stormtopia

[stormtopia]

✧. ┊  5 TIMES YOU SAT ON NANAMI’S LAP

── .✦ nanami kento x gn!reader

s4w, fluff, cuddling, teasing, petnames, hand feeding, ooc nanami, sitting on nanami’s lap

⤷ nanami’s lap is your favourite seat. luckily for you, he is fine with being your…chair.

based off this post

a/n: #needthat #wantthat #sexyman #hotguy

[_____] = your name

masterlists

*

1 - NAP TIME

The rain droplets pelleting on the living room windows is what wakes you up, along with the deep chuckle of thunder that follows shortly afterwards.

One second it was all sunny with bright skies and now, it is dim and dark, and the only light in the room emanates from the television.

You do not remember putting this show on. You don’t remember falling asleep on the couch, either.

“Oh, look who’s awake.”

You sit up and there Nanami is, sitting opposite you on the couch, in his comfortable loungewear.

“Hey, I was watching that…” You mumble tiredly. A yawn escapes you. You rub your eyes.

“You were asleep when I came back, you know.”

“Yeah but…” you trail off. “When did you even come back?”

“An hour ago. I was excited to get my ‘welcome home’ kiss but instead, here you were; fast asleep and snoring like a bear.”

“I do not snore like a bear!”

Nanami grins and rests his back on the couch. “Don’t I get my kiss now?”

“…You called me a bear.”

“No, I said you sounded-“”

“Yeah, whatever, that’s the same thing.”

“Well, not r-“”

He’s interrupted by your unexpected crawl across the couch and sitting in his lap, covering the both of you with a blanket.

You rest your head on his shoulder.

“Do i still get my kiss-“”

“Oh shut up.”

2 - OFFICE HOURS

A knock on his door shocks Nanami out of his focus. “Come in.”

His office door opens and you appear, wearing your baggy pyjamas and dragging a blanket across the floor.

“_____…I’ve told you that you don’t need to knock. You’re the only other person who lives here.”

“Yeah, but it seems rude to just barge in so…” you waddle towards his desk where he sits, papers scattered all over his desk, “What are you doing?”

“Just some paperwork. Nothing interesting.”

“Yes, I know that part.” You respond to his last two words. “There’s a calculator…”

He lets out an amused huff. “What brings you here then?”

You shrug. “‘M bored…wanted to see what you were doing.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think my paperwork will entertain you very much, baby.”

“Well…” You start. “I’m not exactly here for the paperwork…”

You’re now stood right beside Nanami and you peek at his empty lap.

Nanami notices. Nanami sighs.

He tucks out of his desk, just enough for his lap to be shown, and he only has to pat his thighs twice before your hopping right into it.

“Comfortable?” You shuffle in his lap, looking for the right position. It’s found, and you lean back to rest your back against his wide chest, blanket covering you legs.

“Yeah, I’m comfy.”

Nanami kisses your temple, and goes back to completing his work, which lulls you to sleep due to how absolutely boring it is.

3 - OVERTIME

Nanami heard keys fiddling with the door while he is on his laptop in the kitchen. He hears a loud, annoyed groan.

Must have been a long day for you.

Shoes are thrown onto the floor, along with your bag and your coat is flung onto the rack.

You trod to the doorway of the living room and Nanami’s sees how tired and disheveled you look.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You only respond with a grumble.

“Hard day?”

Another grumble from you.

“Do you want to tell me all about it?”

A jumpy grumble clambers out of your mouth as you dash over to him and plop down on his inviting lap.

“Ugh, Kenny…these people…”

He rubs circles on you back, gently coaxing the complaints out of you.

“They’re so…they’re just so stupid.”

Nanami can’t help but chuckle at your bluntness and your genuine sadness at your coworkers’s stupidity.

“Seriously, they are! And don’t even get me started on that damn boss.”

So Nanami listens to you rant about your dumb coworkers while he just relishes in having you sit in his lap.

4 - GATHERINGS

On the rare occasion that you and Nanami organise a friend and family gathering, this time in the form of a barbecue, it is a success.

More people than you were both expecting showed up and your backyard was filled with music, friends, family members, chatter, kids running around and the smell of mouth-watering, flavourful meat.

The gathering lasts from noon until late evening, at which most people have left and the only ones who still lingered were close friends.

“Kento.” You walked up to where he sat on the outdoor couch, speaking to one of his work colleagues whose name you have forgotten. Something beginning with a ‘H’, you think?

“Hey, sweetheart.” He pauses his conversation to talk to you. “Are you tired?”

You were tired. You had been preparing the food, offering the food, playing with the kids, speaking to guests and now you feel the weight of all your hard work.

“I did not expect that many people to show up…”

“No, me neither. You did a great job, baby.” He huffs with a shake of his head. He then spreads his legs, more than they already are. “Do you want to rest?”

You are in in lap before he even finishes his sentence. Seriously, he does not finish his sentence.

He smiles at your urgency, admiring how cute you look curled up in his lap, your cheek squished up against his chest.

He takes a knitted blanket and throws it over your body, protecting you from the slight chill in the night air.

Nanami continues to speak to his friend, quieter now that you’re here, and caresses the back of your neck.

5 - MORNING BREAKFAST

“Kento, I’m- what’s all this?”

After spending a short time searching for Nanami, you find him outside in your colourful, shared garden. He sits on the garden chair, and on the medium-sized round table is a well prepared, delectable breakfast.

“Hm? Oh. This is breakfast.”

“Breakfast? But Kenny, I-“” You look down at your phone, checking the time, “I have to get to work-“”

“Call in late.”

You frown. “But-“”

“It’s such a nice morning, isn’t it?” He looks to the sky, taking a sip of his tea before looking at you. “Spend it with me.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

It was warm outside with beams of sunlight peaking through the gaps of the blooming blossom tree Nanami is stationed under. A gentle breeze curled through the air, the harmonic birdsong twinkled in your ears and the aroma of sweet-scented pastries wafted under your nose.

It did not take much to convince you.

“Okay. I’ll stay, but remind me to leave in thirty minutes.”

Nanami exhales and smiles, all soft and tender. “I’m glad. Come here, take a seat.”

Your stomach rumbles as you walk to sit in the garden chair opposite Nanami. He stops you.

“Where are you going?”

“Uhm…to sit down?”

“Oh, no, no…come sit on Kento’s lap, sweetheart. I want you to try this danish pastry,” he breaks off a piece so you can have some, “it’s my mother’s recipe.”

Ignoring your heart skipping a beat at how he referred to himself, you sit on his thigh, and he wraps an arm around your hip. He holds the piece of pastry to your mouth.

“Try a piece.”

You open your mouth and allow him to place it on you tongue, you lips briefly touching his fingertips. You laugh a little, flustered as you chew on the sweet treat. He licks his fingertip, the same one your lips touched.

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm! It’s very sweet!” You are glad you said yes to this. Work could handle you being a little late.

“Good.” Nanami shuffles forward in his chair, bringing you closer to the table of food. He kisses your shoulder and runs his hands up and down your waist. “Come on, eat up. You have a long day ahead of you.”

Nanami did not remind you to leave in those thirty minutes.

*

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

[stormtopia]

sorry that was the voices

[stormtopia]

GUILTY!!! GUILTY!!! GUILTY!!!!

[stormtopia]

can't wait for biden to resign from the campaign this sunday, july 21 2024

[stormtopia]

[stormtopia]

[stormtopia]

déjà vu

déjà vu : a french term that translates to "already seen." It is a phenomenon where an individual feels a strong sense of familiarity or recognition with a current situation.

bnha chap. 362 n 403 spoilers ! childhood friends to lovers can you tell i'm inlove with this trope oooorrr…, angsty?? bittersweet hurt/comfort ?? fem reader, reader's height isn't specified but is shorter than katsuki's, reader gets a bit insecure but katsuki fixes that up rq, reader is very mushy n inlove with katsuki, (but aren't we all) katsuki loves reader very much in return

in his final moments, katsuki thinks of you.

he thinks about primary school. you’re both ten, double digits. foolishly believing you were all grown up. katsuki’s fingers are white and dry from cleaning up the chalkboard, since you guys were tasked for clean up duty today.

or at least, you were. but your classmate suddenly vanished without a word and katsuki, as nice and helpful as he was (to you, at least) decided to stay behind to help you, don’t ask him where your cleaning buddy went, he has absolutely no idea and has absolutely nothing to do with it. at all.

“ y’know—” he starts, soaking the soggy sponge into the water bucket next to him, then squeezing it out. “when we’re done with this stupid school stuff, i’ll go pro.” he states, slapping the sponge onto the board, creating a loud splat noise.

you, having heard this time and time before, simply look at him and smile, placing your classmates chairs on top of their desks row by row “mhm, i know !” you grin “ 'n you’ll be number one, right ?” you’re standing in between two desks, hands playing with your uniform skirt behind your back.

“hell yeah i will !” katsuki boasts, smirking. he scrubs at the board a little more vigorously.

“bad word !” you tease, giggling as you point at him “ 'm gonna tell miss you said a cuss word again !”

he huffs, turning around to scrunch his nose up and stick his tongue out at you, you stick yours out back playfully. “as if i care ! yer too much of a wuss to snitch on me anyways.”

“no I’m not, i’ll do it right now !” katsuki rolls his red eyes at you, returning to his task and wiping the board down in a zig zag motion. “ i don’t care” he reiterates.

you pout at his back and just then get an idea you’re sure will piss him off, a cat like grin pulls at your lips.

“okaaayy … then i’ll just tell your mom !” you sing, bursting into giggles when he swiftly turns around and waves the wet sponge in your direction. he’s too far to reach you but you dodge anyway, just to mess with him.

“no you won’t.”

“yeah, i will !” you counter, blowing a raspberry at him. you both break out into a fit of giggles when he aggressively dips the sponge into the water and flicks the droplets at you once more, before he decides to close the distance and chase you around your cramped little classroom growling and screaming, threatening you with the dirty sponge.

you’re squealing and giggling and laughing, trying to fend him off with a broom and even then, at ten. then when the concept of cherishing memories of the time you spend together wasn’t even an afterthought in his mind, katsuki remembers wishing he could stay with you like this forever.

when you’re both out of breath the classroom is just as messy—if not messier than it usually is. you give eachother a look then belly laugh some more.

you’re picking up chairs again and katsuki’s helping you, so it goes even faster. you don’t wanna go home because you won’t be seeing him anymore, but you have to admit your eager to finish and leave school.

katsuki’s back is to you on the second row and he can’t see you looking at him from the back row, he decides it’s time he says what he wanted to say before you got distracted. he clutches the legs of the chair he’s holding a little tighter.

“hey,” his voice comes suddenly in the quiet, it surprises you a little, you hum in response “ 'm really gonna go pro when we’re done with school, y’know.” he insisted.

you tilt your head wearily, looking at him with his back still turned to you. “yeah, i know.” you respond “you said that already.” you’re confused, he can’t hear the scrapping noise of the wooden chairs anymore, it’s annoyingly too quiet now.

“ you’re coming with me” he pauses, turning to you a little so you catch a peak of his quickly reddening face. it sounds like a statement but even then you know better. you don’t miss a beat, nodding furiously “uhuh, always !” his cheeks flare up more as he turns fully towards you. he walks over until the only thing separating you is the desk in between. he turns his back to you again to lean against the desk seperating you both.

“you’ll be with me, and we’ll be pro's together” he maintained. he feels his chest tighten when you offer him more of your pretty bright smiles and nods, you smile at him the way he knows you don’t with the other boys in class who are stupid enough to think they deserve even a second of your time and it makes him feel a little bit more confident as he speaks more clearly “a-and I’ll be number one, and you’ll be number two. but not behind me, with me, yknow ?” he feels stupid for having to explain himself but you don’t mind, as long as you can stay with katsuki you don’t mind which number you are. you move across the table so you can stand next to him. you nod and he let's out a little huff and a smile starts pulling at his mouth.

"a-and" he gulps " 'n then—i'll marry you."

it's quiet for just moment.

and then you register what he said and feel your entire body heat up.

"w-wha ?! " you sputter "marry me ?!" your wide eyes startle him as he glances at you but refuses to look over again. he's red to the tips of his ears, pulling at the bottom of his now longer tucked in shirt. despite the growing lump in his throat, he nods.

"mhm," he kicks at an eraser laying on the floor, the only noise heard coming from it hitting a wall a little further. you don't see where, you're still looking at him. " my ma says i can't do it now, since it's...illegal, or something." he scoffs dissaprovingly "b-but..when 'm older," he sucks in a breath, then suddenly turns to you causing you to sit up straighter in suprise, you feel your hands gripping the desk tighter and tighter as your face feels more and more on fire. "when i'm older—i'll do it. that way, none of those other losers will look at you."

he looks way more flustered than you but he's sitting up straight still, eyes determined and unwavering and it knocks the wind out of you, because for as long as you can remember katsuki's been the coolest.

there's absolutely no doubt in your mind he's embarrassed. if his face wasn't a dead give away, his posture and demeanor give it away just as much. you've known him for a long time now, since you were 6 years old and he had walked up to you. little newbie you, who had transferred in the middle of the school year and with nobody to play with. he was there, head held high with his friends in tow behind him, demanding to know what your quirk was and the rest was history.

katsuki persists even when he knows the odds are low, he perseveres and keeps kicking and punching and blowing up everything in his path where anyone else would've given up while they had the chance. like when he fought against those 4th graders while you were all still only in 2nd grade. his face was all messed up and he had a nosebleed, but he ended up winning. because he swore he would keep winning.

'cus that's what heroes do.'

katsuki fights and keeps fighting even if you think the odds are low, because he doesn't. to him, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he'd win. even here, when he isn't fighting, instead confessing to you. he's red-faced, embarrassed out of his mind and nervous, but his shoulders are squared and there's no doubt in his eyes after he had just told you he would marry you. when he thought about being older, he thought about you being there with him.

and even after what you'd heard all you can think is that your katsuki is so cool.

so with a bright smile, bright eyes and the summer sun slowly setting in your empty little cramped classroom, you give him your response.

"mhm ! "

katsuki thinks about his last year of middle school.

today's the last day of your middle school life before you go off to high school and katsuki couldn't be happier to leave this shitty school. he's 15 now. older, but besides his features, remained the same (to you, at least) .

it's your last day and you finish it off with cleaning duty, ironically, and he remembers that day back in elementary. then proceeds to shake it off, hoping to shake off the embarrassing memories. but it doesn't seem to work because it feels like the universe is seriously fucking with him.

you're the one tasked with cleaning duty again and with your cleaning buddy, yet again, being nowhere to be found. katsuki yet again staying behind to help you out. and again, katsuki has absolutely no idea where your buddy went and has absolutely nothing to do with it. at all.

it shouldn't be anything new, he stays and helps, albeit begrudingly, every time you have cleaning duty. but it feels different somehow. katsuki chalks it up to it being the end of the year.

the only difference from last time is you actually finish in record time. usually, that would've been great news, less time at school and even more free time katsuki can spend with you.

but you're quiet today.

you usually chat his ear off, and just because it's you, he chat's right back. wether you're messing around teasing each other or just talking about your day at school or who's house you're staying over at for the afternoon and which movie you're watching, you're always talking about something. it's comforting where he'd usually think it to be annoying with anyone else. but they aren't you.

and he doesn't like it.

when you finish you reach for your bag sitting neatly on top of your desk but katsuki stops you, grabbing your wrist. the feel of your soft skin has him involentarily flushing lightly, he ignores it in favor of squeezing your wrist when you don't immediately look back at him.

"what's up with you ?" he questioned gruffly. it comes out harsh, but that's not what you hear. you've known katsuki for a long time, after all. he's worried, you can tell. his words are rough around the edges but his eyes are soft, filled with care and the soft stroke of his thumb against you skin sends slight shivers down your spine when you turn to look at him shyly.

you open your mouth to deny him, but he can practically read your mind "don't give me that 'nothinngg' bullshit" your nose scrunches at the way his voice raises in pitch as he crudely mimicks you and a little smirk pulls at his face for only a moment before it falls again " don't go lyin' to me. know i hate that shit" he rasped.

you sigh, he's known you just as long as you'd known him after all.

you lean against your desk and he copies you, your shoulders brushing as he scoots himself a little closer to you. you jump up a little to sit on your desk, you're the same height as him like this. he scoots a little closer and turns to look at you, placing his hands on your desk to lean on it, fingers inches away from yours.

"i just—" you faltered "this our last day of school. when the day is over we'll be high schoolers." you stated. katsuki scoffs jokingly and leans a bit closer to you "what ? you tellin' me youre gonna miss this dump ? last i heard, you were the first one who wanted to leave so you wouldn't have to deal with mr. nakamura anymore." he jests, trying to lighten the mood as best he could, the worry in his eyes still shining bright. a smile pulls at the corner of his lips when you huff out a little giggle.

"yeah well, i won't be missing mr. nakamura. or his stupid tests" you pretend to shiver as you cringe "at all." katsuki let's out a cute chuckle. he's like a magnet, you feel yourself scooting closer to where he's leaning next to you, like you're being pulled closer to him, you don't mind. you never mind being close to katsuki.

"but..?" he coaxed, knowing that wasn't all you wanted to say.

"but.." you continue "but i'll miss this, yknow ? like—the school itself wasn't..the best" katsuki scoffs in response but doesn't interrupt "the teachers weren't either. but—i dunno—this. being here." you confess, you stare down at your shoes as you kicks your legs aimlessly into the air " we've spent such a long time here, and now we're leaving. we went from being the youngest—to the oldest, to going back to being the youngest again, and that in itself isn't the problem.."

"then what is ?" he raises a brow.

"we're gonna be in a completely different school, with completely different people—"

"but we'll be together." he interrupts "you said you wanted to go to ua too" you said you were gonna stay with me is what he wants to say, but it's childish and that wouldn't be fair to you.

"of course, i still do !" you reassure "but—there'll be tons of new, strong, cool people at ua.."

"maybe even stronger and cooler than me.." you trail off. you don't need to say more for katsuki to understand what you mean and it pissed him off.

"shut up." he growls.

"katsuki—"

"no. shut the fuck up." he's right in front of you before you can blink. you reflexively part your legs and he takes the opportunity to stand even closer to you, right in your space. you feel your cheeks warm at the proximity, you’re close enough to see it's apparently affecting him too, his cheeks turning a cute pink but as stubborn as your katsuki is he doesn't budge. as usual.

you don't exactly know what you and katsuki are. you know you like him, you know you have for a long time. and you'd like to believe he likes you too. he doesn't act the way he does with you the way he does with his other friends (or his lackeys as he calls them, you're the only one he openly calls his friend) but he doesn't really have anyone close to him besides you, so you don't know if he'd act this way with someone else.

the thought leaves a nasty taste in your mouth, so you decide to focus on something else. something else being katsuki, of course, he's all up in your space. his gaze not allowing you to look or even think about anything else but him.

"who i meet at ua doesn't fuckin' matter, they'll all be weaksauce compared to me anyway" he states smugly, causing you to huff out a laugh again " i don't care if theyre cool, or strong" his nose scrunches up in disgust as he quips venomously "i don't care about any of that—and i don't hang out with you because of that either—i fuckin' care about you because you're you."

your heart stutters.

" what, you think i hang out witcha because of superficial shit like that ? you mockin' me or something ?"

"no, no course not !" you insist, shaking your head.

" exactly, so don't..." he huffs, looking away from you towards the ground, there's a random eraser lying on the ground and he kicks it "don't go saying dumb shit like that."

"i don't waste my time with just anyone, 's why i'm wastin' it with your ass" he jokes, chuckling when you squeeze his nose in response. supressing a smile you whine at him when he leans forward to bite yours.

"katsuki, you're gross !" you giggle as you push at his face, he smiles lightly at the sound of your laughter, one of his favorite sounds. "ya started it." he disputes weakly, his smile turning into a smirk when you groan and then it falls again as he looks at you seriously.

" but seriously" he starts "i mean it, y'know. don't just say shit to say it"

"i know" you smile. he grunts in acknowledgement then continues.

"i don't care about how cool those future ua asshats are gonna be. you're different, you're not like that—i mean—that's not what i look at—what i see with you" he fumbles around for his words and groans, slamming his forehead against your shoulder. you're used to katsuki being physical, but that was usually when he was being annoying, pinching and prodding and biting at you. he's rarely ever this affectionate. it's different, but nice..really nice, so you savor it while you can. your fingers twitch a little closer to his and you decide to take a leap of faith, placing your hands ontop of his. he flinches and you're about to pull back when he grips your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. you feel him huff into your uniform. his hair tickles as he shuffles his head deeper inside your shoulder.

"you're not like those other losers, y'not like anyone" he explains "you're—when you're around it's like you're glowing. you're bright and when you talk, everyone sorta—gets pulled towards you like you're some typa magnet" his hands get warmer against yours as he speaks. you're surprised that he sees you this way, when that's practically the same way you see him.

" you pull people in so easily, and it pisses me off that you don't realise it. you are strong, and cool and everything else but that's not all you are. s'not all i care about."

"you're annoying. and whiney. extremely annoying, actually" he chuckles, and you pull at his ear "but—" he continues "but you're..fun to be around or whatever, wouldn't be around you otherwise. you're too fuckin' nice and your taste in music isn't bad" katsuki grumbles.

he wants to say more, so much more. he wants to say he thinks the way you immerse yourself when you're watching a movie together is adorable. the way you hold yourself back from commenting during the movie so as not to be annoying, even thought he could listen to you naming street signs and never get bored. the way your eyes light up when you get your grade back for a test you had studied your ass off for, when you come to him showing off your hard work it makes him want to hold you and never let go. he wants to say the way you're not scared to banter and bicker with him, the way your nose scrunches up when you try to hold in your laughter when he passes you a crudely drawn picture of your homeroom teacher, the way you smile at him whenever you see him, whenever he shares his umbrella or your lunches even though you have your own and he has his, makes him want to kiss you silly.

he wants to say all this and more, but he knows the words won't come out right, they never do. but somehow you understand and it's another thing he admires—that he loves about you.

"i...didn't know you felt that way" is all you can quietly muster up. you're cute, he feels you squeezing his hands a little tighter " yeah you didn't, cus i didn't tell you" he ribbed. you huff out a 'dont be annoying" gruffly and he chuckles. the asshole.

your asshole, though, your heart decides.

you're both quiet, everything is quiet and you're happy, reassured. you'd be happy if this is where the conversation ended but katsuki never fails to surprise you today it seemed.

" 'sides" he squeezes your hands tighter "i promised you i'd marry you didn't i ? how can i do that if i'm not around you, hah ?"

you're heart skips approximately three beats at the memory of his promise and you lean back to look at his fully red cheeks and his fleeing eyes.

"you still remember that ?" you ask incredulously. he rolls his eyes but you can tell it's simply to save face as he responds " of course i do. wasn't that long ago."

"but—we were like—ten when that happened. "

"so ?" he responds simply "doesn't change nothin'. i told you, i don't say shit to just say it."

you're flustered and so utterly confused, but there's a happy feeling bubbling in your stomach at his words " but we're not even dating !"

"we're not ?" of course not , he knows he hadn't properly asked you to be his girlfriend. but he figured if he talked about the memory that seemed to refuse being pushed aside, he could casually sneak by what he was too embarrassed to ask. but of course, you never make it easy for him.

"no, we aren't" you pout, crossing your arms at him. he grumbles, reaching to pull your arms away from your chest but you're stubborn, he was right about you being extremely annoying. "cut that out," he hissed.

"mm-mm ! " you shake your head "you can't just decide we're together. i didn't even know you liked me like that.." you trail off shyly. katsuki looks utterly baffled "hah?! whaddya mean you didn't know ? you don't see me actin' like this with anyone else do you ?"

"that's cus you're mean to everyone else !" you choked out, puffing your cheeks out at him.

"well yeah ! but—that's the thing, i'm not mean to you !" he defends, faltering when you raise a brow at him "fuck off, m'not that mean ! i'm just messing with you !" he rebutted. you simply roll your eyes at him and after a moment he sighs.

"fine" he concedes "i should've told you i liked you, i don't just decide that i want you to be my girlfriend when it's convenient for me or something" he keeps quiet about how you could of also told him you liked him as well for now, for fear of you getting moody at him again.

you still look away from him and he groans "hey c'mon, look at me." he utters sincerely. after a minute, you offer him a glance and he takes his opportunity, turning your face towards him, holding back a grin when he feels how warm your cheeks are.

"do you...wanna be my girlfriend ?" he stammers, looking at you with his red cheeks and bashful red eyes, and yet his gaze doesn't falter.

so cool.

it's your last day of middle school, your last day before you go off to a different school with different people. but with your katsuki by your side, and that's all that matters to you.

and with a bright smile, bright eyes and the summer sun slowly setting in your empty classroom, you give him your response by pressing your lips to his softly.

katsuki thinks about the night before today, when you'd knocked at his door in the dead of night.

usually, on any other day, he'd have scolded you for being up so late but would've ended up letting you in anyway. but lately, things hadn't been as they had been before..everything happened. and he could tell you were upset, so he simply let you in without a word.

you take the liberty of laying down in his bed like you used to back at his house and back at the dorms. he doesn't mind. it feels familiar, comforting.

he lies down next to you and you immediately latch onto him, seeking his warmth. with your head in his chest, you hold onto him tightly, like he'll dissapear if you don't. he clings to you just as tightly.

"what's up with you ?" he mumbles sleepily, softer than when he would've if he were more awake, but still focusing all of his attention onto you.

he feels you shake against his chest "jus' wanted to be wif you" he hears you mumbles. he presses his lips to the top of your head, pressing a sweet little kiss onto it as you breathe "you know that's bullshit." he reprimands, he feels you squeeze him tighter. he squeezes your waist twice, his warm hands running up and down your sides "c'mon, talk to me" he prodded

you look up at him and he looks down at you. your eyes are glossy, he can tell even in the dark and he's sure you were crying a little. his theory is confirmed when he hears you let out a little sniffle, his heart breaks at the sound. his heart breaks even more when you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping at the front of his shirt.

"baby," he pleads softly, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, mouth and cheeks when you whine. "tell me what's bothering you, yeah ?"

"m'just—you're gonna be fighting tomorrow, and we all are and i know you're strong but you'll be in the front lines against him" you blubbered, you hiccup as tears roll down your cheeks " and i know you're strong. but katsu, i can't—" you gasp. he shushes you softly, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips. he knows what you're gonna say, he knows you're worried. he's known you for so long after all.

he hated himself the day he woke up after the first war. when he woke up to you crying at his side, with you yourself still being injured. he hates how much he worried you that day and he knows that the fleeting glances you give him whenever you have a briefing with the pro's, the way you stare off at nothing whenever you catch a glimpse of his scars, are all out of worry for him. he did the same after he had found out you had also been heavily injured during the brawl, so he can't say he wouldn't do the same way.

"baby, babe—look at me" he intones softly, grabbing onto your tear stained cheeks to get you to look at him, he's close so he's sure you can see him despite the darkness. he can't help pressing another kiss to your lips " nothing's gonna happen, okay ?" he reassures, rubbing your cheek softly.

"i can't see you like that again, katsuki. i just can't" you whimper, leaning into his hand.

"you won't, promise you won't." he vows. he knows you're even more worried because you'll both be in different areas and he hates he won't be able to keep his eye on you. but you're strong and cool and everything else, so he trusts you'll be okay "i need you to trust me"

"i do" you sniffle, taking a deep breath "i do trust you, but i just—don't wanna see you get hurt, kacchan"

he sighs softly, staring at you lovingly as he pulls you towards his chest. you nuzzle against him and he presses his mouth to the side of your head. "i can't promise i won't be gettin' hurt, s'gonna happen on the job" he says carefully, rubbing your back "but i promise i'll always come back to you. no matter how fucked up i get, i'll win. for you." he declares, feeling you shove your head deeper against his shoulder.

you remember how despite getting extremely injured by shigaraki, he recovered in record time. it seemed nothing could stop your boyfriend from proving to the world he was the best. because katsuki fights and keeps fighting even if you think the odds are low, because he doesn't. because to him, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he'll win.

and despite the worry and the fear gnawing at you, you can't help but think your katsuki is so fucking cool.

so you nod against his shoulder and he feels the collar of his shirt grow wet, but he doesn't mind as your grip on him loosens lightly until you can feel yourself falling asleep.

before you fall though, you hear katsuki speak.

"besides, i promised you i'd marry you didn't i ?"

he feels you smile into his neck, and you give him your response by happily nodding into his shoulder with a hum.

in his final moments, katsuki thinks of you.

he thinks of the promises he's made. he thinks of the promise he made to his old hag to not cause you, such a sweet girl, too much trouble. he remembers the promise he made to his old man to stay safe while he went out on patrol and when he'd fight against shigaraki for the second time. he remembers the promise he made to himself to get his limited edition all might card signed one day. and he remembers the promise he'd made when he said he'd always, always come back to you.

and he remembers the promise he'd made to marry you. the promise that you both would be together and none of the other losers would look at you.

so when he awakens, katsuki doesn't bother to ask why or how.

he simply fights and keeps fighting, so he can win, no matter how fucked up he gets.

and always, always come back to you.

[stormtopia]

IM SO EXCITED TO READ THIS

... Though I'm Not That Flexible

(part 2 following You Can Wrap Me 'Round Your Finger)

You prepare to tell Loki you love him. Much to his embarrassment, Loki has to tell you something, too.

(aka - frost giant biology is weird and Loki has to suffer the consequences) (and you're kinda into it) (oops)

Chapter 2 / 2 -- read it on AO3 here

Word count: ~9k

Warnings: 18+ !! fem reader; courtship/nesting behaviour, smut (and I mean... smut)

You watched Steve haul himself into the boxing ring, internally groaning at the thought of going toe-to-toe with the Man with a Plan himself. 

Loki hovered at your shoulder looking decidedly out of place in a button-down and trousers; he was off the training roster for the week after Bucky had benched him for his ‘poor attitude’. The only people currently brave (or stupid) enough to spar with him were Steve and Thor, the latter of whom was banned from sparring with Loki indoors because of, to quote Pepper, the 'Thor-And-Loki Event' in June.

Privately, you agreed with Bucky’s assessment – Loki had been acting strange lately. Clingy, extra affectionate but equally as moody. Any time you tried to pry you were met with the same response – that Loki was “fine” and “had complete control” over the situation.

Sometimes the best option with Loki was to let him come to you. His desire for absolute control was multi-faceted, but it usually worked out best if he could ask for help and feel like he had an explanation as to why. You knew from experience that hounding him could dig up raw insecurities about worth and ability. So - you made the most of it; if Loki was going to be clingy, he could at least be useful and clingy. 

“Hold these, please.” You pushed your towel and water bottle into his hand. Loki accepted them with only minor complaint, tucking them under his arm to make room for everything else you were sure to pile onto him.

Steve rattled the ropes fencing him inside the boxing ring. “Come on, soldier. Don’t keep an old man waiting.”

Loki stretched to hide his sparkling fingertips; you knew his seidr well enough by now to recognize how Steve’s shoelaces unraveled with a mind of their own.

With his arms raised like that, there was no denying Loki’s ‘growth-spurt’ – the buttons on his shirt strained to stay in their buttonholes, gaping a little across his chest. You fought back a grin, watching a young intern (definitely part of Tony’s university pipeline program) spill water down her front while admiring the pull of yet another too-small shirt. A few of her friends giggled, their faces downcast but their gazes teasing, peering up through their eyelashes every few seconds.

“What?” Loki glanced over his shoulder in the direction you were looking.

“Nothing. Some kids are staring at you, that’s all.” You honestly weren’t offended - you remembered what it was like to want Loki from afar, and you weren’t blind. You knew passersby were going to gawk and shoot him longing stares. Loki, however, seemed uncharacteristically upset. His eyes narrowed, upper lip curled slightly in dissatisfaction, and he turned back to you with his shoulders drawn taut. He hooked his fingers in the pocket of your hoodie – Loki’s hoodie, actually, since yours seemed to have mysteriously disappeared – and tugged you into his chest, pressing a firm, dry kiss to your mouth.

You blinked dazedly at him once he’d slunk back. “Is this one of those ‘obviously not interested’ moments?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“People stare all the time. It’s nothing new.”

“I know.” A pretty pink blush was creeping up his cheeks, warming his pale complexion. “I just thought it pertinent to make my intentions crystal clear.” Then, after a beat- “Do you think anyone would notice if I locked the changing room doors and had my way with you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course they would. Now– help me up. I have a senior citizen to cream.”

If anyone was getting creamed, it was you.

You circled the boxing ring on shaky feet, watching Steve round on you with that quiet cockiness of his. He flicked his stupidly perfect bangs out of his stupidly beautiful eyes and mimed a one-two punch combo while you considered giving into the universe and letting your limbs turn to oatmeal. Bucky sat in a folding chair on the sidelines, picking your scrimmage apart with his stupidly brilliant and equally beautiful eyes.

You hated them.

Bucky picked up on details you would never have noticed – your uneven stance, the angle of your elbow when you raised your fists – and, while helpful on paper, it only served to raise your blood pressure by a few degrees. Not helped by the fact that Bucky seemed to know what moves Steve was going to make before he did, so could comment on your form before you’d even finished a move.

PAL whistled encouragement when you just barely blocked a left hook. Tony had set him in Bucky’s lap so he could watch you and Steve train. (“He’s so little. He can’t see over anything.”) At least PAL liked you, even if he was out for blood.

“I agree with the pest, darling. You should wring his neck,” Loki offered from the sidelines. He leant his head on his forearms where they were draped over the ropes, his bored expression betrayed only by the way his brow furrowed whenever Steve got too close to landing a hit.

(You were admittedly not very good at hand-to-hand combat. As a telekinetic, your fists were usually a last resort in the field.)

“This would all be so much easier if you stopped - hey! - swinging so much.” You swept the back of your hand across your eyes, hoping to clear the sweat pouring into them. “Also, has your stuff been going missing lately?”

“Kind of defeats the whole purpose of combat training.” Steve frowned, then threw his body weight into a kick to your chest, which you only barely dodged. He stumbled but quickly corrected, spinning to catch your right hook effortlessly. “But no, nothing’s gone missing lately. Well, my veggie straws have been disappearing but I buy those because Bucky insists he doesn’t like them and then sneaks them from my cupboard. Has he been breaking into yours too?”

You squirmed, planting your feet and leveraging your upper body to try and pry out of his hold. Unfortunately for you, Steve was two hundred and seventy pounds of solid steel pretending to be flesh, so you might as well have been a leaf trapped under a fourteen-wheeler. “No. My pillows keep disappearing.”

Your feet briefly left the ground when Steve lifted you by the wrists. He dumped you unceremoniously on the padded floor of the boxing ring and proceeded to loom over you, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and fatherly rage. “Someone’s been perving on you?”

You pushed yourself upright, wincing when you felt your muscles protest the movement. “I don’t know!”

“Weird. Maybe you have a secret admirer. Loki!” Steve mimed an elbow drop but pulled his weight at the last second; he rolled to the side and sprawled out, all six-feet-four-inches of him laid out next to you without having broken a sweat. “Keep an eye on your girl, ya’ hear?”

Loki visibly preened at the idea of you being his girl. You felt a whisper of seidr across your cheek, a sparkling green kiss so fleeting it could have been a trick.

Steve squinted up at him from the floor of the boxing ring. “Are you bigger?”

“You’ve gotta start throwing punches, kid.” Bucky interrupted from the sidelines. PAL bobbed his head in agreement. “Look, I was just like you. A sharp shooter–”

“I’m telekinetic.”

“My point still stands. I did all my best work from a hundred yards away. But sometimes, in the field, you’re gonna have some guy get in your space and wail on you, and I need to know you won’t just fold like a deck of cards when that happens.”

“I’m sorry I’m not built like a tank, Bucky.” You swiped the edge of your shirt over your forehead, grimacing when the already-wet material slid over your damp brow. 

“I’m not saying you have to put on a hundred pounds of muscle. Just-” Bucky slipped under the rope and into your personal space, rounding on you from behind to wrap his flesh arm around your throat. His other hand shot out and circled your wrist, holding it at an awkward angle so that your muscles locked uncomfortably. “Just play dirty. If I get this close, I will kill you. So what are you going to do about it?”

You hissed, jerking under his metal hand. “Ow, Bucky, I get it–”

It took all three of you a moment to register that the noise rumbling through the air was coming from Loki. The fluorescents overhead flickered in waves, darkness ebbing and flowing from a point above Loki’s head. They buzzed and crackled unnaturally with displeasure. Bucky’s arms dropped away to put a bit of space between your bodies. Loki’s eyebrows drew tight in the middle, a scowl twisting his pretty face.

“Hey, My Chemical Mischief,” Tony yelled from across the gym. “Cool it with the dick measuring contest, will you? We get it, she’s a kept woman - I don’t think Barnes wants any of that.”

Thor laughed. Racking his barbells, he straddled his padded bench and flicked sparks of electricity from his fingertips, a strange side-effect that manifested whenever he strained himself. He taunted something to Loki in their mother tongue and the effect was instantaneous; Loki gaped at his brother, his growling cut short, and hurled something – an insult? – back. 

With a few words they reduced the other to adolescents. Though none of you mortals could even hope to dissect their twisting language, it was clear that the two of them were rehashing centuries of arguments all at once.

Loki reeled back when Thor, his nose tilted to the ceiling, punctuated a sentence with a nod in your direction. “You will do nothing of the sort,” Loki snapped in English.

“Loki.” Exasperation dripped from Thor’s tone, mingling with the kind of joy that came from lecturing a younger sibling. He folded his arms and shot Loki a smarmy do-as-I-say glare. ”This is only going to end in disaster.”

Loki’s jaw snapped shut with a click. His pinched expression seemed to push Thor to hysterics. Thor goaded him on, wagging a callused finger; Loki’s hand fisted at his side as he moved to strangle his brother.

They must have been terrible pests on Asgard.

In English, Thor continued: “I have never been happier that you were adopted. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You’re preening. ”

Loki crossed the gym in a few long strides, a veritable storm cloud brewing over his head. The air crackled, ozone heavy in the air; the difference in pressure caused the open changing room door to slam shut, as if a draft had kicked up. Tony hopped to his feet, pointing between the two brothers. “Nuh uh. You guys take it outside. I am filled with too much scrap metal for you two to be throwing thunderstorms around inside. Again. ”

Loki grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck. Thor stumbled, still laughing, and tucked his shoulder into Loki’s chest as if to throw him over it. Loki hissed something unintelligible - Tony hollered something unrepeatable - and then the two brothers blinked out of sight in a flash of bright green.

You ran into them in the lobby on your way back from the corner store that evening. Both of them were soaking wet, their plainclothes plastered to their skin. Loki brushed by you with a stormy expression, anger rolling off of him in palpable waves; Thor followed a few feet behind, decidedly more jovial. Loki called over his shoulder: “do not say anything, Thor. I’m handling this.”

They left a trail of rainwater in their wake, their shoes squeaking across the marble floor. Thor clapped you on the shoulder as you passed and, through the widest grin you’d ever seen, said: “my darling friend – make sure you use protection.”

A flash of green sizzled across Thor’s knuckles; he yanked his hand away with a shout, raising his hand to examine a line of fresh, pink welts. Loki hissed at him; Thor cast you a sideways look, then winked. To his brother, he called: “I am always right, am I not?”

Loki snapped his fingers, calling Thor to attention like a master might call their dog to heel. Except Thor was the oldest, and had a petty streak longer than the continental United States, and his younger brother’s displeasure clearly brought him unbridled joy, so Thor slung one arm around your shoulder and gave you a squeeze, rubbing his prickly cheek against yours for good measure.

You squirmed under his arm. “Is this another Asgardian thing?”

Thor answered “no” at the same time that Loki answered “yes”.

Loki stormed back to your side and wrenched his brother away, speaking in a low tone. Fixing his brother with a scathing stare, Loki rubbed his thumb over your jaw, then rode his hand down the curve of your neck to sit on your shoulder, as if to wipe the physical evidence of his brother’s touch from your skin. 

Thor sidled up behind Loki and scrubbed a hand over your cheek; Loki, hackles raised, elbowed his brother in the side, setting off a chain reaction of flying fists and snapping teeth. 

Your groceries were definitely melting. “I’m gonna go. Uh, Loki, you can… You can come upstairs when you’re… done…”

Loki, who was trapped in a headlock by his older brother, nodded jerkily to you. “Of course, dear– Thor. You foul–” 

You watched as your boyfriend transformed into a glossy black snake. He fell to the marble with a sad, wet slap and played dead, lolled tongue and all.

Luckily, your ice cream was mostly salvageable.

The shower was hot. Maybe a bit too hot. Steam cloyed, clouding your periphery and leaving you feeling flushed. You contemplated switching the tap a half an inch toward to the right, but then you risked overshooting and being too cold. 

“I’m being called away,” Loki said by way of greeting. He was still a bit damp; his hair had just begun to curl around the ends. The steam, its attention caught by the open door, billowed around him on its escape path. “I was going to tell you earlier, but my brother had other plans.”

“Oh, that’s not fair. Close the door, please?”

“Right. Sorry.” The door slipped shut with a click. Loki hoisted himself onto your bathroom counter, his hands clasped loosely between his knees while he watched you rinse the last suds from your legs. “Believe me, darling, I don’t want to leave you, but it seems that Fury wants my head on a stake.”

“Thor, too. What was that about?”

Loki waved a hand. “Brotherly taunts. Now would you hurry up? I want to ravish you before I’m a decrepit, thank you very much.”

“Give me a minute.” You turned your back to him for a better angle under the shower head. You heard the shower door slide open – you assumed so that Loki could ogle you properly – then startled when his shadow crossed over you.

“Loki!” You shrieked, cringing when wet cotton slid over your belly as he wound his arms around your waist. “You’re fully dressed! You can’t– bad! Naughty!”

“I was already wet. Now I’m warm and wet.” He tsked, rubbing his cheek against the curve of your shoulder with an arrogance only a prince could muster. “I just couldn’t resist.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Truthfully, pet, I don’t think I’ve ever felt less remorse in my life.” His wet fingers fumbled with the top button on his shirt. The plastic was slippery and the buttons small, so it took more than a few tries to get the first one out; by the time he had wrenched the third free, he was cursing. “Ok,” he said around a laugh. “Maybe I’m a little remorseful. But this is your fault, let it be known.”

“My fault?”

“Yes.” Two more buttons down. Loki growled, then tore the rest of them out with a firm jerk of the button placket. They scattered, bouncing off the tile with tiny sounds, and Loki struggled to pull the sleeves off his skin. “You’re so beguiling. I’m– I can hardly tear myself away.” He threw the shirt through the open shower doors, then considered his trousers. “Oh, nevermind.” With a flick of his wrist, the last of his clothing melted away. “Why do I even bother, honestly?”

You tipped your head back against the shower wall and hummed, enjoying the simple pleasure of Loki’s nearness. He was a vision under the spray, dark hair plastered and curling over pale skin and pink lips parted, glossy with water. When his fingers crept over your hip to tease the skin under your ribs, your chest soared, the hollow space between your lungs aching ice cold. 

(You loved him). 

(You promised yourself you would tell him when he returned from whatever mission Fury had assigned, come hell or high water - and you almost believed it.)

When you opened your eyes, you found Loki to be looking at you with the most peculiar hunger. “What?”

“I can’t look at you?”

“I wouldn’t call that ‘looking’. I would say you’re eating me with your eyes.” You rolled your shoulders, then reached around him for the tap. “I’m starting to feel a bit dizzy. Let’s dry off and you can tell me all about why Fury is taking you away from me.”

“You mean you let me suffer through that whole ordeal for naught?”

“I didn’t ask you to climb in here fully clothed. Now– chop chop, loverboy. You’re closest to the towels.”

He left in the early morning. It seemed to take a great deal of physical effort for him to extricate himself from your bed, even greater than it did on Sunday. By the time he had slipped into his last piece of armour, his breath was short and tense, and his mouth turned down in a harsh curve.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You don’t seem yourself.”

“I’m fine. Just don’t… Just wait for me, okay?”

You were a couple seconds behind, your brain still heavy with the early hour. “What do you mean, honey?”

Loki shook his head. He leaned his weight on the edge of the bed and curled over you, pressing a dry kiss to your cheek. “Don’t worry yourself. Go back to bed.”

“I can help–”

“I have it all under control. I’ll be back in a few days.” He said the last part like he was trying to convince himself more than he was you.

Only three days later and you were going a little stir-crazy. Maybe whatever clinginess-disease he had had rubbed off on you.

You couldn’t take it anymore – you missed your boyfriend. He had been scheduled to return that morning but another impromptu snowstorm had pushed his arrival back by a day, leaving you with an empty afternoon to putter. But once your laundry was done and your shower scrubbed, there wasn’t much left to do besides twiddle your thumbs and marathon episodes of Forensic Files. 

You took the elevator to his floor and let yourself in with a spare key. Your shoulders dropped, an unregistered tension draining as you breathed in the familiar smell of Loki’s cologne and lavender incense. There was a certain comfort in the menial reminders of him – his shoes by the door, his coat on the rack. You tossed your keys on the kitchen counter. “So much for man-eating wolves.”

You half expected his fridge to be barren, considering how much time he had spent over the last week in your apartment, but you were pleasantly surprised to find it well stocked – too well stocked. Whatever occasion he was preparing for was unknown to you, but he seemed to be anticipating an apocalypse or city-wide shortage of seasonal fruits and vegetables. You helped yourself to some from a pre-cut container and shuffled toward his bedroom to take a nap.

You stopped dead in your tracks under the threshold.

“You are the pillow thief.”

Fabric was draped languorously from every surface - a stack of quilts over his desk chair, pillowcases folded neatly on his dresser. The curtains were drawn tightly, two or three panels layered on top of each other to block out as much natural light as possible. He appeared to have gathered every pillow in his apartment - and a few of yours - and piled them in a semi-circle against the headboard. A few had fallen to the wayside, at the foot of the bed or scattered across the carpet, and a great spread of throw blankets was draped across the comforter. You could just make out the corner of one of your t-shirts peeking out from his pillows.

There was a decidedly two person-sized divot in the centre of it all, like you were meant to burrow in together.

“What have you been up to, my darling boy?”

You crawled across the covers and peeled them back, layer by layer. More of your shirts tumbled out, as well as a hoodie and a cashmere scarf. It was bewildering to say the least, but not entirely out of the norm for Loki. (He once spent two weeks meticulously replacing all of your cutlery with a mismatched charity shop set, so what was a little blanket theft, really?) You just couldn’t quite put your finger on why he had chosen this prank, nor why he would bother to build a veritable nest out of his spoils.

Tired and more than a little giggly, you tucked yourself between two comforters and curled up on your side. You’d have to ask him when he got home.

(In his defense, it was really comfy).

You blinked awake to the sound of your phone vibrating. It took you a moment to find it among the layers of blankets and pillows but eventually you wrenched it free and swiped accept. “Hello?”

Loki’s voice carried through the little speaker. “Where are you? You’re not in your apartment.”

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “That’s because I’m in yours.”

There was a long, drawn out silence. Then, “you’re what?”

“I’m in your apartment. Which– you have so much explaining to do.” You pushed yourself out of his bed. Through the phone, you heard FRIDAY greet him and a familiar jingle when Loki punched the button for his floor. 

“I… You weren’t supposed to see that.”

You laughed. You could hear him struggling to find his keys, his anxiety palpable even through the phone. “Loki, was this some sort of prank to keep me from refusing to sleep over?”

“No, it…” His keys ground in the lock. “It was…”

You pulled the door open for him. He blinked owlishly at you, his phone pinched between his shoulder and his cheek.

“Hi,” you said, and your voice echoed through his phone.

He ended the call. “Hi.”

The two of you walked together, Loki on tentative feet while you guided him, pulling on one of his harness straps until you were through the threshold. His bag slid from his shoulder with a thud; he was still wearing his armour, which you smoothed your fingers under and began to unclasp piece by piece, setting it on the table by the door.

“Loki,” you glanced up at him through your eyelashes. “Do you want to explain the nest in your bedroom?”

His shoulders tensed. “Thor, you bastard.”

You worked one of his leather straps free, tossing it aside. “What?”

“Just - ignore this,” he said. “Go back to your apartment. I have to go kill my brother, and then burn everything I own, and then maybe I’ll be able to scrounge up the dignity to see you before sunrise.”

He made an aborted movement to turn out from your arms, but you reached out with your mind and slid the deadbolt in place before he could slip through the door. “Nuh uh. What does Thor have to do with this? Is this about your fight? I haven’t spoken to him since I ran into you two in the hall.”

“Wait.” It was your turn to face Loki’s ire, it seemed, because he whirled on you, his finger raised accusingly. “How did you know about the nesting then?”

“I was joking.” You pulled the final knife sheath free, leaving him in his leather breastplate and heavy wool trousers. “I mean, you piled all of our collective pillows into a queen-sized bed. Do you mean to tell me you’re actually nesting? Is this another Asgardian courtship thing I should know about?”

“I-” Loki looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up whole. A familiar curl of self-consciousness had begun to spoil his expression. He turned his cheek and spit out a curse. “Nevermind.”

“Loki, please.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “If you tell me your secret, I’ll tell you one in return.”

If there was one thing Loki loved more than self-pity, it was being let in on a secret. His eyes bolted up from glaring a hole into the hardwood to catch yours, assessing your deal. “Do not make bets you cannot pay, darling.” 

“I already have the perfect secret picked out. Explain.”

He watched you for a long time. Eventually, with a very careful, measured tone, he opened his mouth to speak. “I’ve never… Oh, this is humiliating.” Loki scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Asgardians know very little about Jotun customs. It’s… We didn’t have much need to study them, outside of battle. But it’s common knowledge that frost giants… mate for life. They pick someone to bond with and when they’re serious… In the spring… ”

 “Loki,” you cooed. “Humor me.”

He groaned and slunk to his knees before you. His forehead pressed against your hip while both his hands curled around your calves to steady himself. He mumbled something unintelligible against your leg.

You ran your fingers through his hair. “What was that?”

Loki sighed. “When they find a suitable mate they try... I’m… My biology is trying to entice you to tie yourself to me. Forever.”

“So the nesting thing? And the um… the clinginess?”

He toyed with the edge of your t-shirt. “Yes. I… I get quite upset when you don’t respond favorably to my… advances .”

“I picked up on that. Wait,” you pinched the meat of his bicep. “Is this why you’re getting bigger?”

“It appears that my glamours are failing, yes.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re growing in some new plumage to woo me with?” You trailed your finger along a featherlight path over his jaw. Lowering your voice, you couldn’t help but tease him a little. “Are you going to sing for me next?”

A scowl twisted his expression into something mean. “You forget who you’re speaking to, mortal.”

His tone did nothing to dissuade you. So rarely were you the one with the power to tease and you intended to take advantage. “Anything else I should know?”

“Well, if I’m already speaking candidly…” It came out bitingly, Loki’s voice laced with a burning mix of self-deprecation and frustration. “I can hardly think about anything else other than bending you over every available piece of furniture and fucking you until one of us passes out.”

“Loki,” you warned as his fingers wormed their way under the waistband of your pants. “We’re finishing this conversation.”

“Later, darling.” He pushed them down an inch and pressed his mouth to your hip. “Let us at least enjoy my biology for a little while.”

“Loki.” The air crackled, seidr whispering across your skin where the two of you connected as he considered testing your resolve. You felt the phantom impression of hands around your wrists, which you shook off with a glare. “Down.”

His lip curled in displeasure but he obeyed, sitting back on his heels. “It’s infuriating. Let’s just pretend it’s not happening.”

You joined him on the floor, drawing your knees up to your chest. “What does it mean to… ‘mate’?”

Loki’s shoulders rounded and bowed; he tilted his face away from you, hiding his expression behind a wall of thick, black hair. “You just… are. You’re partners for life. A family. I’m not sure there are words in any mortal language to explain the breadth of it.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It seems my biology has decided that you’re a good match for… that.”

“Loki…”

“I love you.” He said it so plainly, as if he was commenting on the weather. Your heartbeat turned hot and dizzy as you watched his long fingers trace the floorboard, his words rattling around in the space between your ears – I love you, I love you, I love– “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re wearing my ring, and my knives, and my clothes. You smell like me–”

“Wait–”

“I built you a nest. I’m not human. Your priorities are in desperate need of reassessment if that’s the part you’re uncomfortable with.” Loki rolled his eyes, that bit of familiar petulance peeking through his foul mood. “Anyway. It makes sense that my body would choose you. That I would… would want to convince you...”

“You know you don’t have to convince me.”

Loki picked at a knot in the wood, a loathsome smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Oh, but I do.”

You couldn’t bear the distance any longer; you crawled the last couple of feet to wrap your arms around his chest. He tipped into you, pressing his cheek against your shoulder and drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. Yet, despite his pain, a part of you sang as you stroked a line down his cheek. You were loved and in love – what greater joy was there than that?

Not for the first time in your relationship, guilt welled up in your chest. Being in love with Loki felt a little like learning a new language; he was so capricious, so aloof, that you sometimes felt like you were left out of a joke when he teased you, or flirted, or sidled up to touch you. It often wasn’t until afterward that you became aware of the fact that he was being sincere, that his teasing was earnestness wrapped up in a barbed tongue. 

His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt. You might not have always understood his advances, but you would try to. For him, you would always try.

“Is there some sort of ritual involved? Do I have to cover myself in runes or something?”

He shook his head against your chest. “I think it just… happens. I’m not sure. There are very few intricacies about frost giant habits with which I’m familiar. But based on how my body is responding, I would assume it boils down to ravishing you on every surface available to me.”

You hummed. “And what will happen if we ignore it?”

Loki, turned mute by anxiety, drew a line down your arm with his knuckle. Finally, he mumbled, “I’ll be fine. I’ll just be very�� sad. For the next few days.”

“Sad?”

“I know logically that you’re not, but it feels… Like you’re rejecting me.” 

“And how do you want me to respond?”

He sneered again and ducked his head, dragging a hand over his face frustratedly. “I want you to bare your throat to me.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up inside of you. “What?”

The glare Loki shot you was bitterly cold. “Do not pretend that you misheard me.”

“No, no, Loki,” you reached out and twined your fingers together. “I mean, surely there’s more than that, right? You want me to do the same things for you? To- to nest? I’m not going to hunt a stag or something for you but I can definitely, like, go to the butcher and get you a prize cut.”

Loki shook his head. “I just want you to accept. To accept me .”

“And the throat…?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You ran your finger along the edge of your t-shirt, where it sat snugly against your collarbone, and watched his pupils dilate. Wordlessly you tugged on his hand, drawing it up to your neck, and placed it there loosely. “That’s it?”

His hand tightened, fingernails catching ever so gently against your skin. “You heard the part where I said that frost giants mate for life, yes?”

You nodded. “Mhmm.”

As if possessed, Loki leaned forward to nose at your pulse point. “So you understand that this… this is forever.”

“And ever and ever?”

“Brat.” His teeth scraped across your skin. “I’ve grown tired of this one-sided vulnerability. I believe you promised me a secret, pet.”

“I did.” You took a deep breath. “I love you, too.”

His fingers stilled around your throat. He seemed to not even breathe as he considered your confession. With a calculated effort, Loki peeled his hands off your neck and his voice, deep and rumbling with restraint, cut through the silence. “You should run.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Unless you want me to fuck you here on this cold, hard floor, I suggest that you run back to that pretty little nest I made you.”

A hot flush washed over you, starting in your cheeks and pooling in the pit of your belly. Loki leaned forward and sweetly kissed your collarbone, then reached up and tore your t-shirt down the middle.

“Loki!”

He smiled against your cheek. “I wasn’t joking, my love.” He sat back on his haunches and folded his hands in his lap, his gaze simmering with something molten hot. Though he moved slowly, projecting a characteristic aloofness, you could see the tendons in his neck straining as he worked against instinct to hold still. He grinned, all teeth, and jerked his chin toward his bedroom. “Run.”

You scrambled to your feet. The hardwood was slippery under your socks. You took a couple tentative steps backwards, watching the way Loki’s eyes raked over you like a butcher pulled pork. Your skin buzzed under his gaze as if you were standing under a powerline, electrified by a well of energy crackling overhead. 

His control was crumbling by the second. The faucet was leaking– Tony had promised he’d have someone over within the week to fix it – and the water beading on its edge began to sizzle and pop, blinking out of existence in green bursts. The microwave display went black as Loki’s seidr overwhelmed the kitchen’s circuit breaker; the hum of the refrigerator died with it, plunging the room into an unnatural silence, so heavy that you could hear your own breath catching in your chest. Loki shifted his weight to his knees.

Your heart thrilled.

You broke in unison; you started to run at the same time that Loki sprang to his feet. A laugh bubbled up out of your chest; you reached out with your mind and swept the cushions off the couch, pelting Loki with them before he could reach you. He swore, and a tongue of emerald light crackled at your ankles, nearly tripping you. You stumbled but managed to make it over the threshold of his bedroom door. Something collided heavily with the wall behind you, followed by the sound of debris coming loose and littering the floor.

You landed with a bounce in the center of the bed, sending a cascade of pillows tumbling to the ground. Loki appeared moments later, breathing heavily and bracketing the door with his arms. He must have tripped during the chase; dust and bits of drywall covered his left arm. His irises had disappeared, carved to mere slivers by his blown pupils. Your breath caught in your chest when you noticed the line of his cock, hard and wanting, straining against his pants.

You shrugged out of your ruined shirt while Loki stalked across the small bedroom, still dressed for battle. He swatted a discarded pillow out of the air when you used your powers to raise it, then shredded another one in an eruption of light and feathers when you tried to catch him from behind. A low purr rumbled through him, melting into the hum of his seidr as it thrummed through the air.

Sensing he would tear through every scrap of fabric you managed to throw up between yourselves, you yielded slowly, tipping your chin back, drawing his attention to your throat.

Loki’s body hit the bed with a muffled thump. He crawled up the length of you on shaky limbs, pressing a grateful, sloppy kiss to your mouth before moving down to your pulse point. Burying his face there, Loki dropped his full weight on top of you. “You really should not indulge me. I might never let you leave.”

“I’ve always been terrible at saying no to you.”

He laved at a spot on your neck. His hips pinned yours against the mattress, shifting against you aimlessly as his arousal heightened. Experimentally, you pressed your leg into him; a groan tumbled from his mouth before he closed one hand around your thigh and rutted up a little more purposefully. “Love. My little love.”

Loki pushed up to his knees and pulled on the strap holding his breastplate in place. You sat up on one elbow and pinched your bra clasp with the other hand. It had only just come undone when Loki worked his hands under the band and tugged it off of you roughly. You tsked in retaliation, then pulled his armour over his head. Just as soon as it hit the floor, Loki was crawling backwards, sliding his hands down your thighs with a heavy reverence.

Your pyjama pants joined the scattered mix of armour and plainclothes on the floor. Now that you were completely bare, Loki slunk up to admire you, leaving a wet trail of kisses over your body until he reached the thin skin over your pulse. One of his hands pushed your knees apart to draw featherlight circles across your inner thighs. 

You tugged on his hair, trying to convince him to lean up and kiss you properly. Loki grumbled but did not concede; his left hand slipped from between your legs and took your wrist, jamming it against the headboard before returning to run circles around your clit. When you pulled, you found your arm immobilized; a tangle of green light pinned it in place above your head.

“Rude,” you gasped. Loki smiled against your neck, dragging his chin through a trail of his own spit.

“Evil,” he agreed.

“Can you at least- at least take your pants off?”

The air shifted; when you glanced down, you were pleased to find that Loki had magically done away with the rest of his clothing, giving you an unobstructed view of his lithe body. You hummed, satisfied, and slid your free hand down his back to palm his ass.

Loki lazily drew his middle two fingers up and down your slit, toying with you in a display of casual dominance. Occasionally he would dip into you, pressing only far enough to leave you wanting before retreating to trace an intricate pattern of knots between your thighs. Despite the hard weight of him, nestled in the cradle of your hips and burning hot with desire, he seemed determined to take his time tangling with you. You rocked your hips, seeking some sort of pressure or friction, and were met with a haughty grin against your breast instead.

You babbled. You begged. The fingers between your thighs patronized you, pressing but never breaching, circling but never stroking. 

Finally, though you suspected it was due to his own neediness and not the way you were pleading, he raised his head to kiss you, sliding his tongue, hot and possessive, over yours. Between the teasing pressure at your cunt and the burning weight of his cock against your hip, a desperation paced in the space between your ribs that left you aching, left you wanting. You tugged a little more firmly at your restraint. When that didn’t budge, you worked your free hand under him to run your fingers up and down the underside of his cock.

The bedside lamp buzzed and flared. Loki nipped at your bottom lip. “I’ll take away your other hand if I have to.”

And yet, despite his warning, Loki slid his fingers inside of you, a little deeper, curling slightly, and pressed at that soft spot you needed him to touch. A smug curl of delight rose in your belly, that you could make him so docile with a touch. You closed your hand around his cock and pumped him slowly, testing your sway. 

“Pet,” he pleaded. “Just let me take my time with you.”

You bit back a sigh when he sat up, blinking wide cow-eyes down at you with an expression bordering on insecurity. “Please, Loki. My love.”

He choked out a whine. His eyes shut tightly for a heartbeat, eyebrows creased deeply in the middle. Your hand slipped free from the headboard – victory – but before you could really enjoy your freedom, Loki flipped you over on all fours.

“If all it took to domesticate you was a four letter word, I would have said something sooner.” One of his hands came down in a warning tap against the side of your thigh. You gasped out a laugh, turning your cheek to catch a glimpse of him. His fingers were splayed over his eyes, partially obscured by his wild hair, and his mouth had turned up in a grin, his usual cool demeanour betrayed by a giddy kind of anticipation. You pressed back against him. “Is this the part where you fuck me?”

He tugged you upwards, manhandling you onto your knees in front of him. You felt his chest mould to your back as he shuffled closer to slot his cock between your thighs, tauntingly, sliding through slick, heated skin, his cockhead bumping against your clit with every pass when his hips met the plush of your ass. “Oh, I’m not going to fuck you, darling.” 

You reached between your legs to guide him inside you, but Loki snatched your hand by the wrist and held it there, so his cock glided just along your fingertips, occasionally catching at your entrance only to pull away at the last second.

“I’m going to lay claim to you. I’m going to breed you,” he panted against the shell of your ear. Your thighs clenched tight when Loki pressed the heel of your hand against the lip of your mound, applying pressure to your aching clit. “I’m going to ply you until you are limp and then I’m going to fill you until you are dripping, understand? I’m going to mark you so thoroughly that you will never be rid of me.”

He pressed even harder, rolling your hand by the wrist. His eyelashes brushed the heated skin of your cheek as he pressed his face to yours, drinking in the closeness of your body. “And when all is said and we’re sated, I’ll make love to you. And that’s a promise.”

Your eyes squeezed shut. You whimpered, your back arching into him while he worked you higher and higher. Loki murmured praise against your skin. “Okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

He smiled against your shoulder. “Excellent.”

One of his arms hooked under your breasts, holding you up and flush against his chest. The other tilted your hips back, so you were nearly sat in his lap.

“Can you…” Loki huffed out a laugh against your skin. In a small voice he asked, “Tell me you love me again?”

There was no universe where you could deny him that. “I love you. Loki, I love you. Loki–”

Your eyes squeezed shut as he fed you his cock, inch by delicious inch, until you were fully seated against him. He swore, then growled out another stuttering laugh. A hot breath washed over the shell of your ear as he tucked his chin against your shoulder, and an experimental roll of his hips had you jolting in his arms, your toes curling when he slid over that spongy, sensitive spot inside of you.

“God,” you gasped.

He hummed in agreement, slipping his free hand between your legs to apply a firm pressure to your clit. His head rolled against your shoulder as he started a slow, teasing pace. “Pretty thing,” he cooed.

You felt his eyebrows furrow against your back. His mouth dropped open, panting hot air across your shoulder blades. Your hands shook, fisting in the bedsheets; you felt tears well behind your eyes as sensations overwhelmed you, a bit of pleasure and a bit of pain. You choked out a moan, a gasp, his name cut short.

“Loki. Please. I can’t.”

“You can,” he said against your shoulder. The hand between your legs grew a little desperate, sliding in tight circles while the rest of him worked you at his mercy up and down his cock. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you? My pretty little mate,” he continued. “You are, I know you are. You’re going to come for me, and then you’re going to take what I have to give you. You’re going to let your mate fill that little cunt of yours and you’re going to be grateful, hmm?”

You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut. You were teetering on the edge of a knife, a knot in your belly drawn tight but threatening to unravel at any moment. A gasp tore from your chest when Loki changed angles, pulling you down with more force while leveraging his body weight to thrust into your harder. Your head tipped back onto his shoulder and you squealed, one hand flying behind you to anchor yourself against his hip.

“Yes,” Loki gasped. “Yes, that’s it darling.”

Relief washed over you for a heartbeat, a small coil shattered as Loki worked himself into you. You rocked back against him, writhing in his iron grip. The pressure on your clit eased away for a moment before doubling down, his middle two fingers burning molten pleasure in their wake as seidr sparked over your skin from his fingertips. Chasing relief in your body, he mouthed at your shoulder a little mindlessly. Your name tumbled from his lips, a plea, for what you weren’t sure.

Small sounds were punched out of your chest with every thrust, growing in volume as he went on and your body buzzed with overstimulation.

“Please,” you begged. One of your hands curled around his forearm, gripping him tightly, while the other fisted in one of the long-forgotten pillows. “Please. Please, Loki.”

Your legs clamped shut when your orgasm finally crested. Loki swore, tumbling, stuttering to his own edge before plummeting; he tugged you down and held you there, spilling inside you with a shaky groan.

Finally, he lifted you off his lap and slid out of you. You tried to turn over in his arms, but he tipped the two of you onto your sides and held you in an iron grip against his chest. He mumbled something foreign in your ear, intercut by the occasional sigh or a press of his mouth to your sweat-slick skin.

You tried again to turn around but Loki held you still. “Give me a minute,” he panted.

You squirmed. “But I want to kiss you.”

Loki leaned over your shoulder and kissed you, his eyes squeezed shut. Hardly satisfied, you tried to hold him in place, but your exhausted limbs were no match for him; he slunk back out of sight only a moment later.

“Loki,” you whined. His arms tightened.

“I’m not… myself right now.”

Slowly, you rolled over in his arms to face him and soothed your hands up his chest. An attractive flush coloured his pale skin, spreading from the top of his stomach to the highest points of his cheeks. You picked a flake of drywall out of his hair. 

His eyes were downcast, shuttered and turned away so you couldn’t see into them. “I don’t want to frighten you,” he mumbled.

You tilted his face up; his eyes had changed, the irises gone red. They weren’t quite gemstones, or cherries, or robins or cardinals. The same red as poppies, maybe. Startling against his pale skin, framed by thick, dark lashes, but so deeply endearing, swimming with emotion as they flickered back and forth over your face.

You must have been quiet too long; Loki huffed and buried his face in his pillow.

“No, wait,” you said. “Come back. Let me look at you.”

“No. I can’t bear it.”

“Stop being dramatic. Let me look at my pretty boyfriend.”

“Your pretty boyfriend is out of commission, I’m afraid.” His voice was muffled. He patted the bed until he found the comforter, which he then pulled over his head petulantly. “He can’t seem to control himself right now. He’ll come out later.”

You wormed your hands under the blanket and pulled it back from his face. Loki sighed and peered up at you from behind his pillow, his eyes barely open to slits to glare at you. You pushed a curl off his forehead, followed by a dry kiss to his cheek. “You know your eyes change colour all the time, right?”

“But the green is handsome. Intimidating,” he grumbled. “This is…”

“Gorgeous.”

“Horrifying,” he countered.

You pouted. “That’s my mate you’re talking about.”

That seemed to break the spell he’d fallen under. You felt the gentle brush of his fingers first, then the smooth slide of his hand down your side to hook around your hip. He drew you into his chest so he could press a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “Hi.”

You returned his smile. “Hi.”

“You’re really not afraid?”

You pushed a stray pillow off the bed, trying and failing to extricate one of the blankets to drape over your bodies. Loki had been right about one thing - it was freakishly cold this week, and the chill was beginning to needle your sweat-damp skin unpleasantly. “Honestly, I’m more worried about the food in your freezer going bad. You blew a fuse in there.”

“Midgardians. You have no sense of self-preservation.” Loki reached out to help tuck you in. 

“Mhm… Coming from the guy whose favourite schtick is ‘pretend to grovel until you think up a better plan’.”

“That is, by definition, self-preserving.”

“Whatever. You blew a fuse. And maybe fixed the leak?”

“I also punched a hole through the wall.”

“Tony is gonna be so mad at you.” You scraped your fingernails across Loki’s scalp, drawing a deep rumble from his chest. “Ok, five more minutes and then we need to get cleaned up.”

“I think you’re mistaken, pet. We’re not leaving this bed for the rest of the week.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not risking a UTI for that.”

Loki groaned. He pulled his mouth from your neck just long enough to kiss you. “Fine. Shower?”

“Yes, but we’re just showering. I don’t want to get waterboarded like last time.”

“Of course, darling. Not in the shower.” He kissed you again, slowly this time, coaxing your lips apart with a thumb on your jaw. When he finally pulled away it was with a hiss and a sticky, wet sound. “Although I do intend to bend you over the sink so you can watch yourself fall apart first.”

“Oh?”

His red eyes found yours. They narrowed, sparkling with mirth, as he gathered you up in his arms. “Tell me again,” he purred, “how much you love me. I might just have mercy.”

You did.

He didn’t.

Not that you minded.

[stormtopia]

[stormtopia]

You Can Wrap Me 'Round Your Finger...

You’re having a crisis trying to pick the perfect moment to tell Loki you love him. Loki is having a crisis, too, except his is decidedly way more embarrassing. Also, your pillows keep disappearing.

(aka - frost giant biology is weird and Loki has to suffer the consequences.)

a companion to Love at First Sight (or should I walk by again?) - can be read on its own!

Chapter 1 / 2 -- read it on AO3 here

Word count: ~5k

Warnings: fem reader; Loki is CLINGY

You could just make out the rosy hue of a late-season snowfall from your vantage point behind the cockpit; it blanketed the city, turning the streets a pale orange where streetlamp light reflected off of a crisp, white coat. For a city that never slept it was strangely quiet; at just past three o’clock in the morning, not even the snow plows were out yet.

Your team was returning from a four day long deployment to San Francisco – a retrieval mission where you were tasked with tracking down and seizing off-world cargo. It had gone over surprisingly well - zero casualties, a handful of actual combat incidents, and a scant few million dollars worth of petty property damage. It did require a proper cargo plane, though, which meant that the team had to rely on a local airplane hangar to get back home. 

(Despite his truly unparalleled complaining, Tony’s choice to put the Avengers tower in the centre of a busy New York metropolitan block meant that there were certain restrictions - namely, the laws of physics - that limited the size of plane they could have on-site).

An unfortunate consequence of it all was that you were freezing. You made a face and folded your arms over your chest; you were dressed for a late February chill, in tac-pants and a knit sweater, not a snowstorm. As romantic as the snow looked, the cold was settling over you like an ache. Coupled with the early-hour and a tender bruise on your left side, your mood was only souring. You cast your eyes to the ceiling and prayed that a car was already waiting for you on the tarmac.

The quin-jet touched down a little roughly; you felt Wanda’s wince without looking at her, but Tony immediately came to her defense. “No, that was because of the snow. Poor visibility. Out of your control. Definitely. I’m passing you with flying colours - hey, get it?”

The loading ramp slid open with a pop and a hiss; your ears felt funny now that you were on solid ground, like they were full of cotton. Natasha tugged on her earlobes, then reached over and tugged on Steve’s too to be a pest. He swatted her away with a scowl. 

Moments later, attendants began to climb the loading ramp in groups of two. You scowled. They were at least dressed for the weather.

You pulled your hands from between your thighs, trying to focus on anything other than the way your core muscles were tensed against the chill, and thanked whatever powers-that-be that you could finally go home. You were half way through unbuckling your seatbelt when an automated voice warned you from overhead not to leave your seats.

“Sorry, everyone,” Tony called. “Safety or whatever. All cargo has to be removed before we can get up. Just a few minutes. You’ll be warm and in bed in no time.”

A familiar voice cut through the chatter. “I was beginning to think I’d have to go collect you myself.”

Crossing the jet in long strides, tall enough to peer over most attendants' heads, was Loki. Your boyfriend.  

Dressed in civilian clothing, Loki was something resplendent. His pale skin, warmed by the cool twilight haze outside, was a stark relief against his mop of riotous dark curls, and his green eyes caught the light in a mysterious way. A pair of neatly-polished shoes rattled the grated floor as he approached, weaving in between attendants, until he came to a stop at your side. With a wave of his hand, Loki manifested a fine wool cloak to drape over your shoulders. His long fingers drew the golden hook at the collar through its eye and smoothed it flat against your sternum.

“Can’t have you freezing to death,” he murmured.

You thumbed the stitching along the hem of the cloak; the thread was such a dark green that it almost blended in with the black fabric. “I would have been fine.”

“Well, if you’re too warm, I can certainly help cool you down.” Loki slid into the seat next to you and blew an icy breath across your neck, making you shriek. The grin he shot you was lecherous - truly vile , you mumbled - and sent a hot thrill from your nape to the pit of your belly.

“You are evil.”

“You should have me locked up.”

You pulled the collar of his cloak up to your face, pressing the velvety edge to your mouth. “I’m putting in a request immediately.”

Loki offered you his wrists, that sticky grin growing even wider. “Why wait?”

A flash of green seidr crackled suggestively, implying where a set of handcuffs might bind him. Your eyes snapped to the whirlwind of snow outside, cheeks hot. 

Tony gagged obnoxiously from the pilot’s seat. The comms system crackled to life overhead. “Get a room, you two.”

Loki scoffed, mock affront dripping from his lazy posture, and poured himself over your shoulders, even though the armrest was in the way and was without a doubt digging into his side. He plucked your hand from your lap, lacing his fingers through yours and drawing it up to his mouth. His lips idly traced the edge of his signet ring on your thumb while you watched the cargo roll by, box by painstaking box. 

You had only been dating for a few months, having finally confessed your mutual attraction after a tumultuous, alcohol-fueled evening together. It turned out that the entire time that you had been harbouring a monumental crush on Loki, he’d been just as gone on you - a fact you hadn’t known, since his idea of showing interest was to give you shiny rocks and hand feed you foods, and yours was whatever Tinder had going on.

Once the two of you had gotten over your - admittedly pretty embarrassing - communication barrier, you fell into a nice routine. You found that you were more confident without the weight of an unrequited crush looming over you, and Loki was eons more likely to finish his paperwork as long as you were there to play footsie with him under the table and let him ramble every fifteen minutes. He still flirted with everything that moved, but you recognized the nuances of his affection now. He never touched anyone, but he hung off of you like a limpet; he might smile and schmooze at parties, all lecherous grins and innuendo, but his eyes always sought your approval out after every punchline; and he only ever called you pet.

(And on one occasion, master. But that was a different story.)

Once the attendants had unloaded the last crate into a van, Tony gave everyone the OK to exit the plane without worrying about being trampled. Steve was the first out, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Natasha, Bruce and Tony were quick to follow, all stumbling into the first car they saw, while Wanda stayed and fiddled with a few switches from the co-pilot’s seat. Under Natasha’s suggestion, she was trying to get a proper license to fly - mostly for paperwork-related reasons, because the insurance company charged a fortune every time an Avenger ‘borrowed’ a vehicle without permission.

Before you could protest, Loki scooped up the duffle bag at your feet and started down the loading ramp into the storm, leaving you and Wanda as the last on the plane. You rapped your knuckles against the ceiling and sent her a questioning look. Decked out in her oversized headset and a fuzzy quarter-zip sweater Tony had commissioned for the team, she looked right at home behind the quinjet control panel. She shot you a thumbs up, gesturing for you to go on ahead. You blew her a quick kiss and then hurried after Loki, fighting to keep the cloak shut against the blustering wind. 

Wet snow crept under your pant legs, clinging unpleasantly to the strip of skin left exposed by your socks. Loki had already packed your belongings away in the farthest van and was waiting by the back door, held open for you. You jogged - as best you could given the weather - the last couple of feet and slid into the backseat.

Loki hauled himself through the other door a moment later. The driver - a bored looking man with a dark beard and greying temples - pushed the stick shift into gear and turned off the runway. 

You shivered, brushing clumps of snow off your ankles. Dark stains were climbing up your shins where the it bled through. Loki leaned across the seat to help you, running a shimmering hand over your shoulders to dry you off. 

Mostly satisfied, you sank back and watched the city roll by, the empty streets cast in shades of neon as the snow reflected billboards and store displays. It was a beautiful sight, the kind of morning you would normally want to commit to memory for the postcard-ness of it all – except you were exhausted and a little cranky, so you turned your eyes to stare at your boyfriend instead. 

(You made it a full three minutes without looking at him - a new personal record.)

You admired him the way an owner might creep up on a beloved pet in a sunbeam; you didn’t want him to know you were looking, in case he spooked and moved, so you kept your cheek turned and watched from the corner of your eye. He was deep in thought, luckily, which gave you some leeway to admire his profile. There was something decidedly boyish about him when he was relaxed, a softness you so rarely got to see; it made you want to kiss every inch of him just for the sake of kissing.

He drew an aimless pattern with his thumb across your upper thigh. His pinky finger was stretched comically far from the rest of his fingers, as if willing your hand to reach out and intertwine but too stubborn to ask. For a silly, love-sick moment you were overwhelmed by the need to tell him you loved him - and then your brain caught up with your heart and bludgeoned it into submission.

The knowledge that you were in love with him and the nebulous un-knowledge of how he felt about you was starting to wear on your nerves. You understood logically that he liked you - enough to court you, under different circumstances - but what you felt when you looked at him was a hurricane of emotions, a self-sustaining cycle of hot air up and cold air down, whipping the sea so hard that it formed storm clouds unbidden by the laws of nature. You knew that he felt things differently, had lived a dozen of your lifetimes no doubt filled with pretty things. Would this change your relationship? Would you breaking that last barrier make yourself less desirable somehow?

You wanted to tell him. To share the inherent joy of being in love.

It just scared you to death, was all. No big deal.

His mouth twitched; his eyes caught yours in the window’s reflection as the car entered the dark parking garage. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked. “Just tired. Sorry.”

The car dropped you off in the underground parking of the Avengers’ tower. Yours was the last of the convoy, so you and Loki slipped out of the car into an empty lot where only a few strangler attendants were unloading and taking inventory. You held one corner of the cloak in your hand, worried it would drag through the slush puddles tracked in by the cars. Loki’s hand came to rest on the small of your back while he hoisted your bag over his shoulder.

“After you, pet.”

You led him to the elevators, where you leaned against the railing and let your eyes slip shut. Loki selected a floor and then joined you, draping one arm around your shoulders to draw you into his chest.

You leaned your cheek against him. Now that you were home, the full weight of your exhaustion was bearing down on you. The pattern of knots Loki was drawing across the back of your neck wasn’t helping. You were suddenly grateful for the support of Loki’s body under you, solid and steady; you slid your hands under his jacket to hug him… then paused.

Something was… off.

You pulled back and gave him a once-over. Nothing outwardly betrayed him as different. He wore a pair of simple, straight-leg tac-pants and a white t-shirt under a brown vintage-style bomber he’d no doubt swiped from Bucky or Steve; the cut of each item flattered his narrow build exceedingly, a fact you knew he was aware of by the way he kept glancing at you during your drive home. His hair was wild and unstyled in a hopelessly endearing way - a look he’d taken to wearing often after you made a passing comment about liking it that way.

The jacket though… 

He filled it out well. Too well.

“You’re bigger,” you blurted out.

Loki raised one eyebrow in a perfect, mocking arch. “Excuse me?”

“You’re,” you waved your hand up and down his body, “bigger. Like, broader. Have you been working out more?”

Loki glanced down at his chest. “No?”

You pushed the jacket off his shoulders to get a better look at him. The white cotton of his t-shirt puckered across his chest, wrinkling under the strain of an extra inch or so of muscle, and the side seams were pulled so taut that you could see the thread. You poked him right over his heart, admiring a new, plush firmness.

The tips of Loki’s fingers wormed under your shirt. His smile took on a wicked edge as he soaked in the sight of you in front of him. When you shot him a look, he screwed his face up into something resembling innocence. “If you’re going to ogle me like a piece of meat, I think it’s only fair that I get to admire you, too.”

You hummed and slipped his jacket back into place, smoothing your palms down his chest to rest just above his waistband. Loki’s evilness washed away to something sticky sweet; he slid his hand up between your shoulder blades, his fingers splayed wide to admire the shift of your muscles under your skin. His other hand twined with yours to lift your knuckles to his mouth.

The doors slid open on his floor. With a flourish and a fleeting kiss, Loki stooped to collect your bag. His free hand trailed behind him, outstretched for you to take, but you lingered with a smile and a shake of your head.

He came to an abrupt stop under the threshold, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He wiggled his fingers, as if you were refusing because you’d missed his offer to hold your hand. “What are you doing?”

You pressed the button for your floor. “I’m going back to my room.”

“No,” Loki whined, his hand still outstretched. “Please, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to pull your bag from his hands. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Loki.”

“But you’ll miss out on my new, broader body. Your bed will seem extra empty now in comparison. You should just skip the trouble.”

“Loki, I’m tired. And all my stuff is in my apartment.”

“You can wear something of mine.” Loki, exasperated, threw your duffle down in front of the elevator door and cornered you against the railing.

“Just for the night, Loki.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, one he didn’t return… and then seemed to regret, because only a heartbeat after you pulled away he was on you, cupping your face between both his hands and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You huffed out a sigh and pushed on his stomach; he managed to get two more kisses in before you finally won and put some distance between the two of you.

In a perfectly Loki-fashion, Loki sulked. He stomped out of the elevator and then turned to you, his hands firmly on his hips. “You vex me. Understand that I will be taking you out for breakfast tomorrow, no exceptions.”

You hooked a finger through your bag strap, dragging it back into the elevator. “Make it a late lunch. If you wake me before noon there will be punishments.”

Loki’s eyes twitched with the briefest hint of a smirk. His voice dropped an octave. “Promise?”

The elevator doors slid shut on his leering expression. You spent the rest of the ride valiantly trying not to fall asleep. The low hum of its engine was terribly soothing.

When the elevator opened to your floor, you weren’t surprised to find PAL - Tony’s Paperwork Assistant Lite robot, who usually helped organize and retrieve files in the office downstairs - waiting by your door. Measuring just under two feet tall, PAL could navigate the halls and elevator just fine as long as FRIDAY was willing to unlock the doors for him, but your manual lock-and-key front door was an insurmountable obstacle for him.

“How long have you been here, buddy?”

As soon as he recognized you, PAL trilled with delight. His metal chassis vibrated with the effort of waiting by the door. He rounded your feet while you dug through your pants pockets for your keys, narrating the week to you in his language of whistles and beeps, and raised his tiny paper tray, straining to try and take over the weight of your duffle bag. You huffed out a laugh, leaning ever-so-slightly to the side to set it on him but not to smother; the LED display on his face narrowed, as if he was concentrating very hard on not dropping your belongings.

As soon as you were through the door, you threw your bag by your shoe rack and toed off your sneakers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. PAL set to straightening them, sweeping them to the wall with his tray ahead like a snowplow. He tried to do the same to your bag, but his treads could only pinwheel against the weight. 

You stood in the living room for a moment and folded Loki’s cloak over the back of your couch, contemplating skipping your whole routine and going straight to bed. You settled on missing a shower but washing your face - everything else could be dealt with in the morning. You made your way to your bedroom in search of clean pyjamas, then continued to the bathroom to brush your teeth, PAL close on your heels.

You had just exited the bathroom when someone knocked on your door. You tossed your washcloth into a bin on top of your washing machine and rounded the hallway to answer it.

Loki stood on the other side, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and an oversized AVENGERS TACTICAL UNIT t-shirt. “Please, darling.”

“You have your own bed.”

“It’s too big without you.”

“You’re even bigger now. You’ll fill it out just fine.”

Loki stepped into your personal space; he hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, wearing only a pair of grey wool socks. His hands curled around your hips as if to steady himself. “I’m afraid of the dark?”

“Try again.”

“My room was taken over by starving wolves while you were away and I only narrowly escaped.”

You sighed. You had to admit that it felt nice to have him in your arms like this, even if you knew giving in would only encourage him to lord over more of your time. “Absolutely no funny business, Loki.”

An incandescent grin split his face in two. He swooped in to kiss your cheek, then sauntered off toward your bedroom. You locked the door, made sure PAL was settled into his charging dock for the night, and then followed after your boyfriend.

You found him curled up on the side of your bed closest to the door, facing you, and holding one of your pillows hostage. He buried his nose in the fabric, a pleased sound rumbling through his chest, and watched you approach.

You swatted at him, not even bothering to round the bed, opting to crawl over his body to reach your side. Loki unfolded, abandoning the pillow to gather you up instead; his arms circled your waist and tugged you into his chest in an awkward collision of limbs, legs tangling in the comforter. You squirmed while he maneuvered you to his liking, tucking the length of his body around you tightly and nosing at the junction of your throat and jaw.

“Loki,” you chided. “I said no funny business.”

“This is a perfectly serious matter.” Loki untangled himself from you just long enough to pull the comforter over your body before sliding in beside you. One hand returned to your neck, tipping your chin back so he could press a loud kiss to your pulse point. “You don’t have enough blankets.

You stifled a yawn and pushed him to lie on his back, draping one leg over his. “Why’s that?”

Loki continued to rearrange the sheets with a scowl. “You’ll freeze to death under this thing.”

Already, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. You hummed. “I feel like I had more pillows than this. Maybe I’ve finally lost it.”

A small voice in the back of your mind whispered that you loved him, you loved him, you loved- 

You settled with tracing a heart over his collarbone, over and over until you fell asleep.

You woke to the sound of FRIDAY’s voice through the PA system. “Mr. Laufeyson, your presence is being requested on the thirty-first floor. Mission briefing in fifteen minutes.”

You peeled your eyes open. You could tell by the slant of the sun through the curtains that it was past noon - a small victory, really. Behind you, Loki burrowed deeper into the fabric of your t-shirt, nosing along the ladder of your spine while groaning his displeasure. He drew the comforter around you tightly, trapping you under one muscular arm with a vengeance.

His voice, still deep and rasping with the last threads of sleep, rumbled through his chest. “Good morning, dear heart.”

Lovesickness bloomed like a bruise in your chest. “Morning,” you said, instead of I love you. 

You half-turned and pecked the side of his mouth before sitting up. Loki made an affronted sound and reeled you back in by a fistful of your t-shirt, sending you sprawling halfway across his chest. He kissed you soundly, licking into your mouth with a low groan.

You blinked up at him once he pulled back. “Um. Good morning?”

“I was a perfect gentleman all night and you reward me with a peck. ” A scowl twisted his pretty face, petulance dripping off him in droves. His hands slid over your ass possessively, kneading the soft flesh with purpose. “I should have you flogged for that. Put over my knee.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you mumbled.

“Wrong faith, pet. Now- wait, where are you going?”

You paused, halfway through peeling yourself out of his arms (again), and pointed at the ceiling where FRIDAY’s voice reminded him that he was needed in thirteen minutes, Mr. Laufeyson . ”You have a debrief and I have a date with my coffee pot.”

“Not after you so callously rejected me. Come down here and make it up to me.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, slowly but deeply. Loki chased your mouth when you pulled away, frustration evident in the heavy way he sighed. Lifting you by the hips, Loki deposited you in his lap and held you there, digging his thumbs into the plush of your sides. Using the resulting sigh to his advantage, Loki cradled the back of your head and bullied your lips apart, pulling a sticky kind of want from your chest, leaving you dizzy and aching all at once.

When FRIDAY gave him a five minute warning, blinking the emergency strobe in the corner of your bedroom for good measure, Loki finally drew himself away and let you catch your breath. His head tipped back against the pillow, his throat on display in a long submissive line, and his shiny mouth parted in a groan. He mumbled something in his mother tongue, your name nestled right between lilting consonants.

“What was that?”

“Nothing important.” 

“One day you’ll teach me what you’re saying,” you grumbled. “And then I’ll know all your secrets.”

Loki lazily arched one brow, smothered behind a curtain of riotous curls. “Is that so? All of them?”

“Mhm. All of it. Every last one.”

You traced a finger down the line of his nose. If ever there was a moment to tell him you loved him, now was probably it. Here, on the laziest of saccharine mornings, while the city outside was muted by a thick wall of snow and you were both ignoring responsibility to enjoy the other. And yet– doubt wove its way through your ribs, tying knots in the hollow spaces in your chest; you rolled off of him and sat up, pulling the hem of your shirt down where it had ridden up. “FRIDAY is going to bring the appliances to life if you don’t leave soon.”

Loki poised himself on the edge of your bed and snagged your wrist when you rounded it. There was nothing to the gesture – no comment, no complaint to make. He held onto you for the simple joy of owning a second of your time.

As if one cue, PAL rolled through your bedroom door, his little paper tray aloft. He chirped in greeting, then ran head-long into one of the bed frame’s legs. 

You tamped down a lingering disappointment. Later. You would tell him later.

“Pest.” Loki swatted at PAL, who had taken to repeatedly bumping into Loki’s shins to convince him to get dressed. You gasped scoldingly when Loki shot a warning green spark in the robot’s direction; PAL, undeterred, narrowed the LED display on his face and wound up, knocking the god extra hard for good measure.

“PAL, go sit in the living room. You can pick something on Netflix for us to watch. And you,” you pointed a finger at Loki. “No threatening the robot.”

You left him to dig through your closet for something to wear; the far corner was steadily developing a growth of black, Loki-sized clothing. While you busied yourself with the coffee machine, PAL chirped at the TV and then parked himself in front of your window with his face pressed against the glass. Once your coffee was poured, you left out the gaudiest mug you owned – chipped, declaring you were Thor’s Number One Fan!, which Loki hated with a burning passion – and a spoon for when he joined you.

PAL beeped distractedly when you joined him by the window; there was a tender tilt to his little head as he gazed out, studying a pair of birds who had built their nest just below. His body shuddered, as if sighing, and his LED display blinked one long, slow blink.

It started as a tiny bundle of twigs a few weeks ago, trembling in the wind but shielded from the elements in the nook between a metal support beam and the windowsill. Then a few pieces of long grass were woven in, and a handful of fresh green branches, still flexible in their newness. They must have finished their home while you were away; two mates were deep under the spell of a snowy Sunday morning, bundled up under a layer of down and straw.

A solid pair of arms wound around your waist, drawing you backwards into an equally solid chest. Loki’s hair was damp where he’d run wet fingers through it, no doubt trying to contain the curling mess of bed head he woke up with every morning. It clung to your cheek a bit, the crown of his head pressed up to your face while he nosed at your shoulder. “Oh, hi– hello.” 

“I don’t want to go,” Loki whined. He rocked you gently from side to side, resting his cheek against yours. “We should feign illness. It’s dreadfully contagious. And then we can—” a kiss, just under your ear, “stay in bed all day. To recuperate, of course.”

“As lovely as that sounds, you really do have to go. You know how Steve gets when you’re late.”

“As soon as I can I’m coming right back up here to ravish you. That’s a promise.”

PAL cooed, excited by some small movement from the birds. One of them had woken to preen the other, sweetly running its beak through its feathers.

“Look at their little nest. How cozy,” you said quietly. “Maybe that’s where my pillows went.”

The longer Loki considered the birds, the deeper the furrow between his brows grew. He seemed to be having a revelation of some kind. “I… have to speak with my brother about something.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. Just a thought. Don’t worry.”

PAL rolled backwards into Loki’s shins with purpose. He chirped sternly, as if chiding Loki in his machine-speak, who, in return, toed PAL’s chassis very gently in warning. 

You laughed. “He’s coming, buddy.”

“Actually,” Loki muttered darkly. “On the contrary. My problem is that I’m not-”. You suspected the next words out of his mouth would have been incredibly inappropriate, had PAL not rolled pointedly over Loki’s foot.

You exited the elevator on the 31st floor a few hours later. A far cry from Tony’s party, the room was empty and mostly tucked away; chairs were stacked on tables and the bar was cleared of bottles; bright, unfiltered sunlight poured through the enormous lofted windows, allowing you an unobstructed view of the skyline and the meandering streets below. A couple of interns were having lunch on one of the couches in the corner. They must have been part of the newest wave of college recruits, because their eyes lingered in a starstruck kind of way that made you feel a little embarrassed. 

You shot them a playful salute. Both startled, turning away in a rush.

Oh well. You couldn’t look Steve in the eyes for your first week on the team– you got it.

You found Loki in the farthest conference room, sat at the end of a long, round table between Steve and Bucky. You watched their fingers walk across its surface, handing a piece of folded paper between the three of them. Steve wrote something while the speaker was turned, then slipped his hand surreptitiously under the desk. Bucky coughed; from your vantage point, you saw his and Loki’s fingers unravel the note so they could read it discreetly.

Some executive droned at the other end, gesturing to a dreadfully laid out powerpoint. Matching manilla folders were spread open in front of the agents; you had a sneaking suspicion that whatever the speaker was saying was also written down and could have been read in half the time this meeting took.

You tried to catch Loki’s eye through the window but his attention was aimless, lost in some faraway place. A thought came to you; you rearranged your belongings to clasp your hands in front of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed - albeit poorly - to the god sitting a few dozen feet from you.

You peeked through one eye to see if it had worked; through the glass, Loki shot you a private smile, so sweet that it was practically a kiss. You waved him over, jerking your head toward the conference room door.

You watched him interrupt the speaker, his lazy posture rolling forward until he was sitting straight. Steve and Bucky nodded sagely, immediately following whatever story Loki had spun. Bucky pointed exaggeratedly to his metal arm, rubbing it as if it was tense.

The door opened and Loki slipped out into the hallway to meet you. Your grin bordered on becoming painful. Both your hands were folded behind your back. “You didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

“Observant.” He plucked a loose thread from the collar of your shirt and flicked it aside before leaning in for a quick kiss. You decided, even if you couldn’t say you love him, to treat him no less lovingly; you chased him when he pulled away, pressing your lips to his jaw. His grin was dazed, like you’d turned him dumb with the simple act of wanting him. “You’re even lovelier than the last time I saw you.

“I brought you something. Pick a hand.”

Loki walked his fingers down your left arm and pulled; you let him have it, your palm open – and empty. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Hmm. Terrible luck.” His knuckles dragged down the length of your other arm. In that hand was a take-out container from your favourite coffee shop, defaced with a smiley-face and cute message from the barista, Yvonne. It was his usual order, nothing special, but when his eyes tipped up to meet yours, there was something uncharacteristically open about his expression, a shy edge to the tilt of his smile. He leaned in and kissed you, soft and sweet like honey. “Do you think they’ll notice if I’m gone much longer?”

“Absolutely.”

Loki groaned, tipping your hips until they were flush to his. He kissed you hard enough to bend you backwards.

“I’ll come by your apartment tonight and we can get dinner?”

His fingers stilled where they were kneading your sides. “Yes, about that. Let’s… Let’s stay at yours tonight. The wolves that chased me out last night haven’t been evicted yet.”

Loki's answer confused you – he’d spent the entire night complaining that you wouldn’t go back to his room, then insulting your blanket choices, and now he wanted to stay at yours? “Ok. That works. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said quickly. “Perfectly fine. You’re so tired though. Easier to stay where your belongings are. I won’t– won’t make you commute.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Behave today.”

Another groan, this one pitched low; Loki traced your cheek with his nose. “I love it when you order me around.”

“Loki! Be-have.”

“Just one more, nymph. To tide me over.”

You sent him off with three more kisses. You were starting to wonder if you were too lenient with him; he delighted in taking advantage of your weakness to weasel more affection out of you. He returned to the conference room with his little box, opened in his lap under the table. When Bucky made to swipe a grape, Loki flicked his hand away with a glare.

When you returned to your room that evening, with Loki hot on your heels and his hands already halfway up your shirt, you were baffled to find your bed down one more pillow.

“PAL, did you do this?”

He shook his little head, LED screen blinking wide doe eyes up at you. It was the strangest thing, but when he thought you weren’t looking, you could have sworn that he shot Loki a pointed look.

[stormtopia]

“literature is dead!!! 😓” and it’s literally just a book with smut.

[stormtopia]

also i don’t think anyones gonna see this BUT i just came up with the best quirk backstory for an mha oc 🤭

[stormtopia]

unrelated but i like to think izuku has more of a baby face in comparison to everyone else in 1-A because of when eri used her rewind on him in s4

[stormtopia]

just watched the perks of being a wallflower. pls do not perceive me.

[stormtopia]

stop making fanfics about characters raping and sexually assaulting y/n, you are fucking disgusting people who romanticize a serious crime that happens every day to children and women

"but that's just reading dark romance" that's not a dark romance, that's just the stuff of a horrible fetish, IF YOU HAVE A RAPE FETISH, GO SEEK FOR FUCKING PSYCHIATRIST HELP!!!!!!!!!!

[stormtopia]

"am i really that old?" lucifer wonders on the train later

(you've probably seen them already but references taken from this post + the original tweet)

-> the follow-up

[stormtopia]

GUYS. DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN WRITE CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE FICS ON AO3