’t find those words, in fact, he didn’t even give you the chance to - as his lips were now on yours.

Your heart skipped eight beats at once and a small gasp escaped you. His kiss was hesitant at first, but when your eyes fluttered closed, and your hands found his hair, pulling him closer - as if giving him permission - he didn’t restrain himself any longer.

Loki’s hand on your lower back was now moving up to your shoulder blades, moving your body flush to his. The hand that resided within your skirts gripped your thigh tightly - as if he could sink claws into your warm flesh.

As he leaned closer, you broke away - your nervousness from being mere inches to the edge causing your momentous pause. Breathless and shamelessly warm, your lips parted, ready to warn him of your anxieties. His hungry eyes met yours and he spoke for you.

“You think I'd be so foolish as to let you fall?” He clicked his tongue teasingly as he spoke, “The only foolish thing I’ve done is let you be seen in this dress while not by my side.”

A wild glimmer flickered through his icy blue gaze, desperation clawed through them as they trailed down to your gown. As they flicked back up, the mischievous smirk you were used to took hold of his expression. You could see the gears turning in his mind - you knew his next actions would be bad news.

You felt yourself flush with amorous excitement.

Loki’s hand upon your back lowered once more - all the while still holding you sturdy - and his other hand loosened from your thigh. “We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong message now,” his eyebrow perked as he cocked his head to the side slightly, his tone low and commanding, but yet far from his usual Prince-like-regality, “Would we?”

You felt a cold sharp object graze where Loki’s hand once was. Your breath hitched as you heard the sharp ripping of fabrics.

Your eyes snapped down, your skirts now cut away, revealing your bare legs and a dagger gripped between Loki’s palm. As he conjured the dagger away in a fluff of green particles, feathery gasp escaped your lips at the sudden coolness of the breeze against your skin. His hand found your thigh once more - however much higher than he had before.

“Much better now,”, he pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his lower half. His dangerous gaze never seemed to falter.

“Don’t you agree?”

You wanted to disagree, in fact you wanted to yell at him for cutting up such a beautiful gown. But hungry excitement flooded your veins.

“Loki…” You whispered out a warning. You wanted to say more, tell him that this game had gone too far - but the yearning for more clawed through your chest and down through your lower half. Something else told you this wasn’t a game anymore. Your tongue flitted over your lips - Loki’s eyes falling to them - watching as you bit back the words you truly wanted to say.

“Oh mea columba,” He practically groaned out - his voice coated with desperation, “As much as I love seeing you in gold and green, I think I’d much prefer you with nothing on.” As he spoke, his hand on your upper thigh crawled farther up - reaching the hem of your panties.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as his cold fingers played with the hem “If that pleases you, My Prince.”

As the words left you, his gaze shot to yours. His eyes glowed with hunger, so much so that even you could see that he was starving.

“What would please me, is the idea of you never wearing another man's arm -” He paused, his fingers slipping under the hem, his hand grasping the side of your hips. He lowered, his lips finding your jaw - you stretching your neck to give him access. The kisses started slowly, giving you time to move your hands around to his neck and lowering them further down his chest.

“However,” he began again - his lips now lowering down to your neck “You can wear my colors-” He stopped again, his teeth now grazing your collarbone, unbeknownst to you his piercing gaze stared up at you, “As long as I get to claim you as mine.”

You shuddered at his words, realizing this was not a game anymore. This was desire. Your hands found the back of his head once more, his once styled and slicked back hair was now a mess - his natural curls now showing through.

The goosebumps that raised on your flesh was telling enough for Loki, he smirked against your skin. Straightening himself into a stand, all the while kissing you feverishly up your neck and collarbone.

Tightening his grip upon your hip - hovering his lips just breaths away from yours he spoke, “Should we take this to my bed chambers then,” he paused, his sensual gaze now upon yours, “My lady?”

You gazed up at him through your lashes - your body warm with desperation, with the want - no - the need, for more.

“Please-” the plea was barely a word, but instead a hushed moan that you couldn’t control.

At the sound Loki’s eyes flashed - both hands now at your hips, lifting you from the railing. His arms wrapped around you, flushing you against him. You barely had time to register the green particles that surrounded you both, before your head was upon a pillow and soft silk sheets beneath you. Loki’s arm released you gently as he leaned back, now straddling you.

He whipped his hair back, brushing it away from his face as he took a steadying breath, his eyes finding yours again. You noticed he no longer wore gold armour, but just his shite undershirt and black pants that he wore underneath.

Your heart seemed to stutter as you watched him, his biceps flexing as he moved to unbutton half of his shirt. His sensual gaze looking you up and down, sending shivers through your spine, and velvet through you.

“Now,” He spoke finally, pulling your hands that laid at your sides up, above your head onto the headboard. His face now inches from yours once more, “Let’s get this torn gown off of you.”

[mcflymemes]

NOSFERATU PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the screenplay, adjust as necessary

i have felt you like a serpent crawling in my body.

love is inferior to you.

i am an appetite. nothing more.

you are my affliction.

even now we are fated.

you know nothing of him.

your passion is bound to me.

you cannot love.

i cannot be sated without you.

we must remain calm.

you know i love you both.

why do you hate me?

you have never liked me.

search everything.

this is madness!

i must see them!

don't touch me. i am not to be touched.

our love was supposed to be sacred.

kiss me.

i need no salvation.

you will put an end to all of this?

come to me.

hear my call.

you are not for the living.

do you swear it?

what's that, my love?

there is nothing to be afraid of.

take off your shoes.

i wish i could stay, my love.

i really must be off.

come in, come in.

i thank you for considering me.

you are too generous.

it will be a great adventure for you.

why have you killed these beautiful flowers?

let us put them in water.

forgive me.

throw them out.

you cannot leave.

i must tell you my dream.

please, no more of your childhood memories.

never speak these things aloud.

it is a foolish dream.

everything is well.

when i return, i will finally make something of myself.

i love you too much.

it's worth celebrating your adventure!

i envy you.

it's crushing, [name]. crushing.

i cannot resist her.

not another word.

do take care of [name].

there is a monster in the room.

we have each other.

you're hurting me.

i am proud of you.

please keep safe.

have you so little faith in me?

i promise.

remember, it's all for us.

you bring trouble with you.

i only wish to stay one night.

i have an audience at the castle.

leave here.

you are late.

i wish you to do as i request.

it's nothing.

come by the fire.

why ever did you bring that here?

you must put that away.

what might we do for you?

that was yesterday.

do you ever feel at times as if you were not a person?

we all feel out of sorts.

look at the sea!

i am not mad.

forgive me. everything i say sounds so childish.

how careless of me.

you are fortunate in your love.

i fear i am taken ill.

if it continues, let me know.

i have received nothing of any kind.

still no trace of him.

for heaven's sake, you cannot leave.

a moment longer... please.

i cannot resist you, my love.

can you tell me your name?

he is coming.

why haven't you told me?

i must leave!

i sensed something.

you look tired.

would you describe them to me?

tell me what you can. from the beginning.

this is no delusion.

the blood is the life.

i feared i'd never see you again.

what the devil is this?

it is past three o'clock in the morning!

forgive me for the troubles i have caused you.

get off me. give me room. i can't breathe.

you frightened me.

may i stay with you tonight?

thank you for loving me.

our spirits are one, so too shall be our flesh.

you are mine.

[gingernut1314]

It's Cold

Summary: It's cold on the island your crew has sailed into and Zoro refuses to wear his jacket.

Content: Gender-natural reader, Zoro being stubborn, set on the Thousand Sunny, Brook mentioned, Drum Island and Zoro's happenings there mentioned

Word Count: 1K

A/N: It's snowing in my part of the world and after seeing one of the prompts from this prompt list, I had to write this little fic. I hope you all enjoy!

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Your crew had yet again landed on an island perpetually thrown into winter. An island with winds so frigid it cut through the skin, knee-high snow that would make any journey monstrous, and a cloudy, gray sky that never seemed to have met the sun.

And yet Zoro still refused to put a jacket on. 

“It’s cold, Zoro.” You huffed, thrusting his coat out for him to take. He crossed his arms tight over her chest in refusal. You could already see the bits of skin his short-sleeved shirt didn’t cover growing red from the biting wind.

“This is what you call cold?” He scoffed. “This is nothin’.” He brushed you off with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Not cold?” You bit just as sharp as the cold at him. “You’re one big fat liar.” Zoro narrowed his eyes at you. 

“Am not.” 

“Are too.” You childishly shot back as you all but lunged at the swordsman. Zoro gave a gruffing growl as you tried to wrangle the jacket onto one of his arms. Zoro moved and you held on tighter, the swordman all but swinging you around with him. 

“Hey!” Zoro shouted, tossing you off in a not-so-gentle way. “Knock it off.” 

“No. Not until you wear a jacket.” You huffed back, the cold air turning your words into a could of white before you. Zoro watched you, his annoyance growing with every second that ticked by. 

“Not gonna happen.” He insisted. “It’s good for endurance.” 

“Not when you're getting hypothermia on top of it.” Zoro rolled his eyes at you then. 

Rolled them. 

Like he thought you were being over dramatic.

“You remember Drum Island?” You stabbed a finger into his solid chest. “Remember how you got lost in sub-zero temperatures with no shirt on? Remember how you whined like a baby about how cold--” 

“I did not whine like a little baby.” Zoro huffed, smacking your finger away. “I don’t need a damn jacket.” 

You watched Zoro for a long moment. 

A moment you took to shoot dagger-sharp eyes his way. Eyes full of dissatisfaction of his continued stubbornness. Eyes that had slowly but surely begun to make Zoro squirm. 

“Stop that.” He gruffed at you. 

“Stop what.” You shrugged, slinging his jacket over your arm neatly. 

“That look on your face. Stop it.” You shook your head, starting for the rest of the crew waiting for you two, already having made it to land. 

“What look? I have no look.” Zoro gruffed once more before quickly making his way to your side. 

“You want me to wear that jacket.” You shrugged. 

“Yes. It would make me very very happy if you did but what can I do about it? You have said no over and over again. You win. I don’t care anymore.” Zoro all but ground his teeth as he continued to follow you off the ship, Brook’s Yohohoing laugh floating up their way. 

You looked calm. 

Too calm.

A calm you would never feel unless he put that jacket on. 

It was suspicious…but a pinched twitch of your lips told him you were far from calm.

“It’s not that cold.” He huffed, scratching the top of his green-haired head.

“It's very cold.” 

“Maybe.” You glanced up at him, brow cocked. 

“Oh?” Zoro grit his teeth, dark brown, near black, eyes glancing away from you. 

“Snow is cold. There’s snow.” He muttered. 

“Good job! You're right.” You said in mock cheery praise. Praise that was very much done condescendingly. Done to make him feel stupid.

Zoro wasn’t stupid….not all the time.

“Well, now I’m really not gonna wear the damn thing.” And you shrugged it off. Like you really didn’t care now. 

“That’s fine.” And Zoro watched as you placed the jacket on the railing of the Sunny just before you started for the gangway. It stopped Zoro right in his tracks. 

“Wait--you’re just gonna let me go off without a jacket?” You nodded, climbing up onto the gangway. 

“Yep.” You gave the word a nice pop. 

Zoro froze completely then. Like he was now refusing to even leave the ship. 

“But it's cold.” You paused in your exit. 

“What?” Zoro gave a dramatic grumble. 

“You damn well heard what I said.” You turned on your heel then, leaning forward a bit as you cupped your ear. 

“I really didn’t. You’re gonna have to speak up.” Zoro gave yet another grumble as he looked away from you. He crossed his arms, all but ground his teeth and--

“It's cold.” You couldn’t help the satisfied smile that pulled to your lips. 

“That it is. And…?” You pulled your hand from your ear only so you could egg him on. 

“I’m not gonna wear that jacket 'cause it's cold.” He huffed, looking back to find you now sporting a deep frown. 

“Then--”

“I’m gonna wear it to make you happy and to stop you from looking at me like that.” You felt your heart give a little start at his words. Words he didn’t really find to be that big a deal but meant the world to you. 

You hopped down from the gangway, grabbed the jacket, and held it open so you could help Zoro put it on. He huffed, but let you slip the furr-lined jacket onto his thick arms. 

“It does make me happy.” You sweetly said. A sweetness that seemed to melt the hardness from Zoro’s face. 

You zipped his jacket up, but instead of letting the metal zipper pull go, you yanked him down so that he was on level with you. His dark eyes widened the smallest bit at the action. Eyes that seemed to grow even wider as you nuzzled the tip of your cold nose against his, which was annoyingly warm despite the cold surrounding you both.

“Thank you.” You smiled, finding a small dusting of pink had begun to coat Zoro's cheeks just how the snow coated the Sunny’s deck.

“Whatever.” He grumbled, eyes glancing away from yours looking all too cutesily shy.

More Like This: Are You Mad? {Zoro x gn!reader}

[steviewashere]

So, once I'm done with my holiday exchange fic and the New Year's fic I promised (which is definitely going to be out when it's not even New Year's anymore. oops), I want to work on two projects as my main focus for the rest of January and all of February (while I'm doing any holiday prompts or whatever). These will be Punk Steve (as somebody requested him last year and I'm taking fucking forever) and the San Francisco Steve.

Here are some of the ideas I have for Punk Steve (scenes and HCs), if you're interested:

CW for Mentions/Implied/Referenced Child Abuse below

He employs Robin to help him with his hair. It's the first major thing he focuses on, as his hair has always been part of his image. They dye it with purple Kool Aid packets. And then Robin cuts it, choppy and shitty and it's the worst he's ever seen his hair, but he loves it. It's awful and Robin was tipsy the entire time she had the scissors in her hands, she kept giggling into the back of his neck, which then made him giggle��somebody moving because they're laughing is not easy to manage a haircut around.

Robin helps him pierce his earlobes with ice cubes and safety pins and she gifts him a set of studs to put in his ears while they heal. Then, when his ears are ready for different earrings, he goes with a different pair of studs that he sanded down and super-glued spikes to.

Steve going out of town for a little trip—he goes after his parents come home and discover this new version of him, and he's so pissed off that he can't stay in Hawkins for the weekend, so he treats himself. He goes to a queer bar because why the fuck not? He's been in the closet for years, worried about his dad's opinion, but his dad doesn't even like him as he is now, so who's he hiding from anyway? Anyway. Steve's outside the bar, a little buzzed, smoking a cigarette. When, from his right, somebody approaches with a, "You know, those'll kill you." He turns, only to come eye to eye with Eddie Munson, 'The Freak'. And, he's still working some shit out so he's got initial prejudices when he sees Eddie, but stops himself short in a matter of seconds, knowing that he's one of the freaks that Eddie would take in. He just leans back into the brick wall behind him, eyeing the cigarette Eddie's taking from his own pack. "You're a hypocrite, Munson. Need a light?" And then he leans over with his lighter glowing before Eddie can even say anything, staring at the way the little orange glow highlights the light sheen of spit on Eddie's plump lower lip, the freshly shaved down mustache under his nose. It stirs something in him, flips his heart over, dries his tongue. Then, they just smoke in silence next to each other, until Steve notices Eddie's bat tattoo. "Sick ink," is the comment he goes with. And that leads Eddie to hand over his forearm, let Steve investigate it, ramble on about some guy named Ozzy Osbourne—an artist Eddie idolizes from his scene. Steve just nods along, content. He asks about the tattoo shop that did it, if they take walk-ins. If Eddie would go with him in the morning so he could get his first tattoo done because, he admits it, he's sorta scared shitless, considering the whole Russian needle shit the few months before.

Steve at his first tattoo appointment, Eddie next to him. Flipping through a book of flashes. He doesn't even have to debate which one to get when he flips to a page with a robin on it. "It's not the most badass tattoo in the world, but it'll still mean something to me," is what he tells Eddie's confused expression. When the artist takes the flash book back, and disappears further into the shop to create a stencil, his nerves begin to spike. There's the buzz of tattoo guns around him, a guy wincing in the corner from the ink he's getting on his knee, a few droplets of blood beading before they could be wiped. It's stupid, how afraid it's making him feel and he voices that, but Eddie doesn't make fun of him. Just tells him, "It's always scary the first time. But I'll be there. Y'know, in case you need somebody to voice for you." And Steve remembers that during the tattoo. When the beak of the robin is being tattooed over part of his wrist bone, intense and throbbing. He squeezes Eddie's hand, because at some point they started holding hands, and buries his face into his shoulder, tears beading in his eyes. He has to stop a few times, just for Eddie to wipe his tears or give him a cup of water, and even once because he'd been hyperventilating too hard and nearly passed out. But it gets done, eventually, and then he has a new thing to show Robin when he gets home. He tells Eddie as such. And tries, though it's difficult, to ignore the little disappointed lilt in Eddie's, "Oh," when he's told about Robin.

Steve needs to get his septum pierced for sure. I need to make it happen. So that's going on the list.

Him having Eddie show him how to sew. Eddie's barely veiled distaste towards one of the punk band patches he's handed. Eddie smiling when he's handed a Misfits patch that's clearly been drawn by Steve's own hand, some of the lettering a lot wobbly.

Steve rocking the shit out of a skinhead. He definitely bites the guy hard enough to leave a ring of teeth.

Uhh....he and Hopper go at it a few times. I kinda want it to be a hard earned camaraderie because he doesn't trust Hopper at first. Maybe due to the fact that, when Steve needed help to get away from his parents, he was sort of sidelined by the police and Hopper had been a part of that. I'm not sure yet, but all I know is that Steve's ACAB patch isn't just baseline agreement on the statement, but a deeply personal connection he has from past experience. Maybe he even distrusts Hopper because of something Eddie had told him about, about Al Munson being handled when it was almost too late, but not before when it was the beginning and Eddie had been too small and too scared of his dad. Just Steve hating Hopper's guts for a while. And him being untrusting of this adult that was supposed to help him, both in and out of the Upside Down.

He takes to Wayne immediately. Wayne offered to help patch him up after Steve and his dad had been at it. Wayne gave him tenderness and care, soft words of comfort—things Steve can barely remember ever having.

Okay, maybe I want to also have a focus on Steve and his relationship with his parents. Just. How much he hates his dad. How much he wants to break free from his dad's abuse over the years. And part of that included in his car. Steve didn't buy his car, his dad bought it for him—some "standard, all American" 16th birthday gift or whatever bullshit his dad tried to spoon feed him. It's one of the last things tying him to his dad. So, he takes the baseball bat to it. Leaves it wrecked and damaged in his parents' driveway and storms off on foot, going to Robin's. She opens the front door to Steve, panting, red faced, sweating; he's still fisting his baseball bat in his hands, a dazed look in his eyes, wobbly lips. There's a few shards of glass in his hair, one that seems to have solidified its place in his left eyebrow. And all he says is, "He can't hurt me anymore." Before being pulled inside, sobbing into Robin's hands as she carefully plucks the glass from his face. It's not long after that that he gets a place with Eddie and Robin.

Once he's adopted into the Munson family, (not legally, of course, he told Wayne so. After the fact that he discovered Wayne's an ally. "I want to date your nephew. Please don't adopt me."), he starts collecting a whole wardrobe of hand-me-downs. A pair of dirtied work boots that he puts studs on, some flannels that he either rips the sleeves off on or purposefully distresses (the sleeve scraps get used for patches), socks that he layers when wearing boots or turns into gloves, and lots and lots of jeans that he begins turning into crust pants. Of course, too, an old fisherman's denim vest that's nearly identical to Eddie's. "Just in case you want more room for them punk bits and bobs. Your jacket's gettin' kinda full." Eddie helps him attach zippers and spikes, shows him how to turn bottle caps into pins, and most importantly—shows Steve how to really have fun with decorating his shit.

His work boots have two different colored ladder lacing on them: yellow and purple. I was going to say orange instead of yellow, but I can't get a clear enough answer on that lace color to confidently say it for him. But the yellow is anti-racist. And purple, from the sources I've read, has meant gay pride. (Gay Steve my beloved).

He would never shoplift from a Mom and Pop store. But the local Wal-Mart??? Oh-ho-ho, he is in there swiping up nails and screws for his projects, menstrual pads when Robin needs them, baby formula for the mom he walked by as he entered the store, dog food for the strays near his apartment.

I think he's never really been an artistic kid. However, as soon as he is handed a can of spray paint, that is his time to shine. His proudest job is a dick he sprayed on the driver's side window of Powell's car.

Circling back to the whole Hopper beef that Steve has, I definitely want to write a scene where he's being carted home by Hopper in the back of his cop car. Hopper's frustrated, because this is the third time this month that Steve's been back there, but Steve won't stop. "Stop doing stupid shit, Steve. It's a bad look for you." But Steve just rolls his eyes. "Then shit shouldn't be so stupid." And I think that maybe Hopper would try and tell him that he's too good of a kid to be doing things like vandalize Powell's car or get caught shoplifting or [enter other small harmless crime]. And Steve just gets so combative. So fucking angry. He snaps, "Then maybe 'good cops' like you shouldn't let so many kids slip out of your hands. You ever think of that?" After some stunned silence, Steve follows up with, "You have no right telling me what kind of person I should be. I couldn't even be a person until recently." Or something like that (tee-hee).

Anyway. I'll stop right here because I could go on and on and on about different ideas I have for my version of Punk Steve. But uh. I know for certain this one's going to be longer than one chapter because I really, really want to see where I could get this character to go. I love Punk Steve so much.

[kathlare]

don’t wanna break up again

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie wrestles with the weight of her emotions during a vulnerable therapy session, reflecting on the strains of her relationship with Rodrigo and the echoes of heartbreaks past.

Wordcount: 1.4 k

Warnings: mention of anxiety and fear

full masterlist // request over here!

May 12th, 2023 - New York City, NY

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, a quiet reminder of time passing as Amelie sat in the plush chair of her therapist’s office. Her legs were curled up beneath her, her oversized sweater draped loosely over her frame. She toyed with the edge of the sleeve, her mind wandering as she tried to gather her thoughts.

—You’ve been quiet today, Amelie,— Dr. Wilson said gently, her soft accent grounding the room. —What’s on your mind?

Amelie glanced up at her, the older woman’s steady gaze both comforting and disarming.

—I don’t know where to start,— Amelie admitted, her voice low. —Everything feels... heavy lately. The tour, my voice, Rodrigo... it’s like I’m juggling too much, and I’m dropping everything.—

Dr. Wilson nodded, her pen resting idly on the notepad in her lap.

—Let’s focus on one thing at a time. You mentioned Rodrigo. How are things between you two?—

Amelie let out a humorless laugh, leaning back into the chair and rubbing her temples.

—They’re... fine, I guess? No, not fine. That’s not true. It’s... complicated,— she said, her words tumbling out in a rush.

—Complicated how?— Dr. Wilson prompted.

Amelie sighed, her hands dropping into her lap.

—We barely talk anymore. When we do, it’s surface-level stuff. I’m always on the road, and he’s busy with his own things. Half the time, I feel like I’m trying to force something that isn’t even there anymore.—

She paused, her throat tightening as the words she’d been avoiding finally escaped.

—I love him, I do. But it’s like we’re living in two completely different worlds now. And I don’t know if we can keep pretending like that’s not true.—

Dr. Wilson watched her carefully, giving her a moment to sit with her emotions before speaking.

—Do you feel like he’s still a priority in your life? Or are you trying to hold onto something out of habit, or fear of letting go?—

Amelie stared at the ceiling, blinking away tears that threatened to fall.

—I don’t know. Maybe both? I mean, he was there for me when I was filming Wicked. He was my constant when everything else was chaos. And I love him for that. But now...— She trailed off, biting her lip.

Dr. Wilson leaned forward slightly.

—Now what, Amelie?— she asked gently.

Amelie’s chest felt tight, her hands fidgeting in her lap as her emotions began to spill over.

—Now it just feels like I’m holding onto a memory of what we were instead of what we are. And I don’t want to admit it because... because I don’t want to go through it all again,— she said, her voice breaking on the last word.

Dr. Wilson nodded, her expression calm and understanding.

—You don’t want to go through what, exactly?—

—I don’t want to break up again. I don’t want to feel that... that emptiness. That loneliness. I don’t want to start over. It hurts too much,— she whispered, wiping at her face with her sleeve.

Her therapist handed her a tissue, giving her a moment to compose herself before continuing.

Amelie took the tissue and pressed it against her face, her tears falling freely now. She didn’t try to stop them.

—It’s just... when Lando and I split...— Her voice caught, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to get the words out. —It was so fucking hard. I didn’t think I’d ever feel okay again. And even now, sometimes it still feels like I’m carrying pieces of that with me.—

Dr. Wilson gave her a moment before gently prompting, —What was the hardest part for you, Amelie?—

Amelie let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she clutched the tissue.

—All of it. Losing him as my best friend, not having him there to talk to about stupid things or big things. The way it ended... how he just gave up on us because I was ‘too busy.’ Like I didn’t matter enough to him to try. It made me feel like I wasn’t worth the effort. Like I was disposable.—

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she shook her head, her tears flowing harder now.

Dr. Wilson leaned forward slightly, her tone soft but steady.

—That’s a lot to carry, Amelie. And it’s understandable that you’re afraid of going through something like that again. But let me ask you this: when you look back on your relationship with Lando, do you still feel like it was your fault?—

Amelie shook her head immediately, though the tears didn’t stop.

—No. I know it wasn’t my fault. I’ve done the work, I’ve talked it through. I was busy because I was building something for myself. I had dreams, and he couldn’t handle not being the center of my attention all the time. I know that now. But back then... God, back then it felt like I was broken. Like I wasn’t enough.—

Her voice dropped to a whisper, the vulnerability in her words cutting through the room like a knife.

—He didn’t even try, Dr. Wilson. He just... gave up. And I think that’s what hurt the most. Because I never would have given up on him.—

Dr. Wilson’s expression remained calm, but her eyes held a deep empathy.

—And now, with Rodrigo, do you feel like you’re the one holding on while he’s letting go?—

Amelie’s chest tightened, and she looked down at her lap, the truth of the question hitting her like a punch to the gut.

—Maybe,— she admitted, her voice barely audible. —But it’s different. Rodrigo isn’t giving up; he’s just... not there. It’s not intentional. It’s just life. We’re both so busy, and I don’t know if that’s something we can fix. I don’t even know if he wants to fix it.—

Her tears started falling again, and she clutched the tissue in her hand as though it were the only thing keeping her together.

—I don’t want to feel like this again. I don’t want to break up again, start over, feel like I’m losing a part of myself. I’ve been through it too many times, and I’m so fucking tired of it,— she said, her voice cracking.

Dr. Wilson let the silence settle for a moment, giving Amelie the space to feel what she needed to feel. Then she spoke, her voice gentle but firm.

—Amelie, it’s okay to feel tired. It’s okay to grieve what’s slipping away, even if it hasn’t fully ended yet. But what’s more important is understanding what you deserve. You’ve worked so hard to rebuild yourself after everything you’ve been through; Cameron, Lando, even Shawn before that. You deserve a relationship that supports you, not one that makes you question your worth or your place in someone’s life.—

Amelie nodded slowly, her tears still falling but her breathing beginning to steady.

—I know you’re right. I just... I don’t know if I’m strong enough to let go. Not again. Not now,— she admitted, her voice raw.

Dr. Wilson gave her a small, encouraging smile.

—You’re stronger than you think, Amelie. You’ve proven that time and time again. And letting go doesn’t mean failing. It means choosing yourself, your happiness, your peace.—

Amelie wiped her face, her hands trembling slightly.

—It’s just...— she started, her voice faltering. —When Cam died, I didn’t think I’d ever feel whole again. And then Lando came along, and it was like... like Cam had sent him to me. He was light and laughter when everything felt so dark. And when that ended, it was like losing Cam all over again.—

She pressed her hands to her face, her sobs breaking through.

—I thought Rodrigo would be different. I thought I could finally have something steady, something that didn’t hurt. But maybe I’m just not meant for that.—

Dr. Wilson’s voice was steady and kind, her words cutting through Amelie’s spiraling thoughts.

—You’re meant for love, Amelie. But love doesn’t have to come at the cost of your own peace. Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is let go of what’s no longer serving you, even if it hurts. It doesn’t mean you’re giving up. It means you’re making space for something better.—

Amelie nodded, though her tears didn’t stop. The weight in her chest felt as heavy as ever, but Dr. Wilson’s words planted a tiny seed of clarity in her heart.

—Do you think... if I let Rodrigo go, I’ll be okay?— she asked, her voice trembling.

Dr. Wilson’s expression softened, her gaze unwavering.

—I know you will be. Because you’ve been through so much, and you’re still here. You’re still standing. And no matter what happens, you’ll keep moving forward.—

Amelie let out a shaky breath, her tears slowing as she processed the words. She wasn’t ready to make a decision—not yet—but for the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could survive this too.

[yallthemwitches]

“Hi! I just wanted to say I’m absolutely in love with your stories—they’re amazing! If you ever feel inspired, I’d love to see a spicy James/Lily fic with some light bondage (doesn’t matter who ties up who). Just an idea from an obsessed fan!”

Love! ❤️

Thank you so so much! This is very sweet of you to say! As for the spicy fic suggestion:

Short Answer: Yes! I'd love to!

Long Answer: Here it is! (all 4k words of it...whew)

I'm going to add it to my smut prompt collection on AO3, Crash Into Me or you can read it under the cut!

Thanks for the idea! I love getting sent things people would like to read, it gets me out of my own head and forces me to write things I might have put off doing! It was super fun and I'm kinda shocked I haven't done something like this sooner.

Enjoy! (AO3 Link Here)

She’s infuriating him and she knows it. 

What's worse is that it’s exactly what she wants, hoping to break him down until he’s just a little puddle at her feet. All of their Heads’ duties together have started to devolve into this: a silly game they play to see how far they can make it before someone inevitably gets pushed up against a wall or led into an abandoned classroom. He doesn’t really know who wins, but it doesn’t matter. Both of them want the same thing. 

He should have expected it when McGonagall left them both alone in her office after their monthly check-in--as soon as the lock clicks on the door Lily is in action, moving from her seat to stand in front of him with a coy smile.

“Hey you.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, sliding so she faces him on his lap, her thighs pressing against his to dangle on the sides of the chair. 

“What are you up to?” He hums, arching an eyebrow. Even after months of having her this close, he is still amazed that he has the cognitive function to tease her. Her body against his does dangerous things to his mental capacity. 

“Oh, waiting for you to finish so we can patrol,” she murmurs. Her body language says she has absolutely no interest in heads’ work, arms curling around his neck to press soft fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter closed in response, trying to keep composure while his trousers already start to strain. 

It takes all his strength to call her bluff but he forces his eyes back to the schedule. She doubles her efforts, planting slow, languid kisses against his pressure point until she reaches the hollow of his throat and starts the path over again. It’s a clear sign: the game has started. You are my willing participant. 

“Evans–” He doesn’t know when his hand had stilled, but the schedule now bears a jagged black line where his writing had gone slack with distraction. “I can’t focus.”

“Then try to push me off.”

The request isn’t completely out of left field, but it still makes him want to laugh. The first time she had ever asked him to fight back against her, he had laughed, almost crazed when she pouted and writhed against him in persistence. “Why would I ever want to get away from you, Evans?” He had said, “ Most days, I’m fighting to be as close to you as humanly possible.”

They both know that it would take next to nothing for him to remove her from his lap, but that isn’t the point–it isn’t the game. What she is really asking for is the struggle, the power play that in earlier years came in the form of verbal dueling, but is now distilled into physical touch. 

He puts down the quill slowly, mulling over all possible scenarios this might go. They didn’t know how long McGonagall would be gone, nor did they have the time seeing as their patrol started in five minutes, but that was the big issue wasn’t it: he didn’t care--and apparently neither did she.

“You realize all I need to do is stand up and you lose, right?” He says, an arm wrapping around her waist under the guise of being ready to tug. Instead it pulls her closer. Her eyes blink up at him, decidedly wicked in nature. She lifts back up to place a soft, contemplative kiss on his lips. 

“You’re right—too easy,” she concedes, giving him a deeper kiss this time. “New objective then: If I make it to the door we have to do patrols, but if you can stop me in time…”

She doesn’t even need to say what the stakes are, the answer already hangs heavy like fog in the room. Then you can shag me, right here. Right in McGonnagall’s bloody office. 

Now that was a game he was dying to win. 

It makes him lose his head, eyes too busy scanning the room for all the many ways and places he can take her, that by the time she says ‘ go’ he is already frighteningly hard for her.  

She jumps off his lap, taking small, timid steps towards the back of the room, turning each time to shoot him a smile. He could get up and pull her back right now without even taking more than a large step but he knows that’s not what she wants. She wants him to actually play along, to make it interesting for her. 

So he waits, leaning back in his seat and ignoring the ache that comes from just the anticipation of the inevitable–because it was inevitable. He was going to have her whether he won or not. 

He watches her with a smug smile until she’s made it a couple of meters to the door before standing up, walking at a deliberately slow pace like an animal in hunt. His approach ignites something in her and a bubble of laughter escapes, a beautiful, frantic noise that holds as much joy in it as desire. Her energy surges and she catches speed, only needing to cross a meter to touch the wood of the door…

Her fingers barely reach out for the finish line when he wraps an arm around her waist and spins her against the wall directly beside the door. An impatience takes over and his mouth is on hers, tongue demanding entrance while his hands move rabid downwards to hitch under her skirt. 

Meanwhile, she continues to laugh, shrieking and pushing at him to move just centimeters to the right to where the grain of the door frame begins, but her squirming just makes it easier for him to part her legs and slot himself against her, pressing her firm against stone. 

“No fair!” She squeals between peals of laughter. She continues to giggle and wiggle against him until his hand finds the band of her knickers. Her attempts to push past him falter, moans taking over and filling the room with their deep, velvet sound. 

“C’mon Evans,” he breathes into her ear, “You’re so close. Try to win.” 

She gives a lackluster push to his chest and he catches both her hands in one of his own, lifting them above her head. His brain is swimming, all thought in a freefall with only one end in sight. 

“Baby—” Her eyes close, back arching so her bottom half presses closer into the stilled hand just above her pelvic bone. “ Please.”

“You have to say it, Evans,” he says. The grip on her hands tightens and she interlaces her fingers. “Tell me what you want, please. I need to hear it.”

“I want you to touch me.”

“How?”

It makes her writhe, her impatience starting to seep in. Her hips buck underneath him and it zaps pleasure straight into his erection, making it nearly unbearable to not just grind back into her. 

“With your fingers, tongue, cock. All of it. James— please.”

They are words that will haunt him forever. 

He gives her at least one of the things she asked for and drops his fingers between her legs, finding the fabric there sticky and thick. 

“Merlin, Lily. You’re soaked,” he gasps, fingers sliding under to drift through her folds. It makes him dizzy how easy he slips inside, hand practically dripping already just from contact. 

“Were you wet like this in our meeting?”

“Since before even,” she gasps, hips rolling into the palm of his hand. “But the way you looked just now, right before you got me against the wall. Jesus, Potter. You looked like you wanted to devour me.”

He slides another finger in and her head bends forward, leaning against his chest. Her breath is hot against his shirt and makes the white become transparent against his skin. 

“I want to devour you–,” he corrects, “--present tense.” 

She pulls back and her eyes burn at him, almost resembling the cross expression she would wear when they used to row. He twists his fingers and her eyes flutter, her bottom lip disappearing against white teeth. 

“Go on then, do it.”

He enters some sort of fugue state, pulling his soaked hand out of her and clawing at her skirt until it becomes a pool at their feet. His teeth find the knot in her tie and yank it loose, trailing her own wetness through her blouse to fiddle with the buttons. 

She follows suit, releasing her hands from above her head to untuck his shirt, breathing heavily against him when she cups him through his pants to unbutton his trousers. Her touch knocks him back into reality and his hips instinctually grind to get closer to her touch. 

“I want to lick you against this wall,” he tells her, voice low and rough. Underneath her palm his cock aches, clenching all the muscles in his body like it’s ready to go into shock unless he gets to her now. “I want to get you so close to coming with my mouth that you are dripping down your leg. I want to carry you back to Mcgonagall's desk and take you right on top of those bloody schedules. I want to watch your tits bounce from my cock pumping inside you. Fuck, I want— I need– to hear you scream my name.”

He drops to his knees in the pool of their collective clothing, placing a hand against the flat plane of her stomach until she is flush with the wall. Her hands grab for his hair, tugging him forwards while her body arches to meet him and he grabs hold of a thigh to drape over his shoulder, opening her up further. She’s so wet between her legs the fabric of her knickers are discolored. Her center is a deep pool of green surrounded by a sheen painted to her thighs. 

“I want that too. Do whatever you want. You won.”

It’s enough to make him short circuit.

He’s shocked at his restraint, mouth and cock literally watering at the view of her. But as much as he wants to bite her knickers away and press his tongue inside her, he wants to hear her say it more. 

“Tell me again.”

She lets out a frustrated gasp as he stalls, pulling his head back enough to make eye contact with her. Gazing down at him she looks utterly crazed, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.He wants to remember it forever.

When she doesn’t respond, he hooks a finger around the inside of her knickers, the contact with her center making her mewl with pleasure. He pulls back the fabric and his mouth drops open. It’s not the first time he has looked at her like this but to see her swollen and yearning and dripping like that? It’s the most beautiful sight in the world.

“Tell me.” He prods, holding her knickers against her thigh. 

“You git, you just want me to beg,” she says, her face contorting into a frown. 

It wasn’t what he was fishing for, but now it’s all he wanted. 

“Yes– oh fuck– yes.”

She tries again to arch her body towards his face, but the hand on her stomach keeps her against the wall, giving no other choice. 

“Touch me, Potter,” she cries, exasperated. He’s got her to the breaking point, that sweet spot where her desire and her anger are too overlapped to be distinguishable. At the beginning of their relationship it was the only sensation she had for him, unable to disconnect their years of annoyance with how much she wanted him. It only made him want her more. 

“Let me come on your tongue, then—christ— then hold me down and fuck me. Fuck me until I don’t even know where I am anymore. Fuck me until I can’t even think—”

“Shit, yes.”

He surges upwards and she lets out a gasp of satisfaction. Her body melts under his tongue, head falling back against the stone wall and fingers pressing him closer into her as he begins his ministrations. The sounds begin falling from her lips and he knows how to keep them coming, having spent one glorious afternoon months ago taking turns going down on the other, coaching on what pressure to give where and what spot makes them unravel almost immediately. 

His tongue paints against her, slipping easily through her folds and dipping inside until her hand shakes against his skull. The noises make way for words, an endless string of them that shoot from his eardrums right to the center of his cock, getting him so close without even being touched. 

“James, baby. I can’t stand how fit you look, how bloody good you make me feel,” she says, giving a shallow moan when he gasps right into her. “I have no idea what McGonagall was saying in that meeting–I couldn’t stop imagining you bending me over that desk. That’s all I can think about these days. In class, at meetings, touching myself at night. Just sitting in the same room as you makes me wet— fuck.”

Fuck is right. Her words make him press farther, edging on aggressive. To say he wanted to devour her was right too. He wants every last drop of her.

She’s close, her body giving the telltale quivers that mean she is just at the edge. He slows, giving long pressured strokes that have always made her unravel. 

“James—holy fuck —James.”

Her body shakes and under his mouth he can feel her contract. He continues his path, carrying her through it until the overstimulation makes her yank back at the roots of his hair. Spent, she slides against the wall to the ground, her legs jutted out in opposite directions and head tilted back. 

“Jesus Christ, Potter,” she pants, catching her breath. Her hair frames her face like a halo, eyes open. Some of the frenzy has lessened but the burning in her irises remains. Her tongue flicks out and licks at the bottom of her lip, unhinging part of his nervous system. 

“You are so lovely—so unbelievable,” he says, caressing her ankle which had shifted onto his lap. She closes her eyes at his touch, shaking her head against the wall for a moment before picking herself up and leaning inwards to fall cradled into his arms. 

“We still have patrols to do—” she whispers into his chest. A finger outlines the contours of his muscles, dragging down to his stomach. “--but I still want you…if you still want to—”

The finger descends, finding him still very much throbbing for her under his pants. They both moan at the contact, his arms encircling and finding her bum to press her fully onto his lap. 

“If I still want to what?” He whispers, pulling her legs to wrap around him. He’s already heard her say it once, but he wants the reminder, wants to hear it as many times as he can coax out of her until she makes him implode. 

“I want you to tie me up and fuck me on the desk.”

All of his cognitive function ceases to exist. 

“What?” His tone must have been of utter shock because she immediately flushes red, lowering her face away from him. 

“No, look at me Evans–Lily. Seriously. I just…I just need you to say it again to make sure I am absolutely certain I heard you correctly because, holy shit—”

A thousand images swirl into his mind. They had done some wild things in the past–certainly led a more exploratory sex life than most of the other couples around–but never before something so outright kinky as that. Sure, they loved a good semi-public touching or stray finger from behind when the moment struck, but this. This request opened a whole new door for them and she wanted it. 

Frankly, he could come right then and there, just by the thought of it. No further actions needed. 

She lets out a little squeak, hands balling at the base of his neck. He can feel her heart beating out of her ribcage against him and he places a soft kiss on her lips, encouraging her to continue. 

“I just…I liked it earlier when you held my hands above me on the wall.”

Yes, yes, yes. Oh Merlin, fuck yes. 

“Whatever you want, I’ll do it,” he says quickly, his enthusiasm taking control. “You need to lead the way though because– fuck— I want whatever you want so badly, but I also don’t want to go too far.”

She does something unexpected and laughs, her body shaking against his. “James I don’t think you’re capable of–”

“No, I mean it,” he says, voice cracking. “It’s one thing when we are just pushing each other and having a laugh—I know those limits. But something like–” he voice cuts off, brain flooding with all sorts of visuals of her held down, screaming his name, “--like that. I don’t trust myself. You need to walk me through it.”

She presses her lips to the hollow of his collar bone, hot breath billowing against him. His mind can’t stop racing, his heart like a canon shooting off endlessly in his ribcage. 

“Well, then. I guess for starters, you should get me on the table.”

He can feel her amused smile against him, but he doesn’t care. She can tease him for taking it seriously all she wants, but he wants this to be done right. 

Carrying her over to the table would have been a lot easier if it wasn’t for the way her entrance pressed right into him. The mixture of her wetness and his saliva seeping right into his pants and making his cock ache in agony. 

“I’m telling you now Evans. I’m going to last five seconds—real amateur hour. Just the thought of you tied up…I don’t know what it’s doing to my brain but I’m fucked. I’m going to be a fucking mess. ”

He lays her down on the table, pushing aside his quill but otherwise not caring about the parchments of scheduling lying under her. She stretches out like a cat, legs slightly bent but her hands going over her head, making her breasts jut out. 

Godric help me.  

He lowers himself over her, pressing his cock into her hip bone and waving forward to release some of the tension that has been building up. She gasps, her arms stretching higher until she intertwines her fingers again like she did on the wall. He kisses her, letting his tongue lap into her slowly so she can taste the lingering wetness of her climax coated to his lips. 

“Use a tie.”

 When she pants it into his mouth, his whole body reacts—a frantic jerk forward that creaks the wood of the table. 

“Fuck Evans— you are a dream come true. You are everything.” He pulls at the tie that flaps helpless around her neck alongside her opened blouse and it flutters in his hand. Surely this will ruin uniforms for him forever. He won’t be able look at a Hogwarts tie without thinking about her naked body flushed underneath him on the desk. He will have to start practicing his illusion charms, otherwise he’ll be cursed with an erection during school hours for the rest of his life. 

He looks at her for approval and she stares up at him with unbridled anticipation, irises glittering with excitement. Pulling the tie around her wrists, he makes a hesitant knot and attempts to tug her hands away from each other, testing to make sure it’s tight enough to hold but not digging in. 

“I know I’m absolutely inflating your ego, but it’s just unfair how fit you look without a shirt,” she says under him. “Like, Jesus. If this goes well I want to tie you up next and kiss every inch of you.” 

“Fuck, Promise?” He doesn’t realize he has said it out loud until her laugh echoes around the room. The shake of the table now doing dangerous things to his leaking cock. 

“One thing at a time, Potter,” she says, pulling up to give him a kiss. “I need you to fuck me now…and judging from the look of your pants, you really need that too.”

He doesn’t need to hear it twice. Pulling off the table, he shucks his pants off without looking, eyes unable to tear away from the absolute feast of the senses laying against the table with tits and hips arched upwards and ready.

With no hesitation, he crawls up on the table until he is level with her, his cock dragging slowly up her thigh. 

“Again, Lily. I’ll apologize now. You are just so so lovely. I can’t believe you even let me touch you much less tie you up and—”

“For chrissake James. Stop talking and shag me.”

It’s the best thing she’s ever said to him. 

His cock slides into her easily and her walls immediately contract around him. They both gasp in tandem, her body practically levitating off the table from how much she arches. The pebble of her tits brush against his chest and he dips down to take one in his mouth, not removing a hand from where her hands are bound above her head. 

It’s like going back in time. The slow gentle rock of his hips testing out the waters to make sure she is ok before going any deeper. He pulls back to watch his cock slip in and out, unable to keep his focus there or where her upper body writhes helpless, wanting to do its usual ministrations of carding through his hair or clawing at his back but unable to do so. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he pants as his thrusts speed up. The new movement rocks the desk and her tits bounce with it, beautiful and round and poised just for him. Her eyes don’t leave his, watching him with a glazed over expression as her mouth hangs wide, giving him instructions and praises in the same breath. 

“ Harder—faster—yes, like that. Christ, James. Thank you—fuck.”

He’s embarrassingly close already. Unbearably so. But what she demands he gives, speeding up his movements, snapping his hips harder until the table groans and starts to splinter. If they have to get McGonagall a new desk, it’s worth it. Everything is worth it to see her like this.

The pressure mounts and he can feel the end drawing near. When he says as much, her eyes open wide, frantic once again with an epiphany.

“Turn me over. Turn me over and fuck me off the side. Fuck, James. Please.”

He swears quietly, a low droning shit as he hooks an arm around her waist and flips her onto her stomach. It takes everything in him to pull out of her so they can resituate, but immediately it becomes worth his while. She slides herself almost off the edge, lifting herself onto her knees so her bum stands into the air while her chest and bound arms lay rested against the tabletop.

The sight alone is indescribable, immediately burned into his memory to be revisited later, but it’s her stare that really does him in. Turning her head against the surface of the table, she stares up at him, the green of her irises reduced to a smoldering emerald. It’s the look of absolute pleading— how could he possibly last from a look like that?

Shaking, he stands behind her, taking in the view down the slope of her back to where the tie keeps her bound. She watches him, tracking his stare with a smile tugging at her lips.

“Nice view?”

It’s a laughable question. “Evans, you have no fucking clue.”

He bends down and gives one solid lick from her bum to her clit and it rewards him with a sharp squeal.

“Holy fuck, no fair!”

Always still a game. A game he hopes they never stop playing.

When he finally pushes in, the angle makes all the difference, hitting deeper into her than he was capable of with her just laying on the table. Unlike before, he doesn’t give any sort of gentle preamble to his movements, thrusting quick and deep inside her like she asked for. The sound of his hips snapping reverberates around the room and the wetness between her legs drips out against her thighs, easily visible now as the backdrop to his cock working inside her.

The pressure that was mounting before accelerates quickly and he thanks Godric he can feel her close too.

“I’m so close, Lily—I want you to come–no– need you to come. I want to feel you squeeze my cock like this.” 

She looks like every fantasy he has ever had mixed into one image. Hair wild against her back, mouth open and panting, eyes— merlin her eyes— still watching him as he all but pounds into her. 

“Come for me then, baby. I’ll come too, I promise. I want to feel you come inside me. Fuck, James. Let me feel—”

Like always, her words are what throws him over the edge. He shudders into a release, keeling over her backside and panting a string of swears as he empties into her. Through his climax, he feels her walls tighten around him and she comes too, hard and swift, with her lips pressing his name into the grain of the table. 

When the fog finally lifts, he isn’t sure how long he remained inside her, but he pulls back, quickly scrambling for the tie. 

“Are you alright? Was that too–”

But the second she has control of her hands again, she turns and pulls him against her, hands roaming as though making up for lost time held away. She presses their lips together, hungry but in a different way from the carnal act they just did. Hungry to show adoration. 

“It was perfect. You are perfect,” she says into his mouth, hands finally carding through his hair. “You’re going to be the death of me really. I want to do everything with you.”

Everything? Everything sounds amazing. 

“Should we start now?” Love rushes over him like a warm breeze, wanting to just hold her and caress every part of her body until he is hard again to do exactly what ‘everything’ entails. She just laughs, pushing away from him and padding over to her wand to clean up the messes between their legs. 

“We can’t just hole up here and—”

“Of course we can,” he cuts her off with a grin, “Need I remind you, you made a lot of promises today that need to be fulfilled. Ones that I am ready to collect at your convenience.”

She laughs again, playfully throwing his clothes at his chest. He should be joking, but he has never been more serious in his life. McGonagall and Heads’ duties be damned. If it was up to him they would never leave this room. 

“We have patrols to finish—-ones we never even started,” she hums, tugging up her skirt. He pouts and she crosses over to kiss it away. She gives one, then another, then he’s dropped his clothes back on the floor to pull her in closer again.

“You’re impossible,” she pants, coming up for air. “We’ve been here too long. If McGonagall decides to come back, we are in serious shit.” But she doesn’t pull away, tongue already tracing against his lower lip.

“Stop, we need to get going…” 

Her hips jut forward and finding him already hardening again she smiles, pressing her lips to his jaw. Eventually she pushes away, but the look in her eyes still stands. A game already on the horizon. 

“I'll make it worth while--we'll keep your tie handy.”

[antinousletmehit]

Hi ! Can i request an Apollo x reader oneshot where she is the godess of purity, childhood, innocence and joy and reminds him of Hyacinthus and Daphne ?

୨୧┇pairing: Apollo x reader

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Apollo sat against a stone, his golden lyre resting beside him, fingers idly plucking at its strings. The melody was aimless, neither joyous nor somber, but lingering somewhere in between.

You approached quietly, as you often did, your presence like the soft brush of a breeze. He noticed you before you spoke, his sharp eyes glancing up with the faintest hint of a smile. “You always find me here,” he said, his voice smooth and warm, like the sunlight itself.

“You’re not exactly hard to find,” you teased, sitting beside him. “The god of the sun isn’t known for subtlety.” His smile deepened, but there was something distant in his expression as he returned his gaze to the horizon. You followed his line of sight, wondering what could possibly weigh on a being as radiant as Apollo.

“You remind me of someone,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter now, laced with an uncharacteristic hesitation.

“Someone?” you prompted, tilting your head.

He didn’t look at you. His fingers strummed the lyre softly, the notes hanging in the air like an unfinished thought. “Two someones, actually. Both long gone, but never far from my mind.” You waited, sensing this wasn’t easy for him. Apollo rarely spoke of his past, preferring to cloak himself in the confidence and charm he was known for. But now, he seemed…fragile, as if the weight had caught up to him.

“The first was him,” he said, his voice tinged with sorrow. “He was…everything. Radiant, like the first bloom of spring. We spent every moment together, laughing, competing, dreaming. But it wasn’t enough to keep him safe.” You saw the way his jaw clenched, the guilt etched into his golden features.

“And then there was Her,” he continued, his eyes darkening. “She didn’t love me. I know that now. But I loved her, and my love was… overwhelming. Desperate. She ran from me, and I chased her. When the gods intervened, I lost her forever. A laurel tree now stands where she once stood.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of birds. You hesitated, unsure if you should speak, but the rawness in his voice compelled you.

“Why do I remind you of them?” you asked gently.

He finally turned to you, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. “You have His warmth,” he said, his tone almost reverent. “That light that draws people in, makes them feel alive. And you have Her spirit, free, untamed, unwilling to be owned by anyone.”

You didn’t know what to say. To be compared to two of the most important figures in his life was… overwhelming.

Apollo leaned closer, his gaze soft but piercing. “It terrifies me,” he admitted. “Because I’ve loved like this before, and it always ends in tragedy. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache. You reached out, placing a hand over his. “I’m not Him,” you said softly. “And I’m not Her. I’m me. And I’m not going anywhere.” His fingers curled around yours, his grip firm but trembling. For a moment, the god of the sun, seemed so very human.

“Promise me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I promise,” you said, holding his gaze.

[leaderpinhead]

Jack - Pushover

Prompt: @flashfictionfridayofficial weekly prompt Rating: General Characters: Jack Howl, Yuu Masterlists for my other fics

“You’re such a pushover , shyheeheehee!” 

Jack’s ears pricked at the familiar snickering before a shadow fell over him. He paused his post-run stretches and tipped his head back to see a smirking Ruggie. He frowned. “What are you talking about?” 

Ruggie’s hissing snickers made Jack’s ears twitch harder. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Ruggie reached down and patted the top of Jack’s head. “Good puppy, Jack! That was such a great run! I’ll take you out again later!” 

Jack growled and swatted Ruggie’s hand away from him. “That’s not what Yuu said at all!” 

Ruggie’s snickers slowly died. He clicked his tongue and shook his head sadly. The smirk he still had on his face didn’t match his show of sympathy. “Poor, poor Jack. As your more experienced senior, I’ll give you a bit of advice. Having someone give you pets in public immediately kills all respect from the guys.” 

Jack fell back into hamstring stretches. “I could care less what anybody thinks. Yuu doesn’t mean anything by it.” 

Ruggie sighed like Jack was missing the point. The sound made him tense. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you the next time a buncha guys back at the dorm try to throw their weight around. You might not care much about politics, but that doesn’t change how others do.” 

Jack grunted and listened to Ruggie’s footsteps fade away. He did a few more stretches before returning to the dorm. He kept telling himself he really didn’t care what the other guys in the dorm might think, but Ruggie’s snickers kept tickling his ears. 

When Jack heard Yuu call his name later, he automatically stopped mid-step. A quiet snicker to his left made his ear flick, and a quick glare sent the Pomefiore boy scurrying away. He slowly turned to face Yuu. “Yo.” 

Yuu stopped in front of him without saying a word. Jack frowned. There was a pinched look on her face that made her mouth pucker like one of those fishes in Octavinelle. Jack had learned what that look meant. Something had made Yuu anxious (probably the upcoming exam in potions), but she didn’t want to show it. And when she was this anxious, she usually... 

“Jack,” she said in a tone so serious Jack immediately snapped to attention. She held out her hands with her palms up. “Lend me your assistance.” 

Jack wasn’t sure when exactly they had agreed to this “code.” It must have been at some point after the mess with Azul but before winter break. Jack’s response was always, “How much?” to which Yuu would tell him a number before he allowed her to touch his ears. She never went over the number of ear-rubs she requested, and whether it was the motion or the touch, it always seemed relax her. Jack didn’t mind it if it helped. 

...he hadn’t minded it. 

His ears swiveled to lay against his hair. He scratched the back of his head. “I’m gonna be late for class.” 

The lie tasted sour on his tongue. Her tight expression relaxed briefly enough for her shock to be apparent. Her hands fell to her side where her fingers twisted the edges of her uniform jacket. Her eyes dropped to her feet. “Oh. Sorry. I should go find Ace and Deuce then. We can’t be late either.” 

A sharp twist in his gut made him nauseous, but he didn’t stop Yuu from turning away. He did the same and managed to take a few steps in the direction of his class. He made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder. Instead of leaving for class, Yuu had stepped closer to the wall to allow other students to move through the hall unhindered. She twisted her fingers, frowning intensely at a single spot on the floor. 

The invisible knife in his intestines dug deeper, but Jack resolutely took a few more steps. He could’ve sworn he heard Ruggie snickering. A quick glance around the hall didn’t reveal a snickering hyena, but he got another glance of Yuu anxiously picking at her nail beds. 

With a heavy sigh, Jack quickly crossed the hallway to stand next to Yuu. She didn’t notice him until he leaned his head down far enough to enter her field of vision, making her involuntarily jump. “Go ahead.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Jack grunted his affirmative. Yuu knew better than to ask twice, and her hands quickly found his ears. One, two, three—she petted his ears six times before letting him go. The mouth pucker had been replaced by a wide smile that made her look a little less anxious. “Thanks! I’ll see you after class. Let me know if you want to go on another run today.” 

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and watched her practically skip down the hall. He had no idea why that always worked. That knife was no longer plunged into his gut though, so whatever. Jack didn’t know he was smiling until a snide laugh ruined his good mood. “Such a good boy, Howl.” 

Jack loudly snarled at the snickering group of hyenas, which sent them scurrying away with a few fearful yips. He grinned. If a snarl was all it took to send a few idiots scurrying, then Ruggie’s warning might not have been a big deal after all. Ruggie may have seen him as a pushover, but there were clearly bigger pushovers than Jack on campus. 

[rekino2114]

Hello, extremely sorry if I already sent this ask I have really bad memory so feel free to delete if this is a duplicate or if you just don't like the prompt, really sorry. I was wondering, would you be willing to write some reko yabusame x reader and safalin x reader headcanons with a reader who likes to try and make them blush?

Reko yabusame and tia safalin with a reader who likes to make them blush

A/n:Thanks for the yttd request I love writing for it and don't worry that wasn't a duplicate and I loved the prompt

Reko yabusame

There are two ways teasing reko can go

When it's something small or that she expects, she teases you back with a smile on her face

"Hey reko, you look pretty today, nice clothes"

"Thanks, glad you like 'em you look hot too today, well you always do if you ask me"

She doesn't blush that often, but she loves receiving your compliments, so when you do say something nice about her she immediately compliments you in return and you eventually end up listing everything you like about the other like its a competition

However there are two specific situations in which reko blushes

The first one is when you compliment how pretty she looks without her makeup on

"I don't think I see you without the eye makeup often, you look cute"

"E-eh? Oh, t-thanks, I guess"

".....are you blushing?"

"N-no it's just hot"

".....we're in January"

"..........."

And the second one is when you give her unexpected physical affection

"W-what was that about?"

"A surprise hug, can't I hug you?"

"....no of course you can, just...a little warning would be nice next time"

"Hehe....suuuuure"

Just don't do that in front of Alice or he might glare at you until his sister tells him off

Tia safalin

Safalin is very shy and she blushes everytime you do anything that she's not used to romantically

She can handle hand holding, but that's it, any hug, kiss, or whatever other affectionate gesture will make her go red almost instantly

"Hm? What's wrong saf? Why are you all red?"

"N-nothing, it's just......t-that kiss was....unexpected"

"Oh sorry, it was just a cheek kiss though, I didn't think you'd get this embarrassed"

"I-i just wasn't expecting it"

The same goes for compliments. She has rarely received them and really appreciates them bit she just can't stop herself from blushing

"Have I told you how pretty your hair looks, green's a great color for you"

"O-oh thanks.....y-yes you do say it v-very often"

"......do I?"

"Y-yes, you say my hair, e-eyes and e-everything else about m-me is pretty....a lot"

"Well I guess I just really like seeing you blush"

"R-really?"

"Yeah you look adorable all red like that"

"..........."

"Yeah just like that, you're so cute tia"

[swanimagines]

how about E27 with Steve Harrington? Thank you sm! <3

Prompt: E27. Waking up after a nightmare

STILL STANDING

Just a few years ago, when peculiarities first started happening, you wouldn’t have believed what you’d end up in. One of the biggest things in your personal life was how the asshole Steve Harrington you had had a stupid crush on in kindergarten had gone through a redemption, and had ultimately became your boyfriend.

Through him, you had gotten yourself tangled up in strange happenings around Hawkins, and then you found out you were basically all part of a real-life horror film. And that led to even stranger things, you all just accepted your part in it.

So when you heard your friends had all gone missing, you didn’t even hesitate to go through the hole in the basement. You just knew Vecna had taken them.

Vecna smirked, holding up a body. Guts were still spilling out of it, a fresh kill. You knew why Vecna showed it, you did, but you couldn’t look at the face.

“This one screamed for you,” Vecna taunted. “But you didn’t come.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you refused to speak, refused to show your fear. If Vecna would take you, you wouldn’t go down begging and crying.

Vecna paused and threw Steve’s body in front of you. His brown eyes unseeing, mouth open, blood trickling out. Vecna laughed.

“You see what you’ve done? You’re too late.”

No.

“You let them down. You let him down.”

“No!”

Your eyes blasted open as you shot up to sit on your bed, and it took a moment before you realised where you were.

Steve’s bedroom.

And he was right there beside you, breathing, slightly puzzled, groggy. “What is it?”

You took in a shaky breath, realising a tear was running down your cheek and you brushed it off. “Just that stupid dream again.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, and you already thought he fell back asleep, but then you heard the sheets shift as he pushed himself to sit up. “The one about Vecna?”

You swallowed and nodded, before you muttered, “El said she can still feel him and it’s possible he didn’t die.”

Your words made him sigh. “Yeah, I see those too. I feel like he’s playing with us somehow. I’m thinking of asking El if that’s possible from where he is.”

El. She had been working on enhancing her abilities, making herself stronger, trying everything to prepare to fight the war that would wait in Hawkings. Mike had tried to ask her if there’d be a way to find more people like her, but she insisted most of them were dead because of Vecna and those who escaped, she had no idea where they went, they could be anywhere in the world and you didn’t have time to look for them.

You closed your eyes for a moment. “What’s the time?”

Steve shifted to look at the clock on his nightstand. “Not enough to get up. Almost three.”

You groaned, reluctantly lying down again. “I don’t think I can sleep anymore.”

Steve joined you, pulling you in his arms. “Whether you’ll sleep or not, I’ll protect you from all kinds of monsters.”

You snorted. “Even those you can’t punch with your baseball bat?”

He smirked, his hand wandering up and down your back. “If they’re causing you harm, I’d even fight with air for you.”

You let out a small huff at that, but relaxed against him. You knew it was true, he’d do anything to keep you safe. And you’d do the same for him, and had done that too. There had been times you had protected each other during a fight, times one of you got hurt, times you were scared of losing each other. But despite that all, you had endured, you had stayed up to fight. 

And that was something you’d do till the very end if necessary. 

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[chimchiri]

For the requests: maybe Dash and Spitfire are doing some bonding gaming with Scoots? I'm sure they enjoy some console gaming, but maybe they could be convinced to do some board games as well?

I had to color this in because I loved this idea too much. Scootaloo gets some help from Spitfire and learns an important lesson about strategy and playing the long game.

Poor Rainbow gets demolished.

[wexhappyxfew]

i feel like judy is a sweet innocent little angel baby and also a feral menace. a saint. a danger to herself and others.

sweet anon the way you are SO RIGHT. like don’t get me wrong — judy rybinski is a sweetheart, an absolute loyal and trusting friend, who is incredibly emotional and down to earth. despite her being my pisces queen, she also has some scorpio rising in her and is an absolute MENACE if needed LMFAOOOOO. this is by far one of my favorite things i’ve received in my inbox 🤣🤣🤣

like …. let’s be for real, the second she started feeling something towards rosie, she’s allowed herself to be more feral behind the scenes than anything. she’s probably an accurate representation of what it’s like to have a crush ��� he stares at her and she automatically is replaying it in her head and thinking about it all the time, she can’t get her words right entirely around him, she’s blushing like an absolute loon, but she’s also putting herself in places even just to see him. even just talk to him! see if he looks her way! my og lover girl! like judy! girl! got get your mans!!!!

someone said a while back in tags - go get yourself a lawyer, girl and by far it’s the most accurate representation of them i’ve both seen and heard LMAOOOOO. judy is in fact the baby of the group but also one of the ones who can just be absolute insane when warranted and i think it makes a lot of sense for her. shout out to judy rybinski 😌✌️✨

[isekyaaa]

Venti, Zhongli, and opposites. Venti, Zhongli, and opposites. I do not want to write Venti, Zhongli, and opposites.