#like last year it took me four months to figure it out and the dude had to say it to my face and kinda cried too about it

[ginkovskij]

there's a small chance a coworker is being lowkey flirting with me??

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18 +

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing and spit balling ideas and giving feedback.

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spit balling ideas and fueling my ego <3

I have no idea where this story or be without either of you girls. Or me, for that matter.

Word count: 16.6k

Warnings: Degradation/praise, light use of sir without any discussion, light hunter/prey play, crying while fucking (eddie), and a whole steddie story at the start. Lots of talk of their future in this part.

Author's note: When I say I am blown away by the reception of this fanfic, wholeheartedly mean it. Any word of kindness you have given just fueled the fire in me. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it and exploring where the story will take us.

Due to some worry in the comments from last part I will clear this up: Neither Eddie nor Reader will be cheating, they're it for one another. Steve is here as a long time friend, someone with a wife and kids at home.

That being said, thank you so much, I really do appreciate it.

edit: somehow the first paragraph was missing? all fixed.

About 26/27 Years Ago:

At the failure of both their university careers, Steve and Eddie both dropped out within weeks of one another. This was unplanned, neither one of them knowing as they went back to Hawkins to a mini reunion. They agreed to meet one another for a drink, just the two of them, where Steve kindly asked how Eddie’s schooling was going, to which Eddie answered sheepishly that he had dropped out. Steve let out a bark of laughter, laughing through his response that he had also dropped out.

The mutual sigh of relief waved over them both, the two of them grateful they wouldn’t be receiving that same damn look of pity again. Their conversation then flowed into ease; the embarrassment was no longer there for either of them. Since they both dropped out, they each had found a dead-end job to make their ends meet while they figured out their next move.

Simply, they were at the exact same spot in life. This would be reoccurring for them over the next few years, finding their wives within the same six-month span, and both Arlo and Dylan being born within a year of one another. It’s no wonder why they became so close.

Steve had a crazy idea in their third hour in the bar booth, a little bit buzzed. “Dude. We should go to Vegas.”

Eddie wrinkled his eyebrows, completely thrown off by the suggestion. “What?”

“C’mon, Vegas! Our jobs both suck, and we’re the only ones who actually understand each-other’s shituations.”

Eddie sighed and took another sip of his beer. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“When?”

“Now!”

Eddie nearly spit out his beer, looking at Steve like he was crazy. “Now?”

“Dude. I still have my parents’ credit cards. They’re too lazy to actually cut me off.” Steve’s words were a bit slurred, holding up the many black cards.

Eddie downed his beer; the financials were his number one reason not to go. If this was gonna be on the Harrington’s dime, you best believe he would take full advantage of his friend’s shitty parents’ money.

Halfway through their first bus, Steve and Eddie started to sober up and wondered if it was a good idea. Too late, they were already four hours away. It took a total of 31 hours of driving on the road and about six different buses, but they finally made it to Nevada with nothing but the shirts on their backs and delirious glee.

The first two days they spent gambling and shooting the shit, both nights staring up at the bodies of women with numerous dollar bills in string thongs. (Eddie will omit this part when he tells it to you, for your own sanity’s sake.) On the third night, as Steve was a bit more drunk than the previous two, Eddie found a strong ass strain of weed on the strip and was a bit stoned. One of them managed to convince the other that finding girls to hook up with was the good idea.

They both went on with their night, keeping an eye out for any girl they could prospect. Even with a few conversations with some girls, they both came up short. Hooking up with women who were also running away from their problems was a bad idea.

Steve found a girl, but soon realized she was a dud when she made fun of Eddie’s bandana wrapped around his head. Eddie came up to Steve as she rolled her eyes and stomped off. Jesus. As he rested on the bar, he noticed something he wondered if he had imagined the whole three days they were there. Eddie’s eyes lingered on him, checking him out not-so-subtly. Steve leered on Eddie’s soft pink lips for too long for Steve to confidently tell himself he was not interested. His eyes raked down Eddie, taking in everything, subconsciously licking his lips. Having these thoughts, he realized Eddie was talking to him the entire time and he didn’t take in a single word.

“Well, that was a bust. C’mon. Let’s go get our sleep, we’re spending the next two days bussing home.” Steve yanked Eddie by the sleeve of the gift shop shirt he got up to the hotel elevator.

Eddie wandered into the bathroom when they got to their room and when he came out, he saw Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, legs out and leant back on straight arms. Eddie chuckled nervously. As dorky as it was, Steve looked fantastic in the makeshift gift shop outfit he had gotten himself.

“Steve?” He asked, hesitantly walking towards him.

An uncontrollable huff of laughter left Steve’s mouth, he stood up to face Eddie, accidentally meeting him only inches away from his face. It was a flicker. Only a flicker. A flicker of Eddie’s eyes looking directly to Steve’s lips, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. “You know, Eddie. If you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, the panic in his face was clear. “I-I…” He stuttered, his breathing picked up exponentially in the last two minutes and the air in the hotel room was thick.

Steve gently placed one hand on Eddie’s cheek bone, slowly caressing it as to calm the nerves he could tell were radiating off Eddie. He smiled, glancing down very obviously to Eddie’s mouth to ask for permission. Eddie nodded the tiniest goddamn nod in the world and nearly blacked out when Steve’s lips came rushing for his own.

When their lips met, Eddie moaned into it, moving to someone’s bed, he couldn’t tell nor did he care which, and let Steve fall on top of him.

The kisses were messy, clothes were thrown all over the hotel room, and the sex was rough and giggly, but desperate.

And only one time, they decided as they woke up on opposite sides of the bed, laughing at the sheer absurdity that filled the air as they were both wrapped in white sheets.

-

“Uh, Eddie? It’s for you… his name is Steve Harrington?” Eddie pauses, in the middle of hanging a sweater in what seems to be the designated spot for knitwear. A quick assessment tells you that you now have more sweaters than you need, observing them all hung delicately by his hands.

“No way.” Eddie mutters, a smile slowly creeping up on his face. He jogs right past you to the hallway and down the stairs, the quick thumping of his feet loud in the silence of the house.

Your brain takes a moment to catch up to you, following Eddie’s lead back down the stairs. As the front entrance comes into view halfway down the stairs, you see the two men wrapped up in a genuine embrace, arms flexed as they hug one another. They separate, but not by much, maintaining only a few feet between them.

“You didn’t tell me when you were coming!” Eddie accuses playfully, patting Steve on his shoulder.

Steve’s hands are on his hips, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, I ended up coming 2 weeks early.”

“No shit, hey?” Eddie leans back, crossing his arms.

They fall into a conversation so easily that their comfort with one another radiates off them. You would be offended Eddie hasn’t introduced you to him yet if it weren’t for their entertaining back and forth with one another.

“How long have you two known each other?” You mistakenly interrupt them, cutting off the conversation.

“Uh, since high school.” Eddie answers, elbowing Steve.

Steve’s eyes widen deliriously, jerking back at the neck. “Uh, try Jr. High.” He laughs. “Eddie here was the new kid.” He seems to laugh at the memory of young Eddie. Man, you’ll need photographic proof. “The weird-o new kid.”

“Oh, sorry my mom abandoned me, Steve.” Eddie laughs, not a lick of remorse behind it. You gulp, your heartstrings pulled at his throwaway comment.

“Abandonment issues can forgive weirdness only for so long, Eddie.”

“Yeah, but I got it renewed fifteen years ago. Didn’t even have to ask, she just did it for me.”

There’s a moment of silence until they break into laughter, poking fun at one another.

“I’m so sorry, who’s this?” Steve gestures to you, walking over to where you’re standing by the stairs.

“Oh, I’m Y/N.” You hold your hand out to him, somewhat nervous to be meeting someone who’s known Eddie for so long. Decades long before you were even born.

Steve’s hand meets yours and shakes it gracefully, his kind chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. “He paying you well?”  You’re not sure how to answer this, your hand still holding Steve’s as you and Eddie give another a look of confusion. “Oh, sorry. You must be Dylan’s girlfriend! Where is he off to, anyway?” Steve lets go of your hand.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember I told you I was seeing someone?” You smile to yourself under the mere indication that Eddie talked to someone about you.

Steve nods, remembering the life in Eddie’s voice when he called. “Yep.”

Eddie points to you, gesturing multiple times until Steve finally gets the hint. “Oh…oh. Oh!” Steve’s hands move back to his hips, his eyes switching back and forth between you and Eddie quickly. “But she’s a child.” Steve deadpans, pointing to you and furrowing his brows at Eddie.

Eddie chuckles, placing his arm around you as Steve takes it in. You’re slightly offended on your own behalf at the prospect of being called a child. Eddie places a kiss on your temple to ease the tension, making you melt into it. “No, she’s not.”

You tilt your head back at Eddie, giving him a sleepy smile, eyes half closed. He kisses you as if to put the final nail in the coffin in any disbelief Steve might’ve had. You breathe deeply as he pulls away, and goddamn, did you have a long day today.

“Wait until Robin hears you’re dating someone half your age.” Steve muses, shaking his head. “She’s gonna have a field day.”

“Wait till she hears we’re already shacked up.” Eddie jokes, bringing you to the couch and therefore leading Steve as well.

As you sit down on the couch, you cuddle into him, head laying down on his chest. Steve asks how his shop is doing, to which Eddie gives the run down on the nicest cars he’s seen and a customer’s hunk of junk he couldn’t believe was still driving around. Steve explains the logistics of his job, and by the tone of Eddie’s voice, you could tell he had no idea any of what Steve was saying, but he was being supportive in tone, nonetheless.

“How are the kids?” Eddie asks, and you watch as Steve’s eyes light up in response.

“Oh, they’re great.”

“How old are they?” You ask, a tad curious.

“Uh, Arlo is 24, Nick is 17, Dustin is 15, and Eliza is 4.” Steve riles off, letting his head fall back on the couch. Damn, he sure didn’t look like a dad of four.

“Is Eliza 4 already?” Eddie asks, shaking his head.

“Sure is.” Steve answers, bringing out his phone. He unlocks it, and presumably goes into his photos until passing it over to you and Eddie. “Here. This was from yesterday.”

“Awww.” You let out, seeing the image of a little girl with Steve’s curls playing on a water mat.

“Oh, aww” Eddie lets out, laughing through it. Eliza is adorable, that much is clear. But as you look up at Eddie scrolling through a few of the photos of Eliza playing in the water, the hearts in his eyes are undeniable. He laughs softly at them, as if he can’t get enough of any of the photos. As Eddie passes the photos with his praises of Eliza, a stirring gut feeling sits there, a feeling you’ve been proud that you’ve been able to hold off with Eddie already having a grown child.

Goddamn, you wanted to have this man’s babies. Or at least, baby. The idea of him looking this sweetly at a child you made together invades your heart and makes you squirm on his chest a bit. You lean off his chest, afraid of these strong feelings of wanting this much of a future with him; it was a little scary. “I’m sleepy. Been a long day, I’m gonna go take a nap.”

“Alright, here.” He gets up with you, taking your hand and walking you around the couch. “Be right back, Steve.”

Eddie goes up the stairs to your room, escorting you to your now shared bed. Last week it had dark grey sheets. Now it has your favourite yellow daisy-themed sheets that Eddie insisted upon using. You lie down, still thinking of the way his eyes lit up and the smile that took over his face from the pictures. It made something stir in you. You were exhausted from your long day, that was no lie, but needed the excuse to leave before you did something crazy.

Like riding him on the couch. (And begging for his babies)

“Have a good sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.” He kisses your forehead, soft and sweet. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You mutter through your breath, eyes already closing.

-

You’re already fast asleep by the time Eddie closes the door. As he reaches the bottom of the steps, Steve looks up at him expectantly, his brow slightly furrowed. He’s concerned, and to be fair, he has a reason to be. “So, we’re dating 20-year-olds, now?”

Eddie bites his tongue from correcting your age. “I guess you could say that.”

“What is this, some sort of midlife crisis? Get a red sports car, not someone who beats my oldest by months, hell your kid by months. I mean, come on, man. Use your brain.” Steve taps his shoulder on the last sentence, surely thinking he’s putting Eddie’s head back on right. However, Eddie just sits through the lecture without defending himself so he can say his piece when the time comes. “I-I mean where did you even find her, on her way to school?”

The front door slams. Dylan’s home. “Dad, am I tripping or is Uncle Steve’s car out front—Hey!” He cuts himself off, jogging toward them as soon as he sees Steve on the couch. Steve stands up to give him a tight hug, having known Dylan since the day he was born. “What’re you doing here?”

“Came by for a visit, turns out your dad’s having a midlife crisis.”

Dylan’s brows pinch together as he glances around Steve to Eddie for clarification. Eddie shrugs his shoulders, pretending not to know a single thing Steve was talking about. “What, did he get a sports car or something? He says they look pretty but they’re not made to last.”

“No, no. I was talking about his pretty new girlfriend.” The pang of possessiveness that hits Eddie in the chest is unprecedented for Steve just calling you pretty.

Dylan hardly holds in his laughter, walking into the kitchen before a full-on laugh escapes his throat. Steve stares off at him, glancing at Eddie and clearly asking, what the hell is wrong with that boy? Dylan makes himself calm down, coming back into the living room with a shit eating grin on his face. “So did he tell you how they met?”

“N-no.” Steve hesitates based on the grin on his face.

“He hasn’t let me get that far, yet.” Eddie chimes in, looking a little cozy as he settles into the couch. You were right, it has been a long ass day.

“I’m gonna tell him.” It wasn’t a threat per se, Dylan just wanted to watch the panic in his dad’s eyes.

Eddie lifts his head off the back pillow of the couch, having been looking up at the ceiling. “He’s gonna find out eventually. I was just gonna wait until she woke up.”

“Tell me…what?” Steve asks, tired of watching Eddie and Dylan’s back and forth.

Dylan gives one last chuckle, the laughter telling Eddie it’s not something he’s very bitter about anymore. They still haven’t talked about it; he’s been waiting for Dylan to come to him. “She was my girlfriend, first.” Dylan says through a smirk. “She cheated on me. With dad.”

Steve processes it, both Dylan and Eddie can see the hamster wheel turning in his head. He looks back and forth between Dylan and Eddie, his eyes staying on either one for a moment. His eyes don’t blink the entire time, switching back and forth for a solid minute.

“Dude!” Steve finally says, landing on Eddie. “What the fuck happened, Ed?”

Dylan continues laughing, walking over to his dad. “Yeah dad, what happened?”

Eddie lets his head fall back on the pillows again, closing his eyes for a brief second. “Well, I tried to keep my distance…she did not.” Shit, that’s putting all the blame on you. “I wasn’t strong enough to tell her to break up with Dylan, first. Felt like I was seventeen years old, hormones just raging to a point where I couldn’t think straight with her right there.” He gets up from the couch, walking up to his closest friend of 30+ years. “She’s not just some 25-year-old, Steve. This girl, Steve, she’s everything, and somehow, she’s convinced that she’s the lucky one.”

When his dad spews cheesy shit like this it certainly softens the blow. Feels funny that he ever dated you in the first place at times.

Steve seems to miss the fact that Dylan has gotten almost completely over it by now. “That’s all good and nice, but I think you’re missing the fact that you stole your son’s girlfriend?”

Dylan lets out another laugh, wishing Steve was here when everything went down. That would’ve been a show. “Listen, Uncle Steve. I appreciate you standing up for me, truly, I do. If you were here three weeks ago when they fucked in my truck, then that would’ve been…just great.”

“You fucked in his tru—”

Dylan cuts him off, “But honestly, I didn’t date her for very long. If anything, I had only begun to develop some deeper feelings for her, but these two had it right away. They’re good together. I wish they could’ve just told me their feelings and then slept together, but with Maya…if she was dating one of my boys I would’ve done the same thing.”

Steve’s hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, seeing the truth in his statement. “Well, you’ll have to tell me about Maya, then.” He turns back to Eddie, a pinch appearing back between his brows. “But seriously, you fucked in his truck? What kind of sicko are you?”

“His was unlocked. He knows better.” Eddie shrugs, Steve rolls his eyes fondly.

“Good god, man.”

“I was actually just here to grab something, but I’ll see you for supper?” Dylan shoots, mid stride towards the stairs.

“We’re eating out, be back by 8:30.” Steve calls up, and Dylan waves his hand in acknowledgement.

“We are?” Eddie asks, sitting back on the couch.

“Oh yeah, Munson.” He sits on the cushion beside him, leaning onto his knees. “But tell me about her. Sorry I just assumed…but Robin will absolutely be calling you to rip your head off.”

“Or…she can find out in person one day.”

“Like at your wedding?” Steve teases, but lets out a burst of laughter when the blush appears on his cheeks. “Seriously, you hear wedding bells?”

“I’m not getting any younger, dude. But my hormones are, man, she has me doing multiple rounds, sometimes more than one a day!” Steve’s eyes widen, intrigued by this. “I haven’t fucked like this since my 20s.” Eddie pauses, thinking about his sex life back then. “I’m not even sure I fucked like this in my 20’s, to be honest.”

Steve lets out a laugh, shoving Eddie for good measure. Of course, being men, they both skip over the fact that yes, Eddie has had wedding bells in his head enough to start looking at rings…and go for the sex talk.

“Okay, sex aside. Tell me about her.”

It takes only five minutes of Steve listening to Eddie ramble on about you to realize it absolutely was the real deal. No mid-life crises here. Eddie seemed calm and laxed, whereas his ex always made him wired. For the record, Steve never quite liked her. She had Eddie looking like a wet chihuahua, yapping at every drop of a hat. Steve was a little relieved when she left, ‘cause no one could convince Eddie she was not good for him.

Turns out he just needed to wait a few years. 15, in fact.

-

You wake up to the feeling of Eddie’s hand on your cheek, carefully petting you as he places gentle kisses on your lips. “Baby.” He mumbles, causing you to stir. “Baby, wake up.”

As you start to wake up, you become increasingly aware that he was lying right behind you. “Mmm.”

“C’mon, we’re going out for supper with Steve, you have to get up.”  

Still reeling from the dream that you were just ripped out of, you arch your back slightly, grinding your ass against Eddie’s instantly-hardening cock. You hear a sharp inhale, Eddie’s grip on your hip intensifying. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but we literally don’t have time.” Eddie comments, his forehead falling onto the back of your head in an act of self discipline.

You frown, giving a good hip swivel. “We always have time.”

“Not today, you don’t! Get up!” You pop awake, aware of Steve’s presence in the hallway as he overshadows Eddie, waking you up more fully.

“He knows me enough to know I’d try to sneak something in.” Eddie murmurs, as not to be heard.

You turn around in your bed, now lying face to face with him, a devious smile creeping on your face. “So, sneak something in.”

Eddie’s brows lift at your suggestive tone. “Fuck.” He mutters, crawling out of bed before you could give his neck one of those licks that just melts him into a puddle. “C’mon baby. Get all dressed up, meet you downstairs by 8:30.”

Your teeth grit together, grabbing your phone that was tossed haphazardly aside when you fell asleep. The screen illuminates itself and your eyes widen when you realize you only have…fifteen minutes to get ready. Well, why didn’t he just say that?

You rush into your closet, and for the first time, the amount of clothes you now own settles in. How the fuck are you ever getting ready ever again? You go to the dresses, skimming through the more family friendly options. You trail  over each hanger one at a time until you reach the right one. Some light makeup is done, a five-minute routine.

You finally reach the bottom step at 8:29 pm, all the guys sitting on the couch watching the tv. “Ready!”

Eddie glances at you and breaks into a smirk. “You look great, sweetheart.”

Your face heats up as you find a pair of shoes that won’t make you hate yourself. You smile, recalling your afternoon in the crowded dressing room. “Thanks, Ed.”

Meanwhile, Steve takes only two seconds as he witnesses this interaction to realize. “No. Go change.”

“W-what?” You stutter, not used to Steve’s blunt stature.

“I-just-just go change. I don’t need to be watching this all night!”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, kicking your shoe off to put on a dress that Eddie didn’t salivate over that very afternoon.

“Wait, what? What was wrong with the dress?” Dylan asks Steve, not having a clue as to what just transpired.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“Hey, Dyl, you remember that green little dress that she had?” Eddie asks, recalling it on his carpeted floor earlier that day before he burned it.

Dylan smiles, then recalls what was so special about the dress. “Oh.” He mumbles, now feeling uncomfortable.

“I think she’s overwhelmed with choices, which is why she picked the dress in the first place. I’ll go help. Meet you there.”

-

Steve put up a fight on just meeting you there, but one on one time with his boy is something he wouldn’t pass up. Especially when he talks about a girl the way he did about Maya.

Eddie didn’t give Steve much of an option, still trying to get rid of the hard on that he had. He bursts through the bedroom and closet door, and as he does so, the front door slams shut. Eddie walks in to you staring aimlessly in your underwear at the dresses, not knowing which one to put on. Eddie comes from behind you, placing his stubbly chin onto your shoulder. “What’s up, baby?” He asks, casually drifting your underwear down your legs.  

You sigh, the trail of his fingertips sending shivers up your spine. “You got me too many dresses.”

“No, I didn’t.” Eddie says, you hear and feel behind you as he lets his own pants drop. “Bend a little bit.” He whispers as you feel his hard cock against your ass.

You do, lifting your ass up at an angle where he can slide right into your folds. He does, arms drifting below your torso and up to play with your tits as he fucks you from behind.

“I got the perfect amount for my sweet baby.” He mutters into your ear, both his hands doing things to your tits that make you whimper. “Love to spoil my beautiful girl.”

“Fuck, daddy.” You whine, your heat already so goddamn hot. “Help. Can’t decide on a dress.”

“Here.” Ed pauses, causing you to whine, but puts a dress in front of you. “Wear this one for daddy.”

“O-ok.” You stutter, barely paying attention to it. “Love you, daddy.”

“I love you,” he kisses your neck, wet and sweet, “so much, pretty baby.” You turn your head to face him, leaning in for a delicate kiss, your pussy clenching around him as you do.

You lean onto the white walls separating each compartment of the closet, closing your eyes as he fucks into you. “Daddy,” you whine, and he pulls your hair gently in response, bringing your head back to his.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re so good to me, I’m so-so close.” You pant, giving him lustful eyes.

“Cum with me,” Eddie mutters, having been close himself a few times. He leans down, rubbing at your clit. You cum around him hard, yelling his name.

He catches your lips in a kiss when he cums, so you have no idea what he said.

He lets you catch your breath, wrapping his arms around you protectively until you let him know you’re okay. “Thank you, baby.”

“Oh that was just a spur of the moment, I just got lucky.” He jokes, bringing up the dress to you to get redressed.

“You think Steve—”

“Oh, I guarantee Steve already knows.” Eddie interrupts your worry, that Steve knew you were hooking up. “Just had to be sneaky.”

You put yourself in the dress, staring at it in the mirror. Okay, Eddie is seriously good at picking things that fit you well. Damn. “Let’s go baby.”

“Fuck, with you in that dress I’ll be gunning for round two all night.”

“Then we better go so we can come back and do it!” You assert playfully.

“Fuck, I love you.”

-

As you and Eddie sit down at the table where your ice cubes are already melted with the water droplets making a pool on the table, Steve doesn’t say a word, but the look he gives says enough. If he’s your boyfriend’s best friend, how come he already has the ability to make you feel like you had disappointed him?

The restaurant is a steakhouse, something worth dressing up for, but not like the one Eddie took you to. Steve managed to talk about all his kids, describing each one of the four and their distinct personalities to you.

Arlo is apparently a near carbon copy of his father, only differing on a few personality quirks here and there. He was in every sense of the word the eldest Harrington, making a reputation for the Harrington children to live up to at the daycare, elementary school and finally, but most importantly, high school.  Considering Steve raised his kids in Hawkins, Arlo knew the expectations for him and met them, tenfold. Steve never says it, but you can tell he’s so proud of how cool his kid turned out to be. Apparently, though they were closest in age, Dylan was closer to Nicky than to Arlo.

Nicky was the middle child for most of his life. He still considers himself to be, despite getting a younger sister four years ago. He had found himself gravitating towards the arts, and Steve found himself with a kid who spent his early mornings watching broadway bootlegs and collecting song books. This turned him into somewhat of a ladies’ man like Arlo, his baritone vibrato beautifully toned as he starred in most of his school musicals. Someday, Arlo wants to enroll in a drama school, and Steve still isn’t sure how he feels about it.

Dustin is the third child, and for a while, the baby. It’s explained to you that Dustin is named after a mutual friend, someone younger than both Eddie and Steve, someone they took under their wing and mutually adopted. When Dustin’s name was announced, Steve and his wife made sure he was in the room, so for the first hour of Dustin Harrington’s life, he was unnamed. Tears streamed down Dustin’s, (the original), face when he realized that Steve had named his child after him. Immediately, Dustin was his. Because of Dustin Henderson, Dustin Harrington is a complete dork. He’s completely invested in Star Wars, has built his own Magic the Gathering deck, used to spend weekends on Skype for DnD sessions with Uncle Eddie, and has even been to a convention or two.

Basically, none of his boys were the same.

You resented little Eliza coming up in conversation, only for the sake of her photos enticing some sick and cruel twist of fate.

Eliza, however, is the apple of everyone’s eye, and the darling of the Harrington family. She’s a handful, to say the least, a stubborn personality and even worse temperament. Steve swears he thought her toddler years were a handful; until she reached the independent thinking stage. Now, she wants everything, but she never wants help. Her three brothers are fiercely protective of her, each in their own ways, on top of having her dad, her uncle Eddie, and a few names that aren’t familiar to you (note: ask Eddie who ‘Hopper’ is), she’s got the world wrapped around her pinky.

Steve is at the end of a tale of chasing little Eliza around the mall, having slipped his grip in a quick getaway, creating havoc as she clutched a teddy bear that wasn’t paid for. He laughs fondly, describing how she evaded three security guards attempting to aid Steve in his mission, finally catching her when she was hungry enough to decide to end the chase.

You all sit with your food in front of you, chuckling at Steve’s well-told story. “Man,” Eddie starts, mouth still full. He waits until he swallows to continue, “I don’t know if I could have a toddler now. Especially if they’re as wild as Dylan was.”

“Hey!” Dylan calls, gesturing to himself. “I’m right here!”

“No offense, kid, but you were a menace. I looked away for two seconds once and found you on the roof with an umbrella to see if it would work as a parachute.”

“You remember what you told me?” Dylan challenges him, leaning onto his elbows on the table. “Hmm? You tell her what you told me.”

You perk up, leaning into Eddie. “Well, I came out and asked him what he was doing. He said he wanted to see if it worked.”

“And…you said?” Dylan asks, eager to get to the punchline.

“I told him to try it then and see how it works out for him!”

“So, I did!” Dylan exclaims, exasperated.

“What?” You exclaim, and the three men around you nod their heads solemnly, all having heard this story several times before.

“I didn’t know he was actually going to do it!” Eddie laughs, defending himself at your bug eyes aimed at him.

“You’re my dad, I trusted you had my best interests at heart!”

“How you didn’t know sarcasm before that is beyond me…” Eddie mutters, shaking his head fondly at his son. “That story was used against me several times in court, too.”

“They tried to make him out to be a terrible parent. I was pissed.” Dylan explains, and your heart melts over it. “I maintained that even though I had a cast for a few weeks, doesn’t mean I didn’t learn my lesson. Don’t jump off the roof. You will get hurt. That’s what my dad was telling me before he dared me.”

You intertwine your fingers with Eddie’s, smoothing his thumb with your own. There’s a nagging in the back of your mind as you recall his claims of being too old for a toddler, a slight disappointment. You shove it far, far back into your brain, not wanting to dissect that. “So, you staying the night, or?” You ask Steve.

“No thanks, Dylan has made it clear that you two are insatiable.” He says, toying with his food. “He has told me every story where he has caught you, even the ones you don’t know about.” He pauses, giving Eddie a resigned glance across the table. “Freaks. The both of you.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you reach for it momentarily to check out the text from Bethany. As your attention is stolen, Eddie mouths over you, Jealous? Steve spurts out a laugh, as if the idea is so absurd. Your head shoots up, Bethany’s text is fresh on your mind. “Baby, can…can I take a picture of your hand?”

“Uh, sure.” Eddie agrees, placing his hand out from your grip and onto the table. “What for?”

“For my Insta,” you answer, somewhat preoccupied by getting a good angle while making his hand intertwined with yours look natural.

“Oh, soft launch?” Dylan comments, and you snap your fingers in confirmation.

Eddie chuckles, all the words coming out of you and Dylan sounding like a different language. “What?”

“Okay, so it’s not just me!” Steve laughs, holding his chest dramatically. “Seriously, what are you two on about?”

Dylan answers before you can–  you’re still trying to get a good angle of his hand holding yours on the table. “It’s posting an update to your relationship status without giving a name to the person. It’s telling the world you’re taken, but not by who. Usually in case they break up, but I don’t think it’s why she’s doing it.”

“No, Eddie has no social media and I know…” you pause, leaning back to take one more, “that he wants to keep it that way, so, I’m showing him off in my own way.” You glare at your phone, swearing softly when it still doesn’t look right.

“For fucks’ sake, let me,” Dylan snatches your phone and gets up from the booth, squats and places the phone as if you were the one taking it yourself, snaps a photo, and tosses the phone back to you. “There.”

The phone falls past your hand and into your lap. You gently pick it up, assessing the photo in your recents. Damn. It was the exact vibe you were looking for. “Well, thanks.”

Dylan shoots an eye roll back, his heart not really in it.

“Let’s see?” Eddie asks, leaning into you, resting his chin against the strap of your dress on your shoulder. You’ve already captioned and posted the photo onto your Instagram, so you let him view the screen. He lets out a chuckle, a wide grin appearing on his face. “I like the photo, but what does the caption mean? Greater than what?”

Caption reads, ‘Him>’.

“Oh, it just means you’re ‘greater than’ everything else. There is no one thing to put because it would be useless.” You explain, turning your phone off and placing it face down on the table.

Eddie shifts the two of you so he can see your face, eyes switching between yours as he assesses you. You look up at him, curious to what could possibly be on that brain of his. “You think I’m greater than everything else?”

Of course you’ve seen it plastered on social media sites, somewhat of a common way to refer to your personal opinion of something. It’s so normalized, and you figured it was a simple way to announce that you were taken by the finest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You nod, “Of course!”

His hand frames your face and suddenly his lips are on yours. Your breath hitches in your throat as the kiss and the pure love you feel in his reaction makes you feel like you’d be knocked off your feet if you weren’t already sitting down. Your limbs catch up and one hand lands on his thigh, ignoring the subtle heat you feel pooling in your cunt.

Steve and Dylan are forgotten as you get caught up in a frenzy, lips locking with a level of need for one another that would give any other person envy over the display of passion. Dylan has gotten used to it, you two were in the habit of kissing one another like this often. Steve takes a large sip of his bourbon, leaning back in his booth and leaning right to him. “So, this—”

“Yeah, that’s normal.” Dylan tells him.

“Jesus, I thought you were exaggerating.” Steve pauses, moving his plate away from him, all done. “Thought he was exaggerating.”

“Exaggerating what?” Dylan asks, afraid of the answer.

Steve smirks, taking another sip of his drink. “Just drink your apple juice.” He nods to Dylan’s beer; Dylan shoves his shoulder fondly in response. Steve takes one last big swig of his drink, gesturing to the waitress across the room for her assistance. “Hey. You two. Take a breather.”

Your kisses haven’t gotten any more intense, though his hand placed gently on your thigh was a tease. You could make out with him for hours, knowing your limits in the restaurant booth. Eddie finally pulls back, kissing you delicately a few times on the lips as to not leave you hanging, leaving you reeling when the server stops by.

“Just the check, please.” Steve tells her, smug.

The waitress nods, grabbing plates when the four of you insist you’re all done with your food. Steve and Eddie end up telling a story from their early 20’s when they were both single, finishing each other’s sentences as they remind each other how unruly they were back then. Your eyes flick back and forth between them, something clicking.

“Hmm.” You muster, letting yourself think about it.

“Yes, baby?”

You zone back in, blinking as you realize the three of them are staring at you expectantly. You hadn’t even realized you hummed out loud. “Oh, nothing.” But he’s not budging. None of them are. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

Still no dice.

You lean forward towards Dylan, who sits across from you, lowering your voice. “Do you want to be traumatized by your dad’s sex life?” He shakes his head, the smile leaving his face. You lean back, satisfied. “Then don’t worry about it.”

“For the record, I think you mean more traumatized.” Dylan mutters, just loud enough for you to hear. You kick his shin underneath the table, light enough to hurt but not do anything. You giggle at his reaction, leaning into Eddie’s arm as it snakes around your own.

Your phone buzzes, another text from Bethany. You smile as you check it, content in Eddie’s arms as the waitress comes around again with the bill. Steve hands her a card as he watches Eddie speak softly to you, nothing important, just something causing you to giggle. He feels confident in his own marriage, a love that gave him four kids with a stable home to drive back to. It just made him happy to see Eddie in a relationship where it’s clearly reciprocated.

As Eddie whispers to you, you can barely take in the words Bethany has texted you, but what she has to say to you is seemingly important, your phone buzzing repeatedly in your hands. You allow your eyes to focus back on them and the all-caps of her texts become clear.

CHECK YOUR INSTA

HELLO???

BABE

HELLO

GO CHECK IT YOUR POST ALREADY HAS OVER 500 LIKES

BITCH IT’S AT ONE THOUSAND

HELLLLOOOO

“Oh, shit.” You switch apps to make sure it’s true. In your notifications, there are over 300 comments and more likes than Bethany had claimed, 1.5 thousand. By no means is it viral, but most of your posts got no more than 100 due to your circle of friends in the app being so small. “Holy shit.” There are several comments praising Eddie’s hand, even some drool emojis. The only solace you can give yourself is that you now know you are never exposing his face. “Um, Ed. Your hand has gotten attention.”

He leans over, seeing the amount of engagement on your post. “Cool.” He comments, the numbers not meaning much to him.

“I could’ve told you that much.” Steve laughs.

You peer at him questioningly, silently asking what he meant by it.

“Listen, the ladies in Hawkins are…what is it…thirsty?” He checks with Dylan. Dylan chuckles and confirms it. “Yeah, okay, thirsty. They are mad thirsty over Eddie. If I accidentally mention that the Munsons are coming into town, it becomes town gossip. It’s like Billy Hargrove all over again, except this time it’s age appropriate.”

You turn back to Eddie, serious as you can be. “You’re never going back.”

 He laughs, wrapping his arms around you to bring you into a hug. “We’ll talk about it.”

-

As you walk towards the front door of the restaurant, the sun has set on another day. Eddie’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders, and Steve calls out to Eddie as he leads you to his truck, drawing your attentions. “Munson!”

Eddie turns around, the use of his last name certainly grabbing his attention. They quit using last names on one another years ago. The last time Eddie fully recalls being called Munson by Steve; Steve was pulling at his hair… “You rang, Harrington?”

“Can I steal your girlfriend for a drive?” He asks, sending a smile your way.

“Uh,” Eddie looks at you, making sure you’re comfortable with it. You nod your head, sharing a look with him. “Sure. Have her back within the hour, though.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve jokes, laughing to himself when Eddie subtly grits his teeth, and a pink blush reaches his cheeks. “C’mon, I don’t bite.”

You give your boyfriend a hug, embracing his kiss of safety and comfort. “Love you.” As you walk the steps toward Steve, Eddie tugs you back by your fingertips, one last kiss for good measure.

“Love you more.” He mutters, and for a second you believe him. Oh, to follow him into his truck and ride with him in a comfortable silence on the way back.

“Come on! One hour won’t kill you.” Steve grabs your hand before you can register, leading the way to his SUV.

Dylan passes you on the way to his dad, waving cheekily on the way and you flip him off.

You get into the dark blue SUV, a Range Rover, no less. It’s evident he has a four-year-old with the car seat and the mess in his back seat, but you know that if he didn’t have Eliza, the brown interior would’ve been spotless. Steve turns down the radio he had blasting, turning his iPhone connection on. “Ready for some oldies?”

“You and Eddie. Terrible, the both of you.” You mutter, shaking your head.

Steve laughs, pulling out of the parking lot and turning the opposite way of Eddie’s (yours too) house. “Don’t worry, just taking the long way.” He assures you after he sees you staring wistfully off at Eddie’s tail lights.

It’s about five minutes of silence until Steve talks again. “So, I just wanted to apologize about earlier, I was…I was shocked. When you opened the door, I didn’t know who you were, but I certainly wasn’t expecting the answer I got. Can you tell me your version of how you two got together? I didn’t want Eddie interjecting.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat. “Uh, Dylan forgot a parking pass on our way to the beach, so he stopped by the house to look for it. Eddie comes down, sweats low on his hips and hair still wet from his shower, and I could barely focus on anything else around me. I should’ve broken up with Dylan the moment I got to his truck.” You tell him, making sure Steve knows full well that you are still apologetic about the cheating.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s all fine and dandy. As far as Dylan is concerned, it hurt, but it’s long gone in his mind. Trust me. Any hesitation is aimed at Eddie, and for good reason.” Steve reassures you, feeling your defense build. “Don’t worry. Just tell the story.”

“Okay. I didn’t end it because I was afraid he’d lash out and it would’ve been forever before getting ahold of Eddie again. I couldn’t risk it, so I stayed. It lasted until that weekend, when I was doing horny things in the living room with Dylan just because Eddie was home. Maybe he’d hear something, maybe he’d look…maybe he’d watch…” You drift off, remembering the sheer urgency you had for him. “I wore skimpy outfits, I bent over around the house, I was fully prepared for Eddie, and to be honest, I was too hormonal to care or understand the repercussions.” You glance out the window, lights blinding you as you pass each neon sign. “So, we hooked up. After spending more time with him, I realized how much I had already cared about him. Now, Steve, now, I love that man so goddamn much.”

Steve smiles at you as he drives, his head waving with the bumps in the road. “Where do you see this going? For your future? In the long term, are you willing to accept that his body will give out a lot earlier than yours?”

 A knot forms in your stomach in the shape of a confession. You switch your glance to Steve, and you feel safe with him. Not like Eddie, no. It was like he would never tell your secrets, or like he’d protect you. “Uh, this evening, I had the terrifying displeasure of realizing one day I’d want kids with him. One day, after he marries me and tells the whole world who I belong to, I want to have his baby. I want to raise a baby into a handful of a toddler into a snarky teenager. I thought I was totally in the clear for kids with him, but you showed him the video of Eliza and now it’s…I can’t get rid of it. So, thanks for that, Steve.” Admitting to this, out loud even…it’s too much. “I want to spend my life with him.”

You wait for an answer, somewhat on edge as you fiddle with your fingers. “And you’re okay with the knowledge that you will bury him one day?” Steve pressures on, and you respect it.

“I’ve accepted the realities, yes, which is why I’m not telling him I want kids. He said he’s too tired. I can’t force that on him.”

A full belly laugh escapes Steve as he shakes his head. “If you told him that you want a baby, he would absolutely give you one without a moment’s hesitation. I have never seen him like this, not even with his ex.” He pauses, thinking on how to tell you. “Listen, I don’t know if you know much about her, but Eddie’s ex was not all that…kind to him.” He chooses his words carefully. “He was into her from the get-go, but it was obvious he was more into her. Eventually, when Eddie realized she was cheating, he called me, panicking about losing Dylan.

“I sent my best lawyer to him. Less than a week later they have court dates for custody hearings. Honestly, she was angry she was caught and angry she wasn’t the one to file. I think it took her being angry and belligerent in court for Eddie to finally see who she was. The judge was patient, more than she should’ve been. When she didn’t listen to the judge’s warnings, Eddie was granted everything he wanted. He thought it was a goddamn miracle, the only two things he wanted were the shop and Dylan. The shop had people’s livelihoods; it was their only income. Dylan just wanted to be with his dad, he made that very clear.

“Once the dust settled, it sank in. He called, finally, crying on the floor of the closet. He had spent all year on it just for her to only have it for a handful of months. It was a labour of love for him, and it turned out she was sleeping with someone else the entire time.”

Your teeth grit, fucking seething for Eddie. If either Eddie or Steve knew what was good for her, they’d never tell you her name.

“I came immediately, bringing Arlo and Nick to help cheer him up. Nick was only about 2, so he would’ve done more cheering in the way that toddlers do. But even Arlo knew something was up so it’s the one and only time he’s ever played DnD and fully embraced it. When Nick went to bed, the four of us all played together.” Steve observes your body language, your jaw locked and fists clenched. You’re so angry for him. He decides to omit the fact that after the kids went to bed, Eddie was inconsolable in his heartbreak. Steve knows it might come out one day, but that was not the point of this discussion.

“I promise, I didn’t tell you to make you mad, I just need you to know that Eddie will love you selflessly and wholly, because he doesn’t have it in himself to love any other way.” He slows to a stop at a red light, turning his head to face you. “I was very worried at first, but man, I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

The question still echoes in your mind, but the answer is starting to lean towards a yes. “How did you guys become friends?” You ask instead, leaning away from your boyfriend’s heartbreak and his bitchy ex.

“That… is a very long story.”

“Eddie gave you an hour, of which you’ve only used 15 minutes.” You point out, smirking.

“Alright, buckle up. It’s Hawkins, Indiana. 1996. Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson is missing.”

-

Steve was right, the story of their friendship was a long one. He didn’t necessarily dive into the nitty gritty, just implied he was falsely accused in a situation where he had no alibi and helped him out. One day, years later you would finally feel comfortable asking and Eddie would get into the full details of the Upside Down.

Steve brought you home with ten minutes to spare, you cling to Eddie as soon as you see him. The unresolved lust from earlier on top of the empathy for how hard it must’ve been for him drove your need for him, just you and him. “Can’t wait any longer.” You whisper, fingers digging into the now open button up shirt he wore to dinner and fisting the material into a ball with your hands.

You feel a huff of silent laughter come from him, a long sigh leaving his lips as he considers his options. It’s only 11 o’clock. Usually, when Steve is in town he stays for hours into the night to talk and laugh together. Dylan started a habit of joining their conversations as he got older. He knows it’s what they’re expecting, and he knows exactly what you need. He lifts your face with his hands. “Go get dressed into something more comfortable. Be right up.”

You nod, feeling sleepy, and for once, not conscious of the audience you held with him.

As you run upstairs, Eddie turns to Steve. “You and Dylan go to your hotel room. I’ll meet you there. Later.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “Didn’t you say you were exhausted?”

“I could just stay home all night. I have no problems with that.” Eddie bites back, a tone of endearment at the root of it.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. God, I miss when you were single,”

Dylan and Steve leave for the hotel room, the two shooting teasing glances at Eddie.

You lay on your side of the bed, scrolling on your phone but only paying the littlest attention. Eddie opens the door, his long legs take him to the bed quickly as he lies right next to you. You immediately crawl into his arms, the phone forgotten. Your chest feels tight as you mentally go over what Steve told you, the way his ex treated him. There’s no way it was true, because Eddie ever feeling like he deserved any of it was too much for you to bear.

Eddie feels the shift in you, something’s different. It isn’t one of your normal hugs. Your arms are wrapped around his, as if you’re sheltering him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, brows furrowed as he notes your quickened breathing and heart rate. You’re lying down; you should be far more relaxed.

“Steve…Steve told me more about your ex, and it made me sick to my stomach.” You admit, not wanting many secrets between the two of you. You’re already harbouring one, you don’t need another. “I don’t know how anyone could possibly treat you like that.”

Eddie’s eyes well and he looks up, trying not to let a tear fall from the tone of your voice or how genuine you sound in your anger for him. “It’s ancient history, now, baby.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” You counter, hands squeezing him. “I love you more than I can even conceive. More than I can wrap my head around… I can’t stand the thought of you being heartbroken because that bitch decided someone building her a closet wasn’t good enough for her.”

Eddie can’t wrap his mind around how loved you just made him feel, and how in your own way, you just told him he would be just as protected as you are by him. You would stand up for him the same way he would for you. He doesn’t have the words or the strength to hold back the tears, so he leans in and kisses you, really kisses you.  

As his lips meet yours, you taste the salt of his tears and lightly use your thumbs to brush them away. He climbs on top of you, brushing his hand under your PJ shirt, testing the waters. You guide his hand to your tit, aching for him to touch you for what felt like hours. Your kisses are slow and purposeful, the stream of the salt still coming, and you ignore it for the sake of his hand feeling so goddamn good on your nipple as he teases you. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about them, anyway. Your mouth opens against him as he flicks it, whimpering.

You wrap your legs around his hips, unwinding them from between his legs and his bulge presses into your covered heat immediately. You kiss down his jaw, gently decorating his neck with wet kisses as you kiss away the salt that streamed down his face. Your hand moves down to palm him through his slacks, a whimper leaving him. “Do…do you want to?” You check, slightly stroking him through his jeans.

He sniffles, bunching up your shirt to help it off. “Yes. Sorry, I can’t handle strong emotions, they…overwhelm me.”

“I’ll handle them for the both of us.” You offer.

Eddie is a mess already, and he tugs on you to kiss you some more. “I didn’t know I could love someone this much.” He mutters, gulping through his kisses.

You don’t answer him, grabbing at his shirt to take it off. As the shirt flies off, his chest comes full contact with yours and you arch your hips up to meet his, the bulge hitting your heat almost too perfectly. You grind on it, needing him now, wanting to feel all of him.

Eddie reads your mind, tearful but still in tune with everything your body needs from him. His hands move your pants down your legs, placing kisses down your torso as he does. He crawls back up to you, taking his own pants off as he continues to wantonly kiss you. Before you know it, you feel his cock against your thigh as he presses your legs into your stomach.

Eddie leans into you, connecting your foreheads. You frame his face, staring at his wet brown eyes. “Please baby.” You kiss him, your hips barely able to stay still. “I love you, I fucking need you.”

“I know.” He mumbles, nodding his head. He guides his cock into you, pushing in gently but deeply into you within seconds. Your legs tighten around his torso, your pussy sucking him in. “Christ.”

His face finds itself in your neck, giving sweet kisses up and down as he starts to move his hips. You hold onto him, hands wrapped around his torso, spread-out palms down on his back. His hips rock so slowly, taking in every inch of your pussy he possibly can. His forehead finds yours again and his eyes open and stare into yours. His mouth is parted, his cheeks are flushed, and no longer wet. Somewhere in the midst he stopped crying, but the emotions he felt were still there. “Feels good?”

You nod, breath hitching by the sheer emotion you see in his eyes. “So good, baby.”

He smiles softly, staring at you half lidded. “Don’t want it harder?” He teases, bucking his hips hard once before moving back to his soft pace.

The buck releases a loud cry of pleasure from you, not expecting it. “Fuck, Ed. Can you do that again?”

Eddie smiles wider. “Mmhm.” He bucks into you harder again a few times, and your eyes close immediately, the heat from your pussy starting to pool. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“More?” He asks, slowing his hips again. “My love, if you want me to fuck you harder, you need to tell me.”

“Fuck me harder, Ed. Please.”

Eddie chuckles softly, stopping his movements altogether to give you a kiss, taking your breath away by the love in it. “Sure thing, baby.”

Before you know it, his hips start at an unforgiving pace, the force takes you aback so badly, you moan loudly at every buck, every rut of his hips against yours. His thumb connects to your neglected clit, and the subtle heat explodes into a frenzy. Eddie feels your velvet walls pulse around him as you get closer. “I wanna feel that perfect pussy cum all over my cock.”

“Eddie, so close…love you so much…” you’re seeing stars, your legs tense around him. He leans down to you, giving your torso one long lick down your tummy and, oddly enough, it was the final thing to drive you over the edge.

Your pussy tightening around him does it for Eddie, watching your face as your orgasm rips through you, filling you up with his cum, white ropes shooting into you. He collapses on your chest, the physical exhaustion from the day mixed with the added exhaustion from emotionally breaking down finally piling on him. “Sweetheart, I love you. So fucking much. I just…can’t believe how much better you’ve made my life.”

“I love you.” Your entire body wraps around him, holding him close to you. “Do you have to go?”

“Would you like to come with me?”

You nod your head, knowing full well you’ll probably fall asleep on the couch in Steve’s hotel room.

“Alright, let’s go.”

-

Eddie scratches his head while working on some paperwork in his work office, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose as he goes through some numbers. One of the things he hates about owning a business is the math part of it. Luckily, he’s good at math, it’s just when the numbers suddenly go negative, it creates an issue.

His phone sitting on the desk starts to ring and he picks it up, expecting it to be you, but instead he’s met with an unknown number. Eddie sighs and reluctantly answers. It could be a customer with a new number for all he knows.

Wrong. Dead wrong.

“Eddie Munson speaking.” He answers, scanning over another invoice.

“Why the fuck are you dating a 25-year-old?” It occurs to Eddie this phone number has an area code from Boston…which is where she moved to. Fuck.

“Hi, Brooke.” He sighs, tired.

“Yeah, yeah. When and why the fuck are you dating some little hot piece of ass? You know she’s probably a gold digger, right? This morning she posted a selfie from my closet and it looks like she’s already moved in?”

“We met through a friend” Eddie wraps his head in his hands, wondering what the hell he ever saw in her craziness. “Wait, why am I telling you this, what fucking nerve do you have to call me and accuse my girlfriend being a gold digger?! How the fuck did you even find out?”

“Her little Instagram post with you two holding hands, which by the way, was cheesy and not in a good way. It got a lot of attention and Laura recognized your hands immediately and sent me the post.”

Fucking Laura. “Good for you, you found her Instagram.” He sighs, leaning back in his office chair. “I owe you nothing, Brooke. Nothing. I’m not sure what you had expected from this conversation but I’m sure this wasn’t it. Oh, and Brooke? That’s not your closet, hasn’t been for 15 years. Don’t call me again or I'll get my lawyer.”

“Oh, calm down.” Brooke huffs, her voice agitated. As if her voice had any other tone. Eddie hears her muffle the speaker to her phone. “Boys, quiet down for five minutes? I’m on the phone!” There’s another shuffle of noise on the other end, then her voice is directed back at Eddie, “That won’t be necessary. I just need to make sure you know that she will ruin your life because she’s a little skank.”

“Talk about my wife that way again and you’ll be hearing from a lot more than just my lawyer, you absolute cunt.” Eddie hangs up on her, missing the satisfaction of slamming a phone on the receiver. He picks his work phone up and slams it down. There, much better.

Wait until Steve hears about this… Holy shit.

Wait until you hear about it. Oh, fuck.

-

Steve manages to stretch his visit for one more day, laying on the couch with you as you watch a movie he recommended to you. He lays down with his torso on the arm rest, legs resting on your lap. When his legs landed, you glared at him, asking if he had nowhere else to place them. Steve said in response, “Of course, I do! You’ll just hold them because you’re so nice.”

So, you do. The movie is called The Gentlemen, a fast-paced comedy about a drug lord attempting to sell his business and all the shenanigans that follow. You find yourself laughing with him, expecting some movie like The Godfather or Fight Club, though it came out only four years ago.

Eddie swings open the door, rubbing his eyes tiredly with a smirk on his face. “Oh my god, Steve. Oh my god.” Eddie came straight from work, the phone call not allowing his brain to go over another invoice, especially when the numbers didn’t make sense. He struts to the couch, lifts Steve’s legs and sits right next to you, placing Steve’s legs back on his lap. He places his arm around you, looking at Steve with a smirk plastered. “Steve. Oh, my god.”

“Ed?” You ask, taking in his flustered features. Not flustered in the way you’re used to, but flustered nonetheless. “Everything okay?”

He nods his head, an incredulous laugh escaping as he does. “Oh, yeah. Totally okay. Got a phone call today.” You and Steve share a look of concern over his shoulder. “From Brooke.”

Now, this name means nothing to you. But from Steve’s reaction, in a split second you realize it’s the name of the woman you have grown to viscerally hate. “No way. What…what did she say?”

“She found Y/N’s Instagram post from last night and recognized my hand.” Eddie says, squeezing your shoulder. “She uh, then proceeded to insult me, insult her, and remind me how grateful I am she left me before I realized what a terrible person she is.”

“Anything else?” Steve asks, eyes wide. Brooke has literally been radio silent for years.

“Yeah, but nothing worth getting into.” Eddie comments, leaning into the couch, raising his eyebrows at Steve. Not something he wants to get into with you around, but definitely will with his best friend. “She sounded…jealous.”

“Jealous how?”

Eddie looks at you, twisting his body to face you. “Jealous of you. Out of line, absolutely, but jealous.”

The satisfaction that ripples through your body is simply too much. A woman took advantage of his kindness and left him for dead and now she’s jealous? Good. “Wait, she stalks my Instagram?”

“Uh, I suppose, yes.” Eddie answers, not so sure he understands the use of stalk.

“I could have some fun with this.” You mutter, thinking to yourself.

“Baby?” Eddie asks, slightly scared of the wicked smirk he sees displayed on your face.

“Hmm.” You mumble, opening your phone to your Pinterest app. “Yes?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, talking low as he watches over your shoulder.

“Nothing. Just be ready for a picture when I need you.”

Eddie laughs, ready to calm you down a bit, but finds himself a little fearful of the plan in your mind.

You scroll through your Pinterest for about ten minutes while Steve and Eddie converse about the boys again. If you have learned one thing about Steve, it’s that his kids are his pride and joy. The conversation leads to Eliza, and you feel that pang in your stomach again. It’s getting harder to ignore as you watch Eddie’s face light up at the endless stories of the kids’ mischief.

Steve gets up from the couch, needing to use the bathroom. While he’s gone, you take advantage, finally having a moment to ask the question that’s been on your mind. “Hey, Ed.” You start, his head turning to face you, almost impossibly close.

“Yes, baby?”

Shit, his lips are so tempting. You sigh, ignoring the pull to his lips. “I just have a question, and please don’t be offended if the answer is no.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pleasantly surprised by your reaction to his ex-wife calling, so he’s certainly intrigued by what you’re about to say. “I make no promises.”

That’s not comforting. “Okay. Have you and Steve…did you guys ever hook up?” You ask, avoiding his eyes, which is impossible because they’re right there.  

Eddie breaks into a smile followed by incredibly contagious laughter. You were certain you must’ve been dead wrong based on his laughter alone. You’re just reading into things that aren’t there. He finally stops, grabbing your face for a smiley, giggly kiss. You pull back, looking at him in confusion, as he laughs again. “I should’ve known you’d figure it out.” He says, eyes searching yours.

Oh, fuck. You were right! “Wait.” You say while giggling. “I…I was right?”

“Yeah.”

“When?!”

Eddie squints comically, looking up. “Uh, 27 or so years ago in Vegas.”

You squint back at the sheer cliché of it all. “Vegas? Really?”

“Well, we were both down on our luck, we thought, very drunkenly, might I add, a trip to Vegas would help. It certainly did the trick, I think.”

You laugh, the situation described much differently than what you had expected. “I bet it did.” You boop him on the nose as he scrunches it adorably.

Steve comes out from the bathroom and sees your silly display of love, jogging to the couch. “You guys are cavity inducing. Seriously.”

“Steve.” Eddie says, turning his head to face him. “She figured it out.”

Steve smirks, silently asking Eddie if he was talking about what Steve thought he was talking about. “Hmm?”

“Mmhmm.”

“No shit! What gave it away?” Steve asks, genuinely curious as he attempts to extend his legs onto Eddie’s lap again.

“No offense, you guys, but you both act like you have a secret with one another that you won’t share with the class. There’re only so many secrets that could be.” You offer an answer, and they seem to accept it…for the most part.

“What, we don’t give off two very straight dudes?” Eddie jokes, making you shove his shoulder.

“See, Dylan’s great, but I’ve been dying to ask since last night, and I wasn’t gonna ask with him around.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning in for one last gentle kiss. When he separates, he clutches onto Steve’s leg, startling him. “Sorry,” he laughs through his apology. “I have to take a shower then I have one more errand to run, and I need your help before you take off tonight.”

“Sure, dude. What do you need?”

You go back on your phone, checking your Pinterest and mostly tuning out the conversation, looking for subtle ways to show Eddie off on your Instagram that will piss Brooke off. Eddie nods his head to indicate it isn’t a conversation to be had around you, and you don’t even notice.

Steve nods in understanding, fist bumping Eddie as he runs around the couch and up the stairs. The silence that settles around you while he’s upstairs is comfortable, Steve paying attention to the movie as the plot thickens while you scroll through your phone and gather devious ideas. You barely notice the ten minutes pass by as Eddie comes back downstairs. You clock the scent of his freshly showered self, causing you to look up.

Eddie is wearing a pair of jeans and a button up loosely tucked in with a chain necklace. You pick your jaw off the floor, gulping as he walks up to you with a smirk on his face as he witnesses your very visible reaction. He lays a chaste kiss on your forehead and taps on Steve’s leg.

Steve gets up from the couch and Eddie grabs his keys. “Be back soon, baby!”

“Could you get some pop?” You ask him as he opens the front door.

“Baby, we have so much to drink that’s not gonna rot those pretty teeth. It won’t kill you to drink water.” He says, stopping in the doorway. You roll your eyes, tempted to order in from a convenience store if he was gonna be this stubborn. “If there’s pop here when I get home, you’re gonna see a consequence.”

“Yes, daddy.” You bite back. Well, if you order one drink and place it in the bottom of the recycling, he won’t see it, right?

“Hey. Drink some water. I mean it. Take care of yourself, for Christ’ sake.” He yells, hearing your eyes roll. “Love you!”

Eddie shuts the door, reminding himself to check the recycling when he gets home.

“Daddy, huh?” Steve asks, poking fun as they get into his truck.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Eddie rolls his eyes, shoving the keys into the ignition. His hands move to put the vehicle in reverse when something occurs to him. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Uh, give me a sec.” Eddie brings out his phone, going through the 15 contacts, scrolls right to Maya. He rings it.

“…Hello?” Maya answers, sounding understandably perplexed.

“Hi, Maya, how would one know what kind of ring to get without asking the person it’s for?” Steve’s brows rais, the errand being ring shopping is news to him.

“Well… it depends. Do you want to buy her a ring just because…or are you shopping for,” she pauses, slowly saying it. If she was wrong, it could set off an alarm, “…an engagement ring?”

“Yeah, an engagement ring.” Eddie admits, saying it out loud feels crazy to him. “How would one figure that out?”

“Give me five minutes.” She says, and abruptly hangs up the phone.

As Eddie stares at his phone in bewilderment, Steve leans into him. “Engagement ring, huh?”

“Won’t be asking her until at least another few months, if I can even wait that long. I said something on the phone with Brooke today. It just came out.” Eddie offers, his voice soft as he explains to Steve what’s been invading his mind for the last hour. “Brooke went a bit far on the insults. She called her a skank.”

“How classy.” Steve offers dryly, his face suggesting it was anything but.

“I got so mad. I’ve never been as mad at her as I was when those words left her mouth. I said if she ever called my wife a name again, I would be calling more than just my lawyer.” He quotes himself, letting the word sink into Steve’s skin.

“Oh shit.” Steve mutters, the weight of the word kicking in.

“Yeah, it slipped out, but calling her my wife felt so damn good I couldn’t help myself. I’m not getting any younger.” Eddie pauses before saying anything else, the next confession might be too much to say out loud yet.

“C’mon. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?” Steve says, giving him some comfort.

“Her eyes when she looks at pictures of Eliza, or listens to stories about your boys, fuck I thought I never wanted another kid, but Jesus Christ, I need to see her face when she looks at one of ours.” Eddie admits out loud for the first time, the words scaring the shit out of him. Dylan in his 20s was exhausting. Could he handle another newborn? Another toddler? Another teenager?

Steve felt like he held all the power in knowing you two both wanted a kid. Feels like neither of you are ready to tell the other, so it’s a secret he’ll have to keep to himself for now. (If he’s strong enough.)

Eddie’s phone buzzes, a link appearing in a message from Maya. He opens it up and it directs him to your Pinterest page. Eddie wonders how Maya even found it. Your name isn’t connected to it. The link is specific to a board labeled Engagement Rings with a bunch of sparkle emojis surrounding it. Eddie looks at a few of them, screenshotting a handful to get the basic idea of what you’d want. He texts back Maya to thank her and puts his truck in reverse before Steve even knows what’s happening.

-

Eddie and Steve go through at least three jewelry stores before Eddie angers Steve at his indecisiveness. It isn’t that Eddie is indecisive, it’s that he’s hoping for a jeweler to look at the general vibe of your board and have the perfect ring to offer. Instead, Eddie’s met with vague indications of where he could look. These interactions all leave Eddie feeling frustrated as just walks out of the store for the next one only about ten feet away.

It takes Eddie a few tries until he finds the fairy godmother he’s been looking for, but finally he shows an engagement ring specialist the general aura of the rings you had saved, and she brings out four or five options that fall into the same category for Eddie to look at. Maybe Eddie could’ve been clearer with other stores of what he needed, but it felt as if they didn’t think he was going to buy one, anyway. Here, in this store, he feels like a respected customer, which goes a long way with him. In his shop, he spends his extra time making sure his men don’t treat any ladies like they know less just because they’re women. He hoped that even though he had a few faded tattoos and dressed alternatively, he’d be extended that same courtesy.

The helpful sales lady holds up each ring and explains to Eddie why she picked it in relevance to the photos you saved. Eddie sighs, each one in the right field, but not quite there. As she puts rings away to keep on looking, Eddie clutches onto the glass in frustration, feeling completely unprepared. Brooke basically gave him her ring and told him to propose when he had the balls. He wants you to love this ring, he wants to see it and know that it was made for you.

Maybe that’s too much to place on a ring. But for Eddie, just the simple prospect of searching for this ring means he has the hope that you will be his for the rest of his life.

Just when he’s ready to leave for the next store, she brings another one, a look on her face that tells Eddie she might’ve found exactly what he’s been looking for. She lays it out on a cloth, as Eddie marvels at it. It’s a thin, silver ring with four blue stones lined up along the band as the metal crosses over itself like vines. Eddie knows all of the jewelry you wear is silver, dainty, and has a few hints of blue. From the moment he sees it, he knows it’s the One.

Eddie holds it up for a few moments, circling it around in his hand. It takes all the self control in the world not to just head home and propose that night. He hands over a ring he took from the center console in your closet to the sales lady for your size. Within ten minutes, the papers are signed, the ring paid for, and Eddie walks out with a small white bag.

They get into the truck, the white bag small, yet significant as it sits in the back seat. “Well, that’s a step you’re taking.” Steve observes, carefully assessing his best friend’s emotional state.

“Mmhmm.” Eddie hums, staring at the bag in the rearview mirror. “And now, I’m fighting the urge to propose tonight.”

“Tonight?” Steve asks him, the speed of your relationship knocking him in the gut. “Let’s not scare her off. Plan a nice meal, set out a pretty dress on the bed for her. I bet she’d appreciate that.” Eddie considers this, knowing Steve is probably right.

So, now the ring sits in its box in the bottom of Eddie’s underwear drawer.

-

When Eddie and Steve get home, they find you on the couch napping while a movie neither of them has heard of plays on the TV, a bottle of nearly empty coke on the table next to it. Eddie sneaks upstairs to hide the evidence, the bag shoved into the bottom of a trash can, and the ring tucked safely away. When he comes back down, Steve is in the kitchen making himself a snack for the road while Eddie crouches in front of the couch to wake you up.

“Morning, baby.” He says in a low voice, petting your left cheek with his thumb.

Your breath hitches as you wake up, the last thing you remember is being giddy as you picked up your order from the front step with chips, candy, and a single bottle of pop. As you finished most of your snack, the movie started to matter less and less, a phenomenon that only occurs when you know that you’re about to pass out on the couch.

“There she is.” He mumbles as your eyes take in your surroundings. Him, the end of the movie you picked out, and the setting sun through the curtains. “Hi. I see we didn’t take my concern for the amount of pop you consume to heart?” He musters, gesturing to the side table.

You stretch, every muscle in your extended limbs feeling it. “You made it pretty clear it was for my teeth.” You mumble, unable to prevent a smile at Eddie’s floored reaction.

“I see.” He mutters, and the smirk on his face is enough to send a thrill of fear through you. “C’mon, Steve is about to leave town. Let’s go say our goodbyes.”

He tugs on your hands, lifting you up off the couch, guiding you to where Steve’s packing a recyclable grocery store bag with snacks he found around the kitchen. He comes out of the kitchen clutching the bag, his brown eyes shooting a fond look to the both of you. “Sorry, guys. Gotta get to the actual purpose of my trip eventually.”

You squint at him, pretending to consider forgiving him. “I suppose we’ll forgive you. If… you bring Eliza next time.”

“Another one bites the dust.” Steve mutters under his breath, chuckling. Eliza Harrington really has the whole world wrapped around her little pinky. (And oh, boy, does she know it.) He grabs onto your shoulder, pulling you in close for a hug. “Take care of him, will ya?”

You nod into his bicep, the soft spot he had gained for you over the last two days taking you by surprise and vice versa for him. “You know I will.”

Steve can’t resist the joke. “Oh, I know you do.”

You hit him playfully, feeling the heat creep up on your cheeks.

Steve and Eddie share an even longer hug, something about saying goodbye to old friends is always hard, you know that. As they separate, still clutching each other, Steve says something under his breath that makes Eddie hit him harshly. “Steve.”

“What?”

“Dude. Subtlety?”

Steve chuckles as he picks up his bag of goodies. “If you two are one thing, it ain’t subtle.”

You’re left questioning what could’ve possibly warranted the reaction that Eddie let out as Steve and Eddie do a few more rounds of farewell. It never seems to end as they keep bringing up new topics with each step Steve makes toward the door. It reminds you of your mom at the grocery store when you were eight.

The door finally slams, Steve yelling an "I love you" while Eddie shouts “Yeah right!” He brings out his phone soon after, sending I love you, too to Steve as a text. Well, Eddie is realizing that a next time is never guaranteed.  

The moment Steve’s SUV takes off, the low hum of the engine riding off to the end of the street, you turn back to the couch for a night in with Eddie. Alas, he has other plans. You lead him to the couch, holding his hand. Eddie tugs you back sharply, your limbs flailing as a result. “Woah, there, sweetheart.”

You give him a questioning look, wondering if you were just picturing his eyes darkening. “Hmm?”

“I asked you, very nicely, not to order pop. For one thing I think you drink too much of it, and for another there is water, juice, alcohol, even. Baby, I would just appreciate you taking my wishes into account.” His voice is serious, to a point that startles you. “So. As mentioned, there will be a consequence.”

“Like…like what?” You ask him, gulping as he traces his fingers along your collarbone so lightly you barely feel it.

He leans down, leaning into whisper, “Run.”

Your heart rate stutters as you turn away from him and run straight towards the basement, a place you know was once Dylan’s hangout spot, but now is just a dusty living room. Your feet trip over themselves as they run down the steps, pure panic and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you run to a guest room, hiding in the corner.

Upstairs, there are footsteps leading directly to the steps you just ran down. He fucking walks. He takes his time, step by step, and you can tell with each step as your heart rate picks up that he’s taunting you. He knows you’re in some corner somewhere, but he just doesn’t know which one. “Downstairs, huh? Didn’t see that coming.” Eddie admits, peering around each corner with his hands behind his back.

Fuck, you’re just a sitting duck here. You crawl up by the door, waiting patiently as he walks into the room right across from the one you’re hiding in. You make a quick run for the stairs, your breathing tight in your chest as you run, but for some reason, can’t recall why you’re running, you’re so fucking turned on right now. Your first few steps are loud and you curse out loud when suddenly Eddie’s feet are right behind yours, giggling with glee as you do.

Somehow, you make it up the steps and run straight to the kitchen, stopping at the island. He lands on the other side, his face hungry with want, his shirt untucked. There’s a wild look in his eye you can’t quite understand. You giggle as you attempt to go either way, realizing you’re stuck where you are.

“Oh, how is she gonna get out?” He taunts, watching you assess the situation.

Your instincts take over. You miraculously hop onto the island, using some sort of kicking method against the counter straight across and crawl into a dive for him, attacking his lips with yours. He accepts you without fail, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you back hungrily. You place kisses down his neck, focusing on the one spot on his collarbone you knew he loved when you sucked on it.

“Like that.” You answer him, starting to run straight towards your bedroom.

Laughter like music to Eddie’s ears leaves your mouth as you reach the top of the stairs, and he books it straight after you, not waiting another second to chase you to where he suspects is either the hallway or your closet. You’re crouched down in the hallway, hoping he’ll go straight to the bedroom. He doesn’t, seeing you as soon as he rounds the corner.

He fists your hair at the crown and you help as he lifts you to your feet. “Looks like I caught ya.” He hums, his face watching you closely. His hands let go of you and he moves to kiss you again, his tongue feeling a sort of rough it hasn’t before. “Holy shit.” He mutters, guiding you so you’re up against the wall.

You kiss him back, and for what felt like the first time, you didn’t spend an ounce thinking about it, just giving in. “Ed.” You whimper, the heat between your legs now begging you to provide friction.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, his hands moving roughly up and down your body. “What, baby?”

“Ed. Please.” You beg him, lifting your leg so you can at least feel his boner peeking at your clothed cunt.

“Nuh uh.” He tuts, lightly pushing on the knee. Your leg falls down, as well as your face. “You don’t get off until I tell you to. So, unless I move your leg, or remove your shirt, you just let me kiss you and respond. Got it?”

You gulp, nodding your head. “Yes.” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes faltering for a fraction of a second. “Eddie?” You ask, making sure he’s okay.

Eddie loves that you can pick up on this, even as he gives you new rules and a new playground to explore. “Do you mind just…doing one thing for me? It kind of stuck with me since you moved in.”

“What?” You ask, your heat still aching, but for the sake of his sanity and for his good graces, you attempt to stand still. (You’re terrible at it.)

“Call me sir?”

You reflect on moving day, the men calling him the name that so obviously gave him a bad taste in his mouth. Apparently, when you commented on it, you made an impact. “Yes, sir.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie hisses, marveling at you now, staring up at him through your eyelashes, waiting to be told what to do. “Now, be a good girl and bend over against the wall.”

“Yes, sir.” You tell him, turning around against the wall.

“No, actually.” He says, taking you by the hand and taking you downstairs. He guides your hips so you’re right in front of the kitchen sink and he bends you over. “Much better.”

He moves your sweats and panties down only to the middle of your thighs, bending on his knees as he admires the slick that has already gathered. “So wet.” He murmurs. You whimper as he barely dips a finger into your entrance, gathering some slick on his finger. He lifts it up to your mouth, “Open.” You do so without hesitation, licking your tongue all over the three knuckles he places in your mouth, tasting your own arousal. Without warning, he takes his finger out from your mouth and wipes it on your shirt. You waited for the praise that never came.

“Oh, now brats get praise for doing what they’re told?” Eddie asks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking as he pulls down his pants.

“No, sir.” You mutter, now craving that praise even more.

“That’s what I thought. Now be a good girl and take this for me.” It’s the only warning you get before he slides his cock in. Your feet are practically planted right next to one another so you start to open your stance to allow him to go in deeper. “Ah.” You freeze in place, realizing your mistake.

He places his hand around your neck and brings it back to him, your neck extended feeling both incredibly uncomfortable and hot. “What did you do wrong?”

“Move without your say so.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, move without your say so, sir.”

“Here. If you ask, and I say yes, or, if I tell you to. That’s it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Eddie smiles down at your blown pupils and half open mouth. He was afraid he jumped in too deep and threw you into the bathwater, but he could feel your pussy tighten around him. You’re so into this. He gently kisses your forehead and lets go of your neck. He slides his cock in even more, and keep in mind, he hasn’t even started to fuck you, yet. He’s barely halfway in your pussy and holds onto your hips as he sees you start to squirm. “You need something baby?”

“Could you move please, sir? Just a little bit? Need it so bad.”

“Should’ve thought of that sooner, then baby.” He musters, sounding bored, though he’s anything but. “Here.” Without warning, Eddie moves his fingers against your clit and has you teetering the edge in mere minutes. You’re so close, you can see the edge. It’s right there.

He stops. He slides in a bit more into you as his mouth gets close to your ear, his breath giving you goosebumps. “Consequence.” He grunts out, his grip on your hips bruising.

Your knuckles are white as you hold onto the edge of the sink like a vice. It’s like you can taste it. He doesn’t move another inch, his heartbeat against your back and the only audible sound coming from you is your panting in need. Eddie pushes in the rest of his length and a second beautiful sound is added to the mix, one he couldn’t get enough of, even if he tried. Why would he ever try? The sound of your pussy as you gush around him is perfect. “Taking me so well.” Eddie mumbles as he places both of his hands over yours on the sink.

The whimper that leaves your throat forces its way out, your body is tense from doing everything you can not to swivel your hips or back yourself into him. “Baby, you’re so tense.” His arms flex along yours, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth. “Why, hmm?”

“You…you said not to move unless you say so.” You tell him, frustrated because, of course, he knows.

“Or, unless you ask to.” Eddie adds, his chin resting on that spot on your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“Sir, can I please move my hips?” You ask him, hoping he isn’t teasing you again.

“Of course, baby.” Eddie’s tone is sweet and endearing. What a goddamn liar he is.

The words are like music to your ears as you start to move your hips, testing the waters. When your movement isn’t met with any punishment, you start moving more frantically, fucking yourself on his cock. Eddie lets out a sigh of content, hands raking down your back to your hips, the palms rough against your bare ass. “Sir, can I please move my feet?”

“See? My good girl is catching on. Of course you can, baby.” He answers, a smile lacing his voice.

Giddily, you move your feet further apart. “Sir, please…please take my clothes off?” You ask, waistband restricting your legs. “Wanna feel you.”

Eddie’s hands move down the apples of your ass to the sweats that started moving down your legs from the impact of your ass that had just started bouncing on him. He kisses your clothed back as you step out of them, kicking the garment aside. You feel the cotton of your shirt move up your back, your arms lifting over your head to assist Eddie as he takes it off. His lips touch the bare skin of your back, his tongue sending ripples down your spine as you shiver under his touch. Eddie grunts as you continue to swivel your hips against him.

“Fuck.” Eddie grunts, watching your naked form wither against him. He can no longer fight the incessant need that’s grown while waiting for you to ask him for movement. His hips start mercilessly pounding into you without a hint of a warning. The moans that fall from your throat are uninhibited and radically full of relief. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for, baby?”

“Mmhmm.” You nod your head, curling over the sink as your arms give out.

Eddie slows down and takes himself out, and your hand moves to push yourself off the sink the littlest bit when you realize your mistake. “You can move.” Eddie smirks, noting your obedience. He’s still standing with his pants down to his calves and his shirt disheveled. He steps out from his pants, tossing the pair toward your pile of clothes. Then he goes down each button on his shirt, slowly exposing his chest to you. As his fingers move over each one, you eye his chest hungrily, aware he’s watching your face while you watch him.

The shirt falls down his arms with a slight flop as the material hits the floor. “Sir…” you gulp, the two of you staring at one another. “Sir, can I kiss you?”

Eddie smirks, nodding his head. You take the two steps toward him and your legs wrap around his hips as you hungrily kiss each other. He turns toward the kitchen island, a small yelp leaving your mouth as the cold granite counter hits the warm flesh of your ass cheeks. He guides his cock into you, slowly pushing into your heat, watching your face as your eyes roll back. “Feel good?”

You nod, a laugh escaping your lips.

“What’s so funny, hmm?” Eddie asks, using his mouth and tongue against your neck.

“Good? Your cock is perfect, Ed.”

“What happened to sir, baby?” He asks, yet continues to rut into you. Your face falters, realizing your mistake. He lets out a laugh, pitying you.

He places his fingertips on your clit, circling slowly, making the heat that’s pooled in your stomach hotter and larger than you could even conceive. “That…that feels so good, Ed.” You tell him, letting your head fall back.

“God, I love when your tight pussy just-” he inhales through his teeth, “sucks me in… Feels like heaven.”

You giggle, the end of it cut off by a particularly rough thrust. “Heaven?” You gasp out, Eddie starts to move his fingers faster and matches the pace with his hips.

“If Heaven isn’t fucking this tight pussy all day, then I don’t fucking want it.” Eddie gasps back, a growl forming under his breath.

“Ed, I’m gonna—” the feeling overwhelms you, the edge muting your senses as your orgasm ripples through your body.

Eddie moans as you tighten more around him, a fix he figured impossible. He still rotates on your clit, you release two sharp exhales, the heat too hot, too much. “Too much, Ed.”

“You can do it, baby. I could just edge you more.” He mutters.

You giggle, frightened at the goddamn prospect of it. “No, no, no.”

“No? Well then show me. Let’s feel that pussy make a mess all over my cock.” You came from the words alone, giggles intertwined through your moans. “Oh fuck, good girl,”

“I’m so close, baby.” He moans.

“Gonna fill me up?” You ask him, your legs tight around his hips as you bite at his collar bone.

“Keep doing that.” Eddie begs you, and you happily oblige. Every nip, bite and suck at his collarbone had him gasping over you, the chain of his necklace hanging between you two. Your hands go into his hair, pulling at him and you could probably have a third one at the rate he was going at.

No probably about it, but Eddie’s panting and you’re exhausted.

Even then.

He pushes you down as he cums, your back screaming with cold as it hits the island counter. Eddie collapses on top of you, and you breathe heavily together, both catching your breath. His mouth latches on your neck, kissing a trail to your lips. “Oh, I love you.”

You smile into his kiss, your noodle legs falling from his hips. “I love you.” You find yourself wrapped in his arms, the smell of sweat and sex invades the kitchen. His chest is covered in sweat and there’s nothing better.

“Join me for a shower?” He asks after you two have a moment of silence, his fingers single handedly causing a brigade of goosebumps down your side as they move in a whisper over your skin. His other hand is wrapped on your left hand, and you don’t realize he’s unconsciously rubbing at your ring finger.

“If I can walk.” You giggle.

Eddie chuckles, pulling himself out of you and giving you a sleepy half smile. “I could always…” He begins, and then he scoops you up over his shoulder to take you up the stairs. You protest for the first minute of it, but when the view is his toned ass as he walks up the stairs, you really couldn’t complain.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken

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(Okay the very idea that this many people wanted on the taglist is INSANE to me. If you want on it, just reply and I'll add you.)

[comically-callous]

"Shitty Free Pizza"

Hobie Brown x reader

Warnings: Reader gets broken up with, swearing, crying

A/n: ALRIGHT, FREAKS. I WROTE THE PART 2. Requests are open 😗✌️

"I'm going on break."

That was all you said to your four coworkers before grabbing your jacket and walking outside. You walked to the side of the building and sat on the curb.

Your boyfriend had just broken up with you. Over text. While you were at work. You didn't know what to do, how to react.

You pulled out your phone and read over the message he'd sent you. And then you read it again, and again, and again.

He'd made two typos. The asshole breaks up with you over text and he can't even be bothered to read over the message before sending it.

You didn't know what to do. You didn't want to cry over this asshole, you really didn't want to. But, despite what you wanted, tears began to roll down your cheeks; and once you started, you couldn't stop.

You put your head in your hands and sobbed. You probably looked pathetic. A Domino's employee, still in uniform, sitting in the parking lot and crying. How embarrassing.

"Oi!" You lifted and turned your head. A tall man dressed in clothes that were way cooler than yours was looking at you. "You alright?" He asked.

"Obviously not." The reply came out sounding a bit more condescending than you'd intended.

The man didn't seem to mind. He chuckled. "Guess I probably could've figured that one out on my own, huh?" The man stepped closer. "What's bothering you?"

You briefly considered calling the dude nosy and telling him to fuck off, but something made you stop.

He didn't seem ill intentioned...

You looked down at the concrete. "My boyfriend just broke up with me over text."

"Really?"

You nodded.

"What a prick. Y'mind if I sit down?" He gestured to the slab of concrete next to where you were sitting. You shrugged and he took that as a yes.

He sat with his elbows resting on his knees. "And he did this while you were at work too?" He asked.

You nodded again.

"That's fucked."

"I just..." You didn't know why you were talking to this guy you didn't even know. But, then again, you didn't really care at this point. "I feel stupid for crying over it."

"Why?"

"Because you're right!" You said exasperatedly. "He's a prick and what he did was fucked. And here I am, crying over this asshole. It's pathetic."

He hummed. "I get that." He tilted his head toward you. "But, once you're done crying, are you gonna try to get him back?"

You furrowed your brows in confusion. You weren't even gonna consider that. "No."

Are you gonna be sad about this for years to come?"

"No."

"Y'gonna give up dating altogether and insist that he left an unfillable hole in your heart?"

"Why are you asking me this shit?"

"Because if you were really pathetic, you probably would've said something other than no to those questions."

You paused, letting his words marinate. And then you chuckled. "Yeah. Sure."

"I'm serious!" He laughed. "There's a lot worse things to do in this situation than just crying."

"I guess you're right." You sighed. "But, still. I don't think venting to a stranger is one of the better things to do."

He chuckled. "I'm Hobie."

"I'm Y/n." You were surprised that this random guy was actually making you feel better. But, you weren't gonna complain.

"Now we're not strangers. Which hopefully means you'll tell me a little more about yourself and about this whole breakup."

You, once again, considered calling him nosey. But, for some reason, you weren't opposed to the idea of telling him more.

"Well," You began. "He and I had been dating for 5 months, for the first three or four months, he was really sweet. But... I don't know. This last month he was being really distant and he was always seeming kind of disinterested in me."

"So, was there any real reason for the breakup?" He asked.

"It was sort of out of nowhere. We didn't have a big argument or anything."

"This guy really does sound like a prick." Hobie scoffed. "I've only just met you, but you seem pretty cool."

"Thanks."

"Yeah. Besides who'd ever wanna break up with someone who could get them free pizza?" He smirked playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh. "Shitty free pizza." You corrected him.

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter if the food's shitty, long as it's free."

You opened your mouth to reply to him when someone called your name, one of your coworkers.

"It's been 20 minutes." Your coworker said, peeking their head around the corner of the building.

You sighed and got up. "I've gotta go." You told Hobie as you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"It's no problem. I enjoyed it." He said, smiling up at you.

You wanted to ask for his number, or his socials, whatever. But, you'd just gotten out of a breakup. It felt wrong asking for someone's number so soon, even if it wasn't really with romantic intentions. So instead, you just said goodbye and went back to work.

You got inside and were taking your jacket off.

"Who was that guy you were talking to?" Your coworker asked.

You glanced over at them and shrugged. "A stranger."

"He was really hot."

You paused before signing. "Yeah, he was."

[nburkhardt]

Somebody Loves You, You Got a Friend (part 9)

Other parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight

Hello and we’re back to school, it’s a day after the last part. (With a time jump at some point) And I think I copied a lot from my notes, so you get an extra long part 😘

Also I don’t think I mentioned this before but the title is lyrics from Andy Grammer’s song Spaceship! (The song is him talking to his unborn baby)

Eddie drags himself to school, even if Janet suggested just dropping out of Hawkins High and going to the school Steve finished from. But he’s determined to finish just to flip all of them off for thinking he’s nothing.

Luckily, Gareth not only had his homework from yesterday but he also filled him in on what happened in at least their shared classes. Then he stayed for dinner and officially met Janet.

He stops dead in his walk to his locker when he spots Nancy Wheeler standing right by it, groaning he makes his way over, “Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it Wheeler”

She bristles at him, crossing her arms, “You were at Steve’s yesterday”

Of all the things, she starts with. And it’s that? Well, he smirks and turns to her, and knows others in the hall are also listening in.

“I was, Stevie and I are just great friends” he easily lets out, and his smirk turns to a full manic grin when he hears gasps, he fakes a pout, “he and I were sick, I didn’t want my poor uncle also catching it, so I stayed with Stevie”

He can’t fucking wait to tell this to Stevie.

Whispers are immediate and Nancy looks completely taken back, so he sighs, “leave me alone, Nancy. You broke up with him, not the other way around and it’s been a year.”

He leaves with that and slams his locker shut before making his way to class.

Lunch rolls around and he’s listening to Grant and Jeff whine about not seeing Eleanor after Gareth bragged about seeing her. He rolls his eyes, “you do know she’s still sick, right? He only got to see her, he couldn’t even hold her”

That causes his two friends to shut up and Gareth laughs, “they can’t help it Ed, she’s just so adorable”

“Who’s adorable?”

He looks up and finds Dustin and Lucas sitting down, “eh just my-“

“His baby….cousin” Gareth

“His…cat” Jeff

“I don’t know who we’re talking about are we even sure it’s a she?” Grant

Eddie rolls his eyes and pointedly stares at Grant, because, what the fuck kind of excuse is that? He looks between the two freshmen and thinks ‘at least it’s not Wheeler Jr.’

So he clears his throat and catches all of their attention, “Gareth’s right, she is my baby….cousin” both Gareth and himself had a ridiculous long pause between the words, “she’s sick right now and only so many people can hold her”

That seems to hold them over and he eats his lunch in silence.

Just before lunch finishes, he’s happily resting his head on the table with his eyes closed and listening to his friends arguing over nothing important, when someone taps him on the shoulder, “I don’t care who that is, I’m beat. Go away”

“Munson, come on, aren’t you selling?”

His eyes snap open and he realizes his friends are all quiet, turning around he finds fucking Jason Carver’s crew behind him with Andy leading. “I haven’t sold anything in months, fuck off”

It causes the basketball team to laugh, “what you’ve gone clean?”

He rolls his eyes, “that’s usually what that means. I don’t have anything to give you”

The jocks all glare at him and Andy shoves him into the table, “full of shit” muttered under his breath and all that does, is makes him roll his eyes and hiss when his chest aches.

“Dude, you good?” Grant holds his shoulder, “that looks like it hurt”

Nodding, he touches his chest and winces. Already trying to figure out how to explain that to Steve. “It did, fuck, why did I ever think selling was a good way to life?”

That breaks whatever spell was over his friends, causing all of them to laugh. It’s only Gareth that shakes his head and mutters “all it took was knocking Steve up to get your head outta your ass” to him.

Which, well, he’s not wrong.

Once he’s at home, he finds Steve and Eleanor taking a nap. So, he checks out his chest and he winces at the red mark from the table.

He hears a groan and it makes him drop his shirt, looking back inside the room to find Steve tossing in bed. Peeking at Eleanor, she’s still asleep before making his way into bed, “Hey sleeping beauty” he presses a kiss to Steve’s shoulder.

“Hm, if I’m sleeping beauty, does that make you prince phillip?”

Laughing softly, he grabs hold of Steve’s arm to move him to his back, “hm, I guess it does”

Eddie puts what happened at lunch to the back of his mind and instead lazily makes out with Steve. Because this? This is what he’d rather be doing.

——————

Eleanor starts walking at six months, which is also when Hawkins High unfortunately finds out what happened all those months ago.

Steve and Eddie aren’t embarrassed, they aren’t ashamed either. They just like having their privacy and enjoying life without all the expectations others had for them.

Their friends had suggested bringing her to the park and so, the six of them made their way to the only baby friendly park in town.

They’re an odd looking bunch, so almost immediately people notice them. Eddie is holding Eleanor’s hand and helping her walk and Steve is in front of them encouraging the little girl to move towards him. Their friends are all cheering her on.

It’s when Steve catches her and spins around while pressing kisses all over her face, and the praise, “my baby is so smart, gonna make all of us chase her soon!” That really makes those around whisper.

The group is sitting in a circle on the grass, trying to get her to go to each of them when Dustin and Lucas spots them on their bikes. Their friends nearly crash into them, “what the fuck dude?”

Both Dustin and Lucas have no words, they just point towards the group and they hear the giggles from Eleanor as Eddie presses kisses all over her face before letting her go and standing her up.

“Is that, Eddie?” Mike looks so dumbfounded, then his eyes go wide at who Eddie drags into his lap, “is that STEVE?”

“Eddie knows Steve?” “didn’t he leave town?” “Whose baby is that?”

Will is the only one that moves towards the group and it isn’t until he’s half way over that his friends follow over, catching the attention of Eddie and Steve. Eleanor wiggles out of Jeff’s hold and crawls over to her parents, Steve scooping her up easily as the four boys stop next to them.

“Aren’t you guys a little old for this type of park?” Gareth raises an eyebrow at them, “isn’t the age limit 5?”

Eddie giggles and looks up at the younger teens, “what’s up little sheep?”

Mike is just openly gaping at Steve, who’s swaying slightly and holding the baby as if he’s been doing it his whole life. Dustin is the one that points at the little family and cutting straight to the point, “uh, what? are you guys like a couple?”

It makes all of the older teens burst out to laugh, Steve hides his face by the little baby while Eddie is nearly falling backwards at how hard he’s laughing. It’s neither of the young parents that answer, instead it’s Grant, “Eddie and Steve are the absolute worst kind of couple. I swear it’s like they’re already mated sometimes”

It clearly blows their minds because their eyes widen and all the words die on their tongues.

Steve glared at Grant, “I already told you! We can’t, we both have to be eighteen!”

The rest of them roll their eyes, while Jeff leans over and poke at his cheek, “Ellie here would say other wise”

It brings a full blown blush to both their cheeks.

“Is- is she yours?” It’s Will that says this, he’s also blushing. He seems to be the only one to get out of the shock. The other three is still frozen with their mouths dropped at Eddie and Steve and Eleanor.

Steve sighs and looks between the boys, “Yeah, she is. I had her just before the school year started.” Eleanor lets out a whine, causing him to look down and he patted her back before look at his watch, “and it’s time to feed her, so Eds and I gotta go.”

The younger teens saw the rest grimace before standing up, Gareth helping Steve stand up while Eddie jumped up afterwards, “it’s been fun, young sheep.”

The five friends just know, come tomorrow, Eddie and Steve will be the talk of the school.

——— The next day ———

It’s nearly the second Eddie enters the school that eyes are on him. He doesn’t know how or who, but it’s definitely been said. It’s out and the only thing he’s happy about is that Steve is no longer in this school. That he’s at home chasing Eleanor around the house.

Steve has never admitted it and lies through his teeth when he says rumors don’t bother him, but Eddie’s spent enough time with him and has been told by Janet that rumors definitely do mess with Steve. That it gets to him like anyone else.

Luckily, he’s been the town freak long enough that most things roll off him. So, he’s not at all ashamed when the first set of whispers happen as he walks to his locker.

Somehow he makes it all the way to second period before someone finally is brave enough to actually ask him anything, which is frankly, amazing.

“So, I heard a rumor” it’s Chrissy Cunningham that whispers next to him, and he looks away from the teacher, her eyes wide as she speaks. She actually looks shocked, like she didn’t mean to say anything. He rolls his hand to get her to speak more.

She shakes her head and glances to the front, finding the teacher moving around the classroom. “Is it- true?”

“Is what true?” He’s a petty asshole, he knows exactly what she’s asking.

She opens her mouth, then snaps it shut when the teacher hands her papers. Then mouths, “after?”

Shrugging, he continues on doodling as he blindly grabs the paper from the teacher. Ignoring the annoyance rolling of them.

‘After’ turns out to be as soon as the bell rings, and not just Chrissy is looking at him. But several other people, and unlike Chrissy. They’re not at all ashamed or embarrassed to ask the unsaid question.

“Is it true that you and Steve Harrington have a baby?”

There’s poorly disguised annoyance or maybe disgust, he doesn’t know and honestly? That’s what makes him smirk at them, “Oh, is that the rumor? Well, it seems the secret’s out.”

All of them gasp and he pulls his bag over his shoulder and gives a bow before making his way out of the room with them speechless.

“What did you do?” He grins as Gareth falls into step with him, “I know that look all too well, Eddie”

He laughs and throws his arm around him, “Oh my dear Gareth, someone has loose lips and Stevie and I are the talk of the school” he fakes a gasp with his hand against his chest, “and you wouldn’t believe it! I didn’t deny it”

Gareth just shakes his head and doesn’t question him, which is a nice change to the whispers.

He gets asked the same question five more times between the first and lunch. The younger members of hellfire all question him the minute he sits down and he’s surprised to see them whispering between each other at first.

Then, as he’s listening to Jeff gush about Eleanor and Gareth explaining how much of a helicopter parent Steve can be, someone taps on his shoulder. He has a very good idea at who it is and he’s already grinning that manic smile that usually scares people away.

His friends’ voices die down as his eyes land on Nancy Wheeler.

“Is it true? Did you really get Steve pregnant and are now parents to a baby? Is that why he disappeared?”

She’s looking at him with the same determination like the week before when she was trying to say he wasn’t good for Steve. Like she knew his boyfriend better than him.

“Stevie and I are the proud parents of one six month old baby.” He says simply and then points to where Mike is, “Little Wheeler saw yesterday. She’s very much real, and no, Stevie never disappeared. We just don’t go to many places.”

Nancy isn’t the only one to grow silent, that’s when he notices so many eyes on them. He’s not surprised, it’s a little disappointing he wasn’t standing on the table for this.

“Six months?” Nancy whispers, “is, is that why he wouldn’t-“ she snaps her mouth shut and he notices the freshmen all widen their eyes.

Before he could ask what the hell happened just now, Gareth clears his throat and points at a very disgusted looking Jason Carver. He grins, hops up on the table with a point, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’d like to address the rumors going around. For starters, I’d like to say that I’m so glad Stevie is no longer here, because all of you are fucking assholes, and secondly, those rumors are completely true. Not that any of you needed to know”

He jumps off the table and grins a little too crazy at Carver, “would you like something, Carver?”

The other alpha snapped his mouth shut and curled his hands into fists, spitting out, “you really are a freak, and you made King Steve one!”

His mood is instantly changed and his friends all widen their eyes as his scent is immediately giving away just how pissed off he is.

The whole cafeteria is silent.

“What was that? Did I hear you correctly?”

His words are nearly whispered, his face not giving anything away even with his scent betraying it. He narrowed his eyes at Carver, who is stuck still. Either from realizing how much he screwed up or by Eddie’s completely pissed off scent.

Eddie can handle rumors, he can handle people talking about him. It’s simple and he’s built up enough tolerance for it that everything rolls off him easier.

But speaking about Steve?

Yeah, he can’t handle that.

Someone could drop a pin and everyone would hear it as they watched Jason standing over Eddie. Still frozen while Eddie slowly stood up, using his height to his advantage.

“Speak about me all you want, Carver. I don’t give a damn, I know I’m a freak. But do not speak about Steve. I will make your life a living hell if you do” he whispers as he stops next to him, “I’ll be that little devil worshipper you truly believe I am, I will.”

It breaks the spell and Carver hightails it away with one last glare and the rest of the cafeteria comes back to life with whispers and laughter. Eddie just sits back down and controls his scent, his friends all staring at him. Only Gareth getting up, squeezing his shoulder before walking away with a promise to be back.

The rest of the day passes by without anyone else questioning him. There’s definitely whispers still and stares, but no one is brave enough to say anything to him.

Which he is so thankful for.

He’s making his way to the drama room, absolutely dreading hellfire mostly because it means another hour or three away from the two he really wants to be with. Sighing, he pushes the door only to be met with a squealing and the very noticeable scent of lemon and honey.

He’s met with a sheepish Gareth standing next to a grinning Steve, Eleanor already in Jeff’s lap trying to grab his dice.

~~~

I’m gonna end it there, the secrets out! Everyone knows of the cutie we all love Ellie 🩷

I have a little bit more written out, so nows the perfect time to give me some ideas for what else I can add to this! I haven’t really thought out where to go with the party or involving anything with the upside down. This was only supposed to be a slice of life fic between Steddie & their daughter. But maybe I’ll add a few more parts if people want it 😊 also let me know if you see any typos or mistakes lol

Taglist! @spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @zerokrox-blog @callme-keys @maya-custodios-dionach @rajumat @yellowdevilkitten @munsonfamilyband @steddierthings @tartarusfairy @mx-jinxous @zombiethingy @lunaticmarunatic @carlyv @thelittleclare @estrellami-1 @epiclazershark @bookworm0690 @forest-fogg @flustratedcas @p0lybl4nkk @tiny-enthusiast @a-gae-af-racoon @blackpanzy @marvelmwah @malicia62 @solliesolesito @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus

[ask-jake-wilson]

y-yeah, I get that… but I still do wanna know what happened. I-I wanna know where my family is.. the. The other one.. but.. I know my mind is just trying to protect me, but, I still wanna know what life I left behind when I took this one.. I love you guys, no doubt. But.. I just wanna know what I left, and maybe figure out WHY my body has the reaction to being away from it.. but, we’ve kept moving, and I’ve died like, four times. So I uh… haven’t had too much time to think about it. So I… I might just abandon that endeavor. I don’t even remember any NAMES from then. You had a name to work with… I don’t. It’s. It’s scary. N-Not to downplay your experiences and trauma.. but it’s still terrifying.

And… that’s horrible. Your last memory being of the person you searched for, for like, months, no?.. and the fact you thought of yourself of a monster because you couldn’t see him grow up… dude, imma be honest, I barely know how old I even am..

-🔑

(Once again, I’m so sorry for the bricks of text. It’s just. AUGH. ALSO THE FACT JAKE TRUSTS THEM IS. HDEHFH. THEY TRUST HIM SO MUCH TOO LIK LIEK-)

“Kid, I hope you know. If your mind blocks something out, it’s probably for the best. You may want to go searching, but I don’t think you should. Your mind wants to make sure you’re fine and safe. You may want and want but it’s probably for the best you forgot. Harsh? Maybe. But it’s for your safety. Fucked up. But, still.”

[Jake stretched!! Wow his bones POPPED. Old man.]

“Yeah. Last time I remember seeing him he was probably 2 years old. That’s all I remember. I barely remember my time at Fazbender’s so.-“

[he shrugged. He’s.. trying!]

[felixcloud6288]

Higurashi: Curse Killing Final Chapter

In the intro poem, Frederica Bernkastel talks about herself and several others being trapped in a maze. Of note, the person who knows they're in a maze but doesn't know there's no exit is referred to as "he". I guess "he" is Keiichi who's been trying for three arcs now to figure out what is causing all these terrible events.

Everyone else just lives their lives oblivious to the maze they're trapped in.

And the story as a whole has escalated from the death of a few friends to the death of several villagers to the death of the entire village.

On the one hand, shock would probably make it hard for him to process the situation even when he sees the body bags and the corpses packed into the trucks. On the other, I feel like the buildup to everything was longer than it should have been.

Like, it shouldn't have been gentle. We should have seen Mion or Rena's bodies being packed into a body bag. The story should have slapped us in the face and said 'Yes. Everyone is dead!" and then we get the shots of the hundreds of body bags and the news reports about the disaster.

And then Keiichi freaks out when he remembers that he wished for the death of Hinamizawa.

That one line from the personnel with Keiichi as he passed out "It's not okay for life to die", I don't know why, but it resonated with me.

And some things of note in the death list:

Jirou Tomitake is not his real name

Chie and Kameda (The guy from the baseball game) died in an accident in the mountains.

Teppei is still not reported dead

Shion and Kasai (Who we haven't met) died two months later at the hospital

The very last part of the chapter is like something you'd hear on a conspiracy theory true crimes podcast. A bunch of dudes would be talking about Hinamizawa and claiming it was some government conspiracy and the government killed all these people and claimed it was a gas leak cause government gonna government and this was actually to hide the aliens or something.

And then they'd bring up Keiichi and be all "There was one survivor Keiichi Maebara, who died four months later" "Of course, the government wants to keep him silent." "And he never testified about the disaster" "Oh he probably did but the government came in and stopped any testimony from getting out there." "Or so we thought cause in 2003, a tape recording believed to be an interview from November 1983 was found. Here is that recording."

I kinda want to see if it would be possible to trick an actual conspiracy podcast into thinking this was a real thing that happened.

I was going to mention this in the spoiler section until it got brought up in the chapter itself. Yeah, Keiichi should not be alive if Onigafuchi swamp released enough gas to asphyxiate an entire village. Carbon dioxide is heavier than air so it can be trapped in lower areas. And Keiichi was at the bottom of a ravine so the gas should have settled around there first.

And that reporter did not escape Keiichi's curse. It took 12 years but he drowned just as Keiichi said he would.

At this point those true crime podcasters would be freaking out and be like "Yo, this ain't aliens, it's ghosts! The governments trying to hide that they made contacts with ghosts!"

In chapter 5, Rena asked Keiichi how would he react if the village was destroyed in a volcanic eruption and he was the only survivor. She was trying to make him understand that he should cherish the fun times he has with his friends because those days will end eventually.

It's almost ironic what ended up happening though. An eruption did destroy the village, but it didn't mark the end of Keiichi's happy days. His happy days had already ended so he let the village be destroyed.

back

Spoiler Discussion

I'm making a lot of conspiracy jokes, but there is definitely one here.

Alongside what the interviewer mentioned in the chapter, I also want to bring up how Keiichi had apparently attempted suicide in August. Do you know what else happened in August? Shion committed suicide.

And isn't it interesting that Chie and Kameda died in an accident trying to evacuate from the disaster? People from the nearby area had to evacuate as well but isn't it quite the coincidence that someone from the village ended up dying in an "accident".

What I'm getting at is everyone connected to the village died. I bet Shion and Keiichi didn't attempt to kill themselves in August. Someone tried to get rid of them, but medical staff found Keiichi before he was killed.

[deada55]

"Mandy's Intro" from Being There

for kloktober day 9: inspired by Dethalbum IV ("Mutilation on a Saturday Night"

This is a WIP for a future chapter of this fic, where we figure out how Nathan made his way out of his parents' house to start his life as a struggling gig musician with whale ESP.

tws: puke mention, nausea

Harry's house stayed a hotbed for parties since his mom's sister had this horrible accident that melted her hands off (something about the cleaning chemicals at the bar where she worked and the deep fryer.) His mom and dad went to Leesburg every other weekend to take care of her and her six or seven kids, leaving Harry’s house empty and free for raging in twice a month. Today, he'd gotten someone to bring their subwoofers, and someone else brought a keg, so everyone in their high school who went out and half of the neighboring counties’ stock of underage drunk dudes came out to play beer pong and shout over each other.

When Nathan had gotten there, most of the team was standing around the kitchen island trying to gather up people for shots, but Chris saw him first and pulled him over for a "shot" that was a double or a triple of white rum in a solo cup with some girl’s lip gloss on the rim. And he wasn't a pussy. He took it with them, played a couple games, made a couple shots, and returned to the "bar" to empty out a bag of ruffles. Hopefully, it sat better than dinner had, but he'd had this migraine for a day, and it wasn't going anywhere.

The noise in the room made it feel better in a weird way: he had something else to think about, even though the little party strobe light in the corner with the princess stickers on it was painfully blue in his peripheral vision.

He overheard a conversation between Brendan and Brandon, who'd played on the team with him all four years: Christ got into Alabama on a scholarsip. Just when he'd turned to go stand against a different wall, he got roped into a conversation about greek life that was more about looking at the person who was talking than trying to understand anything of what he said. Jack was probably just full of shit anyway. He liked to impress people like that from time to time, even though it was his cousin who was going to college in South Carolina, and it was him who fucked his ankle up practicing some of the sorriest, limpest field goals ever attempted. He might be right, but he might not be, and that's how it went half the time with Jack.

He turned to Nathan and hooted. "Me, I'm applying in the spring. Hey, what are you gonna do when you graduate, huh? Get a job?"

"Yeah." Not really. Waiting tables relied on your memory. Driving a forklift at the factory wasn’t safe when he still had migraines bad enough to make you see stars out of nowhere. He didn't really want to work for his own dad after all, but if it really got down to the wire, he could. Maybe. Until he ran him over with a forklift or something. Then he’d be shit out of luck and a dad.

He'd been in a couple bands since Junior year, and he could try and do gig work, but that wasn't a way he could support himself alone, was it? Even fast food sounded like a bad idea. Jobs worked like credit scores, right? The more that kick you out, the less likely you are to get one, right?

High school felt like one big fix. By the time he stopped worrying about puberty making him a funhouse-mirror version of a man, with gangly arms and bad skin– By the time he was adult enough to accept it, he was dreading "growing up." Every May, every "last" football game, every birthday was just taking him closer and closer to not knowing how to answer everyone’s questions about what he’d grow up to be.

And now that he'd ended up ruining their chances at states by getting a concussion just when they had the game in the bag, he felt too sorry for all his teammates to hope that they'd forgotten what he did. Even if they acted nice enough tp his face, what did they think then? Huh!

Every morning, he woke up in his room while everyone else was in class and laid there to keep the pain in the very middle of his face as plain pain, not whatever the doctors called "an aura", or the reflex to puke hard enough to burst blood vessels in your eyes, not like getting drunk or eating shit at Epcot all day and letting that shit go on Abraham Lincoln or whoever. What kind of fucking life was that? Going to school was his only job, and he sucked at it.

It would end someday, someday soon. Right?

He drifted off to another wall, the one by the staircase, and a girl with two french braids stood too close to him on his left. On her tiptoes, she tried to bring herself closer to his ear.

"You're Nathan, right?"

"Yeah."

"I hear you give pretty good head."

"Yeah?"

He kept his face still. Rolling his eyes at her wouldn't do much of anything, and on second look, he was pretty sure she was a softballer from Enceeiyesse High School, and with biceps like that she should be pitching. Not all the pitchers were lesbians–

"What about it?"

"Uh... Me too." She stood back and made a little pose with her shoulder pressed to the wallpaper, bending over the chair rail. Her bright white makeup set off her eyes, glowing in the dark like a dog's. A cute dog. She had pretty, round, light brown eyes that she flickered from his belt up, doing a couple complete scans while she flicked her braid over her shoulder and pretended to look for her friends.

He leaned down closer to her ear to see how serious she was.

"Wanna fuck?"

"You got a condom?"

Usually he’d lie, but Romy already got that volleyball girl pregnant… and by now she’d be due in April. Something like that. The fear was renewed among all the football players.

"Yeah." And he did always keep ‘em, throwing out the old ones from his wallet the minute the package looked rubbed.

Her arms wrapped around his waist, closing the couple inches between them, and that's how he ended up on Harry's parents’ bed with this girl, so nauseous he could taste it, he could fucking taste it no matter how hot she was or how she mewled when he touched her and how soft the inside of her mouth was on his thumb. While she brushed her lips over his, every single memory around how to be a person scrambled to assemble into a coherent whole…

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

stillness is the move

One year after the true end, Sunny returns to Faraway Town.  A late addition to #anotherSTweek! ~11k words of wholesome sunkel silliness. (i’ve had this series drafted for a while, but everything feels bad & i just. didn’t have it in me to post. but i do think there’s value in taking respite in escapism, so... sunkels, come get ur serotonin! i'll be dropping an update every day for the next week.)

Day 1: Waiting

There’s only four days until Sunny comes home. To Kel, it feels more like four years. 

It’s been a whole month since Kel last made the trek out to Sunny’s new place in the Glittering Harbor. (Of course he’d like to visit more! But it’s kind of a haul. You have to take a bus to a train and then transfer to a different train, and then walk three-quarters of a mile just to get on another bus. Unless you’re Aubrey, in which case you bike the whole way from the station while acting like everyone else is a total sucker for dropping a buck fifty in bus fare.) 

Unfortunately, Kel was never very good at waiting. He used up a whole life’s worth of patience in the four years he spent moping around Sunny’s porch, talking to a door like a total loser. 

Fortunately, Sunny’s getting better at texting. 

Kel whips out his phone and checks the forecast for the millionth time today. It still looks good. Clear skies and temps in the high 80s, with humidity that’ll make it feel like the low 90s. Which sounds good to Kel! But Sunny never liked the heat. 

…It’ll probably be fine? They’ll just have to spend his whole visit splashing around in the lake. 

Kel taps out a few quick texts.

[dont forget 2 pack ur bathing suit!!!!!! gna b HOTTT!!!!!!! ☀️🔥🌶🍳🥵🥵🥵]

[but if u do forget its cool u can just borrow one of mine!!!!! hehe]

[....or basils lol. i think 4 u my swim shorts might be swim Pants]

Not even a minute later, his phone buzzes. It’s Sunny. 

[🐳]

Warmth builds in Kel’s chest. Every time Sunny takes the time to look his way, it makes Kel feel ten feet tall. He stifles a whoop and picks up his pace, loping down the sidewalk in long, bounding strides before hooking a right toward home. 

A year ago, if you tried to tell Kel that Sunny was gonna start answering his texts—not just eventually, but promptly!—Kel would’ve laughed in your face. Even six months ago, it would’ve been hard to believe. To be totally honest, for a few weeks after Sunny moved away, it looked like he was just gonna disappear again. 

But Sunny’s trying. He’s trying really hard!! He’s careful with other people’s feelings in a way he never used to be. He looks at the people around him and actually tries to figure out what they want, even if he is still kinda bad at it. Probably ‘cause he used to be such a brat. 

…Okay, so maybe he’s still kind of a brat. But that’s part of his charm! And it definitely feels different than it used to. It’s like Sunny’s… a little less careless, or something. More thoughtful. Less selfish. And every so often, he’ll open his mouth and say something so incisive—so unnervingly emotionally attuned—that he almost sounds like Mari.

Aw, man. Kel misses him so bad.

He can’t help himself. As soon as he’s scrambled upstairs and into his room, he pulls up AIM and hits Video Call. 

###

Sunny picks up on the third ring. That’s new, too. Sunny never used to pick up when anyone called. He looks a little flushed, like the call took him by surprise. 

Kel beams at him. Sunny parries with a disapproving glare. 

“I know!!!” Kel laughs. It’s true. They both know that Sunny hates phone calls. “I’ll just be a minute, I swear. I’m just too hyped to type, y’know? And I guess I kinda wanted to hear your voice.”

Sunny quirks an eyebrow. 

“Pfff. Okay, but you know what I mean, though.” 

Sunny tilts his head, conceding the point. 

“And it’s been, like, a million years!!!!”

The obvious lie finally pries Sunny’s mouth open. “...Four weeks.”

“Since we came to see you, sure. But since you came here? C’mon, dude! That’s way bigger!!!”

Sunny’s mouth tugs down. Oh, Kel realizes. He’s nervous. 

“Not in, like, a scary way!” he rushes to explain. “Just, like… you know. I know the Harbor is home now, too. But this is, like, home home. This is where it all happened!!”

Sunny’s face darkens. 

Shit. “Not like— I just mean!! All the times we swam in the lake, or… snuck out to go to Hobbeez, or got our butts kicked for taking the last slice of watermelon. The good times, dude! This is where the magic happened!! We’re, like, getting the band back together!!”

Sunny takes a moment to consider that. “Basil said they’re closing Hobbeez.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” When Kel saw the notice, he was ready to set up a lemonade stand, or a petition or whatever. But Pedro said the sale had already gone through. It was up to the new owners to decide what to do with it. “Anyway, that’s all the more reason to get psyched! We gotta give it a proper goodbye!!”

“A viking funeral,” Sunny says sagely.

“Yeah!! Wait—no. We can’t set it on fire. Were you gonna set it on fire?”

Sunny shrugs one shoulder. 

“Pffww— Sunny!!! You can’t set the strip mall on fire!!! That’s where I get my groceries!!!”

“It’s not like it’s hard.”

“I don’t mean literally!! I just mean—” But that’s when he notices a familiar gleam in Sunny’s eye. That’s the one that means he’s laughing at you, not with you. “Sunnyyyyy!!!” Kel flops back on his bed. “You’re messing with me!!!”

Sunny grins wickedly. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

(i tend to get squirrelly about 'self-promotion' etc so I can't promise to do the social media thing for every update, but u can always find the latest on ao3!)

[my-brothers-corrupted]

"So, it's been a full four hours now," says Chase, checking his watch. "Are we still fighting?"

Henrik tilts his head at him, sighing and slumping back in his chair. "No. Let's just talk about it."

"I don't know, man," laughs Chase. "I'm not sure I want to hear your opinions on this any more."

Henrik plays with his glass of water, letting the ice clink. "Even if I admit I might be... a little jealous of Ash?"

Chase lights up, shaking his head at him. "You bastard. Only took you about two fucking years. Dude, I make lots of time for you, don't I? I just - "

"It's not that," Henrik holds up his hand to pause him. "It's not because she gets your time or your focus or already knows what you like as well as you do. It's because she's what I said - she's normal, and I'm never going to be. Hearing Cedar talk about outsiders - I guess I learned that from Anti, that outside people weren't safe. That normal people are boring and can't understand us, and we need to keep our distance. And that's what I've done. I've spent the time since we got away from Anti just... trapping myself in the house. Like you said, in my safety bubble."

Chase groans. "No, Schneep, I - I shouldn't have said what I said. I should have supported you when you said you wanted to go to Peru. Of course you have to do that, and if you can get out of that bubble, that's great! The truth is, I've been, uh. Feeling sensitive about Ash because... last month, Stacy gave me my wedding ring back, and now I've been thinking about the future a lot. And how you don't like her, and maybe that means I should end things. You do know me better than anyone. And if you're going away for six whole months... what if you're not here to help me figure out what I want?"

Henrik looks at him, aghast. "No, I... I just wish I... I wish I could be a normal person, that's all. You can decide things yourself."

"I don't want you to be anything other than who you are. And I don't know, can I? I've made some terrible fucking decisions about girlfriends and friends in the past. Sometimes, I only feel safe at home too."

[megabunnie]

It took over four months of non stop applying, but my first interview in a decade went really well. It's not much, 3.5 hours a day, four days a week for less than $15/hour, but it's a little bit of cushion, and it works with my schedule for child care. The woman that interviewed me didn't look down on me for spending the last decade and a half doing unpaid labor for other people, which I was happily surprised by.

Things have been so bleak recently. I've been stretching the money as thin as I can and robbing Peter to pay Paul. I've been strategically using my overdraft for over a year now. Between over due medical bills and getting hit with extra expenses, and all the shenanigans with my bank and card, it's been really fucking hard. The ends are getting further and further apart.

I'm hoping to qualify for a medical study to bring a bit more in. If I could figure out how to do it and I thought there was a market for it, I'd sell feet pics and used panties. At this point there isn't a whole lot I'm not willing to at least try to do to dig us out of the current hole we've sunk into. Especially considering it's almost entirely because of MY medical bills.

We're financially responsible people. My spouse has a decent job, $22/hour. We don't buy things that aren't necessary out side the occasional splurge on a treat at the store, and nine times out of ten its for the kids. We don't take big trips. We don't buy the newest trends or electronics. We never have. We plan for months and sometimes years for purchases bigger than $100. We don't buy basically anything new. Not even for the kids. For fucks sake, I plan groceries around the sales and do the math on gas to figure out which stores to go to in what order for the highest efficiency and savings. I haven't bought meat that isn't on discount in over seven years. We dont buy alcohol or cigarettes or weed. Weve never used drugs. We've never been in trouble with the law. Yet here we are. Straining to make ends meet and buried in debt. Because I got sick. I'm still sick. I will always be sick. I can't afford my medication and copays, even though we have the "good" insurance. Going to the doctor literally takes food out of my kids mouths.

I'm not new poor, either. I grew up poor. Pre 2008 we were poor. Like, the only food in the house was from the food bank, electric off, wash your clothes in the tub with dish soap or shampoo, sometimes just water. Stole toilet paper from the gas station. Hid food from my school lunches in my pockets and back pack to save for later. We made it work. We also were eligible for assistance. That's what saved us growing up. I've done this for 30 goddamn years.

Just my spouses income puts us $27 over the income limits for any of it. Twenty. Seven. Dollars. They don't make that much, especially not now that theyve cut the raises to every other year instead of annual. It was usually 10 to 15 cents. It's still 10 to 15 cents.

No snap benefits. We have insurance through spouses work, but the copays and prescription costs are too much. Can't afford to send littlest dude to pre-k because we're over the income cut off. The frustration is real. I just secured childcare so we can have me work - and thats way underpaying the woman doing it, but it helps both families, and even with me working we still can't afford to put him in pre-k. Limited availability hasn't helped me finding a job either. I'm damn lucky to have found this one and it took months and a fucking miracle.

I'm so damn tired. We're gonna make it work.

[atlas-of-the-universe]

Causing a Scene

Word Count: 20k, so it’ll take around an hour to read in full. 

Warnings: MA-rating. Mentions of sex (nothing major until the end), minor creepy dude pinching a butt but you show him, so don’t worry LOL 

Pure unadulterated romantic Loki falling for a mortal. Some protective Loki, lots of teasing.

Authors Note: I genuinely need to make an apology for how long it’s been taking me to chug out some things. I’ve promised you guys over and over again that I would get things out on a certain time, but life and circumstance has made it so that’s becoming quite difficult. I’ll discuss that in an upcoming post. I really hope you guys don’t mind how long it took. It’s a chunk of words. But I worked kinda hard on this one and made sure it was perfect before releasing, unlike my last fic LOL. I also need to mention @writingfics-passingtime​ and @just-another-blog-of-fluff​ for not only encouraging me through this, but giving me ideas and pointers as of how to go about it. They are genuinely not only some of the best authors here, but amazing people in general. Please go check out their work, they have MASTERPIECES. But without further ado, a fic that took me literally 4 months to write. 

<3

   The mirror in front of you seemed to mimick your movements instead of portraying them, as its job entailed. Truthfully told, it didn't look like you. Although you had worn dresses before in your life, this felt wildly different than those times. The past consisted of holiday treats and cheap decorations, a newer, plastic-ey feeling dress purchased from the dusty corners of the discount section. That, or an at-home birthday party that required you to buy an economical cocktail dress that felt way too tight on your shoulders. But this...this was a new feeling. 

It had been almost a year since you joined the Avengers, and your physical tone revealed the difference of an entire year's worth of training. Your arms had become thinner and more muscular, and the same could be said about your legs, you noticed as you turned your hips to look at yourself in the mirror. The dress you wore swayed along with your movements, the red sparkles of the fabric already coating your room in a light dusting of shimmers. The chiffon draped to the floor elegantly, the wine color a stark difference against the light-colored carpet of your room. The material separated into two pieces on the skirt's right half, the slit of fabric combining again mid-thigh. Hugging perfectly to your waist, the dress's bodice was dotted in tiny rhinestones of the same merlot hue. Today, you were taller than you usually were as well, your height being exaggerated about four inches by the heels you wore that were just a shade lighter than your skin. It was the first time you had seen yourself in something so elegant in a long time. Long enough that it was difficult to recognize yourself in the mirror. 

Tony was bright enough to not have the fundraiser at the Avengers compound. Having unknown faces in unfamiliar places was too precarious. Everyone who knew about the compound needed to be known and kept track of; otherwise, the team's lives would be put in jeopardy. He decided to hold it at a shockingly large banquet hall in New York City that had a stringent dress code. You could only imagine the cost. Luckily the price didn't bother him enough to hesitate on purchasing the team their formal attire for the evening. The fact that he had personally picked this dress out for you skeeved you out just a tad, but you had to admit, he had done an exceptional job. A billionaire knows what billionaires would like, you supposed. What better way of getting other billionaires to donate to charity than having America's heroes look their sharpest? 

"Well, well, well," Natasha crooned from the doorway, practically appearing out of thin air with a playful smile on her face. She had a bandage dress close to the color of yours but brighter, hugging her figure down to just below her knees. Tight sleeves extended from the deep v-neck, coating her arms in rich velvet. Her hair was expertly curled into thick and wide waves, auburn hair complimenting the color of her outfit. She looked stunning. "Who are you, and what have you done with (Y/N)?"

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, albeit the fact that you agreed with her. You fiddled with your dress's sleeve that ended just at the edge of your wrist. Although you knew how beautiful you looked, some part of you didn't feel like yourself in the dress. The way you were just allowed to be a part of such a prestigious group of individuals felt the slightest bit fraudulent. You were the newest. "I know," you said, glancing up at her. "I don't even look like myself."

Natasha knew you better than you thought she did. She stepped into the room, the sound of her own heels being muffled by the carpet. She put her hands on your shoulders gently, and you followed instinctually to face her. She took your wrist, folding back the thin sleeve a little, and repeated her actions on the other hand as well. "It's a part of the job," Natasha stated, steeling her face into the cold agent she was just for a second before softening her features again. "You're still saving lives. The funds from tonight are going to help the Sokovian victims for a long time." She smoothed her hands along the outside of your arms, checking you over before stepping back again. 

"But a dance?" you complained. "I'm an Avenger. I can't dance."

"It comes easier than you think. There's always some guy with an ego big enough to dance with a pretty girl."

"Oh? Does Bruce even have an ego?"

"Watch it," Natasha warned, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. "He's a scientist. They all do." She took a step back to admire how well you cleaned up, nodded, and walked back to the door frame. Her heels clicked against the metal of the bunker floors, and she turned around to face you. "The limo leaves in fifteen. You should finish up whatever you're doing." 

"Wait," you called as she turned her head to face you. "I guess Wanda's not coming tonight, then?"

"No," Natasha said solemnly. "This would have been too much for her." 

As the sight of Natasha grew dim down the corridor, you found yourself alone with your imagination once again. You had been formally invited to several different fundraisers before, but nothing entirely of this caliber. Thinking about it, it seemed you were the only one who had not attended a fancy party among the team. Natasha's words rang out in your head; it's a part of the job. Even the non-earthlings would be attending, and they've had their fair share of fancy parties, considering they were from royalty. Speaking of the brothers, you made a mental note to tell Natasha about Thor's plan to ask her to dance so she wasn't caught off guard. Even though she was the most confident one on the team (aside from Tony), she still was just as human as the rest of us. The image of it made you chuckle. Thor dancing with Natasha, what a sight that would be. But who would you dance with? The barren truth was that you had little idea what you were doing. 

You peaked in the mirror one last time, fixing your hair and wobbling on your heels to the door. The hard surface was easier to walk on, but still, it took you a second to catch your footing. It was nearing midday, so the sun was high, the compound windows fluttering with the speckled light of the leaves falling to the Earth. Fall in New York seemed to last longer than any other season, especially upstate. As you walked, you laced in a trial of a confident strut, swinging your hips with a little more intent than usual. It felt unnatural, so you stopped and continued down the halls to where the limousine was waiting for you. 

The clicking of your heels called to your attention as you stepped into the compound lobby through large double doors. The team was grouped in the center of the room, a stark (pun intended) difference from the maintenance crew and office outfits scattered amongst the room. The team was standing in a messy circle. However, most of them were carried off in their own conversations, their eyes occasionally darting up to scan their surroundings as a habit from years of training. Natasha was amongst them, catching your eye as you stepped through the doors. Her arms were crossed, the color of her dress complimenting the fiery shade of lipstick she had applied in the short time from when you had seen her.  You cleared your throat and smoothed out the front of your own, walking up to the cluster of agents. The closer you got, the harder your heart pounded. Although you weren't nervous around the team, you found yourself feeling a little out of place. The anxiety of how people would perceive you rushed around in your head, and suddenly, the dress felt all too tight. 

As Natasha's gaze caught your own, Bruce turned his head to follow her stare. His features softened upon seeing you, and he smiled. "(Y/N)," he said as you approached. "You look great."

You breathed a hollow laugh and dipped your head, your gait slowing a bit. "Thanks," you said with a small smile. Even though you had integrated yourself into the group, the feeling of isolation settled back into your bones as Bruce and Natasha resumed their conversation. You weren't offended, of course, but you knew that these types of things came effortlessly to them, and if they didn't, they didn't show it. The air of confidence radiating around every one of them was impressive, if not intimidating. Thor, Tony, Steve, and Natasha all had their natural certainty about them but were joined by the rest of the team in their outfit-encouraged assurance. You had to admit, you could understand why. The crew cleaned up remarkably well, and their actions mimicked the fancy quality of their clothes. Even Peter looked more confident than he usually did. Pepper, who was dressed in a brilliant blue sheath dress, adjusted the knot of his tie closer to his neck as Tony patted him on the back a little too hard and said something to him, but the insistent chatter in the broad space made it difficult to hear.  There was a chittering of laughter off to the side; Thor emphasized a particularly boisterous point with his arms as he told Clint, Steve, and Bucky a joke. But still, there was one person that, amidst the crowd, you still couldn't find.

"Do you guys know where Loki is?" You blurted out, accidentally interrupting Bruce in his relatively soft-spoken conversation. 

"Oh, um," Bruce turned his attention to you and lifted his head to scout the room. "He definitely came in before. He was one of the first people here." 

"Watch your six," Natasha said, nodding her head behind you. When you turned to look behind you, you saw Loki standing off to the left side of the room, leaning against the metal walls with his feet crossed and his hands in his pockets. His eyes were trained onto you, sending a chill down your spine. Well, maybe for reasons more than that. 

You hadn't ever seen Loki in anything other than his Asgardian armor and the business-casual clothing he wore. Loki had always stridden with an atmosphere of cockiness, his head held high and the same, characteristically impish grin set upon his lips. He hadn't strayed from it today, but the suit he wore put a little flutter in your chest. The suit and suede dress shoes together highlighted his lean frame and accentuated his height. Supposing you didn't know who he was, you could have incorrectly labeled him as one of the unusually handsome CEOs wandering the compound, waiting patiently for their meeting to start. The hair above his ears had been tied back into a flat-looking ponytail, the rest falling in thick whisps to his shoulders. With a signature flash of green embezzling his tie, he stood up straighter as you turned to approach him. 

The banquets and elegant celebrations that Loki and his brother had attended were practically no comparison to any of the parties Stark hosted. He, not unlike yourself, had never participated in the gaudier end of the billionaire's events. Even back in Asgard, Loki was never really one for parties unless they were his own, and even those festivities felt somewhat burdensome. Since his destruction of New York, it had been challenging to find the time and place for Loki to join, not that he even wanted to. There was always the risk of being recognized by the general public. Still, Stark had assured him that this was a ball for a select number of individuals and that the danger of being exposed was significantly reduced. Did it actually assure him? Of course not. Was there a reason he was going? Only one. 

Conjuring up an outfit after completely ignoring the one that Stark had paid for, Loki decided he would get to the lobby earlier than the others. It was a way to get away from the hustling business of the compound halls, the lobby significantly less busy during this time of day. It would only be a matter of time before the crowd and the rest of the Avengers had shown, but it was nice to have some peace and quiet. As a janitor eyed him, wheeling his ridiculously squeaky cart from hall to hall, Loki found a bench to sit down on and crossed his legs, his mind falling into a semi-aware space. You had mentioned the other day that you hadn't attended any events such as this one. While that was not shocking, he found himself curious about what you have done. Had you ever danced with someone before? Were you the type of person to jump at the call of the buffet, or would you wait until the line had died down? The thought of you dancing seemed to cloud his mind entirely. More specifically, the thought of you dancing with him. The idea that you would dance with someone else burned in his stomach, and his upper lip curled a bit as he swallowed his irritation. He found himself disgruntled at the fact that his chest would tighten as the image of you looking up at him during a dance swelled his mind. 

As the Avengers began shuffling into the room in pairs, Loki nodded to some of them and stood to have a brief conversation with his brother before he stepped away to speak with Steve. The sight of Earth's warriors dressed in outfits far above their complexity of work was a bit impressive, but as Agent Romanoff stepped into the room, he felt a little disheartened, having fully expected you to come in after her. A few tense moments of bitter disappointment followed, but as the double doors to the main room opened again, his dejection washed away as quickly as it had grown. 

With your head held high, your hair falling delicately to your shoulders, he realized for a moment that he had never seen you with your hair down. Nor had he ever seen you dressed up. The sophisticated dress gave you a dangerous look as if you played the part of a spy even in your downtime. The dress fluttered as it caught the draft of your pace, highlighting just how well the bodice conformed to you. You walked with intent, clutching a little handbag close to your abdomen as you kept your eyes to the ground on your way to greet Natasha. You weren't always this timorous. In fact, in the time he had known you, he grew to understand how outspoken you were, a trait that Loki was appreciative of. Even though he was especially good at reading disturbances, it was always better when people were outright with it. Less time wasted, he would say to himself. 

Loki had decided that he would play a subconscious game with you, his eyes following your movements. He watched you tuck your hair behind your ear and determined that he wouldn't be the one to move. He would let you find him, let you make the first move. This was a simple game, of course. A game you didn't know you were playing. A game that subtly lets Loki read you a bit better. Loki ultimately won as Natasha locked eyes with him, her lips curling into a sly smile. She nodded in his direction, and you subsequently turned around, replacing his attention back with yours. For a second, you continued your ongoing tête-à-tête, but he found himself pleased that your eyes never left his. He made no move as he leaned against the wall and no inclination that he intended to do so. You took the bait and said a final word to Natasha, walking the twenty feet that separated you.  

The closer you got to Loki, the more he seemed to sparkle. Whether or whether not it was an illusion put on by clever tricks of magic slipped across your mind but did not stop your breath from catching in your throat. You swallowed a bit and slowed your pace. 

"I'm surprised to see you here," you said.

"Trust me, darling, not more surprised than I am," Loki stood up straight and let his gaze cast over the group of Avengers. "I've never been one for these things." 

"Neither have I," your voice lowered and followed his eyes. "Are you worried about people or just...party stuff?" 

He scoffed, "If I were perturbed about the opinion of others, I wouldn't be standing in front of you."

"Fair."

The slam of car doors outside caught both of your attention, and Tony began to talk a bit louder, shuffling his way to the front of the group to start to lead them outside. You looked at each other before slowly turning around, following the scuffle from a distance. Loki's finger's laced together in front of him, and you clutched your handbag close to you. 

"And what of you?" Loki asked. 

"Huh?" 

"The party. Are you nervous about the people or...something else?"

You smiled a bit, dipping your chin down to your chest. "It's a fundraising ball. I haven't even been to one of the smaller fundraisers that Tony's had."

Loki pursed his lips, catching sight of Tony as he stepped into a long limousine. The wide-open door of the car lit faintly with the dull luster of LED lights inside the cabin. Sam stepped inside and walked with a hunched back to the right, disappearing out of view. Loki opened his mouth but hesitated, debating if relating to you was the right thing to do. "If it consoles you at all," he justified, more to himself than you. "Neither have I."

You looked up at him, catching the way his jaw tightened. He could feel your eyes on him, but his ego kept him from down. The crowd slowly shrank smaller and smaller as you stepped outside, eventually being ushered into the limousine as well. The

raw air nipped at your ankles for a fraction of a second before you stepped into the car. The inside of the limo was decorated in sharp-looking, matte black upholstery. The dim red light of the LED strips overhead cast a faint glow over the group's heads, illuminating both your and Natasha's dresses. In front of the seats that bordered half of the car, an expensive-looking bar twinkled with freshly clean glassware and several bottles of champagne coated in gold foil, a white 'Louis Roederer' spelled out on the label.  Loki followed close behind you as you squatted to sit closest to Thor, Loki grunting uncomfortably as he squat-walked to your right. The leather cushions were softer than you would have expected, and you sank into the seats, both of the brother's arms positioned above yours in a feeble attempt to be comfortable. Loki chuckled at your squished look and reached over to wiggle a finger into your side. You jumped, blushed, and swatted at Loki, all in that order. 

"Sorry, love," he chuckled. "You make it too easy."

"Shut up." 

Tony spoke to the driver about something, muffled by the chatter of the others. When he was done, the window to the driver slid shut, and the car shuddered to a start. The shift in the car's momentum pulling off put Thor's weight against you and your weight onto Loki. For a second, you caught a whiff of a warm, woodsy scent as your shoulder pressed into his side. Was Loki wearing cologne?

"Jesus, Stark, you couldn't have made these seats any bigger?" Bucky groaned from in between Steve and Sam. Sam frowned and shoved his arm above Bucky's, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

"I feel like a sardine," Sam said, frustratedly nodding.

"Well, you smell like one too," Bucky quipped. 

"Really, man? Is that what we're doing? Why can't--" 

"You shouldn't have brought up that--" 

"Alright, boys," Natasha scolded. "Enough." 

Their argument died down, replaced by dejected scowls and tiny shoves. It reminded you of brothers, and part of you wondered what they would look like as brothers. It wasn't difficult to imagine Bucky as an older brother figure, especially with his and Steve's past. However, Bucky had the identical 'protective older sibling' energy that Sam seemed to harbor, the more you got to know them both. Those energies pitted against each other produced snarky attitudes and semi-aggressive taunting, a clear example being what you had just witnessed. 

"Ah, it's not so bad!" Thor exclaimed, his shoulder squishing both you and Peter into the seat. Now that you looked at it, it only looked like Tony, Pepper, Natasha, and Bruce were sitting comfortably, each having the correct amount of space to breathe. 

"Easy for you to say," you jested, your voice straining as you struggled to hitch yourself above Thor's arm. "You're the biggest one in here." 

"Is that (Y/N)?" Peter's voice called from the other side of your human obstacle. As Thor chuckled, Peter did his best to lean his head forward, looking for you. "I didn't even know you were in here!" 

"No, well," you grunted. "I guess you wouldn't."

You could hear the light tinkling of the glassware being toyed with. Out of your sight, Tony poured champagne in Pepper's glass then passed the bottle to Natasha. Tony bared his teeth and frowned in a guilty expression, doing his best to ignore the complaints from around the vehicle. 

You laughed humorlessly and pushed against Thor's arm. "This is ridiculous." 

Although Loki was not particularly bothered by your complaining, he found himself becoming a bit restless, cramped in a small space with a group of his former enemies. "If you're going to fuss so much, perhaps my brother would assist me in boosting your mood," he played. Loki watched with a grin as your face morphed from annoyed to sheepish in a fraction of a second. As if you couldn't be forced more into the seat, you sank a little. 

"What, do you have any road-trip games we can play, Mr. Loki?" Peter asked before Thor could speak. 

"Yes, dear boy, it's called the quiet game. I believe you can guess the rules," Loki quipped, resulting in Peter letting out an awkward, breathy laugh. 

Peter cast a look that could only be described as 'what the hell is his problem' at Tony for a quick second before getting distracted by a town sign that the car passed on the road. He was particularly intrigued by the little town called 'Hope,' saying it sounded like something from a comic book. Unfaithful to your predicament, the Town of Hope only seemed to mock your circumstance. 

Loki looked down at you, lodged between his bicep and his brother's side. The tiny amount of space made it near impossible for both your and Thor's bodies to fit adequately. Hence, Thor's arm hung over half of your body, effectively smothering you. Loki watched how you occasionally renewed your spouts of energy, pushing against his brother's arm, trying to position yourself in the seat that left you the slightest amount of breathing room. The hand closest to Loki's body was relatively free of constraint, although his frame was still packed tightly against you. His brother's lack of spatial awareness was significantly less refined than others and infuriating to his victims, whether it was at Loki's expense or not. You were quickly very conscious of the limited amount of room you had to yourself and even more so of the fact that there was a metaphysical timer ticking down until you reached your destination. Your stomach dropped a bit as you realized you were driving into New York City. That had to at least be a four-hour drive, more if you hit traffic. 

"Tony," you said in a strangled voice. "How long is the drive, anyway?" 

Tony frowned and looked up, counting numbers in his head. "Give or take three and a half hours. Don't be the first person that has to pee on a trip. No one likes that person." 

"What? Since when?" Bruce asked Tony, a hint of offense lacing his voice. 

"Since I said so. Now! Just a heads up: the hotel is right across the street from the venue, so whenever the fun turns into an old lady's tea party, you can skedaddle if you want. Just don't leave until eight. I promised a few donors that we'd be there until eight." The finality in Tony's voice left no room for discussion. Truthfully, a party that lasted from four in the afternoon to eight wasn't the worst thing you've ever heard, although a bit long when you thought about the grand scope of four hours. How much can happen in four hours? 

Your thoughts were cut off guard by Loki's fingers squeezing the muscle on your knee. You jumped and stomped the foot of your assaulted leg, making Loki chuckle. 

"I was getting at something before I was interrupted," He said. "No matter. I was simply going to ask my brother if he would like to assist me in making this car ride a little more bearable." Loki's eyes left yours for a brief moment to catch a side-eyed glance from his brother. It was challenging to see Thor's face from where you sat, but you saw a glimmer of a smile tug at the corner of his lip before he turned his head away. 

"Loki, back off," you said, but before you had a chance to readjust your position for the thirteenth time, the weight of Thor's arm against your chest doubled. You debated biting Thor's arm for a moment to teach him a lesson about personal space but decided it wouldn't be the best course of action. "Thor, buddy, come on," you smacked his forearm a few times, elbowing Loki a bit in the process. You wondered if the other Avengers were watching your predicament, and simply the thought of the other's eyes on you made you blush. 

Though the weight had yet to decrease, Thor's head turned away from you, and you heard his voice catch a conversation separate from your situation. Ignoring the sensation of panic rooting itself in your chest, you pushed against Thor's elbow and hoped for some consequence. Instead, you felt his muscles tighten as he pressed against your hands. Something clicked. He was doing this on purpose. 

Loki had been all but silently watched you the entire time during your struggle. Your hair flipped a bit to the side, some whisps clinging to the color on your lips. Your posture had stayed as exceptionally straight, and poise as you usually held it, something impressive for his brother being practically on top of you. Even so, both of your arms were pinned above Thor's bicep, leaving you precariously exposed. Loki bit the corner of his lip, his stomach tightening at the thought of Thor being so close to you. Too close to you. He caught himself in his thinking and hastily glanced around the room to see if anyone could see his shameful envy but trained his vision right back to you. He had not seen Natasha's eyes watching the interaction, a sly smile vanishing from her face as she returned to her own escapades. Loki had not been honest with himself about the nature of his feelings. Exacerbated by the immensely seductive and threatening air of confidence the dress appeared to give you, Loki found himself needing to swallow a lump in his throat whenever his eyes caught your body. You were truly radiant. Your gaze matched his for a fraction of a second, and your eyes widened, a timid smile adorning your face. His heart fluttered, but he morphed his expression to display a cocky grin. He leaned down to you, not a very far distance, but still enough to be uneasily close to your ear.

"Forgive me, but it looks like you're in somewhat of a bind. You might want to be careful, or someone might make use of it," the god of mischief said, pinching your side a bit between his thumb and two fingers. You jumped and coughed to cover up a surprised laugh.

Looking up at Loki's killer smile sent shivers down your spine, and you rapidly became aware of just how much leverage the brothers had over you. Knowing that the brothers had done something like this to you before meant that they wouldn't hesitate to do it again, and that thought put you on a very steep edge. 

Loki noticed the way your eyes scanned the room as your crisis deepened. Although he kept the smirk on his face, he faltered. It wasn't difficult to tell that if your so-called weakness were to be exposed, your anxiety would lay in the judgment of others. Any other day, he wouldn't have cared much about it and would have tickled you to pieces then and there. Now, although his ego was too great to admit it, he was nervous to touch you. You seemed delicate. Deadly but fragile. You were a toxin sitting atop a high shelf, contained within the bounds of thin glass walls. 

And he was intoxicated. 

Loki cleared his throat and retracted his hands. Thor eyed him skeptically and released some of the pressure on his arm but still held firm, even though you protested and pinched him. Loki's gaze flitted from you to the surrounding vehicle and fell back to Thor. The brothers gave an almost imperceptible nod, a mutual understanding that only could be understood by blood. 

Thor shifted and took a deep breath, continuing a conversation that you had failed to listen to. "Well, we all know that childhood was not the easiest for all of us," he said with a sad smile. 

"I don't know, I had a pretty easy-going life as a kid," Bucky shrugged. "It wasn't until Uncle Sam over here decided to join the ranks that shit hit the fan." 

"Come on, Buck," Steve said, rolling his eyes with a cynical smile. "It's a damn good thing I decided to join or--"

"Yeah, you wouldn't have been able to keep those bullies off your back, huh?" 

"Ah, shut up." Steve shook his head, and Bucky chuckled. 

"You sound like a fine pair," Thor smiled warmly and gestured to them. "Loki and I growing up were usually at odds, but there were plenty of fond memories as well. Can you think of anything, brother?" Thor's specific emphasis on his brother's name caught your attention, and as it dawned on you that they had hatched some sort of plan, your stomach rippled with nerves. 

Loki smiled and dipped his chin in a blatant imitation of humility to you and Thor, but it was a "genuine" reflection of the past to anyone else. Loki softly chuckled and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands animating his story by his face. 

"Asgard is unique in its ability to cultivate some of the Nine Realms' most potent healing fruits and medicinal herbs," He began. "Fields filled with trees bearing fruits of every color, all gleaming brilliantly as if they were made of gold. Thor and I would play with the other children in these fields. One day, we came across this grove of apple trees that we hadn't seen before, and naturally, we got curious. I dared Thor to eat one, and he did--"

"Loki, tell the story right," Thor scolded. "You held a knife to my throat and threatened me to eat it."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, either way, he ate the apple. Once Thor had proven that the apples were safe, we all began climbing the trees and eating them. Little did we know, those apples were enchanted with a compliance spell. Asgard laces these fruit into particularly stubborn prisoners' diets to calm them down and make the truth more pliable. We must have eaten two trees' worth of fruit. The rest of the day, we told stories under the shade of these mystical apple trees. Our dreams were filled with fantasies beyond your wildest imaginations. In all sincerity, I found the dreams to be the most enjoyable. Days and nights passed us by, but we paid little attention. We were so engrossed in our stories that we began crafting our own when we finally ran out of them. The elders came looking for us after three days."

"Oh, were they ever mad," Thor commented.

"Quite. Not only were we missing for a substantial amount of time, but we had successfully devoured Asgard's entire supply of some of its most potent weapons. We were none the wiser." 

"Aye, and it lasted longer than just that day as well. Brother, I'm sure you remember what happened to your magic." Thor waggled his eyebrows and earned an eye roll in response. 

"It was an embarrassment," Loki sneered. 

"Loki was caught in Odin's chambers by none other than Odin himself. What were you doing, again? Trying to steal some, er...chest plate or...?"

"For your information, it was the same armor that Odin bore in the Æsir–Vanir War. It would have sold for a glorious sum." Loki paused and glanced down at you for a fraction of a moment before looking back to the group. "And the only reason he caught me was because those damned apples prevented me from using my magic or being dishonest. I told him right then and there what I was doing. From that day, I vowed to never lie again. You can tell how well that exactly planned out."

There were a few scattered laughs and sardonic scoffs resounding through the cabin. At this moment, Loki sat up straight and, without taking his eyes off the group, reached over to your knee (which were well concealed by Thor's legs) and began to squeeze the muscle above your knee-cap. Though his hands were over the fabric of your dress, the material was thin and did little to protect you. You jumped and held your breath, kicking out at the little shocks traveling up your leg. Giggles immediately began bubbling in your stomach, and you broke from sheer surprise, laughing and pushing harder against Thor. Loki withdrew his unseen assault and sat back, feigning surprise at your outburst. 

"My, agent, I knew I was funny, but I didn't expect such a boisterous reaction," he said, falling back into his seat with a frustratingly smug smile. 

That bastard. He had waited for the perfect time to enact his little scheme and still managed to embarrass you without giving away your secret. Part of you wondered if you should be grateful that he did it out of the other's sight, but the other more defensive part of you was busied attempting to form an excuse for your eruption. As you glanced up at his devious gaze, you caught a certain softness in his eyes and decided against bantering at this moment. Not only did he have a significant advantage over you, but the dress did little to aid your full scope of movements. 

"Oh, you know me, Loki," you said, half sarcastic, half strained. "Always a great sense of humor." 

From that moment on, the car ride became a little easier to bear. Loki's story had sparked another conversation amidst the group and Peter, who emphatically told stories about his childhood before the spider bite. Clint mumbled a joke that you could barely hear, and everyone besides you and Loki laughed. Thor had since removed the weight from his arm, and you figured whatever tricks they had in mind had ended with the last effort. However, as the indistinct jokes made their way through the car, an empty, hollow feeling filled your stomach. 

While Loki couldn't exactly make out what was being said either, he wasn't paying enough attention to care. His eyes watched as your eyes fell to your hands in your lap, twisting a steel ring around your right ring finger. You fiddled with it absentmindedly, your smile twitching every few moments upwards as you listened halfheartedly to different conversations.  All of the Avengers had a band similar to this one - almost like a mark of loyalty, Tony had handed them out at one meeting, flaunting the tracking devices and other expensive gadgets embedded into the metal. Loki had also received a ring but decided to keep it in his pocket-dimension and out of sight. It felt more like a symbol of status rather than a generous gift, and while he was grateful to be acknowledged as part of the team, he was still too stubborn to display it. 

There was a distant look in your eye, and the pauses of silence rippling through conversations exposed your gloomy frown. Seeing you so downtrodden stirred something in Loki, almost to the point of anger, but softer. Before he had a chance to stop himself, he reached his hand over to your lap and draped his fingers gently over yours. 

Loki's hand felt cold against yours, and it pulled you from your thoughts. 

If the world had stopped spinning or the crew had stopped their chatter, you wouldn't have noticed.

Some hours later, you had barely noticed as the car drove into New York City. What gave it away was Peter's excitement about finally being home. The traffic gradually increased, and the roads narrowed, moving under bridges and through tunnels you had once been able to recognize. It had been so long since returning to the city that you surprised yourself when you knew the name of the street you were driving on. Everywhere your eyes touched, billboards illuminated your vision and advertised some show, product, or insurance that you couldn't have cared less about. These things all seemed so minuscule in the grand scheme of...well, everything. 

From the time you entered the city, it took about forty-five minutes until the limousine pulled over, and it halted to its final stop. Tony wrapped on the shaded window behind him, and it slid open. Holding a dollar bill through his pointer and middle fingers, he slipped it through the gap, and the glass subsequently slid shut. 

Tony clapped. "Quick few rules. If you're going to drink, fine, but I don't want my sponsors knowing how slobbered some superhumans can actually get. Just don't puke on anyone. Be nice to them, please, okay? They already did the speeches, so all we have to do is mingle. And lastly, don't accept any drinks from strangers. Alright, kiddies, let's get out there."

The outside of the venue was nothing to sneeze at. Through a vast, almost chapel-looking stained glass window, you could see the silhouette of what looked like to be a crystal chandelier, giving a mysterious and intimidatingly elegant look to the brick structure. The buildings in New York City always looked cramped together, but all the facilities held some variant of the same story within their walls. A writer desperate the find their meaning in a studio apartment; a fancy restaurant or hotel to attract particularly well-endowed travelers (though the owner himself is almost always an outsider); the coffee shop or corner store that only a few people visit in a given day; the audio and radio shops desirous of drawing in any customer in a given radius for cheap supplies. They were all the same. Yet somehow, even amongst everyone who held the duplicate titles of "trying-to-survive-the-world-on-their-own," you felt isolated. Your job put you on a pedestal made up of dead humans and aliens alike, and simply being invited to a party of this magnitude felt selfish. 

Loki was the first to step out of the car, as he was closest to the door. He didn't wait for the driver to open the door for him and opted to let himself out of the vehicle. You followed suit and hunched your body as Thor lifted his arm. The brisk evening air of the city clutched your ankles, and you quivered, letting your heels support your weight on the concrete sidewalk. Stepping on the grates of the sidewalks would guarantee your heels to catch them and would result in a stumble, so you decided to linger closer to the building as the others stepped out of the car as well. While the temperature outside wasn't completely unbearable, with the thin clothing covering only the necessary parts of you, it did nothing to conceal your shivers. 

Loki stepped over to you as the other began their hustle out of the automobile, his hands in his jacket pocket, his chin dipped a bit down. He took his place parallel to you and watched as Bruce shut the door of the limousine behind him. He caught the eye of a few inquisitive bystanders who roamed the sidewalks but found himself paying them little mind. In all the time Loki had gotten to know your traits and personality, this was the timidest he had seen you. Your arms were tightly crossed, and your gaze locked on your teammates, occasionally glancing at the decorated individuals making their way up the steps to the ballroom. Goosebumps were coating the exposed part of your shoulders. You were trembling. 

"It might have been wise to bring a coat," he commented with a teasing smile. 

You humorlessly chuckled. "We'll only be outside for a few more minutes. I've handled worse."

Knowing he would get nowhere with you, he sighed and analyzed your face, which gave no hints as to breaking your stubbornness. He sighed and pulled his hand from his pocket, waving it in the air for a brief moment. The air seemed to respond to his movements, and before you had any chance to protest, your shoulder was shrouded in a green light that traveled up your arms, leaving a cream-colored fabric that fell just above your hips. The cloak's collar was made of an invaluable feeling fur that hid your neck from the elements of the autumn air, the wool of the coat protecting your painted fingers from the breeze.

At first, you had gasped, startled at the sudden weighted warmth that enveloped your shoulders, but looking at Loki with his smug smile only dissuaded you from scolding him. In reality, it was dangerous for him to use his magic in the middle of so many people, but you knew that he understood that risk. You turned your head towards the steps of the building (mainly to hide the blush that found itself on the apples of your cheeks) but found yourself drawn to the front doors of the venue. Endless people flowed in and out of the building, and you wondered how many people would be attending the part for its entire duration. 

"You know," you said, turning your gaze back to Loki. "It's not safe to use your magic so publicly."

He chuckled. "Perhaps. Maybe this world is more used to magic than you know." 

"Maybe."

"Magic presents itself in different ways on Midgard. You Midgardians are quite easily fooled."

You hummed. "I wouldn't say that. I think we just...enjoy the mysterious." 

"As do I. I don't mean foolish as in idiotic. I mean that Midgardians tend to be oblivious to the magic that surrounds them daily. An answered prayer possibly, or a strange coincidence...love." 

You turned to him to catch his gaze, but his eyes fell somewhere else. "Are you calling me 'love,' or are you saying that love is magic?" 

"Love itself is not magic, darling. Love is more of an infatuation riddled with good intentions and heavy sentiments. But...love does have elements of magic if you care to look. When two people catch each other's eyes from across the room, would you call that an odd coincidence?" 

"Probably." 

"Remember what I just told you about coincidences?" 

Before you allowed yourself to say anything, a particularly disheveled-looking man on a boisterous business call came barrelling down the sidewalk. You wouldn't have noticed him at all if it weren't for the fact that he had plowed into Loki. Loki's stance held firm as the man side-checked him, and for a second, your heart caught in your throat. You were more scared for the man's consequences, but Loki's hands never left his pockets, and his stern gaze never left the man's face. Uttering a typical but slightly intimidated New York "watch it" over his shoulder as he stomped away, the stranger made no effort to continue his encounter. 

"Would you call that a coincidence?" You laughed. 

Loki shook his head and rolled his eyes, watching the man as he shuffled down the sidewalk. "Perception doesn't seem to be one of Midgard's strong suits either." His eyes bounced from different billboards plastered on buildings, each of them shifting their advertisements within a few seconds of each other. You smiled as one of the billboards faded to a bright red rotating 'A,' the Avengers logo spinning behind snippets of your teammates mid-action. At one point, you saw a flash of Loki and you fighting side by side together on a mission that you were assigned in Bolivia a few months in the past. You nudged Loki and nodded to the advertisement just as his face faded from the camera and into a bright yellow Broadway display.

"It makes me wonder how they got that clip of us," you pondered and watched as Sam's jacket fluttered from the air as he walked through the door to the ball. The corner of your lip found its way in between your teeth, and you took a deep breath. "I guess we should start thinking about going inside, huh?"

Loki shrugged and tilted his head. "I'm quite content being outside, actually." 

"I know. Honestly, me too." 

Loki glanced down at you, catching the flash of anxiety that crept over your eyes. Hesitantly, he put his hand on your shoulder and met your gaze as you looked up at him. "If it's any solace to you, may I accompany you tonight?" 

'Accompany me' were the first words to leave your lips, your head desperately trying to wrap itself around the idea of you being Loki's date for the night. Was it even a date? Or was this just a company outing? A rather big company outing, of course, but as you saw the sincerity in his eyes, a soft smile replaced your shocked expression. Your heart swelled at the thought of having someone by your side for the duration of the dance, though something about it made you a bit apprehensive. Having a friend at parties such as these was a welcome gift, even though said 'friend' was actually a literal God. "I'd appreciate that," you said. 

Loki's appearance lifted into a bright smile, and he dipped his chin down, the same grin on his lips. Without a word, he put his hand on the small of your back, gently leading you to the bottom of the steps. Even with the magically made cloak protecting you, you could feel the soft pressure of his hand pressing into your skin. It was a welcome touch, albeit a disarming one. 

The life you had led thus far would never have prepared you for such a moment. The constant training, the heat of battle, sweat, blood, and tears donated haphazardly to your life's work held no moment that taught you how to fight your nerves. There had been missions where you would have to imitate a flirty waitress or even the woman on the date, but they were all moments lost in time. You swallowed as the bouncer opened the door for you, Loki following behind. 

The double doors opened into a large banquet hall, more extensive than you had expected from the cramped brick appearance. A piano player was swaying back and forth in his seat in the far right corner of the room, dressed in a full tuxedo and a corsage that looked somehow more expensive than what you imagined his services could have cost. You wondered if he wore the same outfit every night but were caught off guard by a woman in a black vest offering to take your cloak. You politely declined and thanked her as she moved on to repeat her offer to the pair who entered behind you. A quartet of stringed instruments crescendoed in the same corner of the room as the grand piano, triggering a few dancing couples to dip their torsos towards the ground robotically and synchronously. If this place was anything, it was elegant. Everything sparkled, from the frosted look of the dance floor, which took up around half of the room, to a rich man's hairless head buying himself a glass of wine; there was nary a thing that wasn't shrouded in gleams. You tugged the cloak closer to your chest, your red-fingered gloves peeking out slightly over the cover's fur. 

The white marble of the ball clicked against your heels, the sound barely making a dent in the noise amidst the tinkling of glass and chatter of braggarts. The crystal chandelier hung high above your heads, much grander than you had been able to see through the window. The wall adjacent to the window was coated in a mirage of colors, gasoline and water appearing to collide against the cream-colored wall; the chandelier reflected the city's light onto everything you couldn't touch. There was red tapestry with golden trims hanging from every ceiling corner, the drapes on the upstairs windows matching the same hue. Several large round tables with chairs encompassing them took up the other half of the room, each of the mahogany pieces of furniture coupled with red upholstery. The tables were covered with egg-shell linens, with varying-sized candles and fancy mints as the centerpieces. Behind the mass of tables, an extensive buffet accompanied by a bar with several hard-working attendants bustles with life. 

Surrounding the room's perimeter, pedestals displaying different art pieces, each with their own strange haecceity, sat behind a red velvet rope. It could have been a joke if some of these entrepreneurs were smart enough to understand it. Priceless pieces of work, hand-sculpted or painted through painstaking hours, in a room where no one will buy them because they already have too much but are the only ones financially capable of doing so. The rope does little to stop anyone, mainly because no one needs to be stopped. You wondered how many of these Tony owned. Several people waltzed towards you, and Loki guided you out of the way before your staring had caused an accident. 

You glanced up and hooked your fingers around the crook of Loki's arm. The gesture was customary for those attending a party, you told yourself, although your heart began to race. A work party, with work friends, for work-related business. He was warm. You couldn't know if you imagined it, but as you brought your other hand to hold Loki's arm, you could have sworn you felt his elbow stiffen. As you watched his fingers ball into a fist, wonted for a nobleman's hold, you smirked. 

"If I didn't know better, I would have mistaken you for a gentleman," you teased, squeezing his elbow. 

Loki fought the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned close to you. "I'll remind to you watch your tone, darling. You wouldn't want me to make a show of you in public, now would you?"

"Loki," you swatted at him, and he laughed. "God, you know, one day I'm going to get you back for everything."

"Hah! Do you surely believe I would let that happen? That will be the day where I will personally bring you well within inches of your life. You're better off wiping that thought from your consciousness." 

Though your stomach flipped at his threat, you bumped your eyebrows. "Why? Can't handle it?" 

"My, you must have a death wish tonight." 

"Or, you're covering up the fact that you're ticklish." 

Truthfully, it was the first time the thought had come to mind and the first thing you blurted out, but as you saw how Loki's features fell and landed on you with a cold stare, you knew you had discovered something you shouldn't have. Deciding to dig your grave further, you rubbed at his side lightly with your wrist, but he made no move to indicate it bothered him.  

Loki scoffed and shrugged. "You assumed incorrectly, love." 

"Oh, please. I'm not even trying," you said. "I'll have my chance eventually." 

"Don't be so certain." 

Loki led you around crowded tables and dancers to the table designated to the team, some with plates of food and a few others scattering themselves around the room to make small talk. Bruce nodded at Natasha and pushed out his seat, standing up and walking towards the bar, although an iced whiskey idled in front of his chair. Loki pulled out a chair for you, and you thanked him before he sat himself down as well. The party felt smaller in this quiet corner of the room, and you couldn't make out if the feeling in your gut was a good or bad one. On the one hand, the swarm of people dancing obstructed your view of the musicians, something that wouldn't have commonly troubled others; as a spy, the best advantage was being aware of your surroundings. Crowds were easy to get lost in, chaotic enough to cover damage, loud enough to

"Hey," Natasha's cold fingers on the top of yours yanked you from your thoughts. As you looked at her, you caught a flash of concern contorting her face before she let her features soften. "Would you mind going to get me a glass of wine? I sent Bruce over there a few minutes ago, but he's nerding out with one of the sponsors," Natasha nodded to her left. As though on queue, the elderly sponsor conversing about what sounded like microbiology cackled with glee. 

You took a breath and nodded, patting her hand with a smile as you stood. You didn't notice, but as Loki stepped up to follow you, Natasha put her hand up. Tentatively, he lowered himself back into his seat, watching as you regretfully were pulled into the boisterous conversation alone. What you knew about microbiology, Loki had no clue, but your confident air could have fooled the most observant of personalities. Not him, of course. 

The scowl that replaced Natasha's gentle smile meant business; it was not difficult to know that. What could she have possibly wanted with him, Loki wondered. He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. Their body language was not too far off from synchronized, though Loki's was easily more curious rather than the agent's criticality. 

Natasha pulled the whiskey from Bruce's placemat, her nails clinking against the glass as she took a sip. Her icy stare left Loki as she looked away for a brief moment to align the cup's base precisely into the water-logged imprint it had left on the table. 

"What are your intentions with her?" The agent asked bluntly. 

"I beg your pardon?" Loki's face scrunched into an offended glare. The audacity this woman must have had to inquire about his relationships. His private life. Although he found himself putting on a defensive exterior, the energy it had taken to suppress his affections for you had grown exponentially in the past few months; he knew that as a fact.   

"Save it. I've seen the way you look at each other. You'd have to be blind not to pick up on it." Natasha smirked. 

"I suppose you'd be the expert in such things?" Loki challenged, targeting a sore spot in the agent's psyche.

"Cool it," she warned, leaning her elbows onto the table. "I'm not threatening you. Though if you hurt her, I may just have to."

"I believe that is a threat, agent."

"I just want to know what your intentions are." 

"I have no intentions," He paused, glimpsing at your considerate smile amid your conversation. "You sent her away on purpose," Loki concluded, tilting his chin towards his chest. "You didn't want her to be a part of this conversation." 

"No," Natasha confirmed. "I don't care if you admit your feelings or not. It's not my business. But you should know that she's not going to admit to hers." 

Loki debated on disguising his feelings once more but realized its futility. His front had long been exposed. His eyebrows furrowed. "How could you possibly know that?"

"She has a long history. It's not my story to tell, but," She pushed herself away from the table and stood up. "If you honestly have no intentions, then you're already playing with her feelings."

"I am by no means-" 

"I'm just going to cut to the chase," Natasha said with finality in her tone. "If you hurt her, I won't hesitate to kill you where you stand." Without another word nor sound, Natasha slipped away into the crowd of people who danced not ten feet from where the table was set, her near-empty glass of whiskey being the only reminder that she had been there at all. 

The accusation had left a bitter taste in Loki's mouth. The fact that Natasha had been able to read him so quickly... the fact that he let himself be that easy to read, it stirred itself into a large knot in Loki's head. Exponentially, he began to realize just how effortless it was to be softened by one's time on Midgard. Earth had made him weak, and the god scowled at the thought. His brother had gone through the same sort of conundrum when he was first outcasted from Asgard, and Loki had mocked him for it. Ironic, considering there had been a time where Loki protected the one his brother loved. 

Could he even call this love - this rogue infatuation with you? What was love but the fascination with someone who makes you feel at home? Or was it that he had just never been able to experience what love actually stirred inside of its victims? Loki had known several individuals in his life that he had been romantically attracted to, most of them immortal, and yet something was disastrously captivating about you. His head was on a pully system. Loki had been raised a prince; he had danced with many maidens, and all of those maidens he had consequently rejected. Now, here comes this mortal who fights for his enemies, and he loses his speech at your mere presence.  Prior, Loki supposed. What had happened? The second his thoughts would wander, the string wrapped around his emotions would stretch taut, and he would be brought back to the same distracting ideas of your delineation. 

The music crescendoed again, a few brass instruments holding the melody as the crowd responded in time. Some of them even jumped, a select few of them being caught and lowered back to the floor by their partner's hands around their waists. It certainly wasn't the first time he had thoughts like these, his hands holding your body close to his. While these fantasies held true to their name, there were always brief moments in history where fantasies teetered on the edge of being truthful. This was one of those moments, where flashes of magic slip through cracks and crevices, stealing its way into naive hearts. Before, he had described to you that your world had been filled with magic, and part of him wondered if you believed him. A significantly smaller portion of him deliberated if you believed in fairytales.

A bartender ornamented in an obscene amount of brightly colored pins slid a glass of deep red wine to you from across the bar, and you nodded at her with a friendly smile, returning to your conversation with Bruce and the elderly sponsor. Now that he looked at it, the man who conversed with you was not elderly by any means. His hair was thinning and gray, his hands adorned with at least six gleaming golden rings per hand. The man's fingers hung loosely by his side, your dress just blocking Loki's view of the man's jewelry. Loki scoffed and picked up the glass of whiskey, downing it in one gulp. A child could have guessed that Earth's finest liquors weren't enough to even touch an Asgardian's alcohol tolerance, but he felt the need to have something in his stomach other than his nerves. 

The man reached around behind his chair, stealing peaks at your face as the conversation continued. Something about his body language disturbed Loki, mainly because he had seen the same impish behavior in himself once upon a time. The man lifted his fingers and reached to the rear of your dress, gathering his hand and pinching your behind. 

Loki didn't have the wits about him to see you backhand the man yourself, effectively taking care of the problem without anyone's assistance. However, as the man reached up to grab his face where your hand had left a blazing red mark, Loki gripped the man's wrist and tore him from his seat, flinging him onto the ground. In less than a second, Loki had thrown the man onto the carpeted floor with a slamming thud and stepped his left heel onto the offending wrist, holding the man's other arm as he stood. The conniption had captivated the attention of a small crowd, some dancers slowing their movements and hushing their voices to eavesdrop on the disarray. The sponsor cried out and grunted against Loki's weight as he heavied himself. 

"I'll make you an offer," Loki snarled as he pressed his weight down into the man's wrist, making the sponsor splutter and curse beneath him. This felt familiar. "If you leave, you get to keep your fingers. If you give anyone," Loki hardened his grip. "...any difficulties upon your exit, I will not hesitate to take off your arm." 

Okay, maybe it wasn't the kindest thing to do, you argued with yourself as Loki threw down the offender's arm. Your torso was slouched across the bar, a wineglass rim and a smirk pressed to your lips as you watched the scuffle from afar. I mean, he did assault you. Then again, you also attacked him back. Maybe it's just karma. The man pushed himself about five feet away from Loki, his hair disheveled and his shirt untucked. After unsuccessfully pushing himself up a few times, he finally was able to stand himself upright, flustered and offended. For a second, you thought that he was going to try to attack Loki, the way he squared his shoulders and his face beating red. He wouldn't have stood a chance against a God, but part of you wondered if the sponsor even knew of Loki's status. Getting in a fight with an agent of the Avengers was one thing. One very mighty thing, of course. However, getting into an altercation with an Avenger who additionally was quasi-immortal didn't make for a brilliant choice. 

The man eyed you hesitantly. You raised your glass to him, bumping your eyebrows as he mumbled and turned away to walk to the door. Loki stood rigidly in place as the crowd of dancers parted way for the instigator to pass through. Some of them had shrugged and immediately returned to dancing; most had returned to their tables, seeking sustenance after having witnessed something that intense. The bar became instantly busier as a myriad of wealthy individuals thronged to get inebriated. You slipped away between expensive coats back to the table, placing your wine glass in front of your seat. What a party. You haven't even been here for an hour, and you've already caused a bar fight.

"Loki," you called, his attention snapping to you. 

The group of morbidly curious onlookers had since dissipated, leaving him standing between the wooden dance floor and the carpeted dinner area alone. He shook his head and trotted to the table, placing his palms on the back of his chair. "If this was an Asgardian gathering, he would have had his fingers cut off for such an offense. Are you alright?" 

You shrugged, offering a sympathetic smile. "It's not abnormal to get a creepy guy at a party." 

Yes, it was, Loki told himself. The culture shock of these realms was a personal hell, sometimes. "Yes, well, I'm sorry it was you who had to deal with that." 

You barked a sardonic laugh. "All I did was slap the guy. You're the one who knocked a few teeth loose." You paused, running your thumb across the top rail, pulling out the chair a bit. You unhooked the cloak and hung it over the chair, shuddering at the lost warmth. "I guess I owe you a 'thanks.'"

Loki peered at you. "You're not upset?" 

"No, but I'm kind of curious what he would have done after I slapped him," you chuckled and shrugged, looking down into your wine. "Tony may be another issue. He did tell us to be nice to his sponsors."

"I'm sure Stark will understand the circumstances." 

"You better hope so. He's probably going to receive a strongly worded email by next week." 

"I'd bet sooner than that." 

You both shared a short laugh. The party had started to calm down a bit, most of the patrons choosing a meal over their fanciful footwork, but a few couples still swayed together, the womens' rounded dresses ruffling outwards as they spun. You made a move to pull out your chair to sit down, and Loki faltered, a conflicted look set into his brow. The music came to a gradual silence, only the sharp ringing of a violin's highest string echoing throughout the room. As much as he hated to admit it, Natasha was right. It had to be now or never, and if he waited much longer, he ran the risk of hurting you. Though he was not frightened of Natasha's threat, Loki did not appreciate the anger boiling in his gut when imagining himself being the source of your pain.

Meanwhile, the music exploded into a dazzling symphony of strings. It hushed soon after, the tempo of the song slowing.  "Before you sit," he ventured. "While threatening the lives of your foes is fiercely entertaining, we do have another two hours before we're to be dismissed. If you're willing, would you care to join me for a dance?" 

"Oh, Loki, you don't have to. It's really okay," You yammered, your hands coming up in front of you. There was no possible way he was asking you to dance. Sure, he had asked you to accompany him to the ball, but you thought that it had been in passing or a kind gesture to help you feel better. Even so, as you caught the subtle stress that immersed into his brow, it hit you. This was genuine. He was being honest. Your heart thumped in your chest, and you prayed that the flushing in your ears was not apparent. 

"You misunderstand," Loki said and offered his hand out, secretly confirming your suspicions. "I'm sure of my actions." 

A half-formed thought lodged itself in your throat, and your mouth became dry. You reached up and tentatively rested your fingers in Loki's outstretched hand. His fingers folded delicately onto yours, the temperature of his fingers drastically different than your own. The world was slow despite your wine having been practically untouched, but your heartbeat intense. He held your hand with a thin smile, leading you through dancing sponsors to an abandoned spot in the corner of the room. 

As you passed, skirts of varying colors and designed dresses brushed against your ankles. It was remarkable how little attention these so-called sponsors paid to any of the Avengers. Getting through thick crowds should not have been this easy, especially with people of your and Loki's repute...or any of your team for that matter. Despite the fact, you were able to spot a conversation between Sam and Bucky, Bruce and Natasha swaying in the other corner of the room, and Tony introducing Peter to a stranger with large glasses. You even noticed a dejected-looking Thor who sat with Steve at the table you had just been taken from. 

The floor of the designated dancing area bloomed in color as if a craftsman had spent hours painting a watercolored landscape onto the glossed wood. The ground was the only thing you could focus on as he led you in and out of sponsors, weaving through endless people. When you finally reached the unoccupied spot in the corner, Loki turned around with an expectant smirk, your hand still in his. 

"Have you danced before?" 

No. "Absolutely." 

"Then you know the steps?" He approached you, placing a steady hand on your waist, and you instinctually reached your empty hand to rest on his arm. His cologne or perhaps his natural scent permeated the air, and you desperately attempted to feign a composed expression. He slowly lifted your hand in the air, stepping a bit forward. He stopped for a moment and chuckled to himself, cocking his eyebrow at you. "You expect me to believe you've done this before? Or am I making you nervous?" 

"Wh-what? I'm not nervous, Loki." you reddened. Everything was happening rapidly and not fast enough at the same time. Part of you yearned to be closer to him, to press his chest to yours, to feel his frigid fingers tangled with yours. Still, you couldn't move. Was it rude to examine a God's face? Maybe, but his eyes were just as alluring as they were bright, and his skin practically glowed under the room's multicolored spotlights. 

"But, I'm correct in assuming you've never danced," Loki predicted. 

"Yes," you sighed. "I'd be lying if I said I knew what I was doing. I haven't danced with anyone since Carter Gurts in the seventh grade." 

Loki chuckled and dipped his chin to his chest, gently beginning to lead you in his waltz-like steps. "Carter Gurts?" 

"Don't even get me started," you groaned, doing your best to ignore his proximity to you. "It was my middle school formal. He got nervous and threw up," you cringed. 

"That's repulsive." 

"Tell me about it." 

Loki bit the inside of his cheek, studying your features. "I can promise you that we won't repeat that little memory," he laughed. Your face lit up into a bright and cheerful giggle, and you thanked him for his sensitivities. 

He pushed you outwards and wrapped his arm over your head and around your back, keeping his hand in yours. You followed his direction and were taken into a spin, your dress fluttering outwards. When you turned to face your partner again, you tripped on a rogue plank of wood that peaked out just an inch higher than the others. You fell forward, wrapping your arms around Loki's neck to steady yourself. Loki caught your bodice, and you two fell into an embrace. 

"You know, if you hadn't fallen over yourself, we may have been able to pass that off as deliberate," Loki grinned. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

Norns, you were beautiful. 

Your eyes glistened as the light of a yellow spotlight coruscated over your forehead, fading into the sea of colors behind you. Loki wanted to stay like this forever. Why did he feel like he had lived this moment before? How warm you were compared to him and how soft your hands were compared to his calloused skin. It was ironic, considering how much dirty work you had to do as a spy. He wondered if you noticed, but you didn't, nor did he feel how your body trembled. Your smile had turned his words into sticky sweet syrup, but he refused to rid the taste of you. It was as though all those stories he told as a child had come to reality, fables of finding love and princesses in different worlds. Those apple trees had borne more than just their fruit, uncovering glimpses of his future love. Archaic swatches of color mingled around each other in passing visions that he couldn't make out. All he understood at the time was that those perceptions had somehow comforted him. Now, he understood that he had seen you. 

There were certain things that Loki had taken pride in - one of those things being that he never made the first move. But here and now, as he fell deeper and deeper, he found himself desperate to explore you. He took his hand from yours and reached to your jaw, gently tracing along the bottom of your cheek. He outlined your chin and hesitated over your lips with his thumb. You were so tempting. He faltered, placing his palm at the base of your neck. 

The piano and orchestra had long fallen into the background noise of the party, though sometimes the music would increase in volume and disturb your thoughts. Now was not one of those times. Loki's lips brushed against yours, and as the music crescendoed for the final time in the song, you closed the short space between you, sealing the kiss. You debated pulling away for a moment, but feeling the passion and drive behind his kiss, you allowed yourself to sink further into the heat of the moment. Butterflies spurred to life in your stomach. Loki's lips were softer than you would have imagined, and you felt the heated gust of his breath against your skin. He was the first to pull back, but he remained close to you, cupping your jaw in his hands as the music stirred into what felt like a celebratory chorus. He rubbed the edge of your cheek with his thumb and gazed into your eyes.

"You're as red as your dress, darling," Loki quipped, his brow turning inwards. 

"Can you blame me?" You reached up and put a hand on his. "Is this really how you feel?" It was a question that may have been interpreted as insecure, but you couldn't care at this moment. You had spent countless amounts of time pondering over these types of possibilities. Falling in love, dancing, even sheltering a (substantial) crush on Loki. Never in a million years did you think it would actually happen. The trickster's eyes had always given away his secrets; you had been able to learn his mannerisms and some of his 'tells' from the sheer amount of time you two spent in each other's company.  Standing in front of him with his eyes more avid than you had ever seen them, you finally let down your guard. 

"I think a better question is if you feel the same way," He removed his palms from your jaw and placed them both at your waist, staring eagerly into your eyes. 

"I would have left if I wasn't feeling it, Loki," you laughed. 

"So then you did?" 

"Did what?" 

"Feel it." 

In all reality, there wasn't a need to put your feelings into words - that could be saved for a better time. You nodded at Loki, the elated grin you wore answering every question he needed to know. He quickly took his hands and placed them on the sides of your head, bringing you in for a chaste kiss. 

Who were you two but oil and water; both inherently deadly from two different worlds with individually unique lifespans.  How the universe could have arranged something like this to happen was something foreign to you. Every moment in time had aligned for this to be a reality, a thought too implausible to even discuss. 

He replaced his fingers on your waist and squeezed, lifting you up and twirling you around him. In an entirely involuntary response, you squeaked and tucked your elbows, giggling as his thumbs dug into your sides. The sudden motion set Loki off balance, and he struggled to put you down softly instead of dropping you. Shit. This was not the place. The severity of the situation dawned on you only milliseconds earlier than Loki, and a conniving grin replaced his solicitous look.

"Uh oh," Loki tantalized, refreshing his grip on your torso. With his thumbs perched at the sides of your belly, he dug in the slightest bit, and you jumped at the same time your elbows fell inwards. "Are you alright, love? Something bothering you?" 

"Loki, not right now," You scolded him, failing to conceal your silly expression. "We can't--" 

"Draw attention?" Loki interrupted. Leaning close, he brought his forearm around your back, pulling you as tight as possible. The light and dainty music, obviously made for a romantic type of dance, was the perfect excuse to have you as close as you were to him. "My dear, this party was held with the intention of showing you off. You truly think I care about a bit of an audience?"  His whispers were hot in your ear, and goosebumps dispersed over your arms like the cape he had conjured for you.

"Okay, you may not, but I do," You giggled, putting your hands on his chest to push away. You did your best to dispel any lewd thoughts that came up, but his chest was substantially firm behind your touch, and you abruptly realized that you didn't want to move.

"How foolish to think you have much choice in the matter," He taunted, his fingers now skittering to life and scratching at your lower ribs. Attempting to cover your giggles with a cough didn't do as much as you had hoped. His proximity to your body prevented you from moving either forwards or backward, as his forearm had tightened behind your back, forcing you to press into him. 

"Wahait, Lokhihihi!" You halfheartedly pleaded, twisting your torso a bit to see the other patrons. Luckily, no one had paid any attention to your laughter, too busy with their own to focus on someone else's disorder. 

To your chagrin, as you turned, Loki took the opportunity to walk his fingers up to the base of your armpit, scribbling in the hollow space with a wicked grin. You were instantly thrown into hysterics, your arms coming down to your sides in defense. As much as you did your best to hold in your noises, every few seconds, you'd chortle louder than you had intended. Some people would occasionally throw snide looks your way but return their attention in moments.   

"You do realize that this is payback," Loki noted. 

"Whahat?! Fohor- fahahaha - Shit, Loki!" 

"That little stunt," He emphasized his point by pulling you tighter against his body, shaking two fingers against the edge of your upper ribs. You squeaked and dissolved into helpless giggling. "...you drew in the hallway before. Trying to tickle me - the god of mischief, of all people. And in public, might I add. It's a shame, really," Loki baited, trailing his hand down and pinching at the meat above your hip. "You are so intelligent, and yet you do such stupid things."

You bucked against him, the fabric of your dress limiting any protection against his fingers. There was nowhere to go that he would allow, and the reality of the power he held sank in. As your laughter grew in volume, so did the heat that ran over your cheeks. "N-nahahaha...NNG! NOHOHO-" As to hide the violent eruption that echoed over the orchestra, you buried your face into Loki's shoulder, still fumbling for a desperate grip on his skittering hands. It was the only thing you could think of to muffle the racket as he turned his attack to the sliver of skin where your side met your back. Your laughter was nearing desperate, and your urge to scream only heightened along with it. 

"Careful, darling," He whispered, stilling his fingers. His words were betrayed by the smile lacing his diction. "Don't want to cause a scene, now do we?"

"It's your fauhault that I am!" You mumbled into his chest. 

A dark growl of a chuckle escaped his sigh, and he coiled his assaulting arm around you, holding you close. Embracing Loki felt like two worlds colliding, something strange and beautiful but deep-seated and dangerous. His touch was powerful and hungry. He bore years of solitude and loneliness under his nails, all crashing down into one hug that was sure to be among others. You knew that he had missed years of feeling the closeness of intimacy, and truth be told, your situation was not much different. Those years, poisoned by fragments of shattered memories, had hardened you beyond reason. There would be one day when you were able to explain what had happened, but not even you were ready to face those recollections just yet. For now, your mind was occupied by his presence. 

Loki intertwined his fingers between yours, pushing your right shoulder out, and your arms stretched tautly but never severed the connection. The song that played was recognizable, some alteration of Pachabel's Canon in D that the piano took melody on. Your body floated through the notes, spiraling back into his hold once again, his arm enclosing you. His breath on the back of your neck pierced your skin, but before the chills had fully erupted, Loki lifted his arm that was still wrapped around you, forcing you into a frail spin.

When your chest collided with his, you bit the corner of your mouth, desperate to lean forward. The tension between you two was visible, and faster than you had intended, your lips pressed into his again. Heaven was either tellurian or somewhere tucked away in Asgard, and his hands on your hips confirmed that paradise could never be found at home. Not allowing yourself to dive too deep just yet, you pulled away, his head hesitating to follow your lips as he gazed at you. The longing in his eyes burrowed far into you, and you smiled, reaching up to take his jaw in your hands. How kind and loving he looked at you as if one glance could hold a thousand words, or though your fairytale had woven itself into the pages of real life.

"Can we just leave?" You said fervently. "I don't want to be here much longer."

He caught the pangs of longing in your stare and smirked in response. "Desire me all to yourself, hm?" 

"Don't be ridiculous," You groaned and sucked your teeth, trying to hide the blush from creeping onto your face. Even though you had feigned defensive, Loki had called you out, putting your thoughts that you hadn't even pieced together on a bold display. It wasn't that he was right...but he certainly wasn't incorrect either. The thought of having Loki alone was enticing, and he was the only one who could get you to admit it. 

Though you both had undoubtedly had enough of the gathering, Loki had mentioned Stark's makeshift "party guide" that kept you confined to the grounds until eight. Time had been swept by the rather eventful evening, but you were still an hour away from being dismissed. That meant more time striking conversations with sponsors...or worse, you thought, having to deal with the crew now that both of your feelings had been publicized. The floor had been mostly abandoned, save you and a few stray couples who mingled rather than danced. The sun had cast an amber hue over the furniture and faces, some portions of the room painted in a discolored brown as the stained glass windows mixed with the sun's natural vibrancy.

The hour had not taken as long as it felt, and you were grateful that Loki had taken control over most of the conversations. It must have been a miracle or at least inside-knowledge that he would be attending, as most patrons didn't bat an eye when giving his two cents on specific subjects. All the while, Loki would keep a protective hand around your waist, never breaking his concentration from his discourse. Several speeches were given in the final hour, mostly droning orations congratulating Tony on the proceeds raised. While the number had been shocking to hear at first, you pondered how much money could actually be spared from these people. The thought nauseated you, and you turned your head away from the lengthy addresses. Not ten minutes away from eight, Tony placed his cup down on the bar counter with a thud, leaning over and falling into a drunken giggle. Pepper was barely a foot away, attempting to pull him out of his seat with pursed lips. 

You nodded at him as his glass fell to the floor with a crash. "Wasn't he the one who told us not to get shitfaced? And I thought he told us they already did the speeches?"

"He did," Steve said, taking a swig of his beer from his spot at the table. "Everyone who's been at that podium has had a few. They're mainly Tony's buddies." 

"That explains it," You mumbled and took a sip of your wine. "Are we really the sober ones here? I know you can't get drunk, and no alcohol here that Thor and Loki have is gonna do a thing." 

Bruce scoffed. "You'd think the Avengers would be the real partiers, considering the whole 'saving the world' thing."

"One of us is, that's for sure," Natasha chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at a messy-looking Tony who was being led out the front exit, clinging to Pepper. "I guess we're gonna have to find our hotel rooms ourselves." 

"I think I can actually help with this," Peter muttered, focusing onto Tony and Pepper, who stumbled over themselves as they slipped through the hall's archway. Before you could figure out what was happening, Peter pressed a button tucked close to his wrist, and webbing shot out in a thin, almost transparent line from the opposite side of the table, weaving through the crowd. The spurt of webbing connected with a small manilla envelope in the back of Tony's pocket and stuck, snapping it backward and straight into Peter's hands. He smiled cheerfully as the table watched him, both shocked and impressed. 

"What...did you just do?" Sam questioned, his brow pressed in confusion. 

"Oh, right," Peter quickly went to work, opening the envelope he had stolen off of Tony and spilling its contents out onto the table. Eight pale blue cards slipped out of their yellow casing, each with its own number labeled on a gray stripe. "They're the keys. I think there's enough for each of us, but I'm not sure." 

"What about Tony and Pepper?" Steve questioned.

"Oh! Mr. Stark actually had his key around his neck, so I think these are all ours."

Steve nodded and bumped his eyebrows. "Nice work, kid," he said, trying to hide his surprise.

"That was really cool. Never do it again," Clint laughed and patted Peter on the shoulder. 

"If I may," Loki spoke, casting his glance down to the cards. He looked at everyone at the table, his look holding for a moment longer on you than the others. "There are eight keys and nine of us. Unless Stark had the intention of having two of us share a room, that leaves one odd man out." 

He was right. For the nine people who sat at the table, one of you would have to room together. The most reasonable option would have had the brothers stay together, but as the suggestion exited Thor's mouth and he was given a discouraging glare on Loki's part, the proposal fell short. 

Truthfully, the thought was inappropriate, and the idea of the team's possible reactions coursed through your mind. But even if...it wasn't the worst thing ever. "What if," you began. "Loki and I room?"  Though a few at the table shot wary looks your way, you weren't met with the strong discouragement as you expected. Loki was the only person to truly grasp the arrangement, whose eyes went wide. 

Steve was not one known to be protective in the nuances of life such as these. More often than not, you found Steve taking on a  'DYI'-dad role, using encouraging phrases to help guide others instead of demands. Appreciated most of the time, his suggestions were typically on track with their respective solutions, but as he eyed you from his spot at the table, something boiled in your gut. You knew the team's wary opinions of the god, and when Loki caught sight of the super-soldier's leer, he fought off a snarl. Though the man's following words were easy to predict, it did not stop them from bruising his ego. 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Steve said more as a statement than a question, avoiding eye contact with Loki. The tense silence spoke volumes. 

You pursed your lips, wanting to snap back at him. I think it's really rude that you would insinuate any wrongdoings, you wanted to say; that it was his job as the team leader to accept and work with everyone on the team, even if that meant it included something in their past. Loki had been on the team well before you had, so the notion that you would be unsafe was wildly offensive. Although, you could see where he came from. Steve was the one to see Loki in action all those years ago. While you were not afraid of his past and sins, you had no right to comment on how someone else felt about them, especially those who fought personally against his tyranny. There was no clear answer. 

You cleared your throat, interrupting a breath that Loki took to speak. "Respectfully," you said. "Loki and I have been on precisely thirty-two missions before, thirty-two of those missions being successful with minimal casualties," It would have been enough if you had left it there. Your point was proven, which was evident by Loki's triumphant and slightly presumptuous grin at Steve. Even so, there was an urge to express the accuracies of that statement and emphasize it, so it would show just how confident you were to Steve. "I would trust him with my life," you concluded, earning a surprised expression from most at the table.

Your face flushed under their stares, but most of them quickly returned to their own doings aside from Steve, Loki, and Natasha who sucked on her teeth to prevent a smile. Steve looked at you, appearing more ashamed than annoyed, catching you off guard. Despite Loki's cocky grin that he hastily threw, Steve nodded at him and then returned to you with a shameful expression. "You're right," he said. "You both are a crucial part of the team." 

"Just take off the 'big-brother' pants, okay? I know what I'm doing," You lowered your voice as to not embarrass him. Steve nodded and offered an apologetic smile which you returned sincerely.  

Even though Loki was humbled by your desire to assist him and make amends, it didn't take a genius to figure out that he had caused irreversible damages in his past. While he didn't mind being feared overall (and got a kick out of it often), he had come this far, and the concept of mistrust still being present created animosity. He imagined those years ago, standing atop the buildings in the same city he was in. Midgard's people had looked like ants from up there, at least until Tony Stark had smashed his skull through a building window. He chuckled. Good times. But things were different now that he had changed. He had protected a world he had once promised to conquer, protected people vowed to slaughter, and now he found himself only wanting to surmount one lone matter in this world. One lone person. It irritated him, the fact that his thoughts always returned to you. 

Loki sucked in a breath and pushed out his seat, using two fingers to slide over a key card from the pile. He eyed the card, then stood up, adjusting his tie. "On that note, I'll be making my exit," he announced. The rest of the table bid farewell to him and wished him a good night, which he nodded in return. When he was confident that most had gone back to either eating or idle chatter, he walked the perimeter of the table, stopping behind you and leaning down to whisper. 

"Would you like to accompany me to our suite?" he breathed. "Or do you have better plans?"  His hot breath shot chills down your collar. 

Biting your lip to fight off a grin, you followed Loki's example and stood from your chair, throwing the cloak over your shoulders. "I think I'm gonna head out too. Does anyone know what time the limo is leaving?" you asked in a small attempt to change the potential course of conversation.

"O-eight-hundred. Bright and early," Bucky said with a mouth full of sushi, pointing an accusatory chopstick at you. "And you two behave."

You laughed and rolled your eyes, hooking your fingers onto Loki's elbow crook. "Relax, Barnes," you huffed. "It'll be fine. Goodnight everyone," Once you had earned your responsive chorus of adieus, Loki turned and led you through the sea of tables and dancers and out into the brisk northeastern air. 

The hotel was further than you had first presumed, being a block down from the venue. The tinges of orange had long left the sky, replaced by black skies and illuminations of electronic billboards that changed images every few seconds. There were a few billboards like the one you had seen when you initially arrived, most of the pictures being of Steve or Tony, which made you chuckle. The action-hero stances or dramatic portraits always made them look more grave than they both were. Maybe not Steve; Steve perpetually looked as if someone poured water in his cereal. You pointed them out as Loki led you down the sidewalk in drastically gaudier clothes than each character who passed you by. 

The hotel was complicated to find, as every building in New York seemed to resemble the next. Decorated by colossal flags signs displaying the hotel's name you didn't attempt to pronounce, the entrance was less conspicuous than imagined. The only things that gave away the hotel's lucre were the bellhops, attendants, and guests who exited and entered nonchalantly. Each wore business suits, tuxes, or luxurious pelts. It was apparent why Tony chose a place like this. Part of you wondered if this would draw attention to the Avengers, and another part of you tried to forget that you'd be at risk wherever you went. You knew what you had gotten yourself into when you had joined, so the constant life-being-in-danger thing was essentially a norm. 

The hotel lobby was designed with an affluent-business aesthetic, adding on a couple of million dollars. Your heels clicked against the polished marble as you entered, a golden yellow cross-hatching with blue stripes in the center embellishing the design. Despite the amber-colored ceilings being a bit low, a crystal chandelier hung from its freshly wiped canopy. Several potted planted were tucked away in alcoves carved into the off-white walls, two ivory armchairs placed below them with a small coffee table in between. The ambiance was cozy, and a fireplace surrounded by several leather loveseats crackled on the far left wall of the room. 

As you checked in, a clerk with a black, coily coiffure spoke something into a walkie-talkie and returned to you with a smile. "Just making sure your respective bags get to your room. The elevator to your right will take you to the fourth floor. I understand that you have a party of...eleven?"

"I believe that's correct," Loki confirmed. 

"All the rooms are side by side and connected by the living rooms. You'll just have to open the door from both sides. Please don't hesitate to call if something's wonky. Enjoy your stay," the clerk said, sliding you a laminated list of numbers to call in every scenario possible. 

Loki took the list and tucked it into his jacket, looking down at you and giving a reassuring smile. "Are you alright?" He asked as he led you onto the elevator. He pressed a button, and the doors slid shut.

"Yeah," you took a deep breath. "Even on my missions, I don't think I've ever had to pretend to be someone this rich." 

Loki hummed. "You would have completed the mission regardless. I've visited lavatories classier than this."

"You're a prince from a different planet," you laughed.

He chuckled, "I'm well aware."

"It has to count for something," There was no point in not being honest with him. The hotel and the party were both grand gestures, but everything was becoming a bit much. "I guess I'm a bit overwhelmed," you confessed. "A lot happened tonight."

Loki tilted his head to look at you. His brow furrowed, then changed into something sympathetic. "Yes, it's been an eventful day."

The hotel room was easier to find than the hotel. A pop machine whirred to life as it dispensed a can for a mother and her daughter, and the girl giggled with glee. You and Loki moved past them and onto a secondary hallway. You found your door, allowing Loki to open the room with a swipe of his key card. He pushed the door in, and you followed close behind. As expected, your luggage had been tucked neatly into a coat closet adjacent to the front door, hangers wobbling haphazardly as you opened its door. Some of you wondered how or who got your clothing together and packed away, but when you thought about it too hard, you became grossed out and decided to find something else to focus on.  

About three feet away from the door, a table made of dark wood sat at waist level, a rectangular basket of fancy liquors, and a mirror hanging behind it. You watched in the mirror as Loki closed the door behind you, and you shrugged off your cloak to drape it from a hanger. The floor was carpeted a sandy shade, expanding into what you assumed to be a bedroom to your left. On the opposite side of the room, the carpet halted at a living room with tan leather sofas, a desk, and a boxy television. 

Loki chuckled as you stared at yourself in the mirror, stripping himself of his jacket and hanging it beside your cloak. He breathed in deeply and stepped up behind you, sliding his hands over your waist and interlocking his fingers on your stomach. The feeling made you jump slightly, but you relaxed into his hold. He rested his face in the crook of your neck as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, inhaling the freshened air of the hotel room. 

"It's quiet," you muttered, picking up a tiny bottle of whiskey with the silhouette of a red lion on an orange label.

Loki inhaled and lifted his chin, placing it gently on your shoulder. "I never pegged you as a whiskey person." 

"I'm not," you validated. Turning the bottle over in your fingers, you hummed and set it down. "I've never actually had the chance to try it. Or wanted to. One or the other." 

"I personally don't care for it much. Asgardian mead remains the nine realms most exquisite of spirits," Loki countered. He remained, standing with his skin pressed into yours. The mirror held the actualities of your own single universe, albeit small ones. Seeing the reflection of your body pushed against his own was something out of a story, and for a moment, he prayed to Odin that his visions hadn't been incorrect. The softness of your skin was unparalleled, he noted, taking a hand to drag against your outer upper arm. You shivered, making him smile into your neck. You smelled as though rich wine and amber and pear had clashed into one collaborative fragrance, a warm scent that reminded him of the gardens on Asgard. It was charming, to say the least.  "Would you like to take a moment to freshen up, darling?" He asked mainly out of courtesy.  

You hummed in thought, bumping your eyebrows with an appreciative smile. "Maybe in a few. I think I just want to get into comfy clothes." 

"That can be arranged," Loki said, taking the hand that had been dragging along your arm and flicking his fingers upwards. A fizzy green light bubbled at your feet, shrouding the two pairs of legs in chartreuse clouds that formed and rolled up your body. You fell a little flat as the heels you wore faded away, replaced with soft grey slippers that covered everything but your Achilles heel. You noticed that Loki's sophisticated dress shoes had also been transformed into black socks as the mist climbed higher. The magic passed over your torso and chest, momentarily blocking your view from the mirror. 

When the magic subsided, the tight feeling of your dress melted away into soft cotton that hugged your hips and shoulders. Loki had replaced your outfit with a black t-shirt that fell loose and a pair of plaid green and blue pajama pants that cuffed at your ankle. His outfit had changed as well; his suit morphed into a grey sweatshirt and black track pants. It was a peculiar look, seeing you both in such casual outfits, but it warmed something in your heart. You smiled, taking your hand and holding the side of his cheek, watching his expressions in the mirror. He smiled.

"You always did look better in green," he teased, pushing himself off of you to turn you around to face him. "I do wonder how you would look in Asgardian leather." 

You blushed at the mention of it and pushed at his chest. Despite the quip, you released a breathy laugh, "I think it would probably suit you better than me."

"Eheh," he laughed, placing a flat palm on your upper back to pull you closer. "Don't undersell yourself, dear. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that you would look ravishing, no matter the clothing you choose to wear," he said, rubbing a thumb along your cheek. "Or don't," he added with a smirk. 

You threw your head back and groaned, allowing his arms to support your weight. "I don't want you to keep thinking you can get away with that kind of stuff," you grumbled. The position you found yourself in was oddly reminiscent of the ballroom dance you shared. That same dance he had tickled you to pieces and embarrassed you in front of everyone, of course, but it had-

Wait. 

"Are you going to do anything to stop MEHE-" Loki immediately unhooked his arms from around your body as you skittered your fingers up his stomach. He stepped backward, expecting you to let go, but you followed his movements, and he stumbled against the wall. He sucked in his giggles and clasped your wrists in his hands, looking aghast. "I must warn you, love - you are not making a wise series of choices."

"I think you lied to me, Loki," you laughed in astonishment. You knew your hunch about Loki faking had been correct, or he at least was doing an impressive job at holding in his reactions at the party.

After readjusting his posture, he gripped your wrists tighter and jerked you close to him. You yelped, falling against his chest. With your fists and elbows tucked between his and your bodies, he growled a low chuckle into your ear, earning a snicker from you. As much as you wanted to push your head down, Loki simply didn't allow it. "I think you are walking on thin ice, pet," he whispered. "Do what you will. But I swear everything you do will be returned tenfold." 

You paused, taking a second to lean back and study his features. This was Loki we were talking about, and you had not only tickled him once today (or attempted), but now twice, and were expecting to get off the hook. Something as flirty and as torturous as tickling was indeed not below the trickster god. He stared deep into your eyes, deadly serious. When you didn't respond in time, Loki's threatening look softened. "No? Then let's begin," he said, smirking. 

Before you could ask what he was talking about, you felt something soft coil around your ankle, wrapping around and up your leg to mid-calf.  Your instincts forced out a scream and kick before you even had seen what it was, but when you looked down and saw a rolled-up bed sheet tied around your foot, you became confused. The corded sheet trailed in from the bedroom, disappearing behind the wall where you assumed the bed was. The only thing visible in the bedroom was a flat-screen television against the same wall as the door.  The confusion only lasted so long, as any thought was whisked from your head when the sheet tightened and yanked, throwing your weight to the floor. You screamed and fell with a thud as the long line of linen dragged you into the bedroom. 

Having been in a similar situation like this (Bali was probably the roughest mission thus far), you were able to get your bearings quickly. You used the momentum of the turn to flip onto your back, crunching up and reaching out to unhook the wrap. Before you could do much work, the direction of the pull changed, and you were hoisted suddenly into the air, your free leg bent at an awkward angle. With a heavy breath, you craned your neck to look at what held you. 

The sheet that rippled with green magic had been rolled tight, but you were able to see the unmade bed it originated from. There was a sofa black leather sofa that you had been dangled above, a coffee table and armchair a few feet away. If you fell, you were in for a soft landing, and seeing Loki's magic calmed your nerves a bit. It wouldn't have necessarily been a surprise if a rogue villain decided to literally crash the party or invade your hotel room; it wasn't the first to happen either way. Even so, the sneer that Loki held as he strolled into the room with his fingers laced behind his back did little to slow your pulse. 

"Stuck, are we?" He said, bumping his brow and looking down, the smirk never leaving his face. He stepped closer, and you thanked fate that the dragging had caused your shirt to catch under the elastic in your pants, keeping your midsection clothed. 

"Loki, put me down right now!" you scolded, but a few giggles slipped through your scowl. 

Loki tutted and strolled over to you, scanning your upsidedown body. You knew that Loki would never and has never done anything to hurt you, but despite that fact, you felt exposed. Gravity worked against you, making every movement intentional, forced, and tiresome. Dangling three feet off the floor by one leg would be easy for someone to get out of if they held a strong core, but getting out of it with your captor standing less than a foot away presented another obstacle. If he had made you fall, falling on a couch was undoubtedly better than landing on a hard floor.  However, Loki stayed still, watching your struggling form attempt to crunch to unwind the cloth from your leg. Gripping your pant leg, you opted to ignore him for the time being. You walked your hands up your leg, using it to sturdy yourself as you reached up and climbed the length of your body. 

Just as your fingertips grazed the hem of the sheet, the cloth rippled against your ankle, alive with bright green sparks. It slackened, and you felt a startling induction of gravity, but you were caught and snapped back down to your starting posture. You gasped and yelped as the sheet hoisted you higher. 

"Unfortunately for you," he stepped up to you, his shoulders slightly lower than parallel to your hips. Tantalizingly slow, he dragged two relaxed fingers against an exposed sliver of skin on your lower stomach. You shuddered a gasp and reached up to grab at him, but he had pulled away too quick. "I don't have any plans on releasing you any time soon."

"What are you talking ABOHOUT?!" If there was reason for trying to hold back your laughter, it was startled off by the boisterous laughter that erupted through the room as Loki set to work scratching at your stomach. His fingers danced around your navel, flitting down (or up, by your perspective) to flutter around your sternum. Giggles now pouring freely, your biceps already began to ache with the effort of swatting away his hands. Your mirth became frantic as the realization of just how much power he had over you sank into your spine. In a desperate reach to control what you could, you grabbed at his shirt and clutched at it. Loki mistook your grappling as an attack of your own, and he coughed out several short chuckles but caught your flailing wrists and held them in one fist. 

"Ohoho, poor choice after poor choice tonight," he looked incredulously at you.

The minute amount of protection your arms provided had been stolen from you in a blink of an eye. You choked out some giggles and felt your elevated pulse beneath his fingers, and you wondered if he could feel it too. Yet your laughing hadn't stopped. Although it was an exploitive and intense feeling, you didn't mind being tickled. You could feel the power beneath his palms, but his touch revealed something more genuine - more affectionate than spiteful. His hands grazed over your skin, and you wanted to drink in the feeling of his skin against you, but the tickling made that incredibly difficult. When his fingers tripped to a different spot and your energy spiked, his tongue would peak out between his teeth as he tried not to laugh along with you. One of those spots was an area of your upper ribs, right below the hollows of your armpit. Your giggles hitched, and you jerked away from him. He tapped the tip of his pointer nail against the sensitive skin gingerly, taking enjoyment in your desperation. 

"This ihisn't even fahahair!" you whined. "What I did wasn't nearly as bad as what you're doing!" 

"I did say that I would return your actions tenfold, did I not?" 

"Yeah, but-" 

"Then you understand that while I may not commonly be a man of my word, when it comes to making things fair, I care very deeply," he hummed, gripping your wrists tighter as he traced to the soft spot of your underarm. Your mind was fuzzy from the ticklish shocks slamming through your nerves, but his teasing did nothing for your aid. You pulled and yanked, but your strength against his was a game you were destined to lose. "If that means I must teach you a lesson about the natural consequences of your actions, so be it. Would you like me to list out the reasons for your discipline?" 

"NahahaHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHO!" you bellowed when he switched to vibrating his fingers under your exposed arms. He nudged the hem of your sleeve to the side, allowing his top digits to slip beneath the cover of your shirt and onto bare skin. 

"Does it not bother you that your enemies could unravel you by something as simple as this?" He pinched his hand up to your hips, and you cackled, struggling against your restraints. Though Loki wasn't one for mercy, his heart fluttered when he saw a happy tear escape from the apple of your cheek.

He also noted how red your face turned and recalled that humans didn't have the blood circulation strength required to be held at different gravities for extended periods. Without releasing your wrists, Loki commanded the sheet to set your back down against the couch, your head and shoulders touching down first, followed by the rest of your torso. The couches cooled leather startled you at first but swiftly came as a relief as your headrush began to fade away. You sucked in some greedy breaths and gradually opened your eyes before realizing that your one leg was still held in the air. Using his one free hand, he scratched delicately along the back of your knee. 

"KAHAHAHA, SHIHIHIT! Leheave mehehehe aloHONE!" Your free-hanging foot landed against the arm of the couch, pushing your hips up in pure instinct or to gain an ounce of leverage. It did nothing. 

"You are quite resilient, I must say. Then again, it could also just be that...you're enjoying this," Loki remarked, and you felt his thumb twitch against the bone of your wrist. 

Distracted by Loki's tickling fingers, the soft cotton that slid against the bottom of your sole was almost too faint to feel. That is... until it became more intentional. The first few flicks of the magic-bound sheets were nearly as mistakable as an accident, but when your eyes caught the glowing green light shifting around your toes and arch, your heart rate hitched, and your laugh took on a wheeze. The hemming of the sheet was significantly stiffer than the rest of the fabric, and feeling it scratch against your foot was practically unbearable. You kicked out and attempted to sit up, but your antics had sapped most of the energy from your body. 

"PLEHEHEASE! I AHAHAM NAHAHAHAT!" 

Loki scoffed with a heavy eye roll. There were things that Loki was, but a fool was not among those qualities. You were not one to hide your affection for those around you, a characteristic that made you all the more endearing. He had seen you push, play, and intentionally annoy the other Avengers into rough-housing, and they had always played along, happy to make a sturdy source of their joy content as well. Loki had not been kept a victim of your antics, and you were not below purposefully seeking him out to pester. "I'm just supposed to believe that?" 

"Yehehehes! This is torturhure," You chortled, which was a half-truth. 

"Fascinating," Loki leaned forward on the couch, looming over your frame. The angle of your trapped leg caused your hips to elevate off the sofa, your foot planted on the arm for support. To avoid hurting you, Loki made sure to press his weight into the upper part of your torso instead of the lower part to prevent any uncomfortable pull. Who would have thought he'd take care in the comfort of his own captive? Would Asgard crumble at the mere sight of its trickster haven fallen at the hands of something so ordinary? Could all evil not be subdued by the touch of one it loves? Perhaps it was possible. "And yet you've not once requested me to stop," Loki purred, bringing your hands up above your head though you thrashed and struggled and spewed with nervous tittering.

Your stomach dropped and swarmed with abashment. Saying that it was torture wouldn't have counted, nor the halfassed pleas you offered amongst your frenzy. Although Loki had made that a point, both his hands and cursed cloth slowed.

The sweat shinner across your brow, the way your chest heaved and retracted against the bunched-up fabric of the clothes he had conjured onto your beautiful skin; there was nothing to you Loki didn't adore. You were trust, warmth, acceptance, something that was all too rare. He smiled down at your goofy and exhausted grin, finally ending his reign over the bedsheets and lowering your body fully onto the sofa. The sheet draped loosely around your ankle as if it had been the remnants of morning or perhaps a mid-afternoon nap. The wild state of your clothing and hair suggested as much, if not something more suggestive. Love and affection were strange. Not foreign, but peculiar. Loki had not realized that falling in love could physically be felt in the chest, like magnetism that would prayerfully result in his arms embracing you. 

In a crowded room, his eyes fell heavy onto you. The way when you spoke, your words almost fell too quickly out of your mouth. Your skill as an agent, your sharp wit, your humor - Loki's thoughts fell onto his mother's face, and how desperately he wished he could bring you home to Asgard to show her what - who - he had won. And yet, you were more than just a prize. You were more than just the exterior shell of the hardened agent you had to become. You were you. That was enough. 

There were many parts that of you that Loki had yet to explore. Natasha's words and advice rang in the back of his head, but he knew that they came from a place of protectiveness for you. There were so many possibilities to who you were, what had happened, where you even came from. Midgard was large, Asgard immense, the cosmos enormous. With each individual came a story, and the stories he had heard throughout his years put lead in his stomach. The Avengers were not known for cheery origins, that was evident enough. While he craved to know what fueled your drives, he was unwilling to push past what you were acquiescent to share.  

"I don't hate it," You mumbled, snatching Loki from his thoughts. A deep blush dusted your cheeks, and you turned your head to the side, tugging on your wrists (which Loki yielded) and covering your face. "If anyone is doing it, I'd rather it be you."

Once again, the familiar tug of Loki's heart blossomed in his chest. He felt his jaw square but did nothing to stop it, allowing his face to bear emotions he had concealed for what felt to be ages. You reached up to him, taking his jaw in your hands. His chin was stiff beneath your sliding thumb, his skin smooth and unblemished, save for smile lines that had etched themselves to the sides of his nose. 

"What are you thinking about?" You asked. 

Loki's hand mimicked your gentle hold on his face, caressing the apples of your cheek. "I...have done things. Some unspeakable," he admitted, searching for something in your face. 

"Things I already know about."

"Yes," his voice faded. Years of suffering, loneliness, and pain strong enough to shake ground shadowed his face. "Is this right? You don't feel...coerced." 

"No," you shook your head just enough so he could see beneath the dark of the room. "Don't focus on the past anymore. We're here. We're now. We've all done things we hate. All of us," you paused, the faded glow of a taxi's headlights passing over his features. "I...just want to be with you."

"I'm here," Loki rustled, leaning down to your lips. 

In the story that Loki had told in his fruit-drunk stupor, he had spoken of a world painted with crimson and gold. The air tasted like bourbon, and the crowds pulsed with energy as musicians cheered in their corners. Among the throng of people had been a girl, dancing by herself in the middle of a busy floor, her dress bright and how its ruby pigment stole eyes from onlookers. She twirled and laughed, holding the skirt down with her hands. Loki had not told his companions about his visions afterward and instead let them begin their own fables, but Loki had seen more than just that girl. He had seen her take his hand and lead him into a dance. He had seen the sparkle of solar systems in her eyes and stars glittering in her pupils. He had tasted the tang of wine at your tongue, and now as he sat with you in intense reality and made quick work of his hands, the memory of his fantasy had reached its end. 

His tongue now tasted the perspiration he had caused personally, kissing and nipping at your neck, your collar, your stomach, your hips, your thighs...

With a look supplicating permission, a shy nod, and a smirk that made your knees shake, you once again found yourself trembling beneath the hands of the trickster god. 

[kiridarling]

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒.

katsuki bakugou | birthday gone wrong (aha), f!reader, baker!reader, pro hero!katsuki, blizzards, angst and smut, exhibitionism, cockwarming, begging, confessions. minors dni!

— 4.7k words

Wanna blow off some steam?

“Surprise!”

Katsuki jumps ten feet high, and the plastic grocery bags precariously balanced on each finger tear without a second thought. Apples hit the ground with a thud and the egg carton with a depressing slap; one that signifies the crack of at least half a dozen. Katsuki looks at the crowd, red-faced and livid, and Eijirou Kirishima intercepts the awkward silence with:

“Happy Birthday Bakubro! I know y—“

“Said that I didn’t want a fuckin’ party?” Katsuki growls, groceries forgotten on the forgotten. Eijirou looks guilty and chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“W-Well, yeah, but—“

“Everybody out.”

People sigh, and you think you hear Denki whisper told you he’d kick us out. You hate to say that you foresaw a similar outcome. Katsuki’s never been one for people.

Especially you.

“Awe come on, Kacchan,” Izuku says with hands on his hips. “We came all this way! Just let us stay for a little bit.”

“Yeah!” Eijirou seems to cheer up once given a sliver of hope. “Plus, we got cake and stuff. And Just Dance.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, but you know better—he’s always had a soft spot for the redhead. You all wait with baited breath, wondering if this entire evening was a bust, as Katsuki weighs his options in a pool of fallen groceries.

“One hour.”

Eijirou gasps so hard he chokes, and Katsuki’s generosity earns him applause from the audience. (Plus whoops and hollers from Denki and Mina.)

“And I mean it—y’all have sixty fuckin’ minutes before you’re gone without a goddamn trace. Kapeesh?”

“Kapeesh!”

Katsuki sighs, rubbing at his temples as he steps over the mess at the front door. You assume he’ll make Eijirou clean it up. “Whatever. Where’s the fuckin’ cake?”

Ah.

“In the kitchen, my good sir!” Denki says as he ushers the ash-blond into the said kitchen, the rest of the party hot on their heels. Eijirou grabs the cake from the fridge and you’re tense until the plate hits the marble of their island.

“Flavor?” Katsuki asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, I dunno, [Y/N] made it,” Eijirou throws you under the bus, just like that, and you want to scoff at the way Katsuki freezes—if only for a moment. Eijirou’s oblivious as ever, “[Y/N]?”

“It’s red velvet,” you say, trying not to burn under Katsuki’s carmine eyes. You don’t know why he doesn’t look away.

“Frosting?”

“Buttercream.”

As if you’d give him anything else.

Eijirou tries his best to cram 26 candles into the cake before being forced to opt for 23 lest he ruin your decorations. Denki presses him to make a wish and Katsuki rolls his eyes as he blows out the candles. Eijirou wipes an invisible tear because ‘his boy is getting so old.’ Mina and Jiro cut the cake and people seem to enjoy it, and you think that maybe, reuniting with your high school friends after so long isn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.

Even if he said he never wanted to see you again.

“—due to the incoming blizzard, we highly suggest all those who reside in the red and orange zones stay inside until it passes; which should be around ten am tomorrow morning.”

You spoke too soon.

Katsuki turns to the crowd, and you know what he’s going to say before his lip curls.

“Out.”

“Kacchan, don’t be unreasonable!” Izuku says from his comfortable position on the couch. “We’d get caught in the storm if we leave now.”

“Not if you’re fuckin’ fast enough,” Katsuki growls, pulling the greenette’s to his feet by his hair. “Get out, I’m not bunking with you fuckers overnight.”

“Dude,” Denki points to the window, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought the blizzard had already started. “If we leave now, we’ll literally die.”

“Die, then.”

Eijirou sighs, clapping his roommate on the back. “C’mon, man. You know we ca—“

There’s a whirr then a click, and the lights and tv die at once. You can’t see a thing but you definitely hear Katsuki shout:

“Motherfucker!”

Eijirou turns his phone flashlight on first; Katsuki’s busy angrily flicking at the light to no avail. You sigh, turning to the ash-blond (and ignoring those ugly fucking butterflies in your stomach.)

“It’s a blackout Katsuki. The lights aren’t going to work.”

“Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that, dumbass?” And your chest tightens because even though he’s not eighteen anymore, he sounds the same—but you aren’t sure why you expected him to sound so different either.

You lift an eyebrow (not that he can see it), “It doesn’t look like you do.”

Denki snorts at that, hollering about how you just owned the ash-blond as Katsuki yells at him to shut the fuck up. It’s...familiar and comfortable, like you’re all in high school again, before you had to worry about your friends dying in their line of work because you couldn’t be there with them.

Before you got injured.

“Well I mean, we have a few blankets,” Eijirou offers, and as your eyes slowly adjust to the dark, you’re convinced you see his figure cross the living room. “And like, sweatshirts if it gets too cold.”

“It’s already getting too cold,” Mina says, and you can’t help but agree. The quickly cooling room has the goosebumps raising on your shoulders, and you’re starting to regret forgetting your jacket at home.

“Okay! I don’t have that many, but,” Eijirou hollers from somewhere, before returning with a handful of cloth. He drops it onto the coffee table. “Plus Hanta and Denks left their hoodies here last time.”

“Oh shit, we did?” Hanta says, and you assume it’s his figure who starts digging through the clothes. “Totally thought I lost this, lol.”

“Did you just saw lol out loud?”

“I did.”

“Ooh Ei, do you still have that old Red Riot hoodie?” Mina asks, and all of a sudden, she’s all over the pile. She finds it before the redhead can answer and snatches it away with a gasp.

You watch the pile dissolve in the darkness, one by one, and by the time you reach for something, your palm hits the cool wood of the coffee table. Fuck.

“Oh [Y/N]! Do you need some of my blanket?” Mina offers, but the blanket is small, and wrapping it around both of your shoulders just renders it utterly useless. You shake your head after she tries for a while.

“It’s fine Mina, I’m not that cold,” you laugh, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“No! Girl c’mon, you look like you’re freezing!”

And, well. Freezing is a stretch. Sure, you’re a little cold, but you’ll live.

“Do you need my sweatshirt?” Eijirou asks, already pulling at the hem. You roll your eyes.

“I’m serious guys, it’s not that bad,” you say, waving your arms for emphasis. They all grumble but they give up, and you feel like you can finally relax.

Something soft and army green drops into your lap. You pick it up in confusion, before looking up to see who dropped it.

Katsuki looks down at you, face glowing white from the phone flashlights. His eyes pierce your soul nevertheless.

“I don’t ne—“

“Take it.”

Katsuki takes a seat next to you on the couch in his own hoodie. You don’t realize until you put it on that he gave you a sweatshirt themed after his own hero costume.

You can’t sleep.

You can’t sleep, and you’re sure it’s due to the temperature. The wind howls and it sounds like you’re in the eye of a tornado, loose branches knocking against the rattling glass, and upon looking through the window, you see nothing but stark white. You sigh, checking the time on your phone for the fiftieth time this hour. Yep. Still four am.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, dumbass.”

You all decided to bunk in the living room for warmth. You’re surprised Katsuki stayed, though; you figured he would just head to his room and let you all fend for yourselves while he slept in a comfortable bed. But here he is, sleeping next to you on the cold fucking floor.

“Sorry,” you say, but it’s hard when your shivering and your jaw aches from stunting your chattering teeth. Katsuki and Eijirou only had a limited amount of sleeping bags, meaning you’ve got to share a blanket with the hulking ash-blond.

“You cold?” He grunts. You don’t know why he’s asking.

“No.”

Katsuki sighs, and you hear him adjust, the blanket sliding from your neck to your shoulder. “You’re a shit liar.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to glare his way, and you look to notice Katsuki’s laying the same way.

“What’s your point?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer for a moment, but it doesn’t seem like he’s looking for an answer, either—his neon red eyes glow through the dark and straight into your soul, and the next time you shiver, it isn’t because of the temperature.

“You’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Thought you figured that out senior year.”

Katsuki’s face flashes with an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint before it’s gone again. “Yeah. You’d think almost dying would fuckin’ fix that.”

You sigh. Looks like you’re having this conversation now, then.

“I didn’t almost die—“

“Yes, you fuckin’ did,” Katsuki snarls, and Denki almost stirs at his raised tone. “You took that bullet and you didn’t get up for months—“

“And then I woke up and everything was fine! Seriously Katsuki, what’s your problem? I lived.”

“My problem is that you shouldn’t have been there in the goddamn first place!” Katsuki says through grit teeth. You watch his temple roll underneath his hairline. “That was my fuckin’ fight. I don’t need some chick jumping in front of a bullet for me just ‘cause she thinks I can’t take it!”

You scoff, looking around to see if any of your other sleeping friends are listening because get a load of this guy. Naturally, they don’t respond.

“That’s what this is about? Oh, well I’m sorry I bruised your dignity because I didn’t want to see you get fucking shot!”

Katsuki chest inflates with disbelief before it deflates again, and he’s rolling his eyes before he says, “That’s not—you fuckin’ know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really?” You laugh, and goddammit Katsuki, you just had to bring it up, didn’t you? “Because waking up after two months to your best friend telling you to give up doesn’t preserve your dignity at all, huh?”

“I didn’t tell you to fu—“

“You said those exact words, Katsuki. You said give up, and you left the hospital.”

The ash-blond has nothing to say to that, because he knows that you know you’re right, and trying to jedi mind trick you into believing he isn’t an asshole won’t work.

“Well you fuckin’ listened,” he grumbles, more to himself than you, but enough emotion flares in your core to make you want to scream.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, huffing, before turning your back to him, deeming this conversation over. “Good night, Katsuki.”

There’s a lull and it has you convinced you’ve won, finally relaxing (as much as you can) onto the cold floor. At least arguing heated your blood up a bit.

“The fuck do you mean?”

You roll your eyes even though they’re closed before you hop back onto your forearms to give the ash-blond a nasty look. “What?”

“You...said you didn’t have a choice,” Katsuki says, and it’s the first time you think you’ve heard him sound weary. Unsure. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means I had to give up on being a hero either way.”

Which sucked. Because you had spent the past four years of your life working your ass off to save others, and you wind up out of commission before you even got started. You...suppose you didn’t tell Katsuki the whole story. Well, you hadn’t had a chance to—today’s the first time speaking with him since you woke up in the hospital.

Katsuki eyes you out of his peripheral, but only for a second. “And that means...?”

“It means that if I land on my spine the wrong way, there’s a high chance I’ll be paralyzed from the waist down.” You growl, frustrated that it was easier to coax the truth out of you than you thought.

The bullet buried close to your spinal column. You had to do PT for months, relearning how to walk as you slowly regain your motor functions. That’s when you started to bake.

“Oh.”

The howling of the wind turns from somewhat soothing to aggravating as Katsuki’s unimpressive “oh” hangs heavy in the air, and you find yourself sighing, the puzzle pieces finally clicking in your head. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Katsuki asks—he’s still not looking at you.

“Blaming yourself,” you gesture to his figure, which is lax with depression, lacking its sturdiness and usual fire. “You didn’t shoot the gun.”

Katsuki snorts at that, running a hand through his hair, “I might as well.”

“Stop.”

“You got shot because of me,” Katsuki says as if it were a fact. “They were trying to kill me. Not you.”

“And they didn’t kill me. I’m here and you’re here. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be six feet under right now,” you reason. Katsuki shrugs because he’s just as stubborn as you are, and you figure he’s been carrying around this baggage for too many years.

“Does your back hurt often?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean sure, I get flare-ups sometimes, but it’s not too bad. Doesn’t really get in the way of baking as long as the table is high enough.”

Katsuki thinks for a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Is the table high enough? At your café.”

You shrug, failing to see where he’s going with this. “I have a platform thingy, so. It’s mostly for decorating cakes and things—“

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“What?”

“I’ll buy you a new table,” Katsuki says, nodding to himself as if he was confirming the idea. “A higher one.”

It takes a second for his offer to process, but once it does, you’re fighting a smile. Still the same kid. “Kats, I don’t nee—“

“An—And if you need a new chair. I’ll pay for that shit too.”

You shake your head—mainly in disbelief, “I don’t need a chair, Katsuki.”

“Then what?” He asks, and it almost sounds desperate with the speed he rushed the sentence, “Y’need a car? That hunk of junk you drive could use some work.”

You ignore the jab, because your car works perfectly fine thank you very much, and snort at the suggestion of such an outrageous purchase.

“What? You tryna be my sugar daddy or something?” You joke. Katsuki gives you a look, and it's dead serious.

“D’ya need one?”

“I—no!” You laugh, and have to remind yourself to reel it in before you actually wake Denki up. “I’m fine financially I just—what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’.” Katsuki quickly grumbles, facing forwards again. “I just...”

You raise an eyebrow, “You just..?”

“I dunno. I dunno,” Katsuki shakes his head. You let him gather his thoughts in silence before he tries again. He doesn’t.

“Then fuck me.”

In your defense, your mouth moved before you thought it through.

Katsuki has an unreadable look on his face, but his voice is anything but steady when he says, “What?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“U-Uh, I mean,” you recoil. Stupid big mouth. “I—you—don’t worry about it.”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” Katsuki deadpans. You choke.

“I—no, that’s not—“

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“No, I meant as in I’m pent up. Obviously,” you defend with a huff, crossing your arms on the pillow as you glare daggers his way. Katsuki matches your stare.

“Not as pent up as a Pro Hero,” he scoffs, lifting an eyebrow. You take it as a challenge.

You click your tongue in faux pity, “Awe, the number two hero Dynamight doesn’t get laid?”

“No fuckin’ time,” he grunts, though you don’t find much remorse in his voice.

“Well, you have time now,” you say, completely unsure of where this confidence is coming from. Either way, you’ll take it and run.

“I do,” Katsuki confirms, leaning in closer. He’s close enough that you can smell what’s leftover of his cologne, and see the hint of a grin that makes his upper cheek shine silver in the moonlight. You find yourself leaning in just as much as he does.

“Wanna blow off some steam?” You dare to question. Katsuki’s grin only grows wider.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Katsuki’s kisses are surprisingly soft, you think, and so are his lips. But you don’t have much time to think about it as he pulls you in by the waist, quietly groaning into your mouth while he lays you down on your back.

“Always thought you were the prettiest fuckin’ thing,” he growls, trailing butterfly kisses down your neck. “‘M gonna make it up to you, yeah? Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

A hand hikes his sweatshirt above your chest before Katsuki’s latching onto the skin under your collarbone and sucking, teeth digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine,” you whimper, intoxicated by the way Katsuki’s lips flush pink as he pulls away, eyes locked on the fresh hickey on your chest. They flicker up to you; he grins.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

Katsuki hums at that, licking his lips before diving back in. You hiss when he bites too hard, prompting him to bite harder, but he always soothes it over with his tongue, topping each bruise with a kiss. You flinch when his lips wrap around your nipple and he chuckles at your meek whimper; a hand removes its grip on the sweatshirt in favor of sliding it up your thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Katsuki says once he pulls away, enjoying the sight of you writhing in anticipation. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, ‘m all yours just—“ you kick a leg in frustration at the thumb playing with the hem of your panties, “—do something already.”

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, “Do what?”

You frown, huffing, “You know what.”

Katsuki shrugs, adjusting so he’s caging you to the floor. Ghosting a thumb over your panties, he says, “‘Course I do. You gotta ask nicely first.”

You tighten your hands into fists. He would.

“I’m no—“

“Beg, Princess,” Katsuki growls, his stare unwavering. He presses an inquisitive finger to your clit through your panties either as a promise or a threat—which, you’re not quite sure.

You crumble.

“I—fine, just—finger me.”

Katsuki doesn’t move. Asshole.

“Please.”

The ash-blond grins, finally pushing your panties to the side.

“Good girl.”

When Katsuki slides his first finger in, it’s much too easy, and you blame it on the foreplay. You shudder, hands moving to brace themselves on his big shoulders, and the ash-blond muffles a moan as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Another,” you moan, bucking your hips into his palm. Katsuki’s heated gaze flickers from your body to your face.

“Already?” He chuckles, the rasp in his throat giving his arousal away. You nod—he clicks his tongue.

“Fuckin’ dirty.”

Two fingers feel like so much more than just one, and they have your eyebrows folding in a poor attempt to muffle a whimper. Katsuki’s fingers still move tentatively but they’re getting comfortable, curling and searching for that place that’ll make you tremble. And then he finds it.

“F-Fuck,” your body jolts, and Katsuki’s shushing you against the pillows.

“Keep your mouth shut, Princess,” he purrs, head dipping down to nip at your neck. It adjusts the angle ever so slightly, but enough to make you hiss, and he chuckles. “Unless you wanna get caught.”

“Oh yeah, because that sounds fun right now,” you snort towards the ceiling. Katsuki pulls away with an unimpressed look as his thumb comes down over your clit.

“Can’t wait to fuck the brat outta ya. Maybe then you’ll actually shut up for once, huh?” Katsuki inserts a third finger without you asking him to, and you gasp, clawing at his back.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he laughs against your mouth lowly, as if the light kisses will do anything but make more noise, “Good God sweetheart, you’re really pent up, aren’t ya?”

“Shit—I doubt you’re much better,” you try, scoffing at what you can see of his painfully hard cock in his sweatpants. Katsuki looks down before sending a huff your way, with a cute little blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, pulling out his fingers. You whine at the loss. “How d’ya want me to fuck you?”

You need to take a step back from how crude the question is. Right, sex.

“Right um,” you look around, trying to find the least obvious position—and one that doesn’t make a shit ton of noise. Laying on your side, you tuck an arm under the pillow, before turning around to Katsuki to suggest, “Cuddle-fucking?”

“Cuddle-fucking.”

“Yep,” you say with finality, popping the p. Making big grabby hands his way, you say, “C’mere, big guy.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but moves behind you anyways, warm arms easily finding themselves around your waist under the blanket. After a few adjustments and ensuring you're both fully covered, Katsuki’s hard cock presses against your entrance as he hooks his head over your chin with a huff.

“This is so not on fuckin’ brand.”

“I don’t think fucking in a living room with sleeping friends is on-brand for a pro hero or a baker,” you say casually. Katsuki breaks out into a snort, pressing his face deeper into your neck.

“God, I fuckin’ missed you, ya know that?” He chortles. Your chest blooms with something it hasn’t in years, and for the first time, you find that you don’t mind.

“Don’t be such a dick and maybe I’ll stick around this time,” you quip with a smile he can’t see. Though you feel his against the base of your neck.

“Noted.”

Katsuki’s last words hang in the air, unusually heavy, and your eyes catch the snow beating against the window with a less than angry howl. Katsuki’s chest shudders against your back but he doesn’t move, hands frozen at your waist.

“Hey, I thought you were gon—“

“I’m getting to it,” Katsuki snaps, and you gasp as he starts to push inside. “So fuckin’ impatient, goddamn.”

He pulls you down until he fills you completely, and you suppress the urge to shout at the speed he did it with. Katsuki moves a hand to slap over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You reach around to pinch him in the side with a huff, he calls you a bitch. It’s a little hard to hear you behind his hand as you say, “Then don’t catch me off guard like that, asshole.”

Katsuki snaps his hips and does exactly what you tell him not to do—prompting another surprised whine out of you and a dark chuckle from the ash-blond. His cheek presses into your jaw as he finds leverage in hiking your lower half up until your puffy cunt is level with his cock, and fucking you until you drool all over the pillow.

“What a pretty fuckin’ thing,” Katsuki grunts, and you can tell he struggles to keep quiet in the way his chest sporadically shudders. You have to grip the pillow for some semblance of purchase and Katsuki chuckles at watching you struggle, before he’s hiking your leg up to fuck you that much deeper.

“I always—always knew you’d sound so good,” he pants, the grip around your mouth bordering on clammy. You want to tell him that if he keeps making so much noise he’ll wake up everyone in this fucking room, but there isn’t much time between moans to get more than a word in. “Fuck baby, keep tightening around me like that, and I might fuckin’ cum.”

You find it amusing how close he is so quickly, until two fingers land on your clit and start rubbing in slow, small circles. Your walls flutter around him and Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck with a curse, his grip around your raised thigh contracting as he tries to hold on for as long as he can.

And that’s when Denki starts to move.

First, he rolls to the left. Which would’ve been fine, seeing as it’s in the opposite direction until he bops Eijirou straight on the nose and promptly rouses the redhead from his slumber. Katsuki’s hips still.

“O-Ow, dick,” Eijirou curses under his breath, quickly scrambling to his forearms. It’s hard to tell through the darkness, mostly because you’re squinting your eyes to feign sleep, but it seems like Eijirou rubs under his nose, only to blink back at a bloody hand.

“...Shit.”

Katsuki’s hips shift, ever so slightly, but enough to nestle his cock deeper and force you to bite back a whine. And another. And then another.

You try your hardest to be discreet when you reach to pinch Katsuki in the side, and he breathes a laugh down your neck.

“What?” He whispers, though it's more than a rasp than anything else. Good to know you’re not the only one struggling to not cum, here.

“You know 'what,'” you quickly hiss. But Katsuki’s hips don’t stop as Eijirou weighs his options to cure his bloody nose in the dark. The fingers on your clit return their usual pressure and you inhale sharply, nails digging into Katsuki’s forearm as your orgasm begins creeping up on you.

Eijirou sniffles and gets up, stumbling through the darkness to turn down the hall that leads to the bedrooms. Katsuki sees that as fucking freedom and his hips really start to pick up so much speed that you struggle to breathe through it all.

“‘M gonna cum,” Katsuki whimpers into your neck, burying his face deeper in a poor attempt to stunt any sound. “Fuck, fuck ‘m gonna cum, you close baby?”

“Y-Yeah jus’ a little more,” you whimper, eyes rolling as Katsuki finds some inhumane energy in him to fuck faster. He nods at that and bites into your shoulder with a growl, “C’mon, fuckin’ cream all over my cock—atta girl, fuck, fuck—“

Katsuki fills you up the moment you clench around his cock with a sigh, the weight of your orgasm knocking you forehead-first into your pillow as you bite the urge to squeal. Katsuki doesn't growl as much as you expect, moans breathy and light as his hips finally stutter to a stop—but you suppose some things have to change over the years.

Katsuki collapses next to you in pure exhaustion and you’re sure that’s his cum leaking down your thigh, but for some reason, you don’t really mind.

“Hey you,” he speaks first, eyes blazing red in the darkness. You snort.

“Hey, you.”

Katsuki chuckles with a stupidly giddy smile on his face, "Y'know, you still fuck really well."

You drop your head on his chest to snort, and his hands find their rightful place around your waist.

"Better than high school?"

"Yeah..." Katsuki grumbles, before his eyes narrow. "Wait—hey, yo—"

"I haven't fucked anyone since," you snuff the fire before it even starts, and Katsuki relaxes, though his eyes stay slim. He pulls you closer and you sigh—it's comfortable.

"Good," he grunts. And then after a pregnant silence: "I haven't either."

That's...strangely reassuring.

Your arms wriggle until they fold over his shoulders to play with the small hairs on the back of his neck, and he hums, eyes fluttering shut with a final peck on the lips. As Katsuki's breathing evens and the white of the snow dyes the highest points of his face white, you smile. He looks older.

You think he's asleep until he nudges your waist.

"Be my girlfriend."

You don't even hesitate.

"Okay."

By the time Eijirou comes stumbling down the hall, both you and Katsuki are passed out—with his body encompassing yours in the most intimate way, face tucked into your hickey-ridden neck as your arms and legs lock around his being. The redhead gives you both a soft smile as he passes, snorting to himself.

“Took them long enough.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THOTSUKI

[outerbankies]

april fool’s — topper thornton

summary: your sweet boyfriend Topper plans a seemingly innocent april fool’s joke.

pairing: topper x kook!reader

warnings: swearing? lol

a/n: this is my first ever obx fic! please let me know what you think :) inspired by my roommate’s boyfriend who decided pretending to break up with her would be a funny april fool’s joke

my writing

Topper hadn’t been planning to prank you on April Fool’s Day originally. The holiday had almost slipped his mind until the day before, when Rafe asked if he had anything planned.

“Dude, last year I told my dad I was dropping out of college,” Rafe laughed.

“I’m sure he took that well,” Kelce said sarcastically, barely looking up from their video game.

Rafe was quiet for a moment.

“Actually he made me do paperwork for a month and it sucked,” Rafe grumbled. “But Y/N’s chill, you could definitely fuck with her if you wanted to.”

Topper did have plans to see you tomorrow, and he started to wonder if maybe he could prank you. You had been so stressed about college admissions lately, and it might be the perfect time to help you loosen up with a joke.

“What would I even do?” he says.

“I don’t know, you could tell her you cheated on her,” Rafe supplies.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Kelce piped up from the other end of the couch. “Do not do that.”

“Would never even consider it, but thanks Rafe,” Topper says, rolling his eyes. “I’m taking her to brunch tomorrow and I’m a shit liar, there’s no way she’ll believe anything I say.”

The three boys sat around in silence for a minute, wondering what Topper could do to trick you without seriously hurting your feelings. Finally, Kelce spoke up, snapping his fingers excitedly.

“Don’t take her to brunch,” he says conspiratorially. “Pretend you’re blowing her off.”

Now, Topper had plans to text you early in the morning that he was cancelling brunch with you to go fishing with Rafe and Kelce on the Druthers. Of course, Topper would never actually blow you off. Unbeknownst to you, he’d be en route to your place with your favorite coffee and bagels from the bakery by the marina, ready to say “April Fool’s” and give you a kiss when you opened the front door. Kelce and Rafe had called him a simp for turning a prank into some romantic gesture, but he didn’t care. He just wanted it to be fun for you.

But Topper was unaware that just a few streets over from his house, you were nowhere near a joking mood. You had gotten into a huge fight with your parents after they found out you didn’t apply to UNC like they had planned. You had originally lied and said you got denied admission, underestimating your determined father. He decided to call his friend on the admissions board immediately, who said you’d never actually submitted your application. 

You never wanted to go to your parents’ legacy school, instead wanting to get as far from the Outer Banks as possible for at least four years, before the kook life sucked you back in for good. You loved Topper to pieces, but you swore one day you’d blink and the two of you would be just like your parents: trapped in a loveless marriage with a couple of kids who existed only to put pressure on, occupying a shiny new-build mansion in Figure Eight, and accepting board positions at both of your parent’s respective companies. 

You had already made peace with the fact that that would one day be your life (minus the loveless marriage, of course), and you were mostly fine with it as long as you could have Topper by your side through it all. But college had seemed like an easy way to escape, if just for a little, which is why you expanded your horizons beyond UNC.

Topper had been supportive of you going to college wherever you wanted, even if he was set on staying close to the Outer Banks and attending UNC. Both of your guys’ parents were actually very pleased with your relationship, practically planning the wedding—and the business deals—since the day he’d asked you to homecoming your freshman year. None of that had mattered to either of you; if anything, it had almost driven you apart in the early stages of your relationship. But nearly four years later you were still together, you having long ago realized that resisting what you felt for Topper wasn’t worth not giving your parents the satisfaction of dating someone they approved of. And Topper had assured you that while long distance wouldn’t be easy, you guys could make it through anything. He’d nearly been more excited than you when your top choice Ivy League school accepted you.

“That’s my girl,” Topper had murmured into your ear proudly, engulfing you in a hug and immediately picking you up off the ground to spin you in a circle. You could almost hear the wheels in his head turning, calculating if the distance between New Haven and Chapel Hill was doable for a weekend trip if he took his mom’s plane.

Your parents on the other hand, were so furious with you for lying about UNC that you didn’t even get the chance to tell them you were already accepted into great, even better, schools elsewhere. As far as they were concerned, they could just ship you off to Europe to “find yourself” for a year before you joined UNC’s next freshman class. 

That’s why you’d been locked in your room wiping your tears all night. You just wanted them to be proud of you for being your own person, and it blew up in your face. You thought about calling your boyfriend instead of bingeing Gossip Girl for some comfort all night, but you knew he was with his friends. Plus, Topper was taking you to brunch on the mainland in the morning to celebrate your admission to Yale and you knew he’d let you rant all about it on the ferry ride over.

But the next morning, you wake up to your phone buzzing at 6am with a text from your boyfriend promising anything but.

top

6:12 hey, have to skip out on brunch today pretty girl. ward’s letting us take out the druthers 😁

You immediately dropped your phone on the bed, tears already welling up in your eyes. You knew you shouldn’t be getting this upset about one cancelled date, but after everything that happened yesterday you had really been looking forward to spending the day with Topper. And instead he was blowing you off to go out with his stupid friends on a boat you know Rafe had taken him out on hundreds of times. You didn’t even have time to decide how to reply to him before your mother was barging in through your bedroom door.

“Your father called in a favor,” she says flippantly, already going to throw open your curtains despite the early hour. “The UNC admissions panel has agreed to make an exception and review your application anyways.”

“Mom,” you sigh, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes to stop the tears. “I don’t want UNC to review my application.”

“Stop with the dramatics. We’ll tidy up your personal statement,” she continues on. “They said you might make it in off the waitlist for fall this year.”

“Mom-”

“Or God forbid, you’ll have to start late in the spring,” your mother bulldozes yet again. “If that happens, I’ll have to get in touch with the Panhellenic committee to see if you can still rush Delta Gamma in the spring...”

By now you had tuned out, because you knew anymore back talk was useless. The future you envisioned for yourself was already slipping away in front of your eyes. You looked down at your discarded phone, seeing the text from Topper again and feeling another wave of tears come over you.

“You should be grateful they’re even taking the time to consider you after this little stunt you’ve pulled,” your mother chides. “You have to submit by next Friday, so your tutor will be over later today, of course we’ll have to pay him double...”

You can’t stand to hear her anymore, finally getting out of bed and looking for the first sweatshirt you can find—ironically from UNC—and a pair of shorts. You don’t even put flip flops on as you race down the stairs, ignoring your mother’s calls about how you’re grounded for the next week so you can work on your application.

Your father doesn’t even make eye contact with you as you pass him by, silently letting you walk outside and into the backyard. You didn’t know where you were headed, but at this point anywhere was better than inside that house. You decide to take a seat on the side of your parent’s dock, toes dangling in the water while your tears drop in.

After last night, all you wanted to do was see Topper today; he always knew what to say to make you feel better. He had a confidence and assuredness about him that might come off as arrogance to others. But it comforted you to no end that when you couldn’t possibly see a happy ending for you, he had no doubts about it. He’d be there for you in any capacity, ready to do whatever it takes. But he wasn’t here for you now. You thought about calling him, even just to see if he could come see you after he got back from fishing.

But in your haste to escape your mother, you’d left your phone upstairs. If you hadn’t left it inside, you would’ve seen the succession of follow up texts and four missed calls from him.

top

6:19 are you awake? if you are can you pick up?

6:24 we can go tomorrow!

6:27 are you mad? please call me back

6:35 it was just an april fool’s joke baby. coming over with breakfast rn

6:36 i love you. can you call me just so i know you’re not mad?

6:42 i’ll see you soon. please please don’t be mad 😢

Topper wasn’t worried at first when you hadn’t responded to him, thinking you had slept through his texts. But then he had got to thinking about you, looking cute as ever first thing in the morning and waking up to find out he was blowing you off for the boys. You had been so excited about getting into Yale, and he saw the twinkle in your eye when he told you he wanted to treat you to an afternoon on the mainland. He’d honestly been looking forward to it all week, and he couldn’t believe he let his friends talk him into pranking you.

The guilt overtook Topper more and more the longer you ignored his texts, which he deserved at this point. He should’ve never listened to his friends, two idiots who couldn’t keep a steady girlfriend if they tried.

He had been impatient as hell picking up breakfast, pushing the speed limit the entire drive back to your house in Figure Eight and risking getting pulled over for being on his cell phone. Your car was parked out front so he knew you were home, only slightly frantically knocking on the front door.

His throat ran dry when your father opened the door with a hard line set between his eyebrows.

“Topper, what are you doing here so early son?” he asked, allowing him to come in.

“Hi, Mr. Y/l/n. I just came to bring Y/n breakfast,” he said, holding up the coffees and bagels.

“She’s out back. Do me a favor and talk some sense into her while you’re out there, Topper,” he said sternly, already going back to his newspaper. 

“Sir, I don’t...” 

“We all just want what’s best for her, but she won’t listen to her mother and I,” your father sighs. “But maybe she’ll listen to you.”

Topper was about to ask him to elaborate when he looked through the french doors facing the backyard and spotted you sitting out on the dock. You had your head in your hands, and he could see your back shaking with sobs.

Oh, fuck.

He’s pushing open the doors and haphazardly placing everything on the back patio table, nearly breaking out into a jog once he was on the grass.

“Y/n/n, I am so sorry,” he said, voice filled with concern as he got closer to you.

You recognized his voice and immediately started crying harder, compelling him to sit down next to you, gather you up into his arms, head on his chest and legs draped over his lap. He sat there stroking your hair for a minute, a million apologies falling from his lips before you you suddenly lean out of his embrace.

“I should’ve never let it get this far, babe, I’m so sorry,” Topper apologizes. "I've been trying to call you for half an hour."

“My phone's inside—wait, why aren’t you on Rafe’s boat?” you asked.

“Y/n/n, it was just a joke. April Fool’s,” he says lamely, assessing your puffy eyes. “I had no idea you’d be so upset.”

“It’s April Fool's today? That’s not—I’m not...” you trailed off, trying to collect your thoughts without letting another wave of tears come. “My parents found out about UNC yesterday.”

Suddenly everything clicks for Topper, and he feels like even more of an idiot if that’s possible.

“Oh, babe,” he says, using a thumb to wipe some tears from under your eyes. "I was wondering why your father told me to talk some sense into you just now.”

That just makes you cry harder, thinking about your family now roping your boyfriend into convincing you to live a life you didn’t want.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Topper whispers, eyes searching for yours. “But I’m not here to do that. I'm guessing it didn't go well?”

“My mom told me they’re calling in a favor to let me apply anyway, my stupid boyfriend cancelled our plans to go hang out with his stupid friends, and now I’m sitting out here sobbing and soaking the stupid boyfriend’s shirt with my tears, so,” you say, forcing a self-deprecating chuckle. It just brings more tears to your eyes, but Topper’s there to wipe them again. He hadn’t even noticed your tears staining his shirt. 

“Why didn’t you call me last night?” he said.

“I knew you were with the guys, didn’t want to bother you,” you shrug, not meeting his gaze.

“Always, always call me. You’re never bothering me,” he promises. “Did you tell them about Yale? Or even Stanford?” 

You sigh and look back out at the horizon.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “Seems useless at this point.” 

Topper makes a noise of disapproval. 

“Its not. And I’ll be there for you when you do,” he says firmly, turning your face back to look at him. You nod, burrowing back into his chest and letting him hold you, stroking your legs slung over his lap and pressing more kisses anywhere he can reach while you calmed down. When you’ve stopped crying, he lets you unload everything that had transpired in the past 24 hours. He listens intently, giving you advice when you need it and just nodding his head and rubbing a hand up and down your back when you simply needed to be heard.

“I’m sorry about the joke, I really could not have picked worse timing,” Topper says after a while. He lifts your head up from his chest, stroking a finger under your chin lovingly.

It’d be easy to just lean up and kiss him. But feeling infinitely better since he had wrapped you up in his embrace, you have half a mind to mess with him a little.

“Some April Fool’s joke you got there, bud,” you laugh quietly, a real one this time, and it’s music to Topper’s ears. “Who’s idea was that?” 

“Kelce,” he blushes, bringing you further into his arms. “If it’s any consolation, Rafe said I should—”

“I don’t even want to hear it,” you cut him off, laughing again. He laughs with you, leaning down to kiss you finally. 

“I really am sorry, baby,” he says softly, tucking hair behind your ear. “We can go tomorrow.”

“It’s okay, Top,” you sigh, running a hand through his blonde hair. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Well it’s not just me here, I brought your favorites. Let’s go eat bagels and maybe tell your parents you got into Yale,” Topper suggests, standing up up and extending a hand to you. You take it gladly, letting him pull you under his arm. 

“Hmm, how about we skip that last part and just go eat our bagels at the beach?” 

Topper gives you a disapproving look before he gets distracted and starts fiddling with the collar of your sweatshirt, taking in the colors and the logo.

“We’ll have to get you a Yale one pretty soon,” he says, dopey smile spreading on his face. “How could they not be proud of you?” 

You reach up to intertwine your hand with his where it rests around your neck, stroking your thumb over his. He was so sweet to you, it almost made him sound naive at times. Topper couldn’t begin to imagine the contempt your parents felt for you not wanting to follow their exact plans when you were clearly destined for better things.

“I will. Just not now,” you say, stopping to turn and give him one more peck. He detects a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Besides, you kinda owe me right now.”

“You’re never going to let this one go, are you?” he asks. 

“Literally never. My little April Fool,” you tease. Topper looks at you fondly and kisses you once more on the forehead.

“At long as I’m still your April Fool.” 

[bonnymori]

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲

Word count: 2760+ (i'll try to keep bigger lengths such as this one!)

Synopsis: You meet a new classmate who's working along Nanami, you think he's fun to be around, it stands the same to him about you. Later, feelings unravel.

Contents/Warnings: (1) Itadori Yuuji x gn!reader (2) FLUFF, TONS OF FLUFF - and some comfort (3) With the small participation of... Ino Takuma!! I really like him too, that's why <33333 (4) This is pretty platonic, but also not? (5) Ending turned sorta cliché... but I liked it u.u

A/N: This boy made me run rampant... to fhe point it's not single attraction anymore I just wish him happiness (smh if only my parents knew...) also next post will be Toji's fic pt. 2! Y'all see the first part is almost reaching 100 kudos????? I'M SO HAPPY EHSODJWKDKSJD- thanks for all the new followers and the support!! <33

Ever since his fake death, Itadori has been training alone with the help of Gojo - and now, he works along a freshly new face, who belongs to a senior, founds out ex-salaryman named Nanami Kento. He's far a thousand times more strict than Gojo. Itadori doesn't really likes the change, because Nanami is a person he can't get along. This whole guy's appearance scream "work 4 life"; he has proved different, now he screams "work is shit - but I gotta do it because others won't".

They've just finished cleansing the outside of a movie theater off a few curses, when Itadori hears shouting from far behind them. Two figures approach, waving excessively. He quickly picks on Nanami's tired sigh beside him.

"Nanami! We figured out you'd be here! Our mission has been finished and we wanted to catch up to have lunch together!" A male clad in a full black outfit shouts, he has brown hair and a beanie on top of his head, looking quite content.

The other person simply trots next to him in silence, approaching with a friendly smile. They notice Itadori faster than the male, smile widening and quickly waving hello, suddenly eager to reach up to them. The gesture makes the pink haired boy perk up, curious to why the other person looked so joyful. His question is easily answered, when they tug on the man's sleeve and motion to him.

"Ino, we have a third buddy!" The dude looks at him with widened eyes. "So nice to meet you, I'm Y/N L/N! It's great to see new faces around!"

Itadori smiles at your energy, knowing already he would click with you very well.

"I'm Ino Takuma, sorry for not noticing you before! Your uniform looks cool." Itadori exchanges a few compliments with Ino, before the man turns to talk with Nanami, leaving him and you together.

"Yes! I'm Sukuna's vessel, Itadori Yuuji-desu! My type of woman is Jenn-"

You turn to him. "So, are you a first year?"

"Geh? Weren't you dead though?!"

"I was!- I am!- Please keep secret."

"Okay!"

"Ahem." Nanami coughs, drawing attention. "I requested you two to not come after me today. Itadori here is the reason why."

"That's no problem, we're very capable of keeping secrets." You threw your arm over Itadori's shoulder, him nodding along with you.

"Oh really, then remember to keep quiet about it. I'll let this slide." The group of students nervously at Nanami's intimidating tone. "But, I'll get to have my break alone."

"Gah!" Ino exclaimed, watching Nanami walk away; he also left the responsability of taking care of Itadori for you two, leaving without a word. "It really had to be today, when Nanami would take us to his favorite bakery..."

"Crybaby." You teased. "Itadori here can't go outside where anyone can see him, he's dead. So, we were to order food either way because he shouldn't be left out."

"Augh okay, it would be unfair."

"So, where are you staying Itadori?"

"At Gojo's state!"

"Whoa, I've never been there before." Ino commented, waiting as you sent a message to Ijichi to pick them up.

"He's my teacher, a very cool one!"

"I imagine! Ooookay, once we get there I'll get the food."

Itadori felt as his chest would burst of excitement, finally there was people around him again, he couldn't be less happy about it.

"Sharing is caring!"

Itadori laughed as you wrestled with Takuma for some fries, netflix long forgotten in the background, as watching the banter was way more entertaining. Most of the time, Ino rambled a lot about Nanami, while he rambled a lot about Gojo. The guy even showed him the cool scar under his beanie. He felt kinda upset after explaining the exchange was just temporary, his stay under Nanami's wing wasn't decisive, and therefore, he was more like a classmate than a partner.

Itadori also learned a lot about you. He was surprised to find out that you, although energetic, was the one to speak the lesser in conversations. His surprisement grew even bigger when you told him you're a exchange student from Kyoto, arriving Tokyo about the same month as him - thankfully, you were to say for good.

Conversations flowed easily in the air, until a voice from the doorway barged in.

"Yuuji-kun! Don't forget about your lessons! Hi kids! Bye kids!" Gojo said playfully, throwing the familiar punching bear to Itadori before leaving.

"What's this thing?" Ino asked.

"It's to help me control my cursed energy. So while I watch the movies, if I don't charge it with cursed energy it punches me square in the face. I thought I had mastered this thing already, but he insist I keep training with it." Itadori grumbles.

"At least it's cute." You commented, taking a sip of your drink.

"Until it punches you in your face without warning!" The pink haired boy barks.

The talks died down, the three of you eating quietly when another movie is played on the screen. Itadori didn't bother reading the title, it was a plain one about a zombie apocalypse that got him extremely bored, yet he kept watching still so the plushie didn't punch him in the face again; he's been keeping a record since all his last cursed energy training lessons were a sucess to this day. When his head started nodding and eyelids dropping Itadori can't remember well, about fourty five minutes of movie perhaps? Make it fifty, the second slumber took over his body completely.

When he awoke once again, it was near midnight, the clock on the wall told him so. He also noticed a soft and warm surface supporting his head, figures, it's your shoulder he's resting into, he feels an arm around his own shoulders and your cheek placed upon his hair.

"Hey, it's late." You immediately notices he's awake, calling out softly. "You should sleep on your room, or something, better to your spine."

He chuckles when you poke his side. "But I'm comfortable here."

"I'm surprised, you just met me today, and now is sleeping on my shoulder."

"I'm not, that happens often to me."

"Sleeping on people's shoulders?"

"No! Making friends quickly." Itadori likes your gentle warmth, your hug, everything makes him feel at home. "I met two more people before you for two weeks, but they can't see me, because I'm dead."

"So I'll keep you company, that's my new mission."

His eyes widen at that, a oh so little blush covering the tip of his ears.

"For how many time I slept anyway?" He asks.

"About two- no, three hours. You missed two movies, and this one is about to end."

"And you stayed here the whole time?" He motions to your shoulder.

"Yep. That reminds me I gotta pee."

Itadori grumbles, but quickly lifts himself off you, respecting your needs. That gives him some time to look around, he notices Ino is gone, and the plushie sits quietly at the other side of the couch, unmoving.

"Y/N! How did you manage to make it quiet down?" He's beyond bafflet.

"...que."

"What!"

"I said!" You arrive quickly at the doorframe, hands still wet from when you washed them. "I used my innate technique."

"Oh! How is it like?"

"It's kinda funny, gimme a moment." You left to wipe off your hands, coming back in a second. "So, just like Shoko, I produce reverse curse energy, but it's quite different than hers, I can't heal people. That's why we often call it positive energy instead. I can use it to soothe off negative energy, so the bear has no cursed energy right now."

"How does it works on people?" He felt very curious about everything, asking away like a kid.

"Since everyone has negative energy, it just makes you sleepy really. But when it comes to curses it's really practical, I can either weaken it or, if the curse is like grade three or four, I can slap them off existence completely by wiping all their energy." You were naturally proud of having a such versatile power, your own energy swirling with pride around you.

"That sounds amazing! Is it why I fell asleep though?"

"Nah, only if I did it on purpose. I guess you were just tired, hope you don't mind I decided to let you rest today."

"No way, it was a good nap."

You nodded. "By the way, Ino left to attend to a drinking party, he paid for our food."

"Drinking? Is he old?"

"Yeah, he's twenty." You chuckled, already expecting that kind of reaction.

"No way! He looks young just like us!"

"That's totally my reaction after I learned he's twenty!"

After that day, you started visiting Itadori weekly to daily, after exchanging numbers he made a little group with you and Ino, naming it the "Nanami trio". But really, he exchanges more texts with you in private, be them memes, cool images he wish to share, etcetera. Although, Ino wasn't left excluded, he ofter brough his xbox to connect to Itadori's tv room and you all would spend hours playing together; he just didn't spend much time with both of you as much. And that was okay.

For a few days, your connection with Itadori died down when he didn't reply to your texts. They would remain unread for some time, the longest being half a day, until he would spam apologies then move on with the topic. That became a routine until one day when you came over to check on Itadori unnanounced, needin to ease off your worries about the boy, only to find him sobbing in the middle of a hallway, staring ahead and beyond, his back to you.

"Ita-?"

"Egh!" Startled, he scrambled to wipe his eyes, turning to you. "H-hey, um, hi."

"What happened?"

"I- he-" His eyes didn't met yours, knuckles white in a death grip. You notice he has a few bandages thrown over his face and arms. The way his shoulders are drawn, as if he wants to shrink into himself is something you've experienced before.

"Something hard to talk about?"

He nods almost immediately, head still facing down.

"It's alright, come with me." You reach for his hands, grimacing slightly when his forceful grip is now on your hand, yet you don't comment on it. He follows you through the state wordlessly.

You two stop on the same tv room, sitting down on the couch. You then guide his head to your shoulder, gently massaging his scalp with the free hand.

"It's alright."

Those two words are chanted like a prayer for the next half hour, at some point, Itadori twisted his body towards yours and unknowingly caged you between him and the sofa arm. He embraced you with a force you didn't have in you, like he didn't want to lose one another. Painful or not, not a muscle moved on your body. He needed a shoulder to cry on.

Thirty minutes passed like seconds, you peered down only to find the boy confortably napping against your bosom; at some point you just became the cold side of the pillow to him. That's alright. It brings you joy to be the mom friend anyways. So you decided to join the sleepland aswell, arms still secured around his shoulders and the back of his head.

It feels like the nap hasn't been long, though, because you can feel Itadori's grip loosening and therefore, you're awake.

"Sorry if I broke any bones, in advance."

"Wow, and you only warn me now."

He laughs at your comeback, hands still secured around your waist.

"I'm surprised you let me uh, cuddle you for comfort - and sleep. I don't understand it? You just make me sleepy." He rambled, keeping eye contact with you while his head still rests on your chest.

"That's a piece of cake when you have younger siblings who seek for you every night they get a nightmare."

"Does that mean I can come to you again if I have a nightmare?" There it is, his togepi-kirby cutesy face.

"Are you four?"

"That's mean!" Itadori blushed, squeezing you on his arms. "I like the contact. It puts me at ease."

"Mm, do you want to talk about it?"

He gulped. "No, not really."

Your peach haired friend remained silent, and so did you. It seems he doesn't intend in letting you go soon, or he just really forgot to mention it. It gives them time to think, your younger sisted used to do that sometimes, back in Kyoto.

"Y/N, wanna watch anything?"

"Sure, have you watched Parasyte before?"

"No, let's give it a try then!" Itadori glances at the remote, then back at you - making you confused over his hesitation to move. He notices you noticed it, chuckling nervously. "To be honest, I don't wanna let go."

"It's hurting my back."

"SORRY I'M SORRY!" He jumped away from you like a cat would jolt away from a cucumber, making you snicker.

"It's okay, I just wanted to change positions."

And to tease you, but he didn't need to know that part.

He glared at you with a small pout, typing the initials of Parasyte on the search bar. Outside his line of vision, you were grinning like a idiot, his sweeteness took a tow on you. All the people of Tokyo you met really held a way different spirit from your classmates in Kyoto, Itadori being the nicest of all. It's surprising him being Sukuna's vessel to begin with; being honest, you felt drawn by it.

"Y/N, it's startiiiiing." He cut your daydreaming short, slumping on your side and propping his head on your shoulder.

"This again?" You throw an arm around his shoulders, very much like the first time he cuddled himself on you.

"Don't blame me, you're the one who wanted to change positions. Guess I'll just make some alterations since I'm awake this time!" One of his arms went behind your back and circled your waist, hand resting at your hip.

"It's definely different, since the other time you drooled on me."

"Hhgh, okay okay! Let me enjoy this." For perhaps the actual first time, you're able to watch without exchanging words with one another.

And this time, it's you who's head loll to the side, nose buried on his soft rose perfumed hair. Itadori doesn't comment on it yet, his free hand moves under your legs to lift your whole body up efortlessly when he senses you have fallen asleep.

"I remember you said it's bad for my spine, I wouldn't mind it... yours however."

The boy makes a beeline to the guest room, he sighs when there is no choice but open the door with his foot. Inside, he places you carefully in the soft bed.

Before he could leave, a hand reaches up for his sleeve.

"Itadori," He turned, looking at you. "Make me company?"

He giggles softly - you think it sounds like a highschool girl. "You should start calling me by my first name!" Itadori rambles as he climbs on the bed, arms wrapping around your waist in a motion you're familiar with.

"Yuuji, I'm tired, let me sleep."

"But I wanna talk more..." He pouts. "Also, are we, um, dating?"

You wriggle around, bringing his head down to peck on his forehead, teasing. "Correction, I want to date you."

"Uh, oh." A blush coats his face so quickly, you'd say someone dumped a bucket of red paint on his face.

"Is that a no?"

"No!"

"So it is a no."

"Christ, will you stop teasing for a second, I'm trying to talk here." He makes an angry version of his togepi-kirby face, you can't help but grin.

"You amuse me, but okay. I'll do it for you."

"Thanks." He blinks, the blush slowly fading away. "You know, I lied, not about the contact, I like the contact nonetheless-"

His hand moves to play with yours, such as tapping his tips against yours, or meassuring the palms.

"-it's you who brings me comfort."

It's also your turn to blush, that line was seriously charming.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, we're dating now." You respond, a little eagerly. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

This is the best person I could ask for, Itadori thinks, keeping his eyes open as yours shut during the kiss, whom I won't change for anything else in this world.

When you both separate, Itadori feels drowsy and sleepy. His face fits perfectly on your shoulder as always.

"Goodnight, my favorite person."

[caffeineforbucky]

As Time Goes By...(Chapter One)

Post-blip (five or six months later)

A/N: This is my first time writing on this website or anything public really, I usually just write for me, please just bear with me if it looks or sounds janky. Also, thanks for taking the time to read. I deeply & wholeheartedly appreciate you. Enjoy!

Summary: I suck at them but, I'll give it a shot. You- the reader, are surprised by 'old' friends when they show up out of the blue, asking for your help on a mission. (This is just the sum for chap. 1)

Word count: 2,760

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, ex-boyfriend jealousy...

The day was coming to an end, a small heatwave conjuring up a sweat as you wiped down your last table for the night. You blew out a breath, brushing back a sheen of perspiration with your forearm, watching the last customer walk out of the restaurant as the bell chimed above their head.

You never understood why people chose to sit inside when there were tables out on the sidewalk. It was hotter in here than out there, especially since the air conditioner had gone out just a few days prior and the fans above the tables were only circling the air inside. It was an actual oven, but they contended.

Your hightops heaved across the tile, dragging yourself with the sufficiency of a person who was only working because they had to. You kicked up the doorstop, pulling the door towards you with a small amount of goodwill and vigor to finish locking up, flipping the paper sign over from open to closed. It wasn't as if you hated your job. You thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of it all. It was the only person working the night shift job you hated with every fiber of your being. You weren't completely alone in the restaurant, having a few cooks and the owner to keep you company, especially on busy nights like the one you just had.

"I'm clocking out, Mrs. Turner!" You call out, reaching behind your back to untie the knot of your apron, pulling it up and off your neck once the ties came undone. Trudging back to the table, you picked up the disinfectant wipe and toss it in the bin, making your way to your boss's office before hanging up your apron on the hook. "Mrs. Turner...?" You murmur softly, poking your head in through the doorway, only to see her counting the profits for the day. "I'm heading home," You chime, pointing behind your shoulder with your thumb as she glances up at you.

"Alright, Honey," She beams, a bright smile pulling at her lips as her eyes meet yours. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Working for the Turners wasn't supposed to be a permanent job, in fact, it wasn't even your original plan, as opposed to the small favors you would complete now and then for the people that were willing to pay a pretty penny for your...services.

But you figured having a stable job was smarter and safer than the alternative. And the help wanted sign was very persuasive, due to the pretty colors and splashes of glitter. It looked like it was made by a child, which you later found out, was decorated by Mrs. Turner's seven-year-old. "Always." You accede, tapping the doorframe as your goodbye before parading into the breakroom to gather your things from the lockers.

You take your backpack off the hook and swing the strap over your shoulder before time punching your card and going straight through the back door. The sounds of the city hit your ears as the heavy door slammed behind you. Traffic honks and tires treading against the grain while you walk further into the busy streets of San Francisco.

As you were about to turn the corner, you were met with the sight of your friend's van, followed by a trumpet rendition of La Cucaracha. You grinned widely, gripping your strap tighter as you jog up the 1972 Ford Ecoline, aka Big Bertha. At least that's what you called it. "Luis!" You rejoice, resting your palms on the ledge. "What are you doing here?"

"Scotty sent me out for a few things," Luis answers, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his head turned to you. "I was just about to go when I saw you. Thought you might need a ride." He shrugs, a cute smile playing on his lips.

You nod, reciprocating the smile at his answer. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble..." You drag, your voice hesitant, as if he didn't offer at all.

"Nah, get in." He gestures, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. "Your place is on the way," Luis loosens his seatbelt, reaching over to the passenger side to pull up the lock, opening the door for you.

You climb in, plopping down on the tufted leather seats as you pulled the door towards you, closing it shut. "Thanks, Lu," You breathe, dropping your backpack below your feet, then you fasten your seatbelt. "How is Scott, anyway?" You ask as Luis changes gears and presses the gas, the van rolls onto the street.

"Ehh...he's...he's alright, know what I'm sayin'?" He answers, glancing at you before focusing back on the road. "I mean, he missed like five years of his daughter's life. He's just trying to spend as much time with her to make up for years they both lost."

You nibble at the inside of your cheek, nodding softly in agreement as the city lights passed you by. There wasn't much you could say to that, having lost so many people yourself. People you considered family just...gone.

"Yo!" Luis pipes up, snapping you out of your train of thought. "Didja see the news today?!" He shakes his head, whistling at the thought. "I can't believe they would just give some random dude the shield like that, ya know?"

You drew in your bottom lip in contempt, nodding once again at Luis. You had seen the news, and they couldn't have picked a better time to broadcast. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Turner asking you in, you would've hunted Sam Wilson down and kicked his ass yourself.

The van rolled to a stop, brakes squealing as Luis pulled up beside your apartment. You sighed heavily, glancing at the small apartment you shared with your Ex-boyfriend. By the looks of the living room light illuminating behind the curtains, he was home, and you absolutely dreaded when he was. It wasn't as if you wanted to live with him, but you had no other alternative. Ever since dropping your side job, money was tighter, and he was kind enough to let you stay, just until you found a place. "Thanks again for the ride, Lu." You mumble, unclicking your seatbelt as you took hold of your backpack. "You didn't have to."

"Don't even mention it, Y/N," Luis reassures, watching you as you pull at the door handle, opening it to get out. "I know how hard it is to get back into the norm."

You shut the passenger door, shooting him a sympathetic smile. "I'll see you around?"

With a smile, Luis waves goodbye and drives off into the night, the exhaust pipe blowing smoke as he rode off. You shook your head, cracking a smile at the honk of his horn. You turned towards the front entrance of the apartment, your stomach twisting as your smile dropped completely. You swallowed thickly, rolling the tension from your shoulders to prepare yourself before jogging up the small flight of stairs.

You fished your keys from the front pocket of your backpack, taking a breath before shoving the key into the lock, twisting as you pushed the door open with your shoulder. "Joshua?!" You voiced, calling out your ex's name to make sure it was him. You dropped your belongings beside the door, pushing your sneakers off before kicking the door shut with your foot.

"Yeah, in here!" He responds quickly, a slight tremor to his tone.

You frown softly, tossing your keys into the bowl on the console table before sauntering to where his voice was emanating from. "Josh, are you...?" Your voice came to a halt, your footsteps stopping altogether as you walked into the living room.

"Hey!" Joshua exclaims once your figure comes into view. "You wanna explain who they are?" He presses, his face crossed with fear as he gestures to the two men sitting calmly on your living room couch.

You remained quiet, your body tense, eyes wide as your focus shifted between the men on the couch and your ex.

"Well...?" Joshua demands, crossing his arms over his chest, shifting in his stance at the unsettling glare one of the men was sending his way. "I was in the middle of hosting game night-as you can see, when they showed up," Josh drops his arms, hands splaying out to gesture to the coffee table consisting of five different dips, two bulk-sized bags of tortilla chips, and a twenty-four pack of Blue Moon beer. "The guys were just about to come over."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to refrain from any and all insults towards your ex. That explained why he was home. "Um..." You utter, pinching the bridge of your nose, "Fucking hell," You curse under your breath, eyes fluttering open to look at Joshua. "Josh," You begin, clearing your throat as you start with the man on the left. "They are Sam Wilson and..." You hesitate, eyes settling on the man to the right, his sight alone bringing back the memories that you swore you didn't want to remember. "James Barnes," You finish, ripping your eyes away from his baby blues to look at your ex. "Aka-"

"The Falcon and The Winter Soldier..." Joshua finishes for you, his eyes flashing with amazement, head whipping towards the guys. "Shit!" He curses, smiling widely like a kid in a candy store. "Can I get you guys anything? A plate? Beer?"

"Actually," You grunt, interrupting before Sam or Bucky could answer. "Can you give us a minute, Joshua?" Insisting while your foot tapped impatiently against the hardwood floor.

"Should I be worried?" He inquires, eyes filled with confusion as he looked between the three of you, trying to piece together the situation at hand. The main reason you and Joshua couldn't work it out was that you kept a lot of secrets, mostly from him. He didn't like the fact that you wouldn't let him in. Sure, you lied to him, the biggest lie being that you were an Avenger, but that was just to keep him safe. There were other reasons why you decided to split up as well. Joshua knew...he knew deep down you were just with him to pass the time. He could see it when he looked into your eyes. There was someone else in the reflection and it wasn't him. If he was honest with himself, he could admit that it did hurt him. That he wanted a chance to make it work with you, but with the way you were staring at James, he finally recognized that reflection.

He should've noticed it early on-like that day he had somehow convinced you to take a trip to D.C for a tour of the Captain America museum. You were hell-bent on not going, trying to make up some elaborate excuse or an alibi of sorts, but alas, you still went. And for some odd reason, you couldn't stop coming back to the Bucky Barnes portion.

"No," You reply, keeping it short to dismiss him.

Joshua's mouth set in a hard line, a foreign feeling forming in the pit of his stomach-jealousy. He never had to worry about it before, especially when his friends used to come over, back when you were still together. Except for that one time, but how could he blame them? You were the kind of person that listened, laughed at the jokes being made, could lend a hand when needed, and your looks were just a bonus in his book. "Uhm, yeah," He coughed, frowning softly while nodding his head at you. "I have to go pick up the pizza, anyway," Josh brushes past you, fetching his keys from the bowl while slipping on his Vans that sat up against the wall ledge that separated the front door from the living room. "Are you going to be okay?" He mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

You shoot Josh a smile, nodding reassuringly, his footsteps approaching closer before stopping in front of you, the palm of his hand landing gently on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Let me know if you need anything, m'kay?" Josh's voice is soft, the concern in his eyes making you feel guilty. You knew he cared about you, and there wasn't a time where you'd catch him staring at you for far too long, but you were well past that. "I'm just a text away," He notes, waving his cell in his hand.

"Josh, I'll be fine," You sigh, stepping away from his touch, the sound of his hand hitting his jeans as it dropped from your shoulder. "I always am."

"Right," Josh nods, looking over at the men on the couch before gazing back at you. "I'll see you in a bit, bug." And with that, he turns, opens the front door, and steps out, shutting the wooden door behind him.

You close your eyes, the pet name Josh had coined for you making you sigh. He agreed to stop calling you that all together and it only made you feel that more guilty for ending things. "So..." You pipe up, opening your eyes as you turned to look at the guys. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Bug?"

Bucky is the first to speak, his jaw clenched at the mere sound of the word. Indignant at the way Josh had touched you, even if it was just your shoulder. "I didn't know he knew you like that," Bucky flashes you a taut smile, nodding softly as he shared a look with Sam, but the falcon only shook his head. "How long have you been..." Bucky couldn't even finish the question, his glove-clad hands tightening at the thought of you being with somebody else...someone that wasn't him. Though, it was his own fault. If he hadn't done what he'd done-you'd have never found another.

"Wow," You scoff, padding closer to where they sat. "You don't miss a beat, do you? Just..." You sink into the sofa adjacent to the one they occupied. "-Right into the big stuff."

"I didn't bring you here to question her about her love life," Sam voices, his scolding eyes on the man beside him. "And she sure as hell isn't obligated to answer you, Bucky."

You smile gratefully at Sam before glancing down at your leg that had begun to bounce in anticipation. "What are you guys doing here? And how'd you find me?" You ask, tilting your head in curiosity as you look up at the guys. "When I resigned from the Avengers initiative, they ensured me that I wasn't able to be traced, not by your or any other remaining member. I was supposed to be scot-free," You declare, hitting your thigh with your fist.

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Sam chuckles, shaking his head at the naivety. "We both know that's a bunch of bullshit. The government is always going to have its eyes on us. Especially free agents like you and us."

You draw in your bottom lip, biting down, eyes flickering between Sam and Bucky. You knew it was too good to be true, and part of you sensed the bullshit when the government explained it to you. You just didn't want to believe it.

"You were an ex-assassin. How could they not keep tabs on your whereabouts?" Sam recounts, emphasizing that it was in the past. At least, that's what they thought. "And I had some help from Redwing as well." He shrugs nonchalantly.

You choke out a laugh, shaking your head at the smug demeanor emitting from Sam. "Redwing," You whisper, smiling thinly. "Of course, nothing could ever be hidden from your personal P.I, huh?"

"I hate that thing," Bucky grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. in annoyance. "Invasion of privacy, I'm telling you."

"You love redwing," Sam jokes, playfully jabbing Bucky's arm with his elbow, "It's okay Bucky, you can admit it."

"Can we get back to the issue here?" You interject, "Not one of you has explained the reason you're here. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to see you...one more than the other," You whisper that last part but, completely aware that Bucky could hear it. "But, you both showing up out of the blue...? That's almost a bad omen."

"I didn't ask him here, by the way," Sam acknowledges, raising his hands in defense, "I just want to get that out of the way. Bucky came because he wanted to. I'm here," Sam gestures to himself, "-For one reason and one reason only..."

"And what's that?" You ask, leaning forward in your seated position.

"I need your help, Y/N."

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

after the credits

to thirteen years of cas and of the greatest love story ever told...an empty rescue fic for y’all :) 2.3k,  read on ao3 here

--------------

After a while, Castiel gets tired of watching. He’s practically dreaming all the time, but he’s so tired.

Eternal sleep is not restful.

He can’t leave the Empty, but he manages to mold it, with his mind, into a theater. He went to one once, with Dean, and there are probably nicer theaters, like those for plays and operas, but this movie theater is right for him. If he concentrates, he can almost smell burnt, buttery popcorn and spilled soda and old carpet, and Dean right next to him, aftershave and car oil and whiskey.

Almost.

The scenes unfold in a memorable order, because they’re Cas’s own memories. At first, he tried to jump in, alter the scene, but he’s powerless. So, like clockwork, he watches. He’s saving Dean in hell. He’s being stabbed in the chest by the same man he raised. He’s asking Dean to get answers from Alastair and then almost getting the grace pressed out of him. He’s slamming his palm onto a bloody sigil. He’s--

Everything, all of his twelve years on earth, pass by, over and over and over again.

Right now, it’s an early scene, not far into the cycle. It’s not one of his favorites, because he can see the expression on his face, remembers exactly how he felt. Remembers that he he was feeling at all.

“That was a pretty awkward kiss, huh?”

Cas turns sharply at the sound of Dean’s voice. Of course, Dean does talk in this scene, before he kisses Anna. But this Dean is sitting next to him, frowning at the screen.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Cas says.

“I know.”

Chances are this is just the Empty trying to mess with him. Last week a random trashcan showed up in his theater. Or maybe it was last year, or a millenia ago, or five minutes from now. Time is weird.

They keep watching in silence. On the screen, in the memory, Cas’s head jerks away from the sight of Dean and Anna kissing. The scene flips then, to a park at night, Anna right in front of Cas, no Dean in sight.

“For the first time, I feel...” Memory-Cas says.

“It gets worse,” Anna warns.

“So your first feeling….” Dean starts.

“It was something.” Cas can’t look at him. The scene on-screen changes.

Dean, to his merit, doesn’t press.

The memories progress through the year they spent trying to stop the apocalypse, the year that ended with Sam diving into the pit and Dean going off to Lisa’s. Then through Cas starting to work with Crowley, a conversation that happened right behind Dean without his knowledge.

On-screen, Cas is watching Dean rake leaves. The expression on his face is nearly mournful. After a moment, Crowley steps into view.

“Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?” Crowley says.

“What are you doing here?” Memory-Cas asks.

“I want you to help me help ourselves.”

“Speak plain.”

Crowley smirks. “I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That’s all.”

“You want to make a deal? With me? I’m an Angel, you ass. ”

The scene flips again.

“Is there a way to pause this?” Dean asks.

Cas shakes his head. “It just does this, on a loop. I can’t sleep. The Empty won’t let me.” He puts a hand on the armrest between them. “I forced the theater up, to make it better.”

“It looks a lot like that theater we went to once.”

“I know.” Cas stares at Dean for a moment, looks away.

Many of these scenes are things Dean knows of. Cas works with Crowley, gets locked in a ring of fire, feels his chest seize up as Dean looks back for a moment. Watches the Leviathans lead him to a lake. They meet again on porch steps, Cas unable to remember who he is but still able to figure out that Dean is important. Cas gets his memories back, takes on Sam’s hell trauma. They go to Purgatory, Cas stays behind. It’s like clockwork.

Until.

“I don’t remember that,” Dean says slowly, watching himself die on the screen. “You never--you’ve never killed me.”

“Yes and no.” Cas knows what’s coming next--he’s going to kill Dean thousands of times. Each one is the same, with Cas in tears as these copies, mock-ups of Dean struggle, beg and plead, tell him not to. Each time, Naomi makes him do it again.

Until, finally, he doesn’t hesitate.

And she says he’s ready.

As they watch that scene in the crypt unfold, with the real Dean at Cas’s mercy, Dean leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and propping his chin in his hands. “You lied.”

“Hm?”

“You said you didn’t know what broke the connection.” Dean twists his head to look at Cas. “But you did.”

“I did,” Cas assents.

They watch Cas ride cross-country on a bus, pulling out his phone and almost calling Dean over and over again.

“Is there a way that we can see some of my memories?” Dean asks.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”.

Dean shrugs. “Well, I am here, and you figured out how to make a friggin movie theater, so I think I can do it.”

The image on the screen shudders, coalesces, breaks into a million pieces and then reforms. Dean is standing on the edge of a lake, picking up Cas’s coat, still covered in Leviathan goo. “You dumb son of a bitch,” Memory-Dean mutters, wrapping up the coat in his arms.

The scene flickers again--the coat in those same hands, moving from car to car to car, and then being passed to Cas. “I always knew you’d come back ,” Memory-Dean says. It’s a soft scene, almost, but then it flips to Dean seizing a monster’s collar in purgatory. He’s covered in blood and grime as he shoves the monster up against a tree, practically growling, “Where’s the angel?”

Even after the monster answers, Dean guts him.

It’s a cycle. The memory blurs through sleepless nights, through Dean stepping into streams to pray, prayers Cas knows well. It pushes past Cas letting go of Dean’s arm in the portal, and here’s something else new: Dean sees Cas on the side of the road, sees him outside the window while it pours down rain, sitting bolt upright at the phantom sight of Cas’s face.

“Why are you here?” Cas finally asks. This must really be Dean, after all. The Empty wouldn’t know these things, wouldn’t be able to dream them up. They’re too good, too honest.

“To bring you home.” Dean kicks the back of the seat in front of him, leans back in his own chair.

“I can’t go home.”

“You should.” The scene on screen rapidly changes--it’s Dean as he looks now, carrying a little boy on his back. The little boy is blonde, round-faced, holding onto Dean’s neck for dear life, laughing as Dean swings around.

“Is that--” No, it can’t be.

“Yep. He’s four, you know.” Dean clears his throat. “He misses you.”

“I wish I could have gotten to say good-bye.” Cas trails off.

“Come home. Then you never have to say it.”

Cas shakes his head. On the screen, Dean is reading to Jack, Jack following the words with a chubby finger. “It would be...awkward.”

“How?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “We’re family, dude. Jack misses you, Sam misses you, and Eileen’s been hanging around, and me…” Dean clamps his mouth shut.

That’s why.

“Things aren’t going to be the same. Not after…” Cas takes a deep breath. “What I said. We won’t be able to ignore it.”

“Then we won’t.”

“Dean--”

“You don’t know?” Dean’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know. Okay. I, uh…” The screen turns black.

“You what?” Cas is almost afraid to know.

“I didn’t want you to see this.”

The blackness unfurls into Billie’s library, Dean standing in front of her. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation.

“What do you want me to say?” Memory-Dean asks. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. ”

“Don’t you?” Billie replies.

“I couldn’t save Mom. I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.”

“Dean--” Cas starts, but Dean just looks at the floor, like he’s trying to avoid this.

“You really believe that,” Billie says. “You wanna die.”

“When was this?” Cas asks, speaking over the rest of Billie’s statement.

“It was...right before we, uh, got the call from you. That you were back.” Dean leans his head all the way up, looks at what would be the movie theater’s ceiling, if it wasn’t in the void. “I had a bad time. I…I would show it to you. But I don’t want you to see me like that. I held it together enough to wrap your body and burn it…”

“Hunter’s funeral.”

“Only kind I know how to do.” Dean swallows, audibly. “I’m doing what I can now. Having Jack to take care of, and Eileen around, too, helps. But it’s…” He finally looks at Cas again. “Please let me take you home. Please come home with me.”

Cas would do anything for Dean Winchester. He has done anything for him before. So he will grant him this, at least the illusion, because Cas knows he can’t leave the Empty. He’s trapped here for eternity.

He takes Dean’s hand.

-----------------------------------------

There is a little boy crawling on him.

“Daddy,” the boy says, poking his face, “I know you’re awake.”

“Jack,” Dean says, from somewhere up above, “Cas is still sleeping.”

Cas blinks rapidly. “‘M not.”

“Shouldn’t’ve said that.” Dean releases Jack, and Jack fully clambers onto Cas.

“I missed you,” Jack says.

“I missed you too.” Cas holds onto him, tight. He’s so small, like he’s supposed to be. A kid. Safe.

Cas thinks he might be in Dean’s bed.

The bunker, he discovers, looks much the same. He was gone for four months, in which time Dean and Sam took care of Chuck, Jack became a kid, and Eileen became a permanent fixture. When Dean and Sam aren’t looking, she signs to Cas, “He already looks better.”

“Who, Dean?” Cas signs back.

Eileen nods. “He had a pretty bad time.”

Dean turns around then, and Eileen presses a finger to her lips.

There’s not a quiet moment for the rest of the day. Sam explains what happened--”You might be human now,” he says, and Cas replies, “I’m not tired yet.”--and Jack wants Cas to read to him and play Barbies and racecars and puppets (apparently Dean built Jack’s little puppet theater, which--).

After dinner (spaghetti and meatballs, and Dean has a Coke instead of beer, Cas notices), everyone goes off to bed, and Cas realizes he is tired, which is something to think about.

He starts to head to the room he typically stays in, but Dean seizes the top of his arm. “Nope, you’re coming with me.” Dean drags Cas down the hall towards his room.

Cas hadn’t gotten a good luck at it earlier, what with Jack climbing all over him, but he sees it now. Dean’s bed unmade, scraps of random paper littered across the dresser, a picture Cas recognizes because he and Dean are wearing cowboy hats, and now he knows how Dean was really doing right before that case in Dodge City--

There’s also a dent in the wall. That’s new.

Dean follows Cas’s gaze. “I chucked a whiskey bottle at it. Sam took the rest of my stash the next day.” Dean steps over, brushing the drywall’s cracks with his fingers. “I didn’t fix it up so I wouldn’t forget.”

I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.

“Dean,” Cas says, “Tell me in words.”

“What?” Dean turns away from the wall. “Tell you what?”

“You know.”

Dean swallows, licks his lips. “I’d say don’t ever do that again on the whole dying thing, but I said that to you once and you didn’t listen. And maybe if I say it the right way now, you’ll stay, but…” Dean slumps, sits on the bed. “You can’t leave again.”

Cas touches the wall himself before sitting next to Dean on the bed. “I’m not going to.” He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch Dean.

Dean touches him instead, leaning into Cas, finding one of Cas’s hands, holding it tight. He’s crying, Cas realizes. “I love you,” Dean says into their joined hands, then his chest wracks with a sob. “I was always so sure that if--” another sob, “If I said it, you’d leave. Get taken away from me.”

“I’m not going to leave,” Cas repeats.

He isn’t sure how long they sit like that, but Dean finally straightens up, lets go of Cas’s hand, wipes his eyes with the back of his own. “Pajamas,” Dean says, standing and crossing to the dresser. “We gotta get you some of your own, but…” He digs a pair of sweats out of the drawer and tosses them to Cas. “These’ll do for tonight.”

Cas doesn’t ask if he can stay. Dean doesn’t ask him to leave.

With the lights out, it’s pitch black, almost as inky as the Empty, but Cas can hear Dean breathing, so close to him. The bed is almost too small for both of them, so they’re nearly chest-to-chest. Hardly ever have they been this close. Never did Cas dare to dream it.

In the dark, under the covers, the world outside of this room, Dean kisses him. It’s flat, soft, a brush of lips, the barest ghost, but it’s enough. More than enough.

Cas is home.