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pedge-page · 18 days

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Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Date Night

Joel Miller x F!Reader

based on this lovely ask. I've added some zest and a lil smut that came out of nowhere cuz why not. Mommy and Daddy are horny when they're alone.

Warnings: unprotected sex, brief breeding kink, car sex, semi-public sex, descriptions of reader's body related to pregnancy

18+ONLY

- - - -

Joel’s been waiting for this night for over a year now. It really shouldn’t take this long to get a date night alone again with the wife after giving birth, but lord knows the Miller family girls were inseparable the minute Sarah let out her first cry into the big world.

You’ve been the ever attentive Momma, and Joel couldn’t have been more ecstatic to have the perfect trifecta.

But oh my god he needs a minute alone with you again. You wanted to be with Sarah 24/7 and vice versa. And since the little bean turned 3, she’s become more clingy than ever possible.

Not tonight. He’s made the perfect reservation, had Tommy clear his schedule to babysit for weeks now, and even picked up a gorgeous necklace and matching earrings to compliment adults-only night out. The kids (being Sarah and adult-Tommy) can have their own fun. Joel needs his wife tonight.

“And she gets 30 minutes of TV max okay? Then you have to read her—one second Joel—one of her books, she might pick it out herself, please be patient, she’s gonna keep switching it on you but that’s ok, and then—oh don’t forget her blanket is in the dryer so its extra warm—oOH and Tommy—“

“He’s got, honey,” Joel tuts. Tommy has been approved for babysitting duty before. He trusts him (as far as the neighbor can see into the house not being burned down).

You and Joel are standing in the kitchen, ready to sneak out the back door while Sarah is dancing to the little trolls on the television in her own world.

“Okay,” you whisper. Joel holds the door open as you hesitantly look back. “I”m just gonna give her a quick kiss--“

He looks his arm into yours and hoists you back. “No! She won’t let you go. She’ll be fine. C’mon.”

Joel and you tip toe out and round the garden to the front door with giggles, trying not to stumble over the long grass and patchy holes in the yard.

You’re almost to the car parked in the driveway when you hear screaming from inside, followed by the door opening and a midget Sarah running towards you with a red, tear-stricken face as Tommy is shouting “Hey get back here bug!”

“Mama!” She smashes her face into your dress and wraps her arm around your legs. Her little body trembles with sobs.

“Sarah, Mama’s here, it’s okay.” You pout and crouch down and hug her, cooing away her baby tears.

Joel makes eye contact with Tommy who’s standing at the front door with an apologetic look. He shakes his head: mission failed. But he’s not giving in so easily.

The toddler sniffles and wipes her cheeks with puffy fists. She grabs your hand and leads you back inside the house, and Joel follows behind.

You sit and watch tv with her for a few minutes but she starts to look sleepy. Joel nudges you again, and you slide off the sofa carefully as can be. This time, you don’t even make it to the door before you feel a strong grip tugging at your dress.

Twice more over the next 40 minutes, Sarah comes screaming towards you, refusing to let you go.

Joel’s given up on the reservation and just hopes the two of you can snag a bar spot at this point.

“I’m sorry, she just keep slipping—“

“She’s got so much fat,” Joel grumbles as you plant fat kisses on her head and sway her side to side in your arms, “There’s no way she just ‘slips’. Just hold her down, Tommy!”

Sarah is glued to your leg, crying as you once again try to leave the house with Joel.

“No!nonononoNONONONONO!” She wails, bitty nails digging into your calf.

Joel gives Tommy a look just as Sarah is rubbing her face on your dress. "SARAH,” he shouts with a stern booming voice. His thick finger points down at her authoritatively. She hiccups, startled, and listens:

"Daddy and Mommy are LEAVING. Do you understand me?"

Her lips wobbles, eyes scrunching into a terrible fit before screeching at the top of her lungs in tears and going to hold you tighter.

Before she reaches you, Tommy scoops her up by the belly and slings her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes at the same time Joel hoists you over his and takes you to the truck.

Joel has to drag you to the car as you watch Sarah's teary red face and outstretched arm yelling for you dramatically from Tommy's shoulder before he closes the front door on her.

You sit in the passenger seat timidly. Joel angrily slams the door before rounding towards the driver side.

“Finally,” he grumbles, putting his seatbelt on and turning the ignition.

You sniffle a bit, looking at the window solemnly.

“You’re not crying, are ya?” He asks hesitantly.

“No!” You cry.

He grinds his jaw but continues to put the car in reverse. His warm hand pats along your thigh as you wipe the almost tears from your eyes. You refuse to let your makeup get ruined.

“It’s gonna be fine, Christ, Mama.”

You nod and cross your arms, thinking about your baby girl and her sad tears the entire ride.

At the restaurant, Joel managed to get a table despite the hostess grumbling about their lateness. He’s pleased, finally having you to himself, no child at the hip to worry about, just the two of you again like it all started.

He sips his wine and admires the view: you really put forth the effort tonight, your hair blown out and beautifully full, makeup neutral yet with a sexy hint of red lipstick, and the earrings and necklace compliment your looks perfectly.

Not to mention the boner he’s getting from seeing you in such a dress as if you were back in your 20s again.

"You look so beautiful," he says quietly with a smile.

"Yup sure do,” you say curtly, sipping your water quickly and then twiddling the button at the time on the phone.

He grunts disapprovingly. “Can you really not just relax—“

"We've never been apart from her this long!"

"Yes we have. When we both work. She goes to daycare. Tommy has baby sat her before."

"Mmmhgmmgmfmdmdddfgfggrrhrhrr but she--"

“She needs to learn to self sooth on her own. She’s FINE.” He reiterates. Joel refuses for this night, this one night in a very very long time, to be about Sarah! “What about us?"

You pause and look up from your anxious state, turning to a worried, perplexed one instead. “What do you mean? We're fine, aren't we?" You ask hesitantly, and he absolutely catches the wobble in your voice.

"Yes…! Oh honey, no I didn’t mean it like that. I mean... well… I never get to see just you anymore."

Your eyes soften with remorse and heartfelt appreciation. “That's what happened when you have children, Joel."

"I know I know, and I love her to death, but Jesus I love you too! I loved you first and I miss just having you to myself sometimes too. I feel like I’m competing with her over you.”

You nod in agreement. “I’m sorry. I know I get so worked up. If she had a sister, it'd be so much easier on her.”

“How are we supposed to give her a sister if I can't get 5 seconds alone with you?"

You hide the little grin on your face just as he dips to catch it with a satisfied smirk. “If that were the case, you would have taken me to a hotel tonight. Not dinner.”

Joel contemplates with wide eyes of realization at his mistaker of venue. “We can get this to-go right now. Can get to the holiday inn in 10 minutes, and I’m sure they got a room for the next few hours—“

You kick his shin and laugh.

He can’t stop smiling with you. You’re finally relaxed now, and just as radiant as the first day he met you. Same when he married you, and every day you were glowing during the pregnancy. The only moment that beat it was when he saw you first hold your newborn in your arms.

“I can’t stop staring at you,” he admits. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You bite the inside of your lip and check your phone again for the time. Butterflies kick up in your stomach and nestle somewhere south that has your your thighs clenching together. Throwing your hand up in the air to signal the waiter: “Can I get a to-go for this? We have somewhere to be, right now.”

You couldn’t manage to wait for the drive to the hotel. Forcing Joel to pull over on the side of some empty backroad, crawling into his lap and stripping his jacket just as you grind your panty-clad core into his slacked-bulge.

“Fuck, oh my god,” he groans, pulling you flush against him and kissing you deeply. Both your hands are busy trying to undo the other’s clothes—his fingers working to unzip your dress, revealing your smooth back, breasts on display for groping. At the same time you nimbly fight each of his buttons to push your palms against his broad chest. Fighting to suck in air between each forceful kiss. Entangled in one another like horny teenagers.

“I miss this,” he hums against your cheek just as you reposition your underwear to the side with one hand, fisting his cock out of his slacks with the other. His hands glide over your ass, patting your cheek once, ruffling the slit in your dress.

“Me too,” you snicker, finally settling his tip at your entrance. “I miss being able to straddle you without a belly,” you add quickly, and he almost laughs were it not for the synchronous moan you both let out as you sink down on his length fully.

Your eyes flutter, but a gentle grasp of your jaw pulls your face just an inch from his. “I want you to watch me,” he groans. “Watch me make love to you.” Your lips hover over his plump ones as you begin to slowly rock up and down along his massive cock. “That’s it, that’s my wife. So good f’me.”

You nod, whimpering softly. Each little hump pushes his tip deeper, nudging your g-spot effortlessly.

“So full,” you whine.

“You take it so good, baby. Always have.” His arms wrap securely around your hips as you grind on one another. He really was made for you. Your walls always fit like a glove around him, just tight enough to make him nearly blow his load each time were it not for an extreme amount of effort to avoid it. Every change to your body since having Sarah has only made his lips and hands hungrier to feel, the new dips and curves, soft plush areas just begging to be grasped by him. He wants it, wants you and so much more.

“Joel,” you warn, keening with little high pitched etches caught in your throat. “M’gonna cum.”

“Me too,” he rasps. “Gonna do it inside. You gonna take it?”

You nod, tears of euphoria welling in your eyes as you whimper.

“Gonna put another baby in ya? Right fuckin’ here, in my truck behind a restaurant? That how you want it? Dirty dirty girl, holy fuck—“

You gasp, your entire boy trembling against him as you cum. He captures your lips before you let out your moan, walls contracting around him until he feels his lower tummy snap. Balls twitching, he grunts into your mouth as he spills his generous seed deep into your womb. It’s so much, so pent up, so drawn out.

It’s the best mind-clearing cure you’ve ever had.

You collapse forward on him, slouched and panting against his sweaty neck. Your soft lips connect with his collarbone. He pecks your forehead, brushing the hair from your face.

It’s not comfortable at all, scrunched up here in his car. neither of you are nearly as young as the recent activity suggest, but with his strong arms wrapped lovingly around you, the fog blurring the windows and separating the two of you from the rest of the world, you could stay like this forever.

It’s quiet in Joel’s arm. Just the two of you—

His phone buzzes in his pocket and you fish out the device.

12 missed calls from Tommy.

You sit straight up and hit your head on the roof. “Ow!”

But there’s no time to hurt, not when Tommy’s last text message isa jumbled mess : ‘45ssfgh5 vi w2434467777$$75%refft+..87’

“Oh my God! OhmyGod—OHMYGOD— Joel, we need to go home right fucking now! What if they’re incoherent? What if something crashed into the house? What if it’s a fire? What if someone broke in—!”

He wipes his face with both hands. Truth is, he knew his phone was going off all night, but if you weren’t getting any messages, then it couldn’t have been an emergency. It was best to deliberately ignore whatever Tommy, a grown adult, couldn’t figure out on his own.

“Alright alright. We’ll go—“

“HURRY THE FUCK UP!” You scratch, setting into the passenger seat and reaching to turn the keys for him.

He slaps your hand away offensively before tucking his softened, creamy cock back inside his trousers and speeding back home.

Low and behold, as you nearly trip out of the car towards the house (the very intact, not on fire, not broken into, normal looking house just as you left it,) you stumble into the front door to see Tommy passed out on the couch with a drooling Sarah propped up against his shoulder.

Clutched in her tiny hands is Tommy’s massive phone that is the side of her arm, with Joel’s contact open and a half jumbled message of random letters and numbers still half written before she must have fallen asleep.

You sigh heavily.

Joel comes in right after you and chuckles as you catch your breath. You smack him on the shoulder.

“Probably shouldn’t wake her,” he whispers to you with a peck to the lips. You pout but obey, not wanting to make a scene right as she’s asleep.

He walks over to his younger brother and flicks his forehead.

“M’up!” He mumbles.

“You’re supposed to put her to bed before you fall asleep.” He scoops his sleepy baby into his arms and carries her off to her room, leaving the door cracked.

Joel escorts Tommy out just as you unlatch your earring. You glance back towards her room, the light from the kitchen illuminating a sliver of the bed, and Sarah has somehow miraculously disappeared.

You’re running out after Joel, who’s opening Tommy’s truck door just as you both see something waddling in the dark and getting into the back seat by herself.

“Sarah!”

The toddler rubs her sleepy eyes but doesn’t respond, just sits quietly in uncle Tommy’s truck with the lap belt pulled over her seat.

Joel, on the other hand, sees the opportunity to get you alone, loud, and spread out in bed all to himself for the rest of the night. “Yes, take her!" He encourages. Tommy grumbles with his hands on his hips.

You shake your head in disbelief and shove past him. “Sarah no! Mommy's home! Let's cuddle—“

"No." She says plainly. "I go to MeeMee now."

"No! You stay with Mommy!" You cry.

She shakes her head again more defiantly, but her little voice cracks as just mumbles. “You lef me!”

Your heart is cracking in a million pieces, chest aching so badly as water blurs your vision. “I’m sorry! Please I won't do it ever again!"

"No!"

"You're never watching my child again. Thomas!” you seethe at defenseless Tommy.

Now you and Sarah are crying and hyperventilating in the driveway at 10pm.

"Daddy made me!" You wail like a baby yourself. sounding almost indistinguishable from Sarah now. Fat tears spill down both of your faces, sagged shoulders twitching with each sniffle.

You and Sarah both huff and wipe your puffy red eyes.

Finally, Sarah speaks up with her little sobs subsided: “Daddy go to MeeMee and Mommy and RaRa stay home.”

“Deal. Joel, pack your bags,” you say plainly, straightening up and reaching out for Sarah, who gladly accepts you in her arms.

As you walk with her on your hip back to the house without another word, Tommy glances back in amusement.

And just like that, Joel was #2 again.

Joel fluffs the flat pillow on Tommy’s bed. The two of them sharing the full mattress since the younger brother only just moved into his new apartment, not having picked up any other furniture at the moment except for his tiny ass mattress.

"You think this is real funny don't you,” Joel grumbles. He tugs on the blanket and shifts uncomfortably over to his side, facing away.

Tommy chuckles and wipes his face, trying to clear the soreness from his cheeks after laughing all the way home. “Hell yeah. You wanted that, all of it, remember?"

Joel just grins happily, subconsciously twirling the gold band on his ring finger. He checks his phone one last time, the picture of you and Sarah as an infant in his arms smiling up at him. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

He’s achy and exhausted when comes back home in the early morning. Tommy had kicked him off the bed in his sleep, so the older brother just walked home for 20 minutes.

It’s not until he sees you and Sarah curled up on his bed together, her little pjs riled up over her fat belly, fist clutched above her head, and you with your protective hand around her hip, nose buried in her hair, breathing so softly in unison, that he can't imagine anything better. He kisses both your heads before walking back towards door.

There’s a little rustle and patter noise behind him, and Joel stops, almost shouting and jumping up when he turns to see little Sarah standing on his heels looking up to him. She points to the bed with very pouty lips and tired yet steamy eyes. Joel takes her hand and she guides him to the bed.

She clutches the side and hoists herself up with all her might before Joel joins in on his vacant side. Two tubby fingers grip his cheeks and pull him to stare directly into her soul a she says clearly: “Don’t ever take Mama away again. You understan me?" With a fat digit pointed inches from his eyeball.

He swallows and nods fearfully: “Yes ma’am".

Switching on a dime, his babygirl smiles gently and kisses his scruffy cheek. Her little head settles onto his shoulder just as he tucks her between the two of you, curling around her and nuzzling himself into your hair.

He sighs heavily and feels himself falling asleep, his family finally wrapped up into his arms.

"Daddy," Sarah says after 12 seconds of silence, rubbing her eyes. “Chocwit pancakes."

Your head jolts up and you hazily grumble, “Ooo pancakes yes please! Can you put chocwit chips in them?"

You fall back onto the pillow, pulling Sarah back into your arms with a content, lazy smile.

He rolls his eyes and crawls out of bed just as Sarah and you cuddle closer together and fall back asleep.

- - - -

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bluberryfields · 8 months

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"I want a proper apology."

The dramatic “apology dance”

In the entirety of Season 2, I think the “apology dance” scene is pretty close to my favorite.

The way Crowley walks in like he’s entering a stage in a packed theater.

The way Azi clearly sees him coming and fusses himself up to look extra focused on his work and not at all excited about Crowley’s return.

Crowley, noticing that Azi has yet to look at him, ramps up the drama by:

Whipping off his glasses (taking off his armor)

Response from Azi? Clears his throat and focuses harder on his work.

Time for Level 2 Drama, it seems.

Stalking over to the table (no sauntering here)

Tossing the glasses down (looks casual but absolutely isn’t)

Ringing that little bell (like a ceremonial gong signaling “this is fucking happening”)

Walking back into the rotunda where he has maximum visibility (also maximum vulnerability)

Azi now has no choice but to react, which he does by slowly looking up and over at Crowley, who looks like the human-shaped embodiment of dread.

Finally announcing “I’m back” like the bitchy customer who just yesterday had declared they were never shopping here again

I mean, wow. Amazing. Glorious.

Not to be outcunted, Azi just casually turns back to his work and practically hums, “Yes. I can see that.”

Damn, Aziraphale, did you take lessons in passive aggression from my mother?

Now Crowley groans in a way that I felt to my core and asks, “Do you want a big, ‘I think I said the wrong thing,’ sort of an apology, or can we take that as said?”

He averts his eyes until the last second because this probably feels more demeaning than begging Azi not to do his magic act at Warlock’s birthday part.

Still turned away, Azi replies in a tone that is a mix of hurt and guilt that makes me think this has been coming for awhile. "I'd like the apology actually." I bet you would, Angel.

Back to Crowley, he pauses to assess his options, takes a deep breath, and says the magic words: “You were right.” Also looks like he almost says something else but either doesn’t know what to say or doesn’t want to say it.

Oh wow, so convincing. Bravo.

Finally, Azi puts down his glasses and his work and turns to address Crowley. He is not happy.

“Not good enough. I want a proper apology.” Also, side note, but Michael Sheen’s voice here is just…yum.

Before Azi can finish, Crowley is so quick to reject this idea. “No.” with a shake of the head.

You're not winning this battle, Crowley, and you know it.

“With the little dance.” Azi’s voice perks up and his eyes brighten at the hope this will happen. Seize that opportunity!

Again, Crowley barely let’s the word “dance” come out before he tries to shut it down. “I don’t do the dance.” Nope, no sir, not this demon.

Oh no, now Azi’s anger joins the hurt and guilt for a vicious trifecta. “I did the ‘I was wrong’ dance in 1650, 1793, 1941…” each date being spat out with increasing amounts of venom.

Oh Crowley, you brought this on yourself, girl.

This non-apology combined with his “I'm sorry. I apologize. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. Work with me, I’m apologizing here. Yes? Good. Get in the car.” and I can see why Azi reacts to this the way he does.

Crowley knows he’s beaten and concedes with a “Fine!” that feels the very opposite of the word.

Okay so before the “proper apology” can begin, Azi gets up from his chair, straightens his waistcoat, and stands with his hands grasped in front of him like a proper gentleman. A properly petty gentleman.

Then the main attraction! Crowley, looking completely stone-faced, does “the little dance.”

It’s wonderful. He looks so silly and childish and graceful and mature. And god, that deep knee bend at the end? Amazing.

Also amazing is Crowley’s face when he says "Kay?” while bobbing his head and eyebrows back like a sassy rooster? *chef’s kiss*

For Azi’s part, god it is just a delicious mix of polite poker face and barely concealed thirst. I see your eyes scanning Crowley, drinking in that thin, dark Duke. That little dance will live in his head forever.

And that’s the signal to go back to normal! Crowley regains control and Azi falls back into the supporting role.

Long-term relationships are hard, yo.

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lokisgoodgirl · 5 months

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Secretive Santa: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (8) Seasons may have changed, but some hearts still need soothed. And what better time than Christmas for some well-intentioned mischief? Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Usual Lakes fare. Established relationship. Theve (?) Soft smut , mild angst, humour, fluff and cunning plans throughout. (w/c 7.3k)

You would never forget the look on Thor’s face as the Fiat had drawn up the loose stone drive to the cottage. The glow of his smile was visible through the windshield at 100 paces.

As he and Rogers had exited the car with a spring in their step, you were starting to think the last two days had been just what everyone had needed.

The air was crisp this morning, winter’s first biting chill stinging your cheeks.

Steve’s face was glossy and fresh with the flushed sheen of recent spa treatments. His forehead shone. He strode towards you with a nod, extending his hand to shake Loki’s with a quiet ‘howdy’ as Thor brought up the rear.

‘Do you really think they slept together?’ you’d gaped to Loki as you’d lain in bed after dinner last night, thoroughly sated with food and sex. Loki had laughed gently, making your chin bounce on his bare chest. ‘There were twelve condoms in the pack I bought to get a rise from Rogers,’ he’d replied. An eyebrow had risen as you stared vacantly. ‘How many times have we had sex, darling?’ Loki had continued.

A smirk had played at the corner of his perfect mouth, still glistening with your arousal. It was burned into your memory. The soft mischief in every line.

You had bit your lip, the look of intense concentration on your face making Loki chuckle again. ‘Full, or just oral?’ you’d replied wilfully. ‘Ten,’ Loki had mouthed, raking a hand through his hair as he arched his back. One of his legs draped over the side of the single bed. ‘There were ten in the box when they left. So either-’ ‘It’s happened, or it’s going to!’ you’d gasped. Loki had shrugged. Maybe, his silence had said - but he was still smiling. Now, you tilted your chin as Thor stood beside Steve.

The captain hooked an arm around the blonde god’s shoulder, the pep of the men’s familiar pleasantries filling the air like birdsong. Thor’s followed suit, giving each other an affectionate pat before breaking apart. “You guys ready to blow off?” Steve asked, gesturing to the Fiat.

Loki’s nose wrinkled. “I humbly petition to sit in the front passenger seat this time.” he muttered, making his suitcase disappear in a flash of green. “We can take turns,” Thor offered. A relevation.

Startled, Loki’s eyebrows rose. You looked between them, smiling as the men nodded agreement in sage trifecta.

Although you’d been lumbered driving for the next seven hours back to the Essex compound, it would be another world than the trip up had been. And besides, none of these particular Earth's Mightiest Heroes could drive stick.

“Let’s go home,” you murmured, meeting Loki’s eyes as his hand slid into yours with a squeeze. “Home,” he smiled.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. The seasons changed again. But thankfully, Loki had not.

Frost adorned trees lining Central Park were visible from the god’s bedroom window. Like cake toppers, you mused as you pulled the curtains behind a sash, dusted with icing sugar. A pair of strong hands slid around your waist, slippers nipping at your heels as he moulded his stomach against your back.

Long fingers tugged against the loose sash of your robe.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured against the muss of your morning hair. His breath was warm in the shell of your ear, the heat of his skin sinking from his bare chest through your gown.

You could feel the bulge in his loose pyjama pants pulse against your ass. “They need me,” you whined, tilting your chin to meet his pleading eyes. He knew you couldn’t resist those eyes. Christmas lights on the tree in the corner lit up the golden veins of his irises. “I need you,” he retorted. The wounded tone of his voice tugged your heartstrings.

You rolled your eyes.

Loki tutted. “Agent?” he warned playfully. Playful, but no less devastating. It made your core flush with ill-timed desire. “We don’t do that anymore.” It had become a mantra. An amber light which snuffed out behaviours that no longer had a place in your relationship. And expectation of equality, you conceded, worked both ways. “Come back to bed,” he husked again, deeper this time.

Loki’s forefinger looped around the sash of your robe, stepping back slowly. Two steps, then three. You followed, falling to his lap as he sat back on the mattress. “It’s cold outside. Rogers will understand.” You scoffed, curling the mess of his hair behind one perfectly formed ear. Whatever happened, it needed to sound believable. Just a normal mission. A normal mission. “It’s not Steve I’m worried about,” you said.

Loki frowned, urging you to continue as his fingers danced dangerously up your leg. They began to massage the curve of your ass beneath the silk. “It’s your brother – he’s been antsy all week. All month, actually. Chewed Scott out the other day for being late – even Steve was embarrassed.” Loki’s hand paused. “Will he be there? On this ‘very important mission’?” he muttered, staring at your breasts with a faraway look in his eyes. “My brother, I mean…” You swallowed, the oath of utter secrecy bubbling behind your teeth, willing itself to be broken.

You managed a half-hearted shrug. Loki’s pinched fingers slid down the opening of your robe, before raising his gaze with a wolfish glint.

“Perhaps Rogers is rubbing off on him,” he quipped, lips stretching in a smirk. You slapped his shoulder lightly, trying to stand before Loki pulled you back in. His lips traced your own, inhaling against your breath. “Or on him,” he finished smugly.

You slapped his shoulder again.

“It’s been ages since the lakes, and neither of them have said a word,” you huffed, standing and shrugging your robe to the floor.

Taking a moment to enjoy the awed slant of Loki’s brows, you turned and made your way to the small selection of clothes you kept in his rooms. “If they were a thing, we’d know by now. They barely speak to each other these days.” You unhooked a combat suit, feeling the weight of Loki’s stare on your naked ass. “Has Thor said anything to you?” you asked innocently, glancing back over your shoulder. The god’s eyes snapped from your rear to your face.

“What?” he coughed. He was hard. “Has Thor said anything to you?” you repeated, trying to hold in a satisfied smile. “About him and Steve?” Loki crossed his legs, trying to dampen the arousal pumping through his veins. “No,” he sniffed. “But he is acting particularly meat-headishness of late. I should speak to him.” “You should-” you said, pulling the suit over your shoulders and sliding the zip upwards. Loki’s crestfallen eyes lingered as your cleavage disappeared from view. “I should-” he muttered absent-mindedly as you drew closer and leant down to give him a kiss. His train of thought dissipated in the air.

You paused, feeling his breath cloud around your mouth. As much as you wanted to stay, this was important. The secrecy that surrounded Steve’s message had made that clear.

Loki kissed you. First soft, then firm. A promise.

And the warmth of it lingered as you made your reluctant way down the Tower elevators and into the crisp New York December day.

You checked the top right corner of the screen nestled in your thick gloves. Nine seventeen. Shit. The dot on the GPS moved up East 50th street. Skies had darkened, clouds threatening snow. Wreaths and lightbulb-adorned foliage hung against shop windows, festive displays catching your eye.

That jacket would look incredible on Loki, you thought fleetingly; before the shade of a skyscraper loomed above. Making a mental note to come back and get it, you paused; taking a moment at the railing. It overlooked the golden statue in Rockefeller Plaza. Even at this time in the morning, skaters made their way around the rink with various displays of aptitude. A man who reminded you very much of Colin Robertson hung stiffly onto the side as his other half skated backwards, encouraging him enthusiastically. You smiled. “Thanks for coming,” a voice murmured over your shoulder.

You clutched your chest. “Steve!” you gasped.

Ever since the lakes, the relationship with your superior had become a lot more familiar. An unexpected bonus. The captain wore a thick hat low on his brow. And sunglasses, of course. A navy blue jacket was zipped up under his chin. He looked stiff, hands jammed in his pockets. He glanced anxiously over his shoulder while you leant against the railing. “You going to tell me what this is about, now?” you said quietly.

Steve nodded curtly, clearing his throat. It fogged the air. “Seems I drew Odinson in the secretive santa and I need your advice.” You arched a brow, ‘secretive santa’ making your lip twitch with laughter which would be entirely inappropriate.

“Go on,” you mustered warily. Steve cleared his throat again, removing his sunglasses. He produced a small microfibre flannel from his pocket, beginning to polish them. “You know him better than I do, see” he mumbled, meeting your sceptical gaze. You titled your head. Steve’s cheeks were pink. And not from cold. Not just from cold, anyway.

“I don’t know about that,” you replied softly. The captain’s eyes narrowed, searching for any hint of ulterior meaning.

“You spent a lot of time together before the cabin,” you explained, seeing his face soften. “- which I appreciate, by the way. We both do.” You squeezed his hand. “I think together we can find the perfect gift – don’t you?” Steve exhaled loudly. It was relief. “Well, I did have one idea I wanted to run by you…” he smiled shyly.

Your eyebrows rose.

In response, Steve nudged his head towards a store on the other side of the plaza. A smile stretched across your face.

“Perfect!” you cried, making Steve cringe. “Keep your voice down,” he hushed, wincing as a passer by jostled his shoulder. “I don’t want that Heimdall character ruining the surprise.” You laughed playfully. “If you’re on his radar then-” you started, before thinking better of it. Thankfully, Steve was too busy putting his sunglasses on and tugging the woolly hat down to notice.

FAO Schwarz was heaving with shoppers. Crowds bustled around elaborate displays of every toy imaginable. Normal-looking businessmen and women clutched large paper bags with boxes slotted in expert precision making their way quickly past you to the entrance. Trying to fit in what they could before work, you reckoned. The superheroes of the everyday. New York’s iconic toy-store was a Christmas wonderland, wreaths adorning pillars and large glittering snowflakes hanging from tall ceilings. Paul McCartney’s chirpy vocals rang from concealed speakers, heralding the season. Steve paused beside one of the perfectly coiffured trees lining the walkway through the store, glancing shiftily over his shoulder. “Maybe you should lose the sunglasses?” you suggested. He nodded reluctantly, slipping them into his pocket. “It’s over here,” he murmured.

He was frowning lightly, concern in those famously blue eyes. His Captain face. If you weren’t acutely aware of the context, you might be forgiven for thinking that this was a super-serious mission.

But, you reminded yourself, for him...maybe it is. You decided not to make light of it.

The two of you slipped around several hordes of shoppers towards a wall at the back of the store. Rows of plush animal faces stared vacantly in immaculate lines. Steve stopped. He folded his arms, spreading his feet in a stoic stance.

“There,” he said firmly, nodding towards a modest circular display. “Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes widening.

Out the corner of your vision, you saw Steve’s chin snap towards you; the feeling of his anxious stare beating into your profile. A grin spread on your lips. “It’s perfect,” you squealed, turning to him. You gripped his shoulders, shaking him lightly. “You’re a genius. He’ll love it.” Steve blushed, looking down. He scuffed his foot on the polished floor. It squeaked. “Golly,” he muttered, smiling bashfully. “You really think?”

You nodded, meaning it with your whole heart. “Perfect.”

Loki pursed his lips. He could hear the neolithic grunting of his brother doing some manner of inane task in the kitchen up ahead. It echoed.

Apparently, Thor had not been called to whatever mission had stolen you from his bed after all.

He rounded the corner, immediately tensing. The God of Thunder stood hunched over a toaster, miniscule in one meaty hand. In the other, he had a knife jammed deep in the contraption, wiggling it around. “You should turn that off at the wall, you know-” Loki drawled. Thor looked up, smiling.

“My breakfast is entrapped, brother. There is no other way.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I thought you weren’t doing that anymore,” Thor muttered, demeanour hardening. "The rolly-eye-thing."

Loki bristled. “For some things there is no alternate or adequate lexicology to express oneself, brother.” Thor humphed, rattling the knife deeper.

A blackened pop-tart fell to the counter amid a cascade of crumbs. With silent vindication, he raised it in his grasp and shook it in Loki’s direction. A triumphant grin spread across his face as Loki slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “So?” Loki said smoothly, tilting his head. It was a loaded syllable. Thor’s brow scrunched. Loki wasn’t sure if it was the bitterness of his ill-gotten prize or the vagueness of his opening gambit which caused it. “What?” Thor crunched. Flecks of burnt fell with abandon to his scruffy beard and a white muscle vest stretched tight on his chest. It was stained with what looked like mustard, and chocolate - one hoped.

This is not that garment's first dawn, Loki thought. He sighed pointedly. “Look, we’ve been dancing around this for weeks. Your increase in short-temperedness and decrease in both affinity and hygiene has been noted.” The blonde pressed his fingers sarcastically to his chest, eyes wide. “You talk of me?” he exclaimed incredulously before chuckling, shaking his head.

Without warning, Thor released a thundering fart. It tapered to a whining toot before he spoke again. “You must be mistaken brother.” Loki didn't flinch. Not even a millimetre.

“I am not,” was Loki’s curt response. He clasped his hands on the counter-top, now marred with specks of charred pop-tart. They looked like ants. His disapproving eyes rose to meet his brother, now looking shifty. He was chewing, avoiding Loki’s analytical stare.

Thor flicked his hair back. It had a crispness to it. Some kind of resolve settled over his features, and there was a sharp glint in his eye Loki didn’t like.

“Have you told her you love her yet?” his elder brother quipped bitterly. Sarcasm seeped from him like steam. Or maybe that was the lingering stench of flatulence. “Again?” Loki tensed, resisting the bait. “That is none of your concern.”

He straightened, making space as Thor leant on the counter opposite, fist propped beneath his chin. The blonde batted his eyelashes innocently. Loki wanted to punch him. “Oh but it is, brother-” Thor smarmed, lip curling in a smirk that Loki would recognise in a mirror. “I am most concerned about it indeed.”

The two of them sat in silence, unspoken asgardian curses curling the air. “A truth for a truth?” Loki postured coldly, circling his fingertip on the counter. The question hung in the air. An old compromise last involked in their youth, in the days of the cabin-with-no-place.

It had become such a staple of breaking their stubborn stalemates that Frigga had commissioned the Asgardian Crones to weave a token.

‘To solidify the sentiment, for harmony’ she had said.

Millions of silken threads created the finest handkerchief in Asgard, an ombre of green and red which softened in silken waves to the centre; melding to one. Harmony.

On it, hand-stitched in the truest gold were the words. The only words which could provoke amnesty between the heirs. The symbol exchanged between them at times of familial discord. Whoever held it, must forfeit one admission for another or face the consequences.

En sannhet byttet mot en sannhet, A truth exchanged for a truth, Loki mulled as he traced a dark vein of the marbled counter-top.

It was not an accord invoked lightly. The ceremonial handkerchief itself may be lost to places known only to few, but once uttered, the oath must be fulfilled. He followed the winding tendril to the edge before meeting his brother’s eyes. Thor snorted, slapping the hand beneath his chin to the surface. “Fine” he gruffed.

“You and Rogers-” Loki cut in, seizing the moment. He watched his brother’s brow crease, short-lived victory turning to regret. “Is he the cause of the foul mood which has plagued you these past weeks?” Thor shuffled his feet, pushing himself upright against the counter. “I see not business that is of-” he began to parrot, but Loki waved a dismissive hand. “Brother, please-” he snapped sharply. “Even adorned with our lifespans, this banal rhetoric could last us to the gates of Valhalla.” He watched as his brother’s features relented, a quiet sigh rising in his chest. Thor swallowed. “He will not speak of it,” he muttered.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Of what?” Thor’s jaw set, looking at his brother with exasperation. “Our amorous union, short-lived as it was.” A small smile played at Loki’s lips.

Vindication, he thought. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

He summoned the willpower that had become so familiar from his newly-trained approach to your relationship, reminding himself that vulnerability was to be encouraged, not exploited. Carefully, he re-adjusted himself on the stool. He made sure he looked sympathetic. “I wasn’t sure if-” “Yes, yes…” Thor mumbled dismissively, glancing around the walls. Pink had risen in his cheeks.

“Rogers asked me not to say anything. But methinks it’s all for nought now regardless.”

“So the two of you...at the cottage?” Loki probed.

Thor nodded. “It started as a ruse, a part of the plan should it be required to stay you in the correct location but-” he swallowed.

“When the moment arose, the moment took me...us, and- our kinship, such as it was, had changed somehow. The nights we spent setting things in motion for the two of you, we grew closer. I cannot place it, brother. I just…”

“That sounds familiar,” Loki said softly. Without realising it, he had reached for his brother’s hand.

Thor squeezed it, staring down as he continued. “The love of a male is not unfamiliar to either of us-” Thor said, glancing up briefly. “But to Rogers…” he trailed off. “-It is all unfamiliar.” Loki finished. His brother nodded. “At the spa...we talked about what the future could look like. Many plans were made, but-” Thor swallowed thickly. “-when we returned, things were different?” Loki murmured tentatively.

Thor nodded again.

Loki knew that fear all too well. He would be lying if he said that his heart hadn’t pounded the whole flight home, wondering if a return to reality outside of the bubble created in the cottage would return you to your senses too. The thought of losing you again had been almost too much to bear. “I know not if it is his values. His image. Whether his feelings have changed or whether the intrigue was more of an allure than reality- he has barely spoken two words of warmth since our return. And when he does speak – I find myself behaving most unbefitting my feelings. Pushing him further, like you did.” Tears welled in the blonde’s eyes.

“Or perhaps it is I, brother,” Thor continued, smiling in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. It twisted Loki’s heart. His elder brother released a mirthless chuckle of resignation before continuing, fingertip circling on the marble anxiously. “Perhaps it is I.”

In seconds, Loki stood and rounded the counter.

He drew his brother close, feeling the strength of Thor’s grip tentatively curl around his shoulders. The god’s chest heaved, shallow breaths ricocheting against Loki’s neck. He found himself pressing his brother’s head into his hold, trying to steady the silent sobs swallowed with every gulp of air.

Had they ever embraced like this? Loki didn’t think so. Not that he could recall. But, strangely, he found he didn’t care.

“It’s alright, brother” he heard himself murmur, not knowing what else to say.

Thor choked back a shuddering sigh as Loki continued to stroke his hair. He rested his chin on his brother’s head, closing his eyes. “It’s alright.”

A paper bag adorned with toy soldiers rustled by your feet below the table.

Steve had given strict instructions to keep it in your sight while he bought coffee. You peeked inside again, smiling.

Somehow, you’d managed to convince him to while away a little more time before heading back to the Tower, citing Loki’s suspicions. But really, you just wanted to spend time with him.

Ever since the lakes, Steve had softened – which wasn’t a bad thing. In some ways you felt much closer, but in others; from others – he seemed to be pulling away. “Careful, it’s hot” he quipped, nudging the wooden chair out with his foot.

He squeezed to sit at the world’s smallest table that you had commandeered in the corner of the café. You mouthed thanks, pulling the mug over. “Reminds me of the cottage,” you smiled; looking up innocently. Steve’s eyebrows peaked, before he frowned lightly. “I guess,” he muttered. Festive jazz played over the bustle of mid-morning conversation and clinking plates. The milk steamer spluttered endlessly behind the bar. You scooped a blob of cappuccino foam onto your finger, sucking it off. It was now or never. After all, it was Christmas.

“Are you alright, Cap?” you started deferentially, hoping that the softness you felt in your heart shone through. Steve looked up, blue eyes deep in thought.

“Can I trust you, Agent?” he asked warily as his gaze glanced over your shoulder. Your features softened further, tension easing. You reached across the space between you, fingers curling over his forearm. “Steve,” you whispered. “I owe you so much. So much. I care about you, and Loki does too.” Steve’s brow arched sceptically. “He does,” you smiled, squeezing his arm. The smile fell gradually as you studied his face. “You can trust me,” you said quietly. Seriously. The captain nodded, taking a deep breath. “I…” he started.

Your brow twitched, an uneasy feeling spreading under your skin as Steve readjusted his feet beneath the table. His fingernails scratched at the wood, tapping as he glanced out the window and back again. “I…” he pursed his lips, avoiding your eyes. “-fucked up,” he hissed. Your stare widened. “Steve!” you gasped. He looked at you sheepishly. “Apologies,” he muttered. Clearly, your look of abject confusion was enough to spur him on. He leant forwards, urging you to do the same. A woman stood at the next table. Both of you watched her leave. Steve turned back to you, his eyes trained on the coffee cup nestled between his palms. “Our...mutual friend. The blonde,” he said quietly. You squeezed his arm again to signal understanding. “Well...as it turns out, I enjoy his company a bunch.” Steve’s eyelashes fluttered upwards, bashful gaze swimming above pink cheeks. He bit his lip. “A bunch. You see?” “I see,” you replied gently. Steve released a wistful sigh.

He licked his lips, fingers playing with the mug handle. “Things happened at the lakes that I didn’t expect. That I never woulda...that I-” he sighed, hanging his head.

“I told him it was a mistake.” He blew out a puff of air. “What a ninny,” he chided himself under his breath. You tilted your head. It was breaking your heart. “Do you think it was a mistake?” Steve shook his head, sighing again. “No,” said quietly. “But now he won’t talk to me. Not like before– as though he’s realised it was a mistake. He’s done with ol’ chum over here. I can’t blame him. I guess it’s not a big deal for a god and whatnot but for me-” Steve swallowed, words drying up. “Trust me, I know how it feels” you whispered.

Steve’s eyes met yours. They were glassy with tears, darting from your own to the pictures hanging on the wall and back again.

“I fucked up,” he breathed again. His voice trembled on the swear.

“It’s alright,” you cooed sadly as your thumb stroked Steve’s palm. You squeezed again. "It's gonna be alright."

Loki paced back and forth across the rug in his living room.

He’d tried buzzing your apartment four times at thirty minute intervals. Each time, he had been left more enthused than the previous.

His mind was alight with the thrill of the plot.

Through an entirely subtle process of elimination over the past hours, he had deduced that there was only one member of the team you could be with on this auspicious morning. Rogers. And after his conversation with his brother – he needed the intel you had most certainly gathered – whether intentionally or no.

There was more to this ‘mission’ of yours than met the eye, of this he was certain. He was certain, because he had planted the seeds himself.

There was a knock at the door. Loki’s feet skidded back against the rug in his haste to the handle, throwing it wide and bustling you inside.

“-Loki-” you gasped while he glanced to either side of the hallway before spinning you against the wall with a ravishing kiss.

His senses came alive beneath your touch. The bright cool of your skin, the scent of coffee and spiced gingerbread clinging to your hair; an almost imperceptible tacky patch on your cheekbone where some soul had left a passing kiss. Lipbalm. Rogers.

“What have you been up to my secretive elf?” he purred against your parted lips. Your coat hung open, the avengers uniform you had donned this morning for his benefit, he was sure; on half-display.

“I...uh-” Loki smirked as your palms steadied against the wall. You were panting, face flushed from the onslaught of his affections. Fingers raked through your hair as you met his eyes, blinking several times.

“You tied your hair back,” you noted, dazed.

Loki scoffed at the attempt at subterfuge, grabbing your hand.

“Come,” he said as he pulled you towards the sofa. You landed with a soft bounce as the god took centre stage in the living room. He pressed his fingertips together, hands peaked in a triangle. It touched his lips briefly. “Brace thyself, darling” he drawled. Unbuttoning your coat, Loki felt his gaze fall down the black material tight to your arms. It clung to your chest, the zip far too low for any official business. His stare lingered on the curve of your waist, how it taunted and teased him as you shuffled back on the sprawling sofa.

“Consider me braced,” you said pointedly. He cleared his throat. “My brother,” he started, pausing for effect. You stared at him expectantly.

Loki admitted to himself that he was a little disappointed you did not seem more intrigued by the fatted bounty of gossip he was about to spill forth. But he decided to maintain the theatre it deserved regardless. “-is in love with…” he paused again, smirking mischievously- “Rogers.” Your head fell back, landing in the cushions as your hands covered your face. “Oh thank fuck for that!” you gasped, beginning to laugh despite yourself. Loki frowned. This was not the response he had expected.

Between sighs of relief, you peered through your fingers at the bemused god. He was standing with his hands on his hips, the irritation palpable. The foot began to tap.

“Come here,” you placated. Patting the cushion beside you, his face softened; but an eyebrow remained raised.

“I would have thought my most excellent investigations would yield a smidgeon more praise from you my dear,” he said with feigned annoyance as he sat. “Nonetheless, I imagine your response means welcome news?” You nodded. “Steve feels the same. At least – I think he does.” Loki’s face scrunched. “You think? Please. Rogers should be on his hands and knees thanking the norns for my brother’s affections.” It was your turn to frown. “But Steve doesn’t know how Thor feels – your brother’s been palming him off.” Loki smirked.

“Not like that,” you sighed as you fell back again against the cushions. “We have to do something Loki...they’re mad about each other. They both think the other isn’t interested for one reason or another. They just need-” “-a little nudge?” Loki purred.

You met his stare. Those beautiful eyes swirled with the warm glow of the treelights, sparking mischief in golden flecks buried in deepest blue. Shadows cast by candlelight danced in the carve of his cheekbones.

“A little nudge,” you repeated, tilting your head with a knowing smile.

“After all, it would be rude not to return the favour. Don’t you agree?” the god murmured as his fingers danced up your suit.

They fastened around the zip at your chest, pulling slowly down. In seconds, Loki had gracefully shifted and buried his face in your cleavage. Hot kisses worked against the skin, breath warming any hint of chill still lingering in your bones.

Your hands slid past his temples as he made it to your neck, fingers winding in the lengths of his ponytail before pulling it free.

“Minx,” he slurred against the curve.

You could feel the sharp of his teeth against your collarbone as he smiled. Hands sliding over his broad shoulders, you took a moment to appreciate the tight knit of the camel sweater he wore at the meat of his biceps. Camel, he’d insisted. Not beige. And in the heady afterglow of lovemaking amidst a sea of sparkling Christmas lights, a cunning plan began to form.

You made your way to the common room, gift-bag swinging.

The presents that you and Loki had procured for your team-mates sat nestled inside – one for Scott, one for Wanda.

The tradition was a fairly new one, but a highlight of the festive calendar. On Christmas Eve, before outsider guests for Tony’s annual party began to arrive- the Avengers gathered and exchanged all manner of tat and risque shit. You often wondered how much the picture on your phone of Bruce holding up the dinner-plate sized cock ring Tony had made for him would fetch on the open market. But you had decided long ago that it was priceless. “Brother!” you imitated in a deep, accented growl.

Thor spun on the common room sofa, his wary look melting to a wide smile. You ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He spun, making you squeal. A whining mash of faint tunefulness emitted from his chest as the god lowered you to the ground. Jingle Bells. “Ah, you pressed the penguin’s nose” he hummed, booping the knitted beakish blob. “He sings,” he explained, pleased with himself. “I can see that,” you said as you made your way to the tree. “But turn around – you can’t see which presents are ours...” Thor obliged, smiling as he busied himself fluffing a garland by the fireplace. "Perhaps we should invite my Penguin friend to the carol concert at Stark's festive jamboree tomorrow," he boomed across the room. You watched him, remembering the feeling of acting normally while tendrils of heartache wrapped around your insides.

"-Certainly, he can hold a tune better than I" Thor continued, chuckling to himself. A pang of sadness mellowed as you turned back to the pile beneath the tree. Scanning, you tried to look for one that could be Steve’s – but none fit the bill. “Okay I’m done,” you said casually as you stood. Thor continued fluffing the garland. You sidled over, trying to act casual. “Have you um...added yours yet?” Thor shook his head regretfully. “Having a little trouble with my assigned giftee” he muttered. His eyes flickered to yours guiltily. “There is something I wish to give them, but I am unsure it would be welcome.” A small smile played on your lips. “Something tells me any gift of yours would be welcome,” you said, watching his bottom lip roll beneath the top with a sceptical grunt. “Is it something I can help with?” you probed, “maybe a second opinion would ease your mind.” “No,” Thor mumbled. He sighed. “I fear this is something I must endeavour alone, sister.” You frowned. How the fuck did Thor manage one of these cunning plans, you wondered as Michael Buble crooned in the background. “I wished to speak to you as it happens,” he murmured. Your lips pursed. The tone of his voice, the tension in his shoulders. Flashing lights interwoven in the fireplace garland illuminated a newly crimson hue to his skin. “Did my brother...mention anything to you of late?” You snorted. “You’ll have to be more specific when it comes to Loki. He never shuts up,” you smiled, feigning ignorance. Thor chuckled. “Indeed,” he said as he picked at a ribbon. “Well then...more specifically about, me.” You shook your head. You hated lying to him, but in this case – it was for the greater good. The god nodded softly, still inspecting the ribbon between his fingers. “Good. Well. That wasn’t what I wished to speak to you about anyway.” You swallowed. Cryptic Thor was never a welcome guest at any gathering. “My brother,” he continued cautiously, eyeing you before moving his fingers to another strand of greenery hanging over the side of the mahogany mantel. “-He intends to declare his love for you this Yuletide.”

Your jaw dropped, neck craning forwards. “Oh,” was all you could manage.

The side of Thor’s mouth twitched in an apologetic smile. “I am aware that your relationship has been, what is the parlance...taken ‘back to basics’ in some respects-” “Yeah,” you mumbled. Suddenly the ribbons decorating the garland looked very interesting. You and he stood in silence, straightening Pepper’s ornamentation.

Thor cleared his throat. “Knowing you the way I do sister,” he said softly, “I thought that forearmed would be forewarned.” “It’s the other way around,” you snipped. "Forewarned is forearmed." Out the corner of your eye, you saw Thor’s face fall. “Sorry,” you added quietly. The god’s hand curled around your shoulder, pulling you to him in a brief sidehug before releasing it.

“It’s just...we agreed not to rush things,” you explained under your breath.

You knew that he knew this, but verbalisation was needed. The cogs of your mind whirled.

“We haven’t moved back in together, we just keep a few things at each others places...go on a lot of dates, we’re working on ourselves, you know? Avoiding the mistakes we made last time. Like...well, like rushing things.” Thor turned towards you, bicep leaning against the mantle-piece as he listened diligently. You could feel the track of his gaze over your face.

Unable to take it anymore, you turned to look at him. “He’s doing so well, Thor. We’re doing so well. I’m happy. Really happy,” The words sounded panicked. You hated that. Thor reached out, cupping your hand in his. “I just...I don’t want it to ruin anything,” you finished. Looking up, the god’s concerned stare was waiting like you knew it would be.

“Do you love him?” was all Thor said.

Heat rose in your cheeks.

The truth was that you did. That you always had, and probably always would. But in hindsight, those three little words had heralded the beginning of the end last time. When his rose-tinted effort to contain the smarm and arrogance had well and truly gone absent without leave.

In some ways, the old Loki had taken your love to mean your unending loyalty. Unconditionally, in the truest sense of the word. Your unquestioning support and adulation no matter his behaviour, however many times you tried to stand your ground. And while his actions these past months had gone a long way to assuage those lingering doubts – the fear that it could flare up his old habits made your blood run cold.

Seconds ticked on while Thor’s question hung in the air.

“I thought it best you have time to consider it before the moment was upon you,” he said quietly. “My apologies if I have overstepped.”

You shook your head, linking your fingers through his. Without realising, tears had begun to prick your eyes. He raised a palm to your cheek, wiping away a droplet which had spilled over the rim. “No tears, sis” he rumbled lovingly. “It’s Christmas.” You felt a weak smile grow as Thor extended his forefinger. It lingered in the air between you. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

He moved the finger slowly to the penguin’s beak.

It pressed against the jumper. Against the lumpy misshapen knob of black knit, Thor's eyes never leaving yours.

And as the squeaking whine of electronic Jingle Bells filled the air, it dissolved the scent of sadness into a waft of cinnamon candlesmoke. You and the god of Thunder began to laugh.

Loki leant against the counter of your kitchenette.

He watched as you waited for the kettle to finish boiling, staring at it intently. Something was off. Your fingertip ran around the rim of a glass teapot sitting on the side. Loki could smell the spiced chai leaves from here. “Are you alright, darling?” he ventured cautiously. You offered a weak smile as the kettle clicked off the boil. Steam billowed around your jawline as you poured.

Loki was careful not to let his face betray the nerves bubbling in his stomach. If he was honest with himself, he’d been waiting for something to crop up that would throw the fine-sailing vessel of your relationship off-course.

It’s only a matter of time until she changes her mind, he’d think with twisting sadness as he watched you sleep. With me, it’s always just a matter of time.

He absorbed the purse of your lips, the absent-minded wipe of a droplet of tea from the counter-top before you blew the steam gently. Its motion sent a wave of rich tea and spices in his direction.

Your slipper socks rustled against the tiles as you made your way over to him, still resting against the counter’s lip. You set the mug down to his side, hands sliding over his hips. They clasped behind his back at the base of his spine.

“I have to talk to you about something, and it’s not easy-” you murmured softly.

Your eyes were wide and vulnerable, a slight tremble of your lip making his heart race. The scent of your festive perfume filled his nostrils, like ginger biscuits.

“Go on,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure he could manage much more.

You swallowed thickly, fingers toying with the back of his sweater. Black, today. Loki hoped it was not an ensemble of foreshadowing. “I ran into your brother in the common room."

Loki exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh,” he breathed, a small smile breaking. But your expression didn’t change. The god felt your fingers pull nervously against his sweater. Bad for the knit. “He um-now, don’t be mad at him-” Loki began to frown. “He uh, mentioned that you were maybe thinking about...um, saying something soon. To me.” Realisation blossomed, vines of anger and embarrassment twisting around the thought as he cursed his brother’s loose lips. He should have known. Loki swallowed, feeling his features harden but being unable to stop it.

Your gaze fell, the trace of your fingertips around his middle as you brought them together in front of you; pulling nervously at the ends.

“That devious, two-faced buffoon” Loki muttered bitterly, concerned eyes darting back to your face. “I told him that in confidence.” You looked up at him incredulously. “Well, he told you about Steve in confidence.” “That’s different,” he snipped, noting the immediate rise of your eyebrow. “It’s you.” he finished, glancing to the floor as he felt his cheeks begin to flush. “Loki…” he heard you begin softly, curling a rogue strand of hair behind his ear. He couldn’t look. “Loki,” you repeated, firmer this time. Your forefinger nudged beneath his chin, tilting his face up. He wondered if he looked as wilted as he felt. From the look in your eyes, he suspected he did.

“I understand,” he heard himself say. It was petulant. It was cold and detached in a way that scared him. The warm hit of your lips meeting his unexpectedly made his knees buckle, hands bracing against the counter-top. Your palms slid up his chest, over the tensed ropes of shoulder muscle, over the curve of his neck. Everything was in that kiss. The heat, the longing, the need. “Loki,” you breathed softly into his open mouth. “Mmm,” he mewled, eyes closed. “I love that you feel that way, I’m just…I’m scared that-” Loki opened his eyes. He saw a swirl of tears threatening the beautiful hues of your irises. There would be no tears of sadness this Christmas, he had decided. Not on his account. “Afraid, of things that may change?” he probed quietly. You nodded.

Loki sighed, cupping your jaw. He ran a thumb back and forth across your lips, moist from the kiss. “Change be not always a harbinger of doom, I hope the last few months have reassured you of that.” You nodded again. “I know that it's different now, it just...took me by surprise. I hadn’t expected...I just-not yet...” you trailed off. Loki smiled softly. The way your body was pressed against him, as close as you could be. The way your fingers gripped and grasped against each dip of muscle it encountered as though he would turn to dust if you did not.

Loki realised in that moment that if this scenario had occurred years before, he would have been insulted. He would have been childish. Enraged, perhaps, at the audacity of the woman he adored doubting him. But now, all he felt was closeness. The bravery of your admission that he felt his soul. That you trusted him again.

Words, he pondered as he placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. What wounds have I inflicted on this woman with words.

Action must once more be paramount. The words can heal, he realised as he memorised the softness of your skin beneath his lips. But words can wait. “Perhaps we can agree” he began, measuring every syllable with the rise and fall of your chest against his own, “that, should you feel comfortable in doing so...you could, say it first- when it is right for you. When it is right for us.”

His voice was deep and melodic, a rumbling lullaby of devotion he willed would still your thundering heart. He hoped you could feel the love simmering in those words. He had never hoped anything more. You tilted your head into the curve of his neck, kissing the exposed skin. “-and be safe in the knowledge the sentiment will be returned, when you are ready” he added quietly.

Your hands slipped once more around his hips, pulling him tightly against you with your head buried in his neck. Loki held you like that, letting the waft perfume from your hair fill his nostrils.

I love you, he mouthed silently.

The soundless click of his tongue over mute syllables wound its way through strands of your hair.

He felt your fingers begin toying with the waistband of his trousers. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “Darling,” he purred as your head left his shoulder. You tilted your face to meet his gaze, alight with the comfortable joy he knew so well.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered. A smile had spread across your face that made Loki’s heart burst. The first button on his chinos popped. “Well, quite-” he smouldered playfully. Loki felt his hips rock upwards into your waiting palm, a low groan bubbling in his throat while you stroked the arousal growing beneath cotton. “You fixed the secret Santa, didn’t you?” you coaxed. Changing the subject, Loki noticed. But he let it pass. It was hardly a question.

Loki rolled his lips, pondering. “I may have ensured that my brother and Rogers drew each others names, yes.” He let out another moan as you squeezed the thick root of his cock through the chinos. “Good boy,” you hummed. It sent a shudder of need up his spine.

“How long have you been planning this?” you said, beginning to walk backwards with Loki’s sweater firmly in your grip. He chuckled, curls tapping against his jaw. “A while,” Loki smouldered. “Seeds that I have planted have sprouted most elegantly. Although there were a few pieces of the puzzle which remained unclear until the last few days.”

You paused, making the god’s stomach collide with yours. He released an exaggerated ooft.

“Final pieces of the puzzle? Like the fact they actually have feelings for each other?” you giggled. Loki shrugged non-nonchalantly. You were playing. “A minor detail,” he drawled. “Everything needed to be in place, just in case.” Your mouth hung open, stunned into silence. “It’s Christmas,” he added with mock-incredulity – as though it explained everything. “Miraculous things happen at Christmas in this realm, do they not?”

His fingers curled around your shoulders, switching your positions and lowering himself to the sofa. He widened his legs, hips flexing upwards. Fairy lights gleamed and sparked their warmth in a halo, golden spills rolling over your skin as you pulled the jumper you wore over your head. Firelight flickered, casting dancing shadows against the walls.

He would never understand the beauty of you. And perhaps, Loki surmised, he did not have to. It was his fortune to appreciate it, not question it.

A finger twirled in the air, evaporating his clothes in a seasonal golden and scarlet shimmer. Yours followed. Loki’s thighs widened further as you manoeuvred onto his lap, covering his mouth in a hungry kiss. His fingers raked through your hair, hips bucking up as he sought the sweetest harbour his body had ever known.

“Say it again,” he pleaded darkly as you slipped a hand between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock to your entrance. Twin gasps cut the air as you seated yourself on the thick tip, slow motions rocking down into shallow moans. “Good boy,” you murmured lovingly in his ear.

Loki let his head fall back against the cushions, fingertips sinking into the soft rounds of your ass as he bottomed out. He let you work against his body, feeling your pleasure spill and slip against the taut veins of his cock. Every little gasp, every breathy groan of his name. Your god. Each slow roll of your hips met the gentle buck from a clench of his ass. Your god. He was yours, completely.

You knew that now for certain. He was sure of it. And all the while, a few floors below, his brother was wrapping a gift for Steve Rogers.

As the final strip of crinkled sellotape was placed firmly against the paper, and as the ribbon he had smuggled from the common room garland was retied- one might have been forgiven for thinking a green light glowed within it; leaking from loose edges.

Thor had frowned, doing a double take.

The package seemed to tingle in his hold. The blonde put the strange feeling down to nerves.

But as his younger brother lost himself in pleasure, spilling his seed and his devotion within the arms of his beloved; the gift had been made whole in Thor’s oblivious hands.

A gift that would change everything.

Continued in Comfort and Joy (Final)

Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki odinson #loki (marvel)#loki imagine #loki x you #loki x female reader smut #loki x yn #loki x reader smut #loki gif

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il-predestinato · 1 year

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Charles Leclerc... he can race on the razor edge of perfection, he can go wheel-to-wheel against the very best at 300+ kph, he can win a grand prix with the throttle stuck at 30%, he can overtake on the outside of Copse, but he definitely cannot park a fucking car to save his life. 🫣

Oh boy, this is a long one.

1. Our most recent display - struggling to park next to a smart car, that's right, a smart car (January 31, 2023):

2. Parking crooked beside the no parking sign at the grocery store (January 29, 2023):

3. A trifecta fail of parking A) in the intersection, B) on the pedestrian crosswalk, and C) on the sidewalk (March 1, 2022)... I'm speechless:

4. Parking half of his car in Lando's space (Canada 2022):

5. It's possible that no one has ever informed him the pedestrian crosswalk/intersection is not a parking spot (August 21, 2021): 😭

6. Missing the spot when there are literally zero cars beside him (July 11, 2022):

7. A fan recount of Charles attempting to park in Melbourne before giving up altogether (Australia 2022):

8. Parking fail 6 years ago... yeah, not much has changed since then:

9. Parking within the lines is... not within his ability (examples - many):

10. There are goddamn lines, Sharl (July 16, 2023):

11. UPDATE - How many attempts does it take to parallel park? 😭 (March 13, 2024 via martiverre)

In conclusion, I can't believe this bitch has a super license but parks like this and doesn't get his ass towed every other day. 🙈

#charles leclerc #f1 #*#my edit #psa: charles leclerc can't park a car to save his life #i finally found his driving weakness: parking a car 1) not illegally and 2) within the lines #mission: impossible for sharl #pls tell me in the tags that y'all can park better than this guy 😭😭😭#for reference #fave #laugh tag

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astonmartingf · 2 months

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LOVE, AGAIN ; LH44

— after another failed first date, lewis calls yn for a debrief reminiscing their past relationships

amgf in case you didn't notice, i'm moving my works... that's it

masterlist

Waving goodbye to the man, you stand in front of your apartment complex watching his car leave from the corner of your eyes. Pressing your lips on a thin line, you fish out your phone pressing ‘4’, but before it could input your command the screen flashes of a familiar contact photo.

Chucking to yourself at the coincidence you swipe your phone answering the call as you make your way in the elevator. “Good evening. I was just about to call you. Is this where you say you’re staying the night at her place?”

Your voice filled with excitement for your friend, in the hopes that his date went better than yours. On the other end of the phone you could hear the sound of his engine purring, perking you up as he could be on his way to a successful date.

His laughter rings to your ears, “I am staying over but not at her place-”

An audible gasp left your lips, cutting him off- “Oh my gosh you cheeky bastard! Are you actually going to have a one night stand Sir-”

“I’m staying over yours.” Your enthusiasm slows down as you ponder over his words, wincing while you enter your apartment.

Removing your heels you set your bag down the counter, opening the fridge your eyes land on the bottle of wine you wanted to share with him- “Debrief?”

A hum was heard from the other side of the phone, “I’ll be there in 10. See you darling.” His voice was curt as he ended the call before you could sympathize with him.

“And then she just kept talking about herself, which I personally don’t mind as it takes off a lot of the burden from me constantly talking, it was a nice change…” Lewis swirled the wine in his glass, adorning matching pajamas with you, face covered in a clay mask, the perfect trifecta after a long day.

“But- clearly there’s something else that you’re omitting for the story. What happened after Lewis?” You scoot closer to him, desperately closing in the distance, curiously pressing the details on his eventful night.

Looking away, Lewis sighs before taking a sip of his drink, “She just said something that rubbed me off the wrong way.”

Sitting up straight you squint your eyes, inspecting his facial expressions, observing his body language and looking for little quips that could help you pinpoint what exactly his date said. “You don’t say… she said something about Abu Dhabi right?”

Gawking, Lewis scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You of all people… I can’t believe you sweetheart, you’re supposed to console me after my sad date. And no, for the record I don’t think she cared too much about me being a driver, which was a plus but there were other factors that outweighed why the date ended sourly.”

You stop laughing halfway as your face softens at his statement, “I’m sorry… But you have to admit that was funny. It just came out of nowhere, I shouldn’t be teasing you when you called me to hang out after a failed date…”

Lewis perks up as you mention failed dates, “Speaking of dates, what about you? Now that I’m thinking about it, you left earlier than me, what happened?”

A sigh left from your lips, grasping the bits of memory about your date just hours ago. “Honestly, it wasn’t that memorable. It was like an interview, he kept asking me questions and not in a way to form a conversation, he’s just nosy.”

Lewis grimaced before shaking his head in disappointment, “Yikes… sucks to be you I guess.” shrugging, Lewis downs the remainder of his drink before setting the glass on the table.

“Who would’ve thought, we’re both successful in our careers, getting paid, we have ample time, yet here we are… Is this the mid-life crisis people were talking about in their 30s?” Your eyes met Lewis’ mulling over his questions.

“I disagree. I think it’s alright… I mean where else would I be if not here with you? I’m fine with that, I think you just miss being out and about with people apart from me… Am I boring you Lewis?”

Shaking his head in disagreement, Lewis lets out a breathy laugh, “I’m not even sure what I miss, this is fine… It’s a lot better, I’m stable, I’m doing the things I love to do and spending time with the people I love. Maybe I just miss the feeling of what could’ve been, the choices I made that put me here, every now and then I think if things had gone differently.”

A small smile forms your lips, “You’re missing her aren’t you?”

Raising his brows, the corners of Lewis’ mouth curl up to a small smile. “I think about her, I do. But do I miss her? As a lover, no. As friends, maybe. It’s just, she was there in my life for a long time, and now she’s gone. A lot of people have come and gone, and at the end of the day we always come back to each other.”

You nod, tracing the rim of your glass, “I remember you calling me after your break-up with Nicole- funnily enough I don’t think I told you this but I was on a date that time.”

Lewis let out a gasp before scooching closer to you, “What? When was this? How did I not know about this?”

Holding back your laughter you place your glass on the table beside his. “It just happened, I was on this date with a guy… I’m thankful you called because he was insisting we go have drinks at some bar, I wasn’t interested and he kept saying something. You just called then and there when I needed you the most… and I guess the same goes for you.”

Silent, Lewis trails back on his memories of what happened that night, nodding his head slowly as he recollects what had happened. “I’m glad I called you, I guess we both needed each other that night. And I’m sorry for your shitty date in the past.”

“It was fine, it gave me something else to focus on… and when I went over to yours we ended up drinking either way so it’s just a full circle. I ended up drinking with a different person.”

Lying down on the sofa, Lewis settles his head on top of the pillow on your lap, “It’s been so long… You think I still have it? The charm?”

Choking on your drink, you laugh at Lewis’ statement, “Are you actually worried about that? Lewis, you’re in your thirties… What was that film again? Thirty, flirty, and thriving? Yeah, you don’t have to worry Lew- look at you, I don’t think you should worry.”

Lewis hums in your assurance, “You think so?”

“I know so. You’ll feel it Lewis, you’ll be in love again.”

#f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton imagine

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deathbecomesthem · 4 months

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Estate Sale 1 of 2

Eddie Munson x Medium!Reader | 3.8K

Summary: Home is not home anymore. The road is your friend. You find yourself in a strange place where you encounter a spirit unlike anything you've known before after a trip to a strange estate sale. There will be second and final part upcoming.

A/N: The first bit of this was written as a request for @jo-harrington on a different blog. I've decided to revive it. This is a story that asks you to suspend your disbelief. Take a journey into the weird, and don't come to me for answers.

Warnings: Blood, body horror, mental distress, and a reader that has a vague history of institutionalization.

The world you live in is on fire, and he is cold. He’s been cold for as long as he can remember. The bites festered for so long. They opened wide, blackened and bleeding, making him hunger for things he could never find. The ache in his gut never satiated, even when his sharp teeth broke the skin of the petal-faced creatures that populated the world that had become his home. He kept to the places he knew from the other side, his school, the Hideout, his trailer - he sat on the stained mattress with his Sweetheart laid across his lap when he heard the primal screams of that spider-like beast. Both the man and the smoke. The time after his new home splintered and bled, his own body changed again. It healed. He laid in his bed, wrapped in the blanket his mother knitted together when he was a baby, and he healed. The wounds closed and began to scar. The sharp fangs that broke the soft skin of his lips dropped from his mouth. And he slept.

–

The combination of heat, humidity, and orange smoke from the raging wildfires - a discontenting trifecta. Is the whole world designed to make you miserable? Yes. It must be. The wind that whips through your beater of a car moves like the air of a convection oven, perfect and even baking without the need to rotate the cookie tray of your faux leather driver’s seat. You wonder if it’s a mirage when you see it, a desolate highway on the central eastern part of Indiana - “Estate Sale”. Mercy. You pray to the gods that wherever the sale is located, there will be air conditioning.

You thought after making your way through Nebraska you’d seen all the corn the world had to offer, but Indiana proves you wrong. It’s not until you pass a sign that says “Entering Hawkins” that you finally see roads lined with trees rather than corn stalks that are looking ready for harvest. You notice the scars on the earth as soon as you enter the city limits. The goosebumps on your forearm are what make you realize how cold the air in your car has gotten, like the air conditioning suddenly kicked on at its max setting. But no, your windows are open, and the sky is darker. Another sign, black spray painted letters on brown cardboard, “Estate Sale”. An arrow pointing to the left at the stop sign a quarter of a mile in front of you.

So you push down the indicator and turn.

–

Eddie only stirred a little in those decades of healing when Wayne took his last breaths. His own steady breaths began to quicken along with his father’s. He gasped in air and felt the vice grip on his lungs. A burning, empty feeling when he tried to expand bronchial tubes and let the oxygen in. The gasping was brief before turning into hollow breaths. Slower. Slower. Slower. And then the darkness pulled him back into that quiet and restful place of waiting.

–

When you reach the center of town, the unease you’ve been feeling turns into disbelief. The town hall is barely visible through your foggy windshield, a building marred with large scars that look like the smaller ones you’ve been seeing along the roadside since you entered the town. You think about cranking your steering wheel and going back the way you came when you see another cardboard sign pointing to the right. It’s not some sort of mystical force driving you through this apparent ghost town, it’s your curiosity. You tell yourself, curiosity killed the cat, and then remind yourself, but satisfaction brought it back.

Another turn of the steering wheel, and a short jog down an old road when you see the final sign. You avoid potholes that threaten to swallow up your Ford Fiesta and take a final turn down a gravel road greeted by a much larger sign reading “Forest Hills Trailer Park”. You are not surprised to see rows of mobile homes alongside the small road your car is bouncing along. You’ve almost forgotten your purpose when you see so many cars that haven’t been roadworthy since your mom was a teenager. You’ve entered a time warp, it’s the only explanation your brain can come up with. Finally, at the end of the gravel road, you see a trailer with a scar down its center. It’s cold enough now that you’re extending your right arm to the backseat of your car to find a hoodie you haven’t needed to wear in over a month. Outside of the trailer are boxes. An estate sale with no one to collect your money, just boxes sitting on the ground with a spray painted “Free” sign propped against one.

Free is something you can afford.

–

Gravel crunches under your boots as you approach the line of boxes. It occurs to you that the trailer itself might be worth entering, but think better of it. Let the ghosts keep their secrets and take what they’ve so generously offered you today. A shiver creeps down your spine when you consider how many spirits might be watching you from the tree tops in the woods that encircle the trailer park. You can feel how real they are in the silence that echoes inside your ears.

*crunch, crunch*

You keep moving until the tip of your boot is against the box closest to your car. It doesn’t have any markings, not like some of the other ones further down the line. You’ve decided to roll the dice and peek inside, only to find dozens of mugs. No one wrapped them in newspaper to protect them from chipping. You gasp when you see it - a Garfield mug almost exactly like the one your Nana had in her kitchen. Nana kept that mug for you, and always served you her special hot chocolate in it. You know it’s not Nana’s mug, because that special cup is chipped on Garfield’s cheek. This one is pristine. You consider, only for a moment, that you could take the whole box with you. Put it in the back of your car and line your kitchen shelves with the mugs. You can hardly believe your eyes, these vintage pieces are in such good condition. You shake your head, pick up Garfield, and move to peek into the next box.

Inside you find mostly clothing, tattered flannel shirts and threadbare jeans. There’s also a stack of hats on one side. Most look barely worn. Evidence of a working man’s wardrobe. You let your fingers brush against the soft denim of a pair of blue jeans at the top and imagine the man that wore them. They’re old school Wranglers, probably worth something even in their current worn condition.

This is when you catch a glimpse of a treasure hidden behind the boxes. Through the misty fog of that strange atmosphere, a shock of something red catches your vision. The way the boxes are laid you, side-by-side, you only catch a sliver of the instrument placed onto its back in the gravel. It’s a B.C. Rick Warlock. You’re not a guitarist, but your Uncle Keith was. You’ve seen pictures of him with a guitar that looks just like the one in front of you, only your uncle’s was black. Your hand moves like a magnet, reaching behind the boxes to pull out your prize. This sweetheart of a guitar found its new home with you. She flashed you her smile, and now you’re hers.

You pulled out of the ghost town of Hawkins, Indiana 3 hours and 15 minutes after pulling into it with - a guitar you don’t know how to play, a guitar pick necklace, a Garfield mug, and a silver mood ring. Each item gave you a sense of joy, each for different reasons. Nostalgia of a more innocent time in your life, memories of family now lost. And you wonder about the previous owners. Most of their belongings, with the possible exception of the pretty guitar you have riding shotgun in your car, would be found at the local dump. The Estate Sale signs bother you, because you know that means they must be gone. So you promise yourself to remember them, even if it’s only when you drink your first cup of coffee in the morning, or when you fiddle with the new necklace around your neck.

You stayed later than you meant to, and the sun was fully set when you lost the sight of Hawkins in your rearview mirror. You’re getting a hotel room tonight. It doesn’t matter that it’s out of the unrealistic budget you never really meant to keep in the first place. You need a fucking shower certainly, but that’s not your top motivation. You want a room with an electrical outlet to plug in your new guitar and see how she sounds. The idea sounds stupid inside your own head as you think it, you don’t know how to play. Not even a single chord.

But it feels right in your hand, the weight of it. You brushed your fingers against the metal strings and felt the vibrations move through you, building and creating a need. Your fingers twitched and you felt a song in them, a tune ringing through them that you only vaguely know. You find yourself humming it through your closed lips when you see the roadside motel with the red “VACANCY” sign lit up.

Even with the sun down, it’s hot as hell outside. You’re happy to see that each room has an air conditioning unit set high up in the outside wall. You can almost smell the freon in the air, and it sends a little shiver of excitement down your spine. You’re desperate after leaving the much cooler air of Hawkins. There’s only one other car in the parking lot,that you assume must belong to the person sitting behind the counter of the front desk.

A bell chimes above the front door as you push it open, drawing the attention of a middle aged man sitting with his feet propped up on the counter in front of you. His balance is lost and you see him attempt to catch himself before he slides off the vinyl office chair.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” You offer a quick apology as he awkwardly plants his feet down on the linoleum below his feet, that Midwestern habit that won’t quit. Apologies all around.

“Oh, sorry. I’m good. Just didn’t expect anyone tonight.” He’s giving you a friendly enough smile when he asks, “you need directions? Or, do you want a room?”

“A room please. At the far end, if possible.” You’re thinking about the song inside of you. You need to let your fingers strum without pissing this guy off by making too much noise.

He’s turning to grab a key from the hooks behind his chair, real metal keys with big red tags hanging from each, when he asks another question, “You’re lucky you came through when you did. This place is coming down next month. No one takes these back road highways anymore. It’s too bad. We did alright for a while when the Hawkins ghost hunters used to make a regular appearance, but that’s been waning for years.”

Your interest is piqued at the idea of a local haunting, but even more so at the name “Hawkins”. A part of you had started to wonder if it was only a delusion your mind created, the otherworldly town with the estate sale. The sale that offered you that beautiful instrument and a pick necklace to match the red of the guitar.

“Oh, ya know I just passed through there. What a creepy place.” You wrinkle your nose, remembering the way cracks in the earth spread out like a giant spider web through the town center. “What happened there? Some kind of earthquake?”

The motel manager - you look and see the name “Keith” on his nametag - is looking at you with open shock. Like he’s looking at an alien, something his brain has never seen before. He swallows, shaking his head at the same time and says, “Ain’t no way to pass through Hawkins. The government has blocked off completely at the city limits since the huge ground shaker two years ago. The city hall, along with the entire city block where it sat, were swallowed up into the earth. Real apocalyptic stuff.”

You open your mouth to rebut his statement, and close it again. It really was just a hallucination - a strange oasis hidden inside the surrounding fields of corn. That earth scarred land only lived in your mind, despite the tangible evidence of its existence sitting in the trunk of your car. It doesn’t matter, because you’d rather believe that you lived in a delusion than the alternative. That you entered another world, something that is simply not possible.

But then why do your fingers ache more and more with every passing moment, crying to stroke the neck of the guitar - Sweetheart, Sweetheart, Sweetheart - and coax a song from her. The desire, need really, overwhelms you. So you nod in agreement, say something along the lines of, “of course, I must be mistaken, I’m sure I would have noticed a giant crater in the ground”, and head out the glass door of the motel office.

—

Eddie’s breathing is picking up, something that hasn’t happened in years. It’s been decades of a dreamless sleep, but his mind is sending out small sparks of ideas. His fingers twitch. His heart, that’s been beating at 30 bpms for more than 30 years, is firing at a steadily increasing rate. The chrysalis is beginning to crack, and his mind is humming a tune. One that you’d certainly recognize.

—

The room is exactly how you expected it to look, only a little cleaner. You’re pleasantly surprised to find a light smell of citrus hanging in the air. The sheets are probably as old as you are, but they smell fresh, and the comforter is soft. Any other night, you’d crawl in and fall asleep without a moment’s hesitation. But you’re anxious to spend time with your new treasures. You’re absentmindedly twisting the mood ring on your finger. You expected when you had placed it on your finger earlier to see it change against the warmth of your body heat, but the plastic gem remains onyx.

You try not to think about the reason for your impromptu road trip while you plug in the amp to the wall socket at the head of the bed. You push back on the memories. Strange things speaking to you in the dark, the hospital, the dead things reaching out to you from their restless afterlives. Prescriptions to fight against psychosis and the hallucinations that never fully left, only grew more quiet in your mind. You’ve learned how to survive this world, to disconnect from those otherworldly voices, and to never speak of them out loud in this world where seeing is believing.

Now, though - something is moving you, an impossible to fight force. And that’s fine, because your curiosity, your desire to connect with the thing that’s led you here, is not a malevolent force. You know that in the same way you know that the sky is blue, the grass is green, and that the living and dead are separated by a thin veil that only some folks can see through.

There’s no one here with you to look at your behavior and show you caring concern. No one here suggests the idea that maybe you ought to drive to the nearest inpatient facility and sign your rights away until the “ghosts” leave you alone. So, you let the gentle hand of the spirit speak through your hands.

They’re not your hands anymore. For the length of the song, you’ve been pushed down somewhere deep inside of you. You can feel the weight of the guitar in your hands, feel the strings under your fingers, hear the sounds filling the small room. A presence, stronger than any spirit you’ve encountered before now, is using your body. It’s a peaceful feeling, letting them take the reins, bobbing your neck along with the fierce and frenzied movements of your fingers.

5 miles plus one dimension away, Eddie’s eyes open. You see through them. You feel the cold air, smell mold and dirt. You hear the faint beat of wings, and a scream of pain. Your body never falters while it plays the song that you now recognize as an old Metallica tune. You feel a string pulled tight - that other body sits up in its bed and shakes its head. You call to him without a voice, eerily similar to the way you’ve been called in the past. You feel him exhale as the echo of the final notes your body plays on the BC Rich echo through the room.

—

Eddie doesn’t know anything outside of the need to follow the path in front of him. He remembers dying. He remembers his true self leaving the flesh, drifting through the air of that hell dimension, never breaking through the gates. Eventually, settling back in the still form tucked neatly into the mirror image of the bed where he spent so many hours of his life in the real world.

He knows nothing and everything. His heart beats in his chest, and air moves through his lungs - this is a living body that should have molded along with the blanket that covered it. Instead, he’s listening to a familiar song and following its sound through the empty wasteland where he’s been hidden away for decades.

And you. He knows you, a stranger that heard his soul cry out and answered without fear. He trusts the path, he trusts his guide. He knows the music will show him how to finally leave hell and walk in the sunlight once again.

—

You sit with the neck of Sweetheart, you know this is her name, in your hand. With that knowledge comes recognition. This guitar has an aura. It has a soul. No, that’s not quite right - a piece of someone has been left inside of her. It’s what called you to her. The chain on your neck that held the guitar pick that is currently pinched between your fingers, feels heavy.

“You bitch,” you say to the guitar without bite. You’re feeling duped by that world you’ve tried so hard to pretend does not exist despite all of the evidence you’ve been shown so many times in your life. You whisper out, “what have I stumbled into here?”

You stand and place Sweetheart in the corner and unclasp the necklace from your neck. You leave the chain and the pick on the long dresser in front of the bed in your motel room, and walk out into the humid Indiana summer night. You haven’t had a cigarette in 2 years, not since the last time the call from behind the veil was too hard to ignore, and yet you still clocked the machine that stands just outside of the front office door. You fumble in your back pocket for your wallet and push a 10 dollar bill into the ancient machine. You’ve never seen one of these in the flesh, and wonder if the smokes that come out will be from 2024 or 1986.

You shake your head at the strange, intrusive thought, and absentmindedly pull the knob. It’s not until you’re holding the box in your hand that you realize you didn’t choose your old favorites, Marlboro Reds. You examine the desert scene behind the plastic film with fascination. If you had looked closer at your own hand, you would have seen that the onyx on the mood ring you picked up along with Sweetheart and the guitar pick necklace has turned an opalescent blue-green. But you didn’t do that. Instead, you went back into the now empty motel office to grab a box of matches from the fishbowl next to the guest book on the counter. Again you’re struck by the idea that you have entered a sort of time warp, this place seems stuck somewhere between the past and the present. 1986 with Wi-fi.

1986. The year means nothing to your conscious mind, but for some reason it is conjured once again. You think that Sweetheart will be safe enough in the trunk of your car tonight. Keep the ghost, or whatever is calling to you through the foggy veil between life and death, out of your dreams tonight. The necklace, too. You need to clear your mind or risk being swallowed whole by whatever this is.

—

Eddie is following two things - the string from his mind that is connected to your own, and a faint glow somewhere in the distance. He is trying to think, but his mind is labyrinthine, and he’s somewhere in the middle unable to see the twists and turns that lead him there. Instead, his body moves on its own accord, and he focuses on the light.

There are things following him, he can hear the solid foot falls land with every step of his own. The things, whatever they are, do not register as a threat to him. He feels no need to turn and fix his gaze on them. They won’t bother him. They share the memories of the hive mind, and remember the way his teeth felt biting into their flesh. They remember when his wings beat, and the ground trembled. They remember the things that Eddie forgets.

That light, blue-green and glowing through the darkness of Eddie’s world, takes his feet beyond the places he has traveled. The following footsteps fall away as he continues his journey, the unnatural light frightening the beasts. For Eddie, it’s a beacon of sorts. With each step, his skin grows warmer.

In the void where the light shines for him, a building slowly comes into his view. He would be confused if his mind knew how to perceive the things that he has been experiencing. Instead, a feeling of relief sweeps over his body when he sees that it’s a motel. His legs are tired, and his head feels too heavy on his neck. His feet carry him to the room on the end where the light glows brightly. The bed in the center of the room is where the source of the beacon is found, and he is more than glad to climb into and sleep in its warm glow. It smells like home here, something he hasn’t known for so long. Tears streak down his cheeks while he slumbers, a different kind of rest than he knew in the coldness of his bed that was not his bed in that monster realm.

—

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic

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sapphiretanto · 10 months

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Okay, as much as I love the positive Rise x 2012 crossover comics/drawings and fanfics where Rise helps 2012 with their problems, there is no way the boys would start crying or talking about their physical and mental scars upon the first meeting. They wouldn’t be open for hugs (maybe Mikey, but that’s the only one I can see). 2012 went through the ringer and no amount of Dr. Feelings/Dr. Delicate Touch is gonna help that. Here’s what Rise would have to help 2012 work through both individually and altogether:

**Please look at the “Altogether” section before notifying me if I forgot one; Otherwise, I may have genuinely forgot… this was all from what I can remember

**This is NOT bashing the fics, art, Rottmnt.

Leonardo

Possessed/Controlled (Parasitica, Buried Secrets, China Town Ghost Story)

Burdened with being the leader/eldest/Sensei

Right knee is fucked

Dislocated shoulder and arms (both causes of his arms being Super Shredder)

Weakened heart from when he died in space and was resuscitated

Has fallen off multiple high points (elevator shafts, rooftops, fire escapes)

Hands are most likely damaged from holding onto the chains that were wrapped around Kraang prime

Was in a 3-month coma

Throat was ruined

Was bitten by Armaggon

Hit by a blast meant to take out Hiidrala (The Cosmic Ocean)

Deal with having slain Shredder

Captured

Was thrown through a second story window

Cracked shell

Training/Battle injuries: hits on the head, kicks to the plastron or carapace, thrown into buildings or debris, pressure pointed

Under way too much pressure

Almost cut up by swords (Fourfold Trap)

Struggles with perfectionism; he’ll often feel at fault or like he failed for things out of his control (i.e. when Karai fell into the mutagen)

Frustrated as he doesn’t always get a lot of respect (particularly in the earlier seasons)

Took some bad advice from Splinter to heart— most of the time it added to the burden he carried as the leader

Betrayed by Karai

Raphael

Possessed/Controlled (Parasitica, brain worm, vampire, Chinatown Ghost Story)

Has watched those he cared about fallen from high places (Spike/Slash, Splinter, Zog, Leo)

Had to deal with his phobia (Cockroach Terminator, Insecta Trifecta)

Switched bodies

Lightning bolt plastron crack

Captured (and tortured - Clash of the Mutanimals, Within the Woods)

Betrayed by his girlfriend

Electrocuted

Nearly cooked to death (Fourfold Trap)

Swallowed squirrelanoids

Lost Spike to mutation

Nearly had to give away Chompy

Fell from various high heights (ravines)

Anger issues

Felt unfavored compared to Leo

Training/Battle injuries: hits on the head, kicks to the plastron or carapace, thrown into buildings or debris, pressure pointed

Watched Splinter be thrown into a sewer drain and nearly drown

Watched Spike/Slash, Zog, and Splinter fall off/be thrown off the rooftops

Donatello

Possessed/controlled (Parasitica, Buried Secrets, a car)

Electrocuted

Captured

Nearly cut up by Vizioso’s goons

Watched Splinter be thrown into a sewer drain and nearly drown

Lost metalhead

Under too much pressure

Burdened by being the only tech/science guy

Struggles sometimes with the fact that he’s a mutant

Struggles with his weapon— not handling, but that it is very simplistic compared to some of the more high tech things they deal with

Has his experiments ruined or messed with

Became mindless

Training/Battle injuries: hits on the head, kicks to the plastron or carapace, thrown into buildings or debris, pressure pointed

Has to change his jargon so his family can understand what he’s saying

Michelangelo

Captured

Tortured by Triceratons

Frustrated as he’s not always taken seriously

Mind invaded by neutrinos

Possessed/Contolled (Chinatown Ghost Story, Buried Secrets)

Struggles sometimes with accepting that he’s a mutant (earlier seasons— wanted various human friends besides April and Casey)

Swallowed by Mega Shredder

Burned his ass on a geyser (Eyes of the Chimera)

Betrayed by Bradford

Watched Splinter be thrown into a sewer drain and nearly drown

Training/Battle injuries: hits on the head (is hit a lot more than the others on the head in combat), kicks to the plastron or carapace, thrown into buildings or debris, pressure pointed

Was alone in Dimension X for an unknown amount of time

Nearly drowned (Invasion of the Squirrelanoids)

Knowingly/unknowingly and sometimes unwillingly made the bait or drew the short straw

Separated from Leatherhead

Altogether

Saw Master Splinter die (twice)

Watched their dad fall into the abyss (The Super Shredder/Darkest Plight)

Saw their world be destroyed

Survived multiple invasions (Kraang, Triceratons, Kavaxas, Dregg)

Saw their sister fall into mutagen

Fought various horrifying/disgusting mutants (Mom Thing, Squirrelanoids, The Creep, Parasitica, Dregg’s bugs, mutated cockroach, Snakeweed, Muckman, Rat King, mutated fungi, Don Vizioso, April clones/April Derp etc)

Witnessed each other’s deaths: Raph drained of mutagen in Within the Woods; Donnie - reduced to molecules in The Power Inside Her; Leo - died in space in Earth’s Last Stand; Mikey - vaporized by K’Vathrak/The Newtralizer in When Worlds Collide

Witnessed various other deaths: Bradford/Rahzar/Dog Pound, Tang Shen, Hattori Tatsu

Have had their minds taken over

Poisoned by Karai

Electrocuted

Nearly froze to death (Moons of Thalos 3)

Inhaled hallucinogenic toxins

Survived various explosions

Survivor’s guilt

Have been fighting in multiple rigged or burning buildings

Almost burned up entering the atmosphere (Battle for New York)

Had a “nightmare”— courtesy of Jei—where they were the last ones standing after their brothers had been killed

Witnessed the undead (Shredder, Rahzar, various spirits)

Possessed/controlled by Jei; dream beavers

Dimensional and Time travel

Had to fight each other or their friends unwillingly

Went no contact with April after having a hand in accidentally mutating her dad

Severe injuries from various opponents (Slash, Tiger Claw, Newtralizer, Super Shredder, footbots/chrome domes)

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2012 leo #tmnt 2012 raph #tmnt 2012 mikey #tmnt 2012 donnie #rottmnt #mari rambles #not bashing just an observation #I’m sure the comics and fics are in jest #but some of them that are more serious… yeah 2012 has tons of shit #and I swear if someone asks or says the word ‘abuse’ I will block your ass

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ifwebefriends · 6 days

Text

Man, Doctor Who fans really won in the SuperWhoLock trifecta. Supernatural fans had an ending where Castiel went to SuperHell and a car went to heaven with some drama about the Spanish dub and Destiel being written out, Sherlock fans had a queerbaited ending and had a fucking conspiracy theory about extra episodes that would make Johnlock canon but Doctor Who fans seem relatively happy and satisfied with little fandom drama that’s breached containment and there was even that Van Gogh episode that everyone likes

#I have seen like 2 episodes of Sherlock bbc and that’s it #never seen supernatural nor doctor who #I know these things through cultural osmosis #please tell me more if I’m wrong I like learning about things #superwholock #supernatural #doctor who #bbc sherlock #destiel #castiel x dean

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miela · 8 months

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Shattered Memories • Chapter VI: Two Spiders, One Sorceress • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: Fluff Chapter Warnings: I know i said updates on Fridays but I'm clearly not a truther / pov is so ambiguous in here I'm so sorry Extra: Make sure to check out the Playlist and Pin Board!

Masterlist

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

The rest of the car ride was small talk and life updates to each other. You talked about your days at work and your lack of a social life and Peter talked about his days at school, work, and the shit he sees on patrols. Once you guys got to the place you both sat down at a booth. It was a small sandwich shop that Peter recognized but had never been inside of.

You took off your jacket and folded it next to you. Peter looked at the tattoos on your inner forearm that caught his attention. Three arc reactors inked down your arm with the words "Proof that Tony Stark has a Heart". There were words with each arc reactor and blue roses blooming around them. You noticed Peter studying the tattoo.

"It gives me strength," you smiled and extended your arm to show him more of the unique tattoo. They were the three different arc reactors that Tony had made, each with different designs but all correlating together in a perfect trifecta.

“It’s pretty,” Peter smiled.

“Thanks,” you smiled back and moved your arm back to its place on the table. “What about you? Any ink?”

“Nah,” he responded. “Not yet anyways,”

“Have any ideas of what you want?”

“I have some but nothing really hashed out just yet. I’m kinda worried about getting one. It’ll be easier to identify me that way,” he explained.

“Huh,” you had an expression of realization and deep thought. “That’s actually a really good concern.”

After ordering your food you guys talk a little bit to get to know each other better. You found out about his favorite movies and that he likes skateboarding sometimes. He learned that you still play guitar, you picked up on lyrical and contemporary dance, and that Morgan liked to bully you. It was a sweet conversation of you relearning about him and him learning more about you.

Peter felt like it was a strange power dynamic where he had to upper hand, and he didn't like it. But it balances out with you knowing so much information about him from your month-long deep dive.

“I noticed that your style is different than before,” Peter commented. “You got this whole badass leading lady movie character thing going on.”

You chuckled in response and sipped your lemonade. “Some of it is from Natasha, others from Wanda, and most from my friend Celina’s ThredUp,” you explained. “Secretly though. If she knew I bought the stuff she would be like ‘I could’ve just given it to you!’ even though I can very much afford it.”

Peter perked up at Celina’s name. It's been a while since he last saw her due to her being at the Sanctum Sanctorum. You noticed how Peter reacted to hearing her name.

“She needed money for equipment and I couldn’t just let her give me her things that she was trying to sell to get the money for it," you continued.

“Equipment?” Peter asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “She’s got a YouTube Channel and a Podcast about Mythology and Folklore and stuff like that.”

Peter looked at you confused. YouTube is one thing but a Podcast? Did she work with someone else who does the talking?

“What?” You asked before realizing it with wide eyes. “Oh, shit! You have no idea, do you? She can talk now.”

Peter’s heart nearly stopped.

“She…can speak?”

“Yeah! She’s a chatterbox and can talk to you for hours. She’s great company. She's also the kind to have life-changing conversations.”

Peter thought back on how he remembered Celina. A quiet girl with a personality loud enough to brighten a room. Her straight forehead bangs never blocked out the shine in her eyes when she was excited about something and her usual academic style of black turtlenecks, sweater vests, and plaid pleated tennis skirts contrasted her bright persona. Although she was a stellar student herself, she was also very creative and loved creating artful things.

She knew sign language. Peter learned it with her so she could better communicate with him. Uncle Ben and Aunt May had done the same so they could understand her. Ned, Michelle, and you had eventually learned it too so Peter didn't always have to worry about translating if he wasn't around.

He remembers when people actually thought Celina was deaf, and a group of kids were making fun of her. You stepped in and told them all to go fuck themselves. That is actually how you and Celina met and became friends.

“Do you wanna go see her?” you asked knocking Peter from his thoughts.

He blinked. “Like…right now?”

“Yeah!" You chirped, took out your phone, and started typing. "I can ask her if she’s home.” you chewed your lip. "How do you feel about getting a reading?"

"A reading?" Peter asked a bit confused.

"Like fortune telling, tarot reading, all that," you explained. "Celina does all that."

Peter shrugged. "Sure."

Celina~

Hey (Y/N/N)! What’s up?

Are you busy?

No not at all, I’m just kinda hanging out with the furbabies~

I want you to meet a friend of mine who needs a reading.

Oh? Does it happen to be complicated guy?

You note that Peter has several different nicknames from people.

Yes, but things are…less complicated now.

OMG, that’s good to hear! Okay yeah! I’ll get set up! See you soon!

“She’s down,” you smiled.

Once you guys arrive you park outside of her apartment building and wait for her to text you when she’s ready for you to come up. The top is up on your convertible giving you and Peter more privacy. You had the music on low and the windows tinted.

“So since I don’t remember jack shit,” you began. “How do you know Celina?”

Peter took a deep breath and turned to you slightly.

“Both of our parents were killed at the Stark Expo. We were stranded together when it happened and when they found us standing over the bodies of our dead parents…it was like so weird trauma bond that we had at the moment and she took my hand. We were put in a daycare for lost children until Uncle Ben and Aunt May came to get me...and I couldn’t just leave her there, she didn’t have any other family. They were kind enough to take her in as well and we were raised as cousins or siblings.”

You nod listening. “I’m sorry about your parents." You look down at your hands in your lap. "That’s really heartbreaking.”

“It’s okay. I’ve made peace with it.”

You both sat in a peaceful silence for a moment before Peter spoke again.

“You mentioned earlier that Celina can have life-changing conversations," Peter stated. "After all the shit we've seen as Avengers, I'm curious to know what you mean."

You smiled and leaned your head on your hand as your elbow sat on the steering wheel. "She got me to stop hating magic."

"What?!" Peter asked in a high-pitched voice. "Bullshit."

"I'm serious!"

"Okay, who are you and what did you do with (Y/N) Stark?" Peter chuckled softly. "Miss (Y/N) 'magic has limitations, science has solutions' Stark?"

You laughed. "No seriously hear me out."

"I'm all ears."

"Alright, check this out, you ready?"

"I swear to god if you conjure something up or have a sling ring, I'm gonna believe you're not really who you say you are," Peter laughed.

"Fuck no," you exclaimed. "Never."

"Okay, okay," Peter sat back and crossed his arms giving you his full attention.

"Magic is just undiscovered or misunderstood science," You stated. "Celina's words."

Peter thought on the words for a second and let the words bounce around in his head. "Okay, I can see that, yeah," he looks at you with squinted eyes. "But has she ever met Wanda?"

You both laughed.

"No, but she trained with Sorcerers."

"Okay, fair point."

Peter thought about how that conversation went down with you and Celina. Celina has always been interested in Magic, Occult, and Mythological things. It was a hobby of hers and she loved watching Movies and shows that surrounded those things. He remembered when she showed Him and Ned someone on YouTube who talks about conspiracy theories.

Speaking of…

"Did she and Ned ever get together?"

"Yep, four years now."

“Really?” Peter chuckled. "Finally. They liked each other since the 3rd grade."

“I know right?” You replied. "Oh yeah, they're engaged as of recently too"

"Huh?!" Peter squeaked.

"Yep!"

"Jeez, I missed so much."

“You have no idea,” you gave him a lopsided grin.

He smiled and looked up at the apartment building for a moment. This all seemed like some weird dream. It was as if this day wasn’t real. You guys went out and spent time together, sang to your love song, and now he’s here ready to remeet Celina after five years of not seeing her. You must have noticed him staring or sensed his emotions.

"If it's too much too soon we can wait," you said. "I know it's a lot at once."

Peter sighed still looking at the building and shook his head. " It's been 5 years and it's long overdue." He looked at you and smiled softly. "I'll be fine"

Celina then texted you and told you that she was ready for you guys to go up, and so you did. The only issue is that she lived on the 11th floor and the elevator was broken. She could’ve easily sling ring portal you guys in, but considering you both are web slingers, you would do just fine.

“Man, I haven’t swung in a while,” You say to yourself looking up.

Peter’s mouth spoke before his brain made a thought. “I could web us up there,”

“Y-You sure?” you asked a little sheepishly.

Peter nodded with a smile. “We’ve done it before.”

“Okay, Parker,” you bounced on your feet a little like you were preparing yourself for high-intensity movement. Peter found it cute.

You walked over to him and clasped your hands around his neck. Your senses were buzzing at the closeness of you two. Peter’s mind was buzzing just as much.

“Here let me just…” he trailed off as he lifted you off the ground and your legs around his torso.

You yelped softly at his actions. You looked down at him with wide eyes and a face on fire. You could feel his muscles through his shirt and it was messing with your head. And you were so close to his face. His extremely cute and handsome face. You could smell his body spray. Sandalwood and Vanilla. You decided it was your favorite scent. He was warm and you couldn’t tell if it was from the fact that men are naturally warmer or the fact that he was blushing profusely. He looked at you gingerly as he wrapped an arm around you. You could feel his biceps and you had to shut your mind up before you drove yourself insane. You smiled softly in response and nodded.

“I’m ready,” you said softly.

“O-okay,” He squeaked. God, he’s so cute.

Next thing you know you’re both being lifted off the ground. You hang onto him tightly and lean your head on the side of his as you close your eyes. You could feel his silky curls on your cheek and you were beaming at how soft they were. You wanted to shove your whole face in his hair.

Peter decided that he liked you holding on to him like this because of how close you both were.

He landed on the 11th floor gracefully to his surprise because of how his mind was racing with you being wrapped around him and in his arm. You looked at each other longingly for a moment as your eyes shifted down to his soft pink lips and his shifted down to your lipstick-stained ones a few times.

You were knocked out of your moment when you heard the door next to you open and you reflex and jumped from his hold with ease. You both acted awkwardly and naturally as two children ran out of the doorway and down the hall giggling, not caring about your or Peter’s presence there. You guys stood in silence for a moment processing what just happened.

“We should…you know.” You began with an awkward smile.

“No, yeah, yeah, we should…you know,” Peter responded in the same manner as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah!”

“Mhm!”

And with that, you walked towards Celina’s door quickly and ahead of Peter as your face burned and a big grin appeared on your face. Little did you know that Peter was also smiling from behind you.

Once you reached the door, you rang the doorbell.

“Um…” You looked at him. “Are you ready?”

“I-I think so,” He smiled softly at you. “Don’t really have a choice now.”

And with that, Celina answered the door all excitedly and hugged you happily.

"Hey! It's good to see you, girlie!" She chimed with a soft and welcoming voice.

“Hey, Celina,” You replied and hugged back.

“It’s about time you come and visit me,” she giggled pulling back. “Ned is at school late today.”

As you guys did a bit of small talk a wave of emotions hit Peter like a hurricane as his eyes glossed over threatening waterfalls to fall from his soft and dark orbs.

He was hearing Celina speak for the first time.

He sniffled and you both looked at him with concern. He turned his head away and then turned his entire body.

"Ahh you said he needs guidance,” Celina concluded. “Let me go get my stuff. Come on in when you guys are ready." Celina smiled and walked inside leaving the door open.

You turned to him and walked over by him. “Peter?”

He turned to look at you with watery eyes and his lips pressed together. He was holding back from just bursting into sobs. It broke your heart.

You laid a hand on his cheek and he closed his eyes with a sigh of relief and leaned into it. You stroke your thumb over the apples of his cheeks gently with a concerned expression. The feeling of your hand on his face, helped him calm down slightly. Like ice to a wound.

"What's wrong, Peter?" You asked with a soft voice. “Are you okay?”

"Y-yeah," he sniffled. "It's just that growing up I've been helping Celina with talking and when everyone gave up on her I never did. And hearing her talk just triggered something…like…. right in my heart, y’know? And I couldn't help myself."

You pouted slightly and wrapped your arms around him. He hugged back as you swayed him from side to side comfortingly. You echoed a string of "it's okay" and other encouraging words as he softly cried. He nuzzled his face into your neck and took a deep breath at your warmth and scent, just like he used to do after a hard mission years ago.

He wanted to stay like this forever.

After a moment you pull back slightly and give him a soft kiss on the cheek. His eyes shot open as he looked at your equally shocked expression. He could still feel the linger of the peck on his cheek and he wanted to grab your face in his hands and kiss you. But you both were frozen in place and looked at each other for a long moment. Then tension was high, the senses were racing as you had a silent conversation with your eyes. Before you knew it, you both leaned in.

But before you could you felt a soft feeling against your leg and heard a tiny meow and purring coming from below. You both Look down to see a big fluffy orange cat with big round blue eyes looking up at the both of you.

"Thor!" Celina exclaimed, “Just because the door is open doesn’t mean you can walk out!” She ran out she ran out and saw both of you super close to each other. “Oop-...I’m sorry.” she said before she outburst into exclamation again with, “Loki!”

Peter felt something climbing his leg, shirt, and shoulder. A trill and purrs rang in his ear and he felt a weighted fur on his shoulder. He looked over to see black paws on his shoulder. He concluded it was another cat.

“Awww he likes you,” You smiled. “Lokitty approved already, that’s a record.”

“Does he not like other people?” Peter asked raising an arm and petting the cat.

The dark cat rubbed it’s face on Peter’s hand causing more purring.

“No, he only likes me Ned and (Y/N) and now you.” Celina explained taking the cat off of Peter’s shoulder.”Thor here loves everybody though.”

You picked up the fluffy orange cat and scratched under his chin with your painted nails. “Thor’s a big baby. Loki is a grumpy old man.”

Peter smiled and petted the orange bundle of fluff in your arms.

“I’m ready when you guys are,” Celina smiled.

You looked up at Peter and he nodded in response. You both followed Celina into her apartment and she closed the door so you could set the cats down. As you took off your jacket, Peter took the time to glance over the apartment. It looked like a Dungeons and Dragons themed home. There were shelves filled with books about myths around the world, spellbooks, and tomes. There were plants in almost every corner and vintage decor everywhere. Peter smiled at the glass case full of Lego builds that he remembers building with Ned and his eyes focused on the death star with the missing Darth Vader that’s supposed by on top but instead is sitting on Peter’s desk in his apartment. The place was very Celina with touches of Ned which Peter found amusing.

“I baked some cookies,” Celina started. “Feel free to make yourselves at home.”

“Thanks, Celi,” You smiled and hung your jacket by the door.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Peter asked.

“Sure!” Celina chimed as she pointed to a hallway behind him. “It’s over there, last door on your left.”

“Thank you,” and he goes to the bathroom to wash his face off from the seven different emotions he felt in less than fifteen minutes.

He sighed before his superhearing picked up on the conversation you and Celina were having.

"He's a cutie!" He could hear the smirk in her voice.

You hum a giggle. “He is, isn’t he?”

It was Peter’s turn to smirk with a blush added to his face. He then crossed his arms and leaned against the wall to listen. He knew it was wrong but it wasn’t his fault that he was a spider mutant with enhanced senses.

“How long have you guys been together, together?”

“Hm? Oh, we….we aren’t-”

“Oh, please, I saw you two out there. I thought you said it wasn’t complicated anymore?”

“I said, it was less complicated.”

You were talking to her about him.

“Well, how about making it not complicated and making a move or something.”

“Celina, There’s such thing as taking things slow.”

“I dunno,” Celina sang. “You two have magnetic energy. I say act on it.”

"How?"

"Ask him to the gala. You need a plus one, no? Take him!"

"...I was gonna ask him actually."

Oh?

"Really? What changed your mind?"

"He's…a busy guy."

"He won't be once he sees that dress you're wearing. He'll be busy with you…hopefully taking it off."

Peter blinked rapidly at Celina’s response. I mean, she’s not wrong. Only if you consented of course.

"Celina…!"

"What? That's what you want right?"

You went silent and that was all the answer Peter needed to know to solidify your feelings for him. His mind was wandering to places it shouldn’t.

"See?"

You sighed. "Nika will give me shit for it." You whined.

"Well tell Nika to remove the giant stick from her ass because it's true love. I can feel it."

“Like actually, or…?”

“I don’t need magic to feel the crazy tension between you two.”

Peter smiled and splashed his face with water and decided it was a good time to walk out with a newfound confidence. You were sitting at the kitchen table on the bench with one leg folded under the other and leaning your face on your hand with your elbow propped up on the table. Your eyes shifted to Peter as you swung your unfolded leg back and forth. You smiled at him and he smiled back as he sat next to you.

“Hey,” You greeted.

“Hi,” He responded as he met your eyes.

“Feeling better?”

“Much better,” his voice was soft as he got lost in your (e/c) eyes for a moment.

The only thing that got you both the break the gaze was Celina putting a plate of chocolate chip cookies, a porcelain teapot filled with tea, and different things to put in the tea like sugar cubes, a saucer with milk, lemon, and honey. She sure knew how to romanticize her life. Even her outfit made up of a black ruffle off-the-shoulder top and a long, flowy, floral, maroon, maxi skirt, made her look like she was a witch in a Ghibli movie.

“So what kind of reading would you like….uh…” She looked up in thought. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, fuck,” you cursed under your breath. “Peter. Peter Parker.”

“Oh!” Celina beamed as if his name rang a bell. “So you’re the guy she asked us about. Nice to meet you! I’m Celina.”

“Why does everyone remember? I asked you guys once like a month ago.”

“Because your lone wolf ass hasn’t talked about a boy in like three years unless it’s your dream boyfriend.” Celina retorted while picking up the pot of tea. “So when you bring up a guy we all get a little curious, y’ know?”

You rolled your eyes and waved your hand at her mirroring your father a lot and she hummed in amusement.

“So Peter,” Celina began. “I have several options. I have Tarot cards, tea reading, and palmistry. I could do all three but it’s gonna cost you.”

“Oh?” Peter asked with a playful smirk. “How much?”

“Mmm, take (Y/N) on a date.”

“Oh my fucking god,” You hid your face.

Peter snorted. “I don’t need to be bribed to do that.”

You looked at him flabbergasted. He only smiled at you before looking back at Celina who was eating all of this up with excited eyes.

“I think I’ll do the Tarot.”

“Nuh-uh,” Celina responded. “You’re getting all three.”

“Thank you for everything today,” Peter smiled. “I didn’t know I needed all of that.”

You both were standing outside of his apartment building. After Celina did the full reading session on Peter, which he found insightful enough, she talked his ear off for three hours about anything and everything. It gave him nothing but happiness and he savored every word. You mostly just sat there and enjoyed the entire moment. You were leaning back against the wall with your hands in your jacket pocket and one leg crossed over the other.

“Anytime,” You smiled back.

You stood up straight and checked your phone before you tapped your phone on your hand nervously and looked like you were hesitating to say something. Peter could sense your nervousness.

“I…uh…also wanted to ask, if you would be my plus one for my charity gala? All your friends are gonna be there, I checked the list so I think it’s only fair that you’re there too especially because of your internship. Not that I’m only inviting you because of those things! I want you to be there and I want you to go with me…if you want. Don't feel obligated or anything. Yeah. You don't have to answer right away either, It’s like three weeks away and I’m babbling oh my god shut up (Y/N) please shut the fuck up.”

You turned and leaned on the railing that was next to you both to catch your composure. Peter smiled big and chuckled softly. You reminded him of teenage Peter trying to ask out a teenage you. It was like you guys switched places and he was going to have his fun with it. Especially now that he knows for sure that you feel something for him.

“You were holding that in all day weren’t you?”

“...Yeah. I wanted to ask you when I first saw you today but I psyched myself out. You’re a busy guy and everything so I wasn’t sure if-”

He stepped closer to you, leaned his hand on the railing causing the muscles in his arm to flex, and smiled tilting his head slightly. Your noses are centimeters apart and he’s looking into your eyes deeply like he’s searching for something. Your breath hitched slightly at the closeness and it took everything in you to not let your senses take over and pounce on him. You weren’t sure if you were unseriously offended, turned on, or both.

Peter fucking Parker, you thought.

Peter fucking me. Your senses hummed at that.

“I would love to be your plus one,” He replied lowly. “But I’ll let you know for sure by tomorrow. Work schedule and everything.”

“Y-yeah, yeah. Work schedule. “You pressed your lips together still looking into his eyes. Peter could tell you were holding back.

“I’ll message you.” He finally had your number, that you gave to him at lunch.

“G-great, I’ll let you know the time and everything when you do.”

“Okay,” He replied as he glanced down at your lips and stepped back slightly. “I should go inside now, and you should get going before it gets too late.”

“Peter?” you asked, almost desperately.

“Hm?”

“What you said earlier. Were we…” you started still trying to gain your composure. “Were we…you know more than friends…?”

He looks at you silently for a moment before opening his mouth to respond.

“You know what, never mind, ignore that.” You chuckled softly, shaking your head rapidly. “I shouldn’t think about these things or my brain might try to split in half again.”

Good point. He smiled. “Goodnight, Stark.”

“Goodnight, Parker.”

He walked backwards towards the door taking in your form before running back first into it and cursing under his breath. He then leaned back against the door with his arms crossed as if to play it off.

You giggled watching him. Such a dork.

He blushed looking at you and smiled giving you a salute. You saluted back and walked to your car while he watched you to make sure you got in safely. Once you got into the car and drove off. Peter walked inside and leaned on the door with a happy sigh.

Tags:

@chrisevans-realwife @riordanness @peterdarlingg @thecrystalclarity @brckenmemories @paleprincesssxo @blackcanary130 @kindlover

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