Now Izzy put images in my mind. Y’all don’t let me fucking rest istg-

adoration [stephen strange]

a of a stephen strange alphabet 

a/n: super short but wholesome. no warnings

Stephen Strange had an easy going day for the first time in a while. So, what does the man decide to do? Watch you teach the students at Kamar-Taj. One of the usual teachers had gotten sick, so Wong reasonably asked you to fill in. 

To be fair, despite never admitting it, Stephen disliked the idea of being alone. He hated the feeling of isolation, even if he felt he deserved it. The worst was being alone in the Sanctum. It echoed, it was quiet. Uncomfortable, loud silence. 

It was better when you were around. It wasn't so suffocating, even if you didn't talk much. You usually chose to read, eager to keep yourself sharp. He would sit there, admiring the way your hands deftly turned the page. The way your bangs would fall in your eyes. The way you held your breath when you got to an interesting fact. The way your eyes were half open, tired from reading all day and begging to go to bed. 

It was better to clean with you around. You were so serious with the task at hand. Your eyes focussed on sweeping the dust, body swaying lazily with the music that you were playing through your headphones. He loved the way you moved so carefree, so unashamed of yourself and so sure that no one was watching. But Stephen was. He always watched you.

It was always better to eat around you. You would make a simple dinner for the both of you, usually something easy like pasta. You always made it perfectly, just the way he liked it. Or, maybe it was that he liked you so much that it became the way he liked it. 

Even now, watching you instruct the students on creating portals, caused his heart to skip a beat. Your slender fingers pinched in just the right way to make the movements enchanting. Your hair blew in the breeze just slightly, but you hadn't moved to fix it. You kept your focus. He admired that. 

Stephen must've been drooling because Wong nudged him with a laugh. "What're you looking at?" 

"At them." He admitted all too quickly, not thinking about his response. He flushed pink and shook his head. "Watching them teach." 

"Good, huh? They should come more often." 

"Too much to do back at the Sanctum. Can't let you have them all to yourself." 

Wong chuckled again, smirking in Stephen's direction. His next words shocked Strange. "You're absolutely smitten aren't you, Strange?" 

He glanced down in Wong's direction, hiding a smile with a turn of his head. Yeah, he was. Maybe it was more than admiration. He adored you. It was adoration. 

"How'd you know?" 

"You're protective. You don't leave their side. You stare at them, for vishanti's sake." Wong said this in an obvious tone, like stephen was stupid not to see it. 

"Maybe you're right," He murmured, thinking now. He could take you out to dinner at your favorite restaurant. Tell you all about how he adored you. Hold you and kiss you. Ask you out. 

He decided there that he would, you deserved a great guy, and Stephen would hate for it to be anyone else. So, he was going to have to get over himself and do it. 

Can we agree that even Steve x Peggy definitely problematic but at least Peggy look interest and like with Steve and they both look like each other while loki x sylvie, yeah they keep saying they in love but look likely only loki and sylvie look disgust with loki

If you put polling which ship that more good and more have chemistry between Steve x Peggy and loki x sylvie, I believe that Steve x Peggy will become winner

I understand where you're coming from but in a way, I think that's all due to framing.

Both are similar characters in that they were framed as always right and any wrongdoing on their part was either swept under the rug or directly framed-to-deceive in order to paint it as right even when it was wrong. And of course in both cases the men were shown drooling over them (and they were the only women around and/or the women surrounding them were written as enemies or villains. It's funny to point out though that even in TFA when Steve disagrees or downright ignores Saint Maggy, the MCU still tries to act like he followed her like a lost puppy? It's so freaking weird? Watch your own movies?)

The main difference is Sylvie was introduced as an enemy or a foil. Loki and her were supposed to go from enemies to friends (or lovers), whereas Saint Maggy was introduced as perfect and she has always been the only woman Steve was allowed to get close to or show any interest in. Sharon only made it so far before they turned her into a villain.

I never saw any love in either of those two relationships, if I'm being honest. In both cases we were told that, as long as the women in those two are happy and the men follow them, it is a perfect relationship... and then we're shown two occasions in which the men don't agree with the woman (Loki in the S1 finale) or they do something they don't like (Steve being kissed by Lorraine), and all hell breaks loose. And not only that, but we're told to agree with the women in those situations because apparently, it's feminist to do so? "Look how badass they are insulting the men or shooting at them! Girl power!" 🤦‍♀️

I just don't see any love there. I see possession and self-righteousness and a desperate need for control... but no love. We only think there's love in TFA thanks to the framing, they did a terrible job of writing that romance. And in the Loki series, Sylvie is absolutely awful to him (In S1, can't speak for S2) but we're told he deserves it anyway.

All in all, what I want is something like what Christine and Stephen had. Even though they didn't end up together, they have (and yes, I say have and not had because screw Waldron and his MoM) so much love between them. Or Wanda and Vision. Or Thor and Jane. Or Quill and Gamora. In fact, in that last one they're also introduced as enemies at first but their relationship evolves brilliantly because BOTH characters grow and change and improve. The problem with Saint Maggy and Sylvie is that we were told they were perfect from the get-go despite that not being true at all... so it is pretty tough to buy their romance with Loki/Steve since their core characterization is so defective to begin with.

Honey

Pairing: Nancy Wheeler x fem!reader Summary: It's a shitshow of a summer and Nancy Wheeler has the prettiest smile you have ever seen. A/N: Hi! And welcome back! This is part 2 of Honey!! There will be more parts to come and just like last time, I am open to suggestions or other ideas! I have not yet created a masterlist but I am working on having that added soon!! If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask!! Okay, love you, bye! ----

Later that night, after everyone had been found and delivered to their respective homes safely, Robin and I started getting ready for bed. 

“Nancy and Y/N sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-OW!” Robin howled out as a tattered copy of It by Stephen King bounced off her hip. “That could have actually killed me. Do you see how big this thing is?” 

“Stop being dramatic. And stop singing that stupid song.” I spat back. The moment that Robin and I were alone and away from everyone else, she began her relentless session of teasing.

“I’ll stop singing it when it becomes true.” Robin shrugged. “I saw the way you two were eyeing each other. If you had told me last year that Nancy Wheeler, the Nancy Wheeler, was gay…” 

“She’s not,” I interjected. “And you know, it kind of sucks that you keep rubbing that in. I wish I had never even mentioned this stupid crush to you.”

Robin stared at me with her mouth hanging open. The look on her face was somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Are you shitting me right now?”

I picked at the stitching on my pajama shorts and shrugged. “No, I mean, of course, I would have told you, but ugh, God you are so annoy-”

“No, shut up, not that.” Robin interrupted. “Sometimes you can be a huge dingus, even more so than Harrington. Nancy Wheeler is most certainly gay.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Please, elaborate. I would love to hear more.”

Robin studied my face. “Hurtful, but I will elaborate because I am a damn good friend!” She threw my stuffed rabbit at me. “When you told me back in 8th grade that you had a crush on her, I remember thinking that there was no way in hell that would ever work out. Miss Fancy Nancy, with a girl? Laughable. Absolutely outrageous. And then Nancy and Steve started dating, which ya know I loved because finally, Tammy would stop looking at him with her stupid googly eyes.”

“Ah yes, the stupidest of googly eyes.”

“But oh so gorgeous!” Robin sighed, “Anyways, Steve and Nancy broke up, and then she was with Johnathon. And I always kind of wondered if she had a fling with Billy but I guess that’s one secret we will never know. But then I met all of them because of Steve and I noticed there was always something about Nancy that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. And then I introduced the two of you.” 

Robin walked over to where I was sitting on my bed. She jumped up beside me and turned to face me. “I have a pretty intense gaydar.”

“Gaydar!” I exclaimed! “How could I think for one second you were going to be serious? You actually had me going there for a minute.”

Robin looked annoyed as she shushed me. “I am being serious. It’s pretty accurate. I know about Eddie, and Will too! Nancy never set it off before, but now she lights up the charts, and recently I noticed a bit of a ping from Steve, which I am still trying to figure out. But like, I picked up on you from day one!”

“You picked up on me?!” I guffawed. “Robin, I didn’t even know until we were older, and when I told you, you seemed pretty shocked.”

“That’s showbiz baby!” Robin shot finger guns at me. When my face remained unchanged she cleared her throat. “I was obviously acting, and you weren’t subtle. I watched you drool over all kinds of girls. But that’s not my point. My point is the fact that you and Nancy want each other and there is a heavy attraction between the two of you that everyone picks up on. The sooner you two realize it, the better off we will all be.”

“Do you honestly hear yourself sometimes?”

“Not always, no.” She shook her head.

“Nancy is with Johnathon, and what you are probably feeling is the awkward tension I’m exuding. I love you, but sometimes, you can be a pretty big dingus yourself.”

Shocked, Robin replied, “Don’t use my word against me! And you’re wrong, but I guess you’ll be finding that out on your own.”

“Whatever, weirdo. I’m going to bed.” I said shoving her to her side and pulling back the covers. Robin laughed and pulled her side back too. She tucked herself in and rolled onto her side facing away from me.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet, Nancy dreams!” She singsonged. I just turned off the bedside lamp in response, cloaking us in total darkness. 

—-

The Family Video store parking lot was empty as I chained my bike to the rack outside. It wasn’t unusual to see the space uninhabited so early in the mornings. Most people preferred to rent and return their movies in the evenings. Which was perfectly fine with me, as it gave me time to spend with my friends. 

The bell above the door jingled as I pushed it open and stepped in. Steve was standing at the counter stacking blank membership cards into a house of cards. He was fully concentrated on his task, making each move carefully and slowly. He never once looked up, eyes locked in on the house of cards. His tongue was poking out between his lips and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

“Good morning, Steve.” I called out, walking towards the back of the store. No reply. 

I continued through the store, glancing at familiar titles as I approached the ‘Employee Only’ section. The door was already open so I popped my head inside. Robin was sitting with her back to me, slumped onto the desk, sleeping. 

“What are you doing?!” I yelled out, trying to hide my smile. Robin jumped up instantly knocking over her chair and spilling VHSs to the ground. She turned around quickly with a panicked expression that very quickly turned to one of annoyance. 

“You’re such a bitch,” she breathed out. 

“I just can’t believe you would sleep on the job, and leave poor, defenseless Steve out there to all those horrid customers. Plus, you slept at my house last night, peacefully too, why are you so tired?” I pulled two bananas from my bag and handed her one. She stretched and yawned before accepting it. 

“I never sleep peacefully at your house. You snore like a freight train.” Robin muttered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

“Son of a -” Steve yelled out from the front. Robin and I exchanged glances before going to investigate. 

There were blank membership cards all over the floor and counter. Steve stood there in a defeated stance, one card still in hand. He looked at us like we were the ones who knocked over his tower before dropping the other card he was holding. It hit the floor with a light clack against another card. 

“I’m not helping you pick those up.” Robin deadpanned. They both started to argue before Robin caught Steve in a headlock. He finally agreed to pick them up but not before sharing his thoughts on Robin's aggression. 

“You really need to look into therapy, wacko.”

“And you really need to grow up, dingus.”

I turned to Robin and interrupted them before they could continue. “Why did I need to meet you here so early?”

“Oh yeah, here.” She said, handing me a pair of keys. “You and Nancy are going to do some recon for us.” 

“W-w-wait, what?” I stuttered out.

“You, and, Nancy, are, going, to, do, some, recon, for, us.” Robin repeated herself, much slower.

“I heard you the first time bu–”

“If you heard me why did you say what?” She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. Steve laughed from the floor.

“Why me and Nancy? Why not Johnathon? Or Eddie?”

Steve stood up, stacking the cards he had picked up from the floor by the register. “Because no one else is available. Robin and I are working. Johnathan is doing some photography for some old ladies' cats or something, I didn’t care to ask, and Eddie is busy.” 

“Doing what?” I asked.

“He has that Hellfire club thing today.” 

“He’s graduated. Why is he still running that? Shouldn’t he pass it off to one of the kids by now? And why are they even doing that today? They know we have work to do!” 

Steve shrugged and leaned back down for more cards. “They do it for Will. Just let them have this, they’ve been through enough. You and Nancy will be fine, we just need someone to stake out the labs.”

I bit my lip and sighed. “What are we looking for?”

Robin handed me a bag. “Here are some snacks and drinks to get you guys through. We figured we might actually do it in shifts, and give everyone a bit of a break. Since the other crew couldn’t find more info on Vecna at the Creel house, we’re just looking for any activity, literally any activity, at the labs to show us where he may be.”

I was with them all when we last faced up against Vecna. He had hurt Max pretty bad, and we were all thankful she pulled through with 100% recovery. Even with that blessing, we still had a long way to go. Vecna had escaped from our grasps, not before taking a beating from Nancy and El, and things had been pretty quiet since then. Or at least they were until we had found another gate. 

It was months after the attack, and a lot of us were injured and still healing when Dustin called an emergency meeting. He told us about how he and Eddie had found another gate in the woods by Eddie’s house. They had been looking for inspiration on their newest DnD campaign when Eddie fell through what they thought was a sinkhole. 

We monitored it for months, taking shifts, mostly at night, waiting for something to happen, and it never did. A few weeks ago, Mike had gotten frustrated with no progress and demanded we venture into the Upside Down to look for anything that would lead us to Vecna. All of our searches turned up empty. In fact, we didn’t see or hear anything while exploring until yesterday morning when we crossed paths with a Demogorgon. Nancy and I had gotten separated from the group with the monster in between us and them. 

I shuddered at the thought of the monster and its chittering. “No exploring? Just monitoring?” I asked.

“That’s it. Just monitoring.” Steve said. 

I sighed again, turning towards the front of the store. “Alright.” I gripped the keys in my hand and threw the bag over my shoulder. “There better be gas in that car Harrington.” The bell above the door jingled again as I pulled it open and stepped out into the parking lot, heading towards Steve’s car.

—-

The car ride to the lab was silent as I steered the car through the slight twists and turns on the winding road. Nancy stared out the passenger side window at the trees as we passed by. It had been a few minutes since we last saw a home, indicating that we were getting closer to the labs. 

Nancy turned to me and smiled, “I’m glad we’re doing this together.”

My face flushed as my mouth got dry. I tried to focus on driving and not so much on how my body was reacting. I prayed she hadn’t noticed. “Really? Why’s that?” I asked her, stealing a glance.

Nancy turned to face forward. “We don’t spend much time together. I feel like I barely know you, and I’d like to.” She looked down at her hands in her lap with a slight smile on her face before turning to me again. “We have studied at the same school our entire lives, and I hate that it took us this long to meet.” She shrugged slightly and added, “but I’m glad we finally did.”

My heart did somersaults at the last line. I glanced at her again with a smile. “Yeah, me too.”

Nancy turned in the seat so that she was completely facing me. She propped her elbow on the back of the seat and tucked her leg under her, making herself comfortable. She reached for the snack bag and began to unzip it. “So, let’s start with some of the basics. Tell me, Y/N, what’s your favorite color?” 

“Uhm, I don’t know. Pale pink?” I replied, turning into the parking lot of the lab. “Do you think it’s completely obvious if we just sit here?”

Nancy turned to look at the lab and then back to me. “Oh, absolutely. There was a small turn-off back this way.” She said pointing back to where we just came from. “We could park the car there and walk closer. At least then we would have the foliage to hide us if things get sticky. Speaking of sticky, did you bring any weapons, ya know, just in case?” Her eyes widened a bit by the last question.

“I’m not sure.”

We pulled off the road and made sure the car was hidden from anyone passing by, though there should definitely not be any cars coming this far down. I popped the trunk to see what all we could use. Nancy walked up beside me with the snack bag thrown over her shoulder. She threw a handful of M&Ms into her mouth that she had pulled out earlier, she turned the bag to me and I accepted a few.

“Let’s see,” Nancy began. She reached in and pulled Steve’s bat out. “This should work perfectly! What else do we have?”

I looked in the trunk. There were a few jackets, magazines, and cassettes mixed together. I also spotted a walkie-talkie and a pair of nunchucks. I raised my eyebrow at them as I picked them up. Nancy looked at me and together we both said, “Eddie.” I placed them back in the backpack just in case. As I went to shut the trunk I noticed a can of Farrah Fawcett’s hairspray. I picked it up and shook it, noticing it was still pretty full. 

“Leave it to Steve.” I joked. Before I could put it back in the trunk though, Nancy grabbed my arm. 

“Wait,” she said, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a zippo lighter and handed it to me. Smiling, she recommended, “we should bring it with us.”

“Nancy we’re going to set all of Hawkins on fire.”

She shrugged, “let it burn I say.” And with that, she slammed the trunk. 

—-

“Pale pink, huh?” Nancy asked. We were sitting on the grass on the edge of the woods by the labs. 

“What?” 

“Pale pink, your favorite color.” Nancy reminded me. 

“Oh yeah! It is. What about you, what’s yours?” 

“I like red. It’s just such a powerful color. It can signify so many different things, like warmth.” She said raising her face to the sun. “Or even,” she wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Danger.” We both busted out laughing. 

Sitting here with her and talking came so easily. I was worried that we wouldn’t have much to say, or that I would make things awkward between us as I usually do with others. It was different with Nancy. I didn’t feel anxious or forced to carry on a conversation. It felt like jumping into a cold pool on a hot day. It was refreshing. 

I leaned back on my hands and stretched my feet out in front of me. We continued to chat and laugh about all sorts of things. We talked about movies, music, and school. We talked about our family, friends, and work. Our conversations flowed together seamlessly and I prayed that this feeling would never end. Every time Nancy smiled at me or laughed, I could feel the butterflies in my stomach come to life. As cliché as it sounds, I could listen to the melodic rhythm of her laugh until the end of time. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Nancy said in between laughs. She had just told me a story about the first night Steve came to her house. He had mistaken the neighbor's fence as hers and jumped it, hoping to find an easier way up to her window. Instead, he came face to face with the neighbor’s rottweiler who proceeded to chase him into their pool, but not before ripping off his pants leg to his jeans. Luckily, Nancy had heard the commotion and was able to find a way to distract the dog so Steve could make his lucky escape. “Seriously though,” she giggled. “Let’s talk crushes! Is there anyone you’ve got your eye on currently? Or maybe you already have someone that you are keeping hidden from us?”

My mouth instantly dried up and my heart began to race again. I could feel my cheeks heating up and, had she always been this close to me? I could lie, easily, and say something stupid like that I have a crush on Eddie, or she probably wouldn’t be surprised if I said it was Steve. Did she know? Did Robin tell her? Maybe Steve did. My palms began to sweat and right as I was about to blurt something out, a line of SUVs sped into the lab's lot. 

We both scrambled back into the safety of the trees and bushes and watched with wide eyes as they all parked at the front of the building. Nancy grabbed my hand and started towards the car. 

“Let’s go, we have to tell the others.”

Loki x Sylvie Post-Finale Fanfiction (Angst, Rated Teen) Part 2 of 2

Part 1 is here:

She never knew it would hurt this much when the person she loves is right in front of her, but she can't reach out and touch him; when she is still her, he is still him, but everything else has changed, like an invisible lever in an old theatre changing the scenery in the background, bringing them both to the part of the play where they are hopelessly lost.

[[MORE]]

All it took was one single moment, one single decision, and everything feels irrevocably broken now. It makes her contemplate on the true nature of relationships, how fragile they are, and how easy it is to shatter them- and her.

The smoke is slowly clearing, and all that seems to be left is a man who is doing his best to keep his distance from her, physically and emotionally.

She can tell from the way he stands with his arms crossed, or his fists clenced when his hands are by his side, that he really doesn't want to hold her hand. How can something so simple as the touch of his fingers be so vital to her existence that it feels like something has been ripped out from inside her?

She wants to reach out and touch him, but she is scared that if he pulls away outright, any hope of reconciliation that she still has left will shatter into pieces.

And she really needs this hope. It's the only thing she still has left. It's the only thing that keeps her going.

---

He looks like a man with a mission.

They spent quite a long time together, running from the TVA, running towards the citadel at the end of time, hoping to achieve their goal of bringing down the one behind the curtains.

But that was her mission, and he was there for her. She was the one behind the wheels, he was the one keeping the sails afloat.

Now it's different. Now he has a defined goal, a glorious purpose.

She's seeing him in a whole new light now, and not just because he has switched to Asgardian leather and metal armors.

As far as she is concerned, she is better off doing it all alone. One woman army, nobody to get in her way, nobody to screw up her plans. Nobody to blame her if it all goes to shit.

Or so it was, until two months ago, when Mobius decided to enlist her help in fixing the multiversal madness.

She has never really worked with people before, and it's weird, to say the least. She never considered herself a team player, but she is finding herself hating the idea less and less lately.

And she swears it has nothing to do with him. Not the fact that they are working together, and seeing his face first thing in the morning brings her a sense of calm that she quite can't explain. Or the fact that their rooms are next to each other and it makes her feel secure enough to finally get some rest at nights. Or that this whole arrangement has kept them on talking terms, when they had gone their own separate ways otherwise.

Nothing to do with that at all.

---

Humans are stupid, and the biggest evidence of this is how they decided that two extremely powerful Gods skilled at magic, enchantment, and defeating an evil extra dimensional cloud that swallows everything it touches, should be delegated to the role of research. "You're clever. You're good at reading people. You can put yourselves in the shoes of the bad guys, no offense", they said, but really, what they meant was, "We can't trust you out in the field much." She knows it, he knows it. She just doesn't know why he's complying.

That's how they find themselves researching every single day.

She likes to think he's not the only reason why she's studying in the library instead of in the comfort of her room, but that'd be a lie.

At first, he chooses to sit at a separate table. But she keeps going over to his to "get his opinion" on something in the file she's reading, and finally, he gives in. Their current arrangement consists of him sitting in the chair in front of her, to the left, prim and proper, while she hoists her feet up on the table.

He falls asleep on the desk one night, face smacked against a file, the tiniest bit of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. It would be a hilarious sight, if her heart wasn't feeling what she can only describe as longing.

They should probably talk about it, like mature adults, but neither of them know how to do that.

All she can do right now is gather the courage to run her fingers through his hair. The touch is hesitant at first, as if one wrong move would make him wake up and push her back to square one. Slowly, she relaxes, letting her fingers dance on his scalp.

He stirs in his sleep. "Please Sif. I'm sorry. Don't cut off my glorious locks, please."

Now this is a story she must hear when things are better.

If things are better.

---

Doctor Strange joins them very briefly, very rarely, but the tension between him and Loki is hard to miss. It's worse than the current situation with her, and that's saying something.

"You don't really like Stephen, do you?"

Something inside him seems to shift, but he masks it behind a non-chalant look immediately and just arches an eyebrow at her. "He's Stephen now, is he?"

"Well, that is his name." She shrugs. "What do you call him?"

"Strange", he spits the word out with an amount of irritation that indicates there definitely is a story there. "That is his name", he mimics.

She can't help the smirk that spreads across her lips. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing", he lies, ignoring the horrifying flashbacks of thirty minutes of endless falling. Not a single soul must ever know a mere human got the best of him. "What can he do to me? I'm a God among those mortals. He just irks me because he is so pompous, and arrogant, and he ceaselessly uses magic to toy with others."

She pretends to think deeply. "Now where have I seen that before?"

He scoffs. "You mock me, but I am nothing like him. For one, I am not rude."

"He seems fine to me", she declares decisively.

It's the first time in months that he gives her a cheeky grin. "That's because you're rude too."

---

They are still just containing the threats to their world, instead of finding a way to fortify the barriers between worlds and stop the threats from coming.

"Shouldn't we have a plan to seal off the other worlds from ours?" She asks him one day.

"They are working on it." He tells her, and then with a look of worry, adds, "I hope."

There are debates on what to do at the Avengers tower and at the TVA. Nobody seems to agree on what the best course of action is, but everyone seems to be following the general instructions of Doctor Strange.

During one such meeting, a Minuteman makes the mistake of voicing out loud how she wondered if things would be better if they were running according to their old boss's plans.

Sylvie feels the guilt wash over her once more.

"No", Loki tells them all firmly. The determination in his voice takes her completely by surprise. "Evil is evil. Lesser, greater, middling, makes no difference. The degree is arbitrary. The definition’s blurred." She catches him steal a glance at her direction. "We couldn't have left a dictator in charge just because it's convenient. Listen, I'm the bad guy. I've done horrible, unspeakable things. I thought humans needed to be ruled. I wanted to rule. But even I know that it's not right to take away a person's life completely. These are innocent people. You are innocent people. You have families back home, parents, children", a pause and a softening of his features, "-love. A whole past, a whole future. That man had no right to take it away from you."

His powers of persuasion are foreign to her, and it's mesmerizing to watch. Her enchantments cannot hold a candle to how he is able to just talk people into doing what he wants, thinking what he thinks, seeing what he sees.

"He who remains had a plan. One, singular plan, from one, singular man." There is absolute conviction in his voice. "It's not the only way. We'll find another way. A better way."

She has never known what it is like to have someone see you for who you are- broken and flawed, and defend you- even your well-intentioned actions that yielded different results than what you expected and hurt them in the process. She suspects it has been the same for him, a lifetime of not having anyone have his back.

The warm feeling inside her is brand new. What is the name of this? Comfort? Relief?

Happiness?

---

This will be their first time out in the field in a long time, and she feels a little sick to the stomach.

He notices. "Are you alright?"

The concern in his voice tugs at her heartstrings. She nods. She has faced way worse, she shouldn't be so nervous about this, but she is. "I've never done this before."

"We can always just kill him and blame it on the Chitauris", he suggests with a serious face.

"I heard that", Peter yells from the other room, where he is doing whatever it is that teenagers do to prepare for battle.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe we're babysitting."

"I've done this before", he assures her, and it surprises her to picture him being entrusted with such a serious task. "The trick is to conjure up illusions that keep them distracted enough to not cry."

She laughs. "You're thinking of infants. This one is a little older."

"I'm over a thousand years old, Sylvie. They're all infants to me."

Peter joins them, mask covering his face so that he doesn't reveal his identity. "So what do I call you? Loki and Loki? That's confusing. How about Loki and Lady Loki? Or is that offensive? I'm not suggesting women are inferior, because they're absolutely not..."

"Does he come with an off switch?" She whispers in horror as Peter rambles on.

Loki grins. With one wave of his hand and a flash of green, Peter's own webbing shoots out and seals his mouth shut.

---

Things are fine but not fine at the same time. He's right there beside her, but not there at all. They have their banters, they have their stolen glances, but they haven't had a meaningful conversation since that first day when she got back. She's been putting it off for a long time, but she knows they really do need to have the talk.

She corners him in his room one evening while he's tinkering with a temporal collar. She takes a seat in the chair next to his bed and rests her hand on the table, leaning her head against her palm, before switching position and crossing her arms and legs. Everything about her posture screams uneasiness. If he notices- he probably does- he doesn't say anything.

"You defended me that day."

He briefly looks up from the task at hand and gives her a soft smile. "Of course."

She blinks. "I don't understand." Her hands involuntary rise up to rub her temples. "If you can justify my actions to them, then how can you still be mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you", he says without missing a beat.

"Rubbish", her words come out angrier than she intended. This frustration is the result of the months of status quo they have had. She has to know now, one way or the other. "You're distant. You're guarded", she accuses. Then her voice breaks, as she feels a part of her break all over again with her next words. "You don't hold my hand. Why? Tell me."

He abandons the collar and focuses his full attention on her. Staring straight into her eyes, he answers her. "You know why."

"I wouldn't be asking if I did. Look, if it's because I chose the mission over you-"

"-Of course it's not that." He says decisively. Then a sad smile clouds his face. It's the same look he had when she accused him of conning her to gain the throne. "Do you think I'm the type of man who would want a woman to abandon her life-long ambitions just because she has met someone?"

She knows he isn't. But it still doesn't answer why he is so cross with her. "What is it then?"

He pauses for a moment, trying to decide whether he wants to bare his soul out to her once more or not. There are two ways he can go from here- choose to not let her in again and save himself from the hurt, or trust her again and open himself up to potential pain.

Who is he kidding? Pushing her away- keeping her away- doesn't hurt any less.

There were a thousand things that had to go wrong to bring two Lokis from two universes together. A connection like that, it doesn't just happen.

And it doesn't just go away. The pain is constant, it's a part of him, pounding like a second heart every second he has to stop himself from reaching out for her hand.

This has to come to an end.

He takes in a deep breath, bracing himself. "You didn't have to send me away, Sylvie. I wanted to stop you from making the same mistakes I did. But in the end, I didn't care what you chose. I just wanted us to do it together."

She never even imagined this could be the reason for his hurt. All these months spent thinking he hates her for her choices, and now it turns out he is hurt simply because she chose to do it alone? "I'm sorry." She says sincerely. "I just wanted you to be safe."

"And I just wanted to be there with you till the end." He confesses. His eyes shimmer with the emotions he has kept bottled in for so long. "You go, I go."

She doesn't know what to say to that. She has never been good at articulating her feelings. Tears stream down her cheeks at the realisation that even after everything, he is still there for her.

She didn't cry even back at Lamentis when they thought they were going to die. She doesn't let anyone see her cry when she is sad or scared. That's all she has known her whole life. She's used to it by now.

This is new. These are tears of relief. Comfort.

Happiness.

Tentatively, she crosses over to the bed and sits by his side.

It's quiet for a few minutes. But unlike the months of tension so thick she could cut it into splices with her daggers, this is comfortable silence. The kind they had before it all went wrong.

"Did you even miss me?" He whispers.

"What kind of silly question is that? Of course I did." Her shaking hands grab his, and oh how she missed this.

He intertwines their fingers. His eyes draw closed. Bliss. That's the only word for this feeling.

He opens his eyes again and studies her. She's staring back at him, teary-eyed, but with a hopeful smile. "Really? Because you have a really unique way of showing it. You didn't even come looking for me."

"I didn't know how to face you", she tells him honestly. No tricks, no enchantment, no treachery. Not with him. "I didn't know if you even wanted to see me." Her voice grows quieter, dropping to a timbre that perfectly encapsulates her deepest fear. "I thought you hated me."

"Hate you?" He is shocked that she thinks that is even possible, specially after seeing him these last few months. "Sylvie, I'm working with the Avengers. The Avengers. Do you know how much I hate them? They are my nemesis. They're self-righteous, condescending, and so completely dull. Every second with them makes me want to rip their hearts out. Why do you think I'm here with them?"

She thinks she knows. But she needs to hear it anyway.

"It's because of you." He lays it all out on the table. All cards on deck, win or lose. "You've been running away. I have been the one who has been here, trying to hold down the fort, working to fix everything. Because that is what one does when one loves-"

Shit. The word slips out before he realises it.

Their eyes go wide in unison.

"Sylvie, I-"

"-Don't you dare take it back now." She warns him. "I-" She doesn't know how to say it either. They make such a great pair, both equally daft at saying how they feel, like they are teenagers, not Gods who have lived for centuries. "I've been running because I didn't think I could bear the burden of knowing I found you and then I lost you. I don't want to lose you. Not now, not ever."

He kisses the back of her hand, before letting it go. He cups her face, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "I don't want to lose you either."

She leans in closer, until their foreheads touch. She can feel his breath on her face, warm and soft. That is exactly how she feels inside. "You won't", she promises. "You go, I go."

---

(Quote on Lesser Evil from The Witcher. Thanks for reading!!)

Crown of Thorns

“What will I be when I grow up, Lady Mother?” Y/N asked, the bed sheets wrapped high under her chin, arms clutching her knees.          

“You will be Queen, my darling,” she cupped her face, and she leaned into her touch, “and a warrior.”

Series Summary: After the need for their alliance during the Battle of Titan, King Stephen asked in return for his services, that King Anthony of the Iron Islands’, first born daughter would be given in marriage, to his sons, Prince Steven and Prince James of the Kingdom of Kamar-Taj. Despite King Anthony’s other offers, King Stephen would only agree to one, or there would be war between their two Kingdoms. Leaving King Anthony with no choice, he sacrificed his first born daughter, in hopes of sparing his people of anymore suffering. Anthony prayed that the men would care for his daughter, and love her as he did, but a sparkly crown can hide a thousand secrets.  

Pairing: Prince!Steve x Princess!Reader x Prince!Bucky

Series Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Angst, Fluff (There will be some fluffy stuff I promise, I can't resist), Smut: This series will include some aspects of Dub-con/Non-con: Steve and Bucky aren't going to be Prince Charmings. More Warnings will be posted on Chapters.

Masterlist

Part Fifteen:Out With The Old 

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Themes, Oral Sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 3.3k

“Shall we go to bed?” Steve asked, standing, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist, and pulling her close to him. Smirking into his chest, Y/N shook her head pushing away.

“Not with you no.” Y/N, smiled sarcastically, the two Princes’ faces drop, as they share a look with each other.

“What?” Bucky blurted, “I thought you had forgiven us?”

“I said I had forgiven you; I didn’t say that I had forgotten.” Y/N’s tone has an edge of ice, that made Steve and Bucky shiver.

“What does that mean for us?” Steve worried.

“You’ll see.” You smiled, before leaving the two Princes looking stunned and spellbound.

Y/N had a plan. The Princes needed to pay, and she knew exactly what she was going to do.

~~~

The next day; Y/N accepted the invitation from Steve and Bucky to join them for breakfast, although, instead of sitting between them like usual, she sat on the opposite end of the table. She had also made sure that, that morning, Wanda and Maria had dressed her in the most scandalous dress that she owned.

Bucky had gifted it to her, when she had still been living with her father in the islands. When she had received it, she wanted Peter to take it and donate it to the nearest brothel, but now she was glad that Peter had kept it.

All eyes were on her, as Steve struggled to find his mouth, as all he seemed capable of doing was watching her, as she sipped on her cup of water. Making sure she held eye contact with him, as he choked on some of his bread, when she winked.

When everyone had managed to eat some of their breakfast, Y/N asked for the plates to be cleared away.

“Arnold, fetch the Lady Natasha and Lady Sharon, tell them the Princes have something to say to them.” Y/N grinned, when she heard Bucky choking on his spit. “Be quick.”

The butler scuttled out, his eyes slightly wide at her request, but was quick to fulfil it. Y/N turned back to face Steve and Bucky, who both shared a look of absolute horror, as they began to feel very nervous.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Bucky panicked, his face was pastier than usual, his lips more of a grey than the usual cherry colour that Y/N enjoyed kissing.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see soon enough.” Y/N beamed, innocently, before drawing her chair out, and standing by the window, whilst she waited.

“You know we are sorry, don’t you, Y/N?” Steve takes some steps towards, Y/N, but she doesn’t make any effort to move closer to him. Instead, she stares at him blankly.

“We’ll never hurt you like that again, we promise.” Bucky tried, but Y/N still met him with a blank stare.

“I know.” Y/N nodded, “And I’m going to make sure of it.”

Steve and Bucky once again, were worried, and if Y/N listened hard enough, she wondered if she could hear Steve and Bucky’s heart rates increasing, when the two women she had asked for, nervously stepped into the room.

“Ah, Natasha, Sharon.” Y/N greeted with a twisted smile, “I’m glad you could make it.”

Sharon eyed Steve, but he avoided looking at her at all costs, instead focusing on his wife. Natasha, however; her eyes were sharp and piercing, as she watched Y/N, as she stood between the two Princes. Clasping her hands in front of her, a forced smile plastered on her face.

“You are probably wondering why I’ve brought you here.” Y/N started, she had been rehearsed this speech in her head, for hours and hours last night. She had barely slept as she imagined this moment all night.

“Yes, your highness.” Natasha nodded, her eyes still burning holes into Y/N’s face; she had noticed the dress that Y/N had chosen, she knew she had seen it somewhere before, but she couldn’t quite figure it out.

“I’ve decided that your services within this household will no longer be required.” Y/N had to stop herself from talking through her teeth, and she had to bite back the look of joy on her face, when Natasha and Sharon’s faces turned a similar shade of grey that Bucky’s had.

“But your highness-“

“It is a mutual decision, made by myself and the Princes, isn’t that right?” Y/N turned to the men, who immediately had to clamp their mouths shut, once they realised their wife’s eyes were focused on them.

“Er…yes, your services in this household will no longer be needed.” Bucky cleared his throat, when he caught the slightly harshening glare he was receiving from Y/N.

“Are you sure it is what you want, sire?” Sharon turned to Steve, her voice barely above a whisper, as her eyes began to fill with tears.

“It is what we have decided, Lady Sharon.” Y/N barked, before giving Steve a death stare, when he was yet to say anything.  

“Yes, we all agree it would be for the best.” Bucky sides with Y/N, wrapping an awkward arm around her waist. Y/N pulled away slightly but kept close to prove her point further.

“Steve.” Sharon tries once again, but he shakes his head.

“There’s no point in begging, that’s not going to work with me, not anymore.” Steve shakes his head, moving closer to Y/N.

“You know, I was wondering where I had seen that dress before, now I’ve worked it out.” Natasha sneered, as her eyes trailed up and down.

“And where might that be, Lady Natasha?” Y/N chewed on her cheek, as she tried to not sound too bitter.

“Don’t you recognise it, sire?” Natasha asked Bucky, looking to him, before back to the dress, the whole time she ignored Y/N’s inquisitive face, as she made doe eyes at her lovers.

“Natasha, I suggest whatever it is you need to say, just spit it out.” Steve seethed folding his arms, whilst Bucky continued to stare at the dress, hoping to guess where Natasha was going with her teasing before it was too late.

“That dress,” Natasha points a slender and surprisingly for a maid, well-manicured finger, at the material, that was beginning to make Y/N’s skin itch. “You bought it for me, two years ago, don’t you remember?”

Y/N felt her heart leap into her throat, all she wanted to do was burn the dress, with her still in it, but she swallowed the tears, as she looked to Bucky, who looked like he was going to be sick.

“Well, James?” Y/N’s voiced withered slightly, and it made her cringe as she wanted to be strong, now was the time for her to be strong.

“I…er…I don’t-“

“It’s true, your highness, the dress was purchased for me, as a gift, however: it didn’t fit me, so Bucky decided it would be nice to gift it to you.” Natasha’s voice felt like nails on a chalkboard, and it made Y/N want to strangle her there and then.

Then it came to her. The ultimate revenge.

“What? This dress?” Y/N waved her arms over the body of her, to specify the item of clothing she was talking about.

“Yes, your highness…that dress.” For the first time Natasha seemed nervous, as she eyed Y/N sceptically.

“Well, I suppose you’d like it back.” Without further discussion Y/N began to undo the back of her dress, reaching behind her, she began to unbutton the back of her dress, the four spectators appeared to be stunned.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Steve asked in shock, as he began to see his wife’s undergarments, being revealed in front of his mistress.

“Returning something that’s not mine.” Y/N explained before shrugging the fabric off her shoulders and throwing it at Natasha’s feet.

Before anymore could be said, Y/N spun around, placing her hand on the front of Steve’s chest, and lightly shoved him towards the bed.

“And I’m taking back what is.” Y/N smirked at Steve’s frightened face, as she pushed him down onto the bed, before turning back to Bucky, who’s jaw had given up trying to keep closed, as his mouth sagged open, a small trail of drool, dribbling down his chin.

“Come here.” Y/N curled her finger, and like an invisible rope was tied around Bucky’s waist, he did as he was commanded, walking towards Y/N, before she pulled his face into a kiss.

Y/N kept her eyes open, as she watched Natasha take in a quick breath, as her eyes grew dark with anger. She huffed, scooping up the dress, and beginning to walk towards the door, Sharon followed her head hanging low, her bottom lip clamped between her teeth, as she held in the tears.

“Stop.”

Y/N broke from the kiss, not looking to the two women, who had stood dead in the doorway.

“Undo my corset.” Y/N commanded, before pushing Bucky down next to Steve, the two of them looked terrified and excited all at the same time.

Y/N stood in front of them both, her back to the women, who looked to each other, before looking back to the lace.

“Did you not hear me?” Y/N asked, lowly, flicking her head over her shoulder, “Take my corset off. Now.”

Sharon was quick to scramble to the edge of the bed, she kept her eyes away from Steve, who had stripped his shirt off his head, and was working on his trousers. His movements were mirrored by Bucky, who was struggling to get his tunic over his head.

Sharon made quick work of the laces, and soon the corset was in her hand, and she moved back to Natasha, her own eyes a little misted with emotion, as she watched Y/N crawl up onto the bed.

“Must we stay, your Highness?” Natasha asked in a small voice, eyes focusing on the stone floor, as Y/N straddled Steve’s hips, and began to trail love bites over his chest.

“Hmm, what do you think, my loves. Do you want to keep sharing me with these whores?” Y/N bit harshly, as she looked between the two Princes, who seemed to already be out of breath.

“No, we want you, no one else but you.” Bucky panted, pulling at the necklace that still laid around her neck.

“You heard them.” Y/N sassed, throwing a quick side glance to Sharon and Natasha, before grabbing the back of Bucky’s neck and locking lips with him once again, leaning back for a moment, so she could mumble one sentence, “Now fuck off.”

Bucky didn’t have time to be shocked at her, as she quickly started kissing him again. Sharon ran from the room, unable to keep her sobs at bay anymore, her cries echoed along the stone walls. Whilst Natasha calmly picked up the corset that Sharon had left in her state of misery, and walked from the room, shutting the door behind her.

“I think I like it more when you’re like this.” Steve teased, trailing his fingers over Y/N’s side, as she continued to make out with Bucky.

“Well, that’s good,” she shoved at Bucky’s chest, before moving up to the headboard laying on her back and placing her hands behind her head. “Because you’ve got a lot of making up to do.”

“What did you have in mind?” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows, as he came closer to Y/N, but she held him back, by placing her foot on his chest. He looked a little shocked, but a small bit of him was enjoying seeing Y/N taking control.

“You are going to make me feel good, you’re going to make me feel better than you have ever made Sharon or Natasha.” Y/N explained, playing with the small chain that lay on her bare chest.

“Your wish is our command.” Bucky smirked, Steve grabbing one of your ankles, moving it slightly wider, whilst Bucky shed the last of his clothing.

Kneeling up, Steve wrapped his hands around Y/N’s waist, before hooking his fingers into the side of her underwear, and shimmied them down her legs, tossing them to the side, before grasping her thighs once again.

Trailing kisses over her calves, before traveling up her thighs, lightly biting the flesh, and holding it between his teeth for a second, then releasing to stare up at Y/N, with big blue orbs, which were slowly beginning to darken.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N, every inch of you.” Steve groaned, as he kissed right next to her core, which caused a shiver to go down her spine, as she laid her head back on the pillow.  

“Please, I need you both.” Y/N panted lightly, Steve looked at Bucky, who was smirking, as he palmed himself.

“We’ve kept her waiting long enough.” Bucky told Steve, who simply nodded in agreement, before he threw her legs over his shoulders, and began to devour her, relentlessly.

“Oh, my Gods.” Y/N gasped, as she grabbed the sheets tightly in her fists.

Steve focused his attention on her clit, his teeth grazing against the sensitive button, making Y/N’s toes curl, and bite down on her lips to suppress her moans.

She felt Bucky’s lips, moving against her, as he relaxed her jaw, sucking on her tongue gently, before breaking away.

“Don’t bite your lip, honey, we want to hear your sweet little noises.” Bucky cooed, leaving one final peck on her lips, before sitting back and letting her enjoy the feeling of Steve’s tongue gliding through her folds.

“Please don’t stop.” Y/N gasped when Steve added his fingers, curling them to rub against her upper wall.

“We’re not going to stop all night, my love.” Bucky promised, as he continued to toy with Y/N’s nipples, pinching them until they were stiff peaks.

“Please, I need one of you…I need one of you…” Y/N couldn’t find her words, as she suddenly felt herself growing shy, under the watchful eye of her two Princes.

“Need us to do what, sweetheart, tell us what you need?” Steve asked, leaning back, his chin was dripping with her juices, his lips a cherry red, and his cheeks flushed.

“I need one of you to-“

Y/N was interrupted in her request by a harsh knock on the bedroom door, that had her jumping out of her skin. The Princes were surprised, but Bucky didn’t blink when he went to the door, completely nude. Steve stayed by Y/N, wrapping her in a blanket, just encase whoever was at the door, could see into the room.

“What’s going on?” Y/N whispered to Steve, as he curled up next to her, holding her in his arms, missing the feeling of their skin being pressed against each other.

“I don’t know, but I swear if it’s not an emergency, then whoever is on the other side of that door, will meet the axe.” Steve huffed, as he rested his chin on Y/N’s head.

Y/N slapped his chest, lightly, biting back the giggle that wanted to break free, her eyes returning to Bucky’s naked figure standing in the doorway.

She was staring at his bare behind, as well as his beautifully toned back, which looked like a perfectly sculpted marble statue. As a result of her wandering eyes, she noticed the way Bucky’s body tensed, his whole back went rigid, and his head began to move frantically, as his voice raised.

“Ready the men.” Bucky yelled, before slamming the door behind him, bashing his fist on the door.

“Fuck!” Bucky shouted, sweeping his arm across the table, knocking everything that was on top of it, onto the floor. Y/N grabbed the blanket harder, pulling it tighter, as she worried what had happened.

“What’s wrong, Buck?” Steve asked, as he reluctantly detached himself from Y/N, making his way to his brother, grabbing his shoulder in reassurance.

“It’s Zemo.” Bucky grumbled, just loud enough for both Steve and Y/N to hear. Standing from the bed, keeping the sheet wrapped around her body; Y/N walked to the Princes.

“What’s happened, my love, what’s going on?” Y/N reached out to touch Bucky’s shoulder, but he pulled away before she could.

“His men have broken through the western wall, they’re on their way to the castle as we speak.” Bucky relayed the messenger’s words to Y/N and Steve, before slamming his hands down on the table once again.

“What do we do?” Y/N worried, as she looked to her husbands for reassurance.

“We’re going to get you out of here, and safe, possibly send you back to your father for safety.” Steve explained before Bucky could, Y/N looked at them in disbelief.

“I’m not going anywhere, I need to be here, with you.” Y/N shook her head, walking to a trunk in the corner of the room.

“Don’t argue with us Y/N, we need to keep you safe.” Steve sighed, as he watched Y/N with his head tilted, unsure of what she was doing, rooting through what sounded like silverware.

“You always forget, you always misjudge me.” Y/N grumbled, pulling out the chainmail and chest armour, and throwing it onto the bed with a clatter.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked, when Y/N began to latch herself into the body armour.

“I’m going to help you.” Y/N answered simply, as she slipped the chest plate onto herself.

“You can’t, you’re just a-“ Steve stopped himself before he could finish his sentence, when Y/N flashed him a glare.

“Just a what?” Y/N folded her arms, jutting her head in challenge, “Just a girl?”

“Look Y/N, we love you-“

“Please cut the bullshit, Steve.” Y/N stopped the blonde before he could make his excuses, as she stepped closer to the men, “I’m not just some fragile little bird, that needs her hand held and boot laces tied for her.”

Bucky let out a heavy breath looking to Steve for backup.

“You forget I was trained by a Valkyrie; I am fully capable of defending myself.” Y/N finished, she was now standing toe to toe with the Princes, as she gazed up at them, her eyes ablaze with determination.

“Very well, you will stay.” Steve’s head whipped in Bucky’s direction when Bucky spoke those words, his mouth agape in disbelief.

“Buck-“

“But you will stay here, with your own personal guard, so that we know you are extra safe.” Bucky explained his terms.

“But I don’t need babysitting.” Y/N huffed, frowning.

“Then don’t see it as babysitting, just imagine you are taking care of the men we’ve sent to look after you.” Bucky breathed, before planting a quick kiss to her forehead, before heading to his own armoury.

“Fine.” Y/N agreed, grabbing the rest of her chainmail, leaving Steve looking completely stunned.

“Steve, hurry, get changed.” Bucky ordered, making Steve run to the same cupboard, pulling out his own armour.

“Do you need a sword, my love?” Bucky grinned as he held out a blade, for Y/N to take.

“No thank you, I have my own.” Y/N smiled, holding up the silver blade that had served her so well.

“That’s a pretty nice sword, where have you been hiding that?” Bucky looked a little shocked, as he eyed the stainless steel in his wife’s grip.

“Out of your view.” Y/N chirped, kissing Bucky’s lips, as he beamed at her in desire.

Y/N’s eyes flicked over to Steve, who was now standing looking out the window, resting his hands heavily on the windowsill, as his eyes appeared to be scanning whatever was happening outside.

“What’s the matter, Steve?” Y/N asked, stepping towards him. Steve didn’t need to answer her, as she looked out the window, she saw the glowing flames of torches, as people ran around in desperation to get to safety.

The cries of people and horses merged together as they hung heavily in the air. The flames blazed in Y/N’s eyes, as she watched in fear for the villagers and servants, who scrambled to find weaponry, supplies or anything they could that could stop the coming invasion.

“We’re going to be fine. They will have to face the three of us.” Bucky wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist, whilst slinging his other over Steve’s shoulder.

“We can take on the world.”

Taglist

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Mafia Daddies Stephen and Tony taking over a smol café for a meeting and Peter is their waiter >:)

ive left jensen babe hanging with this for wEeks but i think i managed to scramble together smth!! and that smth includes Tony being an absolute Whore and having a Danger Kink™️

Mafia bosses and husbands Stephen and Tony, bodyguards Steve and Bucky, waiter Peter, mafia aus, threats and use of violence, manipulation, Tony just being That Bitch and embarrassing his husband

“Why are we here?” Bucky’s tone is as grumpy as ever, and Tony rolls his eyes. The man had practically hissed the words out, putting as much force into it as possible without angering his bosses too much, nor causing a big scene. 

“You know, the Petersons have been causing all sorts of trouble for us. We’re making a plan of action.” Stephen replies, so that Tony does not have to. The aggression in Bucky’s voice rolls off Stephen like water on a duck. He is not bothered at all, which he rarely is. That is what makes him a good boss, not that Tony does not have other qualities that makes him just as good as his husband. They complete one another in that way. And in a way, Bucky and Steve do that as well, in their roles as the second pair in charge, just below Stephen and Tony. 

“No, I mean, why are we here?” Bucky rephrases. If Steve were with him, he would give Tony that infamous look, which signals that he is questioning him. Even with the blonde guard on stand by, and not present with them, Tony feels his presence along with Bucky’s snarky question. 

Out of all the places in the world, the three men are meeting in a café. The place is small, but designed purposely in a way to maximise the space completely. It is almost impressive how much they have fit in here without the space feeling like it is suffocating you. Instead, it feels homey, and it smells like fresh coffee and baked goods. 

It is just after 8 am, so the morning rush is coming to an end as the sun rises higher and its’ rays do not feel as harsh and blinding anymore. Still, Tony is wearing his sunglasses where he is sat next to his husband Stephen. Besides being very stylish and framing his face nicely, the shades serve another purpose. It lets Tony’s scanning and calculating gaze go undetected. And just like he was briefed the day before, the café is does not have any security cameras. In addition, the gang of four have taken up the largest table in the café, and with how intimidating they look in their black clothing, no one will sit down next to them on the surrounding tables. No cameras, no prying gazes nor eavesdropping ears. Perfect. However, they will wait a few more minutes before starting on the agenda of the their meeting. They have not ordered their coffee of choice yet either. 

“Hi! What would you like today? Black, no sugar? Gotcha!” 

The sound of a chirpy voice catches Tony’s attention, and he turns his head a bit, as if to see what Stephen is doing on his phone, but actually his gaze is looking somewhere beyond his husband. He looks towards the counter of the café where an adorable, 20-something boy is stood in a dark brown apron, fixing the coffee machines with the speed and precision of an experienced worker. The warm brown curls on top of his head bounce around his ears and the nape of his neck as he moves. They look silky, freshly washed, and perfect to tug on. The boy perfectly fits the profile Tony got from the briefing. This is him, the cute boy who will be covering the café all by himself until 10 am. The place is all theirs, and Tony smirks to himself before finally looking away as the boy hands the finished coffee to the waiting customer. 

“Because, I want to have a good cup of coffee, and some fun.” Tony tells Bucky to answer his question about why they are at the café and not at base. “Is that too much to ask, Barnes? I know you don’t smile often, but you must at least be able to appreciate a good, hot drink now and then.” 

“I do like to drink.” Bucky replies dryly. 

“I don’t mean that way.” Tony corrects. 

“All right.” Stephen cuts off by rising from his seat. Always the diplomat, Tony thinks. “I’ll go and order. What would you like?” 

Tony and Bucky make their requests in, and watch as Stephen heads to the counter. He returns a few moments later, and once more the group of three fall silent and watch the boy make their coffee behind the counter. There is no one else in the café now, just the way that they planned it all. 

“He’s cute.” Tony comments to Stephen quietly. With the way Stephen is sat sideways next to him, Tony cannot see his husband’s eye roll, but he knows he did it anyway. 

“You just had one yesterday. Keep it together. We’re just here for business, so please… Don’t mess it up.” Stephen replies quietly, and looks over at Tony to show that he is serious. But, Tony makes no promises, and sits back to watch the boy behind the counter again. Thanks to the sunglasses, Tony does not have to politely avert his gaze when the boy heads over with their drinks on a tray. The man is unapologetic with his staring, and if he was a cartoon character, he would be drooling long ago. 

“Here you go! Who’s got the espresso?” 

Tony lifts his hand a bit, and thanks the boy as he sets his drinks down. Stephen and Bucky do the same with their black coffees that the waiter sets in front of them. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name, sweetheart?” Tony asks the boy. 

“Peter! Peter Parker, sir.” The boy replies with a bright smile, tucking the empty tray under one arm. “Been working here for just over two years now, and I love it.” 

“Really? You seem like a natural, that’s for sure.” Tony continues, letting his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose to peer at Peter from above them. 

“Oh, thanks!” Peter beams, seemingly a bit taken off guard by being complimented by a complete stranger. “Well, I really do hope you enjoy your drinks. If there’s any problems, I’d be happy to re-make it.” 

Next to Tony, Stephen clears his throat after taking a sip of his drink. He shoots his husband a warning look, then adds quietly. 

“Honey…” 

“Oh, I’m sure it is absolutely perfect.” Tony continues without caring at all about Stephen’s warning. Bucky is sat quietly with his drink, since he has no business to interfere with this, not when he is second in charge. 

Flattered once more, Peter laughs a little nervously, but does not shy away from Tony’s eyes. Just when he turns to leave, Tony stops him by pressing his gun against the boy’s hip. Peter halts when he feels the harsh pressure, and looks down at the gun with a mix of horror and confusion. His mouth gapes when he looks at Tony, just a second away from asking what is going on. Tony speaks before he has time to do so. 

“There is one thing… Would you mind switching the sign so it says it’s closed? We’re about to talk some serious business, and we’d hate to be disturbed.” 

“I’m- I’m going to ask you to leave.” Peter states, and the two other men raise their heads at the command. Stephen scans the scene, where Tony and Peter are frozen and looking at one another intensely. It is almost like, Tony is holding the boy at gunpoint, and Stephen sighs audibly when he realises that his husband is doing exactly that. 

“Honey.” Unlike earlier, Stephen’s voice is sharp now. Once more, Tony ignores his husband’s warnings. 

“We haven’t even enjoyed the coffee you made us, sweetheart. I’d hate to let something so good just go down the drain. That would be a shame, don’t you agree?” Tony continues, still looking at Peter through his sunglasses. “So, why don’t you-“ Tony halts mid-sentence and from beside him, Stephen tenses and sits up. 

“Peter… Put it down.” 

The boy has got the sharp blade of a pocket knife up against Tony’s throat, resting just above his trachea, and with the tip pointing at the artery on the side of his neck. The knife is cheap, probably bought somewhere online, but it is quite beautiful still. Both the blade and handle have a multicolour holographic effect, and it looks like the metal and plastic have been dipped in oil. But, aesthetics aside, the knife is still dangerous, at least as long as it is pressed against one’s neck. 

“I’m not doing anything.” Peter stresses through gritted teeth, and challenges Tony’s gaze by looking at him even more intensely. The older man can see that he has tucked away his fear somewhere, because all he can see in his brown eyes now is rage. And incredible beauty. 

“Well, whatever it is that you are, or aren’t doing, you look stunning while doing it.” Tony drawls with a purr, shooting Peter his best and cockiest smirk. The boy looks amused, but only for a split second before adding more pressure to his blade. 

Based on the briefing of this café, Tony would never have thought it would end up like this. The chirpy and bouncy personality is just a facade. The little bastard has been armed this whole time. Tony takes it as a compliment that he was the only that brought out the self-defence response in the waiter boy. But, as fun as this is, it is still a bit humiliating to be put on the spot in front of his second in-command, Bucky. The guard might just be plotting a coup right in this moment, considering just how weak Tony is being now. Time to turn that around. 

“Okay, sweetheart, how about we make a deal?” Tony offers, but suddenly averts his gaze to the door. Another customer has entered, and both he and Peter hide their weapons. 

For a second, Peter hesitates with heading back to the counter. It is like he is asking Tony permission to leave, or rather daring him to stop him from doing his job. Accepting defeat, for now, Tony nods towards the counter, and Peter heads off without a word. 

“You, fucking idiot!” Stephen hisses to Tony, just quiet enough for the other customer to not hear. 

“Quite an eventful morning, huh? Perhaps I underestimated this place.” Bucky muses with a chuckle and sips at his coffee. “We should definitely come back. And this coffee is quite good, actually.”

“Shut it. He’s coming back.” Stephen points out in a hushed whisper. 

It seems like the customer sensed an uncomfortable atmosphere and left before Peter could ask if they wanted anything. For a second it looks like the waiter is leaving as well, but he just heads to flip the card saying ‘open’ to ‘closed’ instead. Still, Tony takes note on how the boy does not lock the door. If he had a nose like an apex predator, he could probably catch the scent of fear from the boy. 

“You’re scaring away my costumers.” Peter states bravely, crossing his arms as he stops by Tony and his gang’s table. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tony coos condescendingly. “Do you need some extra tip to make up for it? I must say, your coffee was excellent, but-“

“Ten.”

“Ten dollars?”

“Ten thousand.”

Stephen sputters over his coffee. 

“What do you-“ 

“For all the trouble you’ve caused, and for me being quiet about everything. And don’t pretend like you don’t have that kind of money, because you do. So, give me it, and then get out of here.” 

Tony chuckles once, then he laughs merrily, but Peter does not falter. 

“With what? You can’t threaten me, sweetheart. You’ve got nothing, so we can just walk out of here. And I think we will do just that.” Tony says and claps his hands together to signal that this conversation is over. He rises along with his husband and guard, but suddenly the man stumbles back into his chair. The waiter just tripped him? “What the fuck-“

“Sure, walk out.” Peter starts with a smile, but his face quickly drops into a death stare. “And I will turn over the video I recorded on my phone of you threatening me to the police.”

“You-“

“I started recording as soon as you came in. I knew you guys were trouble, and look? I was right. So, ten thousand. Now.”

“You, little shit…” Tony says through gritted teeth, but a hint of a smirk still lingers on his lips as he gazes at Peter in front of him. 

How did he get so lucky?

“Steph, darling, could you write the waiter a cheque? And add my number on the back of it.”

“I won’t call you.” Peter deadpans. 

“Oh, I think you will.” Tony chuckles, then adds in a lower, and much more sinister tone. “I’m not done with you, and you’re not done with me.”

If Tony could not smell the fear on Peter before, he definitely does it now. And he loves it. 

Indebted

//Implied NS.FW content warning//

Stephen knew Chrys was still in the Sanctum. He could feel his energy, the natural spring of magic that bubbled inside the dhampir. His aura was often a lovely dance of grassy green and hot pink. Now, it was sallow and grey, the colors muted and cold. He finally found him slumped down in a beaten old armchair, eyes lidded, lips parted as he stared into space.

"Chrys?" Stephen asked tentatively, unsure if he was meant to be a sorcerer or a doctor in this moment. "Are you okay, bud?"

"Ah, sorcerer," It seemed to take a lot of effort to speak. Chrys' usual silky English baritone was crackly and soft. "Pardon me, this is. A sorry state to see me in."

"What's wrong?" Stephen stepped closer, hands anxiously hovering over the dhampir.

"It's been so long since I last fed," Chrys' head lolled back and he squinted at the ceiling. "The hunger... I do my best to feed so little, sustaining myself on large meals and deep meditative states but... I can't fight my lineage, I must feed at some point or I'll wither away."

Stephen swallowed. He bridged the gap and laid shaking hands on Chrys' forearms. The dhampir jumped a little in his seat, his pupils shrinking into thin little slits.

"... Would that be... Dangerous for whomever you uh... Feed on?" Stephen cursed his lack of knowledge.

"No, I don't have the power to turn anyone," Chrys croaked. "Only pure-bloods and those who've been turned can spread it. My mixed blood isn't enough."

Stephen swallowed. He looked back over his shoulder. Wong was out for today, probably passing on some updated records to Kamar-Taj. It was only Stephen and his dhampir; his large, handsome, selfless, romantic, self-sacrificing dhampir. He tried to tighten his grip on Chrys' arm but his damaged hands didn't permit it.

"What if--"

"Stephen," Chrys tried to sit up, groaning lowly. "That would require... Consent. And a lot of trust between us."

"And?" Stephen searched his face, maintaining eye contact. "I... Trust you, you've been an incredible ally for the time you've been here and a confidant and a teacher--"

"You hesitate," Chrys raised his hand, cupping Stephen's chin. He rubbed circles against his jaw with his thumb. "I need... Complete and total trust. Consent with no regret. Otherwise, I'd never. I could never forgive myself. I can sustain for a while longer, I'll just. Animal blood will suffice--"

"No," Stephen stood, bracing his hands against Chrys' chest. He ran so warm but now he was burning hot. "No. I trust you. Completely. You've already saved my life more times than I can count--"

"As you have mine," Chrys took a deep shaking breath. "Are you sure? Absolutely?"

"Yes." Stephen inhaled slowly, steeling himself. He nodded. "I know... You'll be safe. You won't hurt me, turn me... Kill me. I trust you."

Chrys watched him warily. It was easier to see his age like this, the century of pain and heartache that lived behind his eyes. In his weakened state, he seemed more genuine, old blood magic and an alien sort of beauty laid bare in his features. He took Stephen's hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Take me to your room then. We'll do it there."

Stephen's quarters were somewhat humble. He had a four-post bed covered in a variety of blankets, a oaken desk, a walk-in closet, a dresser, and a slim floor-to-ceiling mirror. While the Sanctum itself had a bit of an old dusty smell to it, Stephen's room smelled like the sorcerer himself. Part of Chrys wanted to faceplant down onto his mattress for another seventy-five year nap.

"Are you sure about this, Stephen?" Chrys asked once more, hovering over the bed.

"You seem far more hesitant than me now." The sorcerer laughed. He'd already shed his sweater and shirt, now standing bare-chested at the foot of his closet. 

He folded up his shirt, still holding it against his chest. Chrys could hear his heart beating, slowly and evenly. He could hear the blood pumping through his veins, the air whooshing through his lungs, the delicate flutter of his eyelashes.

"You and I are a lot alike," Stephen sighed. He sat down, patting the bed as invitingly as he could. "We're both old souls with a lot of trauma. We're both beings of magic and science. We're both... Misunderstood, I think."

Chrys sat beside him, watching his face in earnest.

"This past month as been interesting," Stephen chuckled. He peered up and Chrys found himself lost in his pale green eyes. "I've learned a lot. I think of you as more than just an ally, you're... More than a teacher, more than any of that. And I cherish it."

"I feel like you're leading up to something." Chrys held his breath.

"Just. Trying to communicate that I trust you," Stephen smirked. "I've been betrayed and backstabbed and hurt before but. I struggle to believe you could ever be that guy."

"I would rather die," Chrys laid a hand over his heart. "I... I cherish you, too, Stephen. I've really enjoyed our time together."

There was a pregnant pause. Chrys could practically taste the pounding of Stephen's heart. He leaned in, as did Stephen, until their faces were mere inches apart.

"I think...." Chrys licked his lips, trying his best to hold Stephen's gaze. "I think I'd very much like to kiss you now."

"Please." Stephen breathed and they crashed together.

Chrys was clearly the type to love with his entire being. He cradled Stephen in his arms, cupping his cheek with one broad palm. He curled his arm around his slim waist, dipping his head to deepen the kiss. Stephen felt dizzy. He carded trembling fingers through the ocean of Chrys' hair, moaning quietly as he was ravished.

"Wow," Chrys breathed as he pulled away. "I uhm. Wow."

Stephen laughed, bright and loud. His lips were flushed, his high cheekbones painted a pretty rosy color. Chrys felt his heart flip a few times. 

"Can I...?" He stroked his thumb along Stephen's neck, pressing gently where he felt his pulse pound the hardest.

"Yes, just-- run me through it first. Please."

"I'll bite down on your neck," Chrys held his gaze. "A venom will be released into your bloodstream that will temporarily thin the consistency of your blood. I'll drink it-- not to worry about overdrinking, I know exactly how much blood fits in a human body. When I'm sated, a second venom will be administered to thicken your blood and seal the punctures. Within a few minutes, your blood will have recycled through your body multiple times, flushing out all the venom in the process. There won't be side effects or anything, just a mark on your neck for a week or two. And... That's it."

Stephen laid back, hands folded over his sternum, and nodded. He tried not to flinch as Chrys touched him, gently coaxing his head to turn to the side. Chrys pressed his lips to the sorcerer's neck. He could smell his blood now, counting the beats of his pulse. If he focused hard enough, he could sense the natural magicks that flowed through Stephen's body, glimmering through his aura like fireflies. He laid a few open-mouthed kisses along Stephen's neck before he bit down.

Stephen gasped but did his best to stay still. He could feel Chrys' fangs sink into his flesh, much sharper and longer than he realized. The initial pain faded quickly, replaced with a warm dizzying feeling. Stephen huffed, a chill running down his spine. He reached out for Chrys and clasped his hand as well as he could. The dhampir drank. He was silent, the only tells being the sound of his hungry swallows and the alien sensation overtaking Stephen's neck.

Chrys drank for what felt like ages. Finally, he laved his tongue over the wound and retracted his fangs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He was a very clean drinker, the only lingering evidence being a small streak of blood along his knuckles.

"Are you alright?" Chrys gathered Stephen up in his arms. Already, his skin looked healthier, his eyes bright and sharp. His aura was almost smothering, it radiated so brightly.

"Uh huh," Stephen tried not to squirm as he pressed the heel of his hand against his groin. He was rock hard. "I'm. I'm fine."

"I apologize, there are occasionally some... Side effects," Chrys blushed though there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'll ah. Let you take care of that."

Chrys stood to leave but something made him hesitate. He turned back and froze like a deer in headlights.

Stephen was panting, cherry red lips parted, pupils blown, his naked chest heaving. The fly of his slacks were already down, when he'd done that wasn't apparent. He watched Chrys and Chrys watched him.

"Unless..." The dhampir curled his hand around one of the bedposts, gripping until he could feel tendons roll beneath his skin. "... You'd like me to stay?"

"Did you drug me?" Stephen spluttered. He pressed his fingers against his chest, over his heart. "Is there. Is. Is vampire venom... An aphrodisiac?"

"It's a sacred and intimate exchange," Chrys squeaked, swallowing loudly. "I. Can't control the effects it has on your body, I'm--"

"Stay," Stephen breathed. He was always so calm and cool and collected, seeing him so unraveled had Chrys nearly drooling. "Stay and... Fix this."

"I'd be honored," Chrys' shirt was off before he even finished his sentence. "I've craved you since we first met, I'm--"

Stephen shook his head, raising his brows. His more standard brand of humor shone through.

"I'm gonna need a first date before we put any labels on anything."

"Yes, absolutely, of course," Chrys babbled, shucking off his pants. "Anything for you, let me take care of you first."

Stephen laughed as Chrys' full weight hit the bed. The sorcerer was thrown up a few inches, thumping back into his forest of pillows and blankets. Chrys leaned over him, his hair cascading like a waterfall and framing Stephen like a curtain.

"You're very eager." Stephen felt smug for once.

"You're quite a man," Chrys shrugged with a shy smile. "I'm delighted."

They shared a kiss and didn't say much else for a good while.

Indulgence (F!ReaderxBeetlejuice)

Alright well in my other fic ‘Reassurance’ I had an idea of Beetlejuice being all hot and bothered by the reader licking a knife. And I explored that a little more… And I did realize I might have a little bit of a food kink… ANYWAYS This is the product of that. Woof, enjoy or like tell me it sucks please, whatever... I’m so nervous posting this. I’m blushing and i know this isn’t even that lewd.

Warning: NSFW! 18+! I am going full smutty smut smut with this. Beware. I’m talking about Oral, Overstimulation. Light BDSM. the works. 

You believed people could find satisfaction in any number of things. Food was one for you. From a young age you took your time with meals, savouring the tastes and textures of what you put in your mouth, wanting to know best how to prepare the things that nourished you.  

The career you had didn’t consist of being some five star Michelin chef, but you were a good cook. Took care with the food made and was always trying new things in the kitchen. Even spent most of the extra money you had on any appliance or ingredient that caught your fancy. 

What you never expected was ever to share the company of a ghost, never mind a demonic, powerful spectre that was Beetlejuice. Or Lawrence as he let you call him. 

A dead boyfriend was something you had been taking pretty well all considering. BJ was quirky, to say the least. 

Lately you have been trying to give him hobbies other than attempting to scare the living shit out of those around him, and trying to get your attention all the time. 

Showing him how to collect bugs from the garden, you had an old aquarium brought out and set up with the ghost, watching with pride as he took to it naturally. Filling it with dirt, sticks; creatures flitted around inside and you saw he was becoming quite the connoisseur.

Loving books was another passion of yours, had a pretty well stocked bookshelf if you did say so yourself. It had taken weeks to get Beetlejuice to confess to being subpar at reading and spelling. You didn’t know what kind of education he had had, but teaching him had been a thrill. It had been slow, arduous work, but he was coming along nicely, reading at an excellent level. You even had a decent Stephen King collection Beetlejuice seemed to enjoy.    

Another peculiar thing about Beetlejuice made itself known when you cooked.  

Beetlejuice acted strange when you ate. He hardly ever joined in on your meals, had told you once that he didn’t need to eat much, being dead for forever and all. 

In all honesty it would have been easier had he had any desire for the food you so enjoyed. 

Instead he sat at the table, and watched. 

You had to get over your shyness quickly. Beetlejuice was exorbitant, a bundle of energy. Boundaries were something that did not exist to him. Even before you started having sex, he was constantly touching; playing with your hair, marveling at your soft, smooth skin. 

He was particularly devilish tonight. You could tell by his sly smile, his whole body practically glowing green. Bolts of pinks shifting through his hair as he caught you up on his trip to the Netherworld. And maybe you were trying to tease him a bit tonight, comfy in a pale nightgown you knew he liked, and could felt your nipples perked with the AC running through the house. 

Having to practically push him out of the kitchen as you cooked the pasta however, he kept getting in the way and you were going to burn yourself if he tried to distract one more time.

Once the dish had been cooked and you sat down to eat, watching with amusement as Beetlejuice scraped the nearest chair towards you, he plopped down in immediate proximity to you. In the past, it was common to have to tell him to get his own chair on several occasions, he had a habit of wanting to just sit into your lap.    

“.......So I says to him, ‘Buddy, I don’t know where you think you are, but that’s no guppy biting your leg!”

Giggling at his boisterous story, the two  of you shared a laugh as you slipped some of the noodles into your mouth. You had begun to grow your own tomatoes and zucchini, and had to say it was a success so far, they were juicy, almost sweet. This might have been the best primavera you made in your life.  

Moans were coming out of your mouth before they could be stopped. Your family was always making fun of you about the way you ate, joking they couldn’t take you to restaurants because of it. It couldn’t be helped. Taste was your favourite sense, a thing that activated the happy nerve in the brain, making your body react in a subconscious way.     

Beetlejuice went silent.

Taking a few more bites, humming at the flavour and oblivious to BJ’s sudden change. A moment you looked up and took notice of how the air was tense. 

BJ didn’t scare you in day to day life. But you knew never to underestimate him, and to not play innocent around him. Beetlejuice was a predator, a veritable horror show of demonic talents that were solely used for scaring breathers.

Still, when Beetlejuice gave that look, golden eyes glittering with savage intent, hair blown a completely different colour; you knew it wasn’t scaring he had in his mind.

BJ pounced. Gripping your shoulders, he kissed desperately. Shoving his tongue into your mouth, you stumbled, dropping a fork as he basically hauled you up. Pinned by his body against the table, you made a noise of discontent at his assault as he pulled back, looking with eyes blown wide with lust.   

“Fuck….. Sorry, babes, I need you..” Swept up in his surprise attack, a bolt of pleasure made you quake as he kissed the sweet spot on your neck, latching on and lapping the skin. 

Beetlejuice was obsessed with marking, rubbing his facial hair vigorously across sensitive parts, biting and sucking sometimes on the peak of being painful. You knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you, sometimes his eagerness could take over. On the tip of your tongue was a protest, but when it was realized you weren’t going into work tomorrow….. You’d suppose he could have his way.   

“Now.” The growl against your cleavage was impatient. You knew if you didn’t stop his rough clench of his fists in your nightgown, he would just rip the thing in two. As he manhandled your body, there was the instinct to submit, allow him to have his wicked way.

You knew the truth.

He missed you.

It was at your encouragement that made him  go back from time to time, he mentioned having several friends ‘back home’. You felt bad for him, he had said he had been stuck invisible among the living for a long time, longer than you could comprehend. 

Then one day you were being curious about ghostly things and he showed you a book called ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased.’

“Why do you have this? You’re not recently deceased.”

He looked at you as if you’d grown an extra head, and explained slowly.

“It comes with the tote bag, babes.”

He even opened it, once you realized you couldn’t ‘being a breather and all’. It was the oddest thing you ever saw. Glowing pages filled with ancient looking text. It smelt of old pages and sulfur. A line caught your eyes ‘Proceed directly to the Netherworld…’

“This says in order to get to the Netherworld, you just draw a door.”

“Yeah that’s how it works…. Welp, cupcake, you don’t wanna read that boring thing…..Wanna see a puppet show?”

Trying to take it from you, you held it out of his reach. Beetlejuice could be so deflected sometimes. It became a game, and you were getting really good at knowing which questions to ask.  

“Wait, I’m confused. You mean you’ve been able to go back the whole time? Why haven’t you?”

Snatching the book from your hands, he muttered about ‘bad idea’ and ‘stupid’ until you got it out of him. 

“I never really….Belonged there. My mom was always telling me….. Demons weren’t like me, I was a failure….”

Juno. That cunt. Oh yes, Beetlejuice had told you about his ‘mother’. 

Realizing if you took a trip down, you might be able to give that rotten bitch a good piece of your mind. Sadly, trying to get him to take you to the Netherworld had been a vehement ‘no’.

“Absolutely not, (Y/N). Breathers are not allowed there and…….I don’t need anything to ever happen to you.”

That had been it on that, you couldn’t exactly argue with him. Pushing murderous thoughts to the back of your mind, but the idea was never completely forgotten. 

“I think you should still go and visit your friends, BJ. I’ll be here when you come back.”

Assuring him over and over it would be okay, finally he began his vacations. Time apparently moved differently down in the Netherworld, he would be gone for extended periods of time. So once in a while you had to let your little bug fly away, but every time he came back, you remembered that old saying about ‘if you love something, set it free…’ 

Chuckling into the present, you tried to extract from his hold. “Slow down, I didn’t even finish my dinner.”

His hands greedily twisted in the fabric of your gown, bunching it up to your thighs, you shivered as the cool table was pressed against your ass. Feeling him slipping your panties down your legs, you shifted onto the table, more than willing to help his progress.  

“Babes. I’m hungry. Tonight, you gotta feed me.” His intention was immediately clear and you gasped at his vulgar words. 

Barely able to stutter out a “B-Beetlejuice!” The demon dove into you.

Intense, sudden stimulation to your clit had you reeling. Gripping his magenta hair, trying to find an anchor, you couldn’t stop from moaning out. 

Beetlejuice wasn’t just enthusiastic when he ate you out, he was ravenous. Drooling at your taste, his growls were immediate, low and consistent like a beast. Added vibration from his response made your pussy clench. He just started but already you could already feel the flutters of an impending orgasm,

He certainly wasn’t helping. Face buried deep between your legs you began to hear low murmuring. Deep, rasping praises that you struggled to quiet to hear over his slurping.  

“Mmm….Taste so fucking good, babes… That’s right….. Feed me your sweet cum.” You had to cover your glowing face with your hand. You couldn’t take Beetlejuice’s mouth sometimes. What it said, or what it could do to you. 

That was it. His voice was enough. Lolling your head back, you surrendered as the convulsions overtook your body, pussy spasming as you came. Hard. Your hips swiveled, chasing the bliss. He slowed down to tender licks, but he didn’t stop completely. Your body continued to writhe, trying to push him away with hands to his forehead. His grip only intensified.  

“Ohhh, jesus….. Sweetie. I’m not nearly full yet. You gotta give me more.” His voice was granite. Dark, and tensed through clenched teeth. His face was slick with saliva and cum, trails of the mixture stringing his face to your pussy, glistening his cheeks and your thighs. He was making such a mess of you, and showed no signs of stopping.  

“I-I can’t.. I’m too s-sensitive..” Changing his pace, you could go limp as he gently sucked and licked at your entrance, teasing the walls just inside; running his nose over your swollen lips. 

“I don’t think so, doll…. Hmm…. I think if I stayed like this for who knows… Another hour, you could come at least 4-5 times for me. That would fill me.”

“BJ, no!” Lifting your upper body off the table, you watched as two hands appeared from under his jacket, gripping your wrists to the surface as his own kept your thighs parted. Continuing your desperate pleas, more hands jutted out. Grabbing at your shoulders, your hips. Pinning you down.

Whining, your treacherous body peaked again, just the idea of being at his mercy heady. You loved when he was like this, as vulgar as it was.  

“I know you can do it, babes. Just give me a bit more of you. I need it.” Snarling into your mound, he gave you a small respite and began to nuzzle and nip at your thighs. The hands were also being kind, stroking your skin, running across your nipples teasingly; letting you at least catch your breath before you hyperventilate. 

“What's the safe word?”

“Chartreuse…” You considered using it, you seriously didn’t think you could cum anymore, the pleasure was too intense.

“That’s it, baby. You ready?”

Nodding, he began anew and you sighed at his soft, kitten licks. He knew just how to bring you around and soon you were pulsing, working your way to another climax, pushed harder by Beetlejuice’s minstrasions. 

“You got it…. Just relax…... Daddy gonna take care of you.”

At some point, you lost track of time. Delirious, all you could do was lay there as he continued. 

Beetlejuice alternated between rough, frantic treatment, or tenderly nuzzling into you, playing against your tender inner walls with meaty fingers. Orgasm number three and four reached you at some point, one brought around so softly and sudden you hardly realized you had it at all. 

The pleasure started to move into pain. After shivering through one final eruption, you cried out in slight discomfort and Beetlejuice knew immediately. 

BJ pulled back, multiple hands caressed down your body, making you shudder as they disappeared back under his jacket. Soon enough, it was just his own hands stroking your trembling thighs, shushing you passionately.

“That’s it...Delicious…. Fucking gorgeous little breather….. You did so good, baby.” His voice was wrecked. Nothing more than deep razor blades cutting in the air, reaching your ears from a distance. 

Dazed was an understatement. You were knocked out. Sleeping on your dining room table was a pretty good choice at this very moment, but instead you felt yourself being lifted. He was floating with you in his arms, well you supposed having a demon for a lover had to have its perks. 

He laid you down on your bed and you sighed into the cool sheets against your overstimulated body. Staying there comfortably, you couldn’t even gain the strength to open your eyes to see where the devil disappeared to. 

You jerked as you felt a cool cloth being run around your privates, glancing up at Beetlejuice, rapt in his attention. The aftercare he was giving you never ceased to make your heart swell. He just treated you so well. 

A burst of energy made you intent to return to favour. 

As he leaned over you, you grabbed at his lapels, pulling him down onto you with an ‘oof!’ As you began your descent passed his tummy to his cock, deftly unbuttoning and slipping your hand inside. You weren’t prepared for what met you there.

Beetlejuice was flaccid. The idea that something was terribly wrong with him flashed through your mind before you realized something else. He felt sticky. Heaving out a choked, sensitive sound, he grabbed at your hand to still it. You put two and two together. 

“Did you-?”

“Uh, yeah…….I came like three times during that… I guess I better get these off.” Giggling at his honesty, you watched as he snapped his fingers, transforming from big bad ghost with the most to the snugly little bug you hunkered down with nightly. 

Pajamas you had provided for him when you found out he only owned the one suit…. Yikes. You’d have to ask him for that in the morning to wash. 

Snuggling into your bed, once again thankful for his cooled body against your hotness. You ran your hand through the thick fuzz on his tummy, murmuring words of adoration to each other, you felt safe enough to drift off. Knowing that Beetlejuice would be right where you left him. 

Some anti-recommendations for books that were memorably hate-able:

Starless Sea:  Erin Morganstern is like Neil Gaiman after an ice pick lobotomy. She’s Jeanette Winterson as a vapid, upper-middle class theater kid.  Donna Tart if you locked her in a  closet and forced her to watch Stephen Universe over and over until she starts to drool on herself.  I think that this book trying to make the case that video games are as “valid”* as books but does so by writing a book as pointless, plotless and shallow as candy crush.  I know all the characters’ Hogwarts Houses because the author tells us. 

Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found:  The book that this vague post is about. Mehtu spends literally hundreds of pages hanging out with a teenage stripper from a rural backwater, each time shocked that this girl is less sophisticated or emotionally closed off than her Ice Queen Seductress image suggests. Also, he can’t tell her that he has a wife and child who are living in a nice, expat neighborhood and going to expensive expat schools and country clubs.  He can’t because he’s a writer or something...it would be, um, dangerous, to his wife.....

....Nothing is True and Everything is Possible does the exact same trick with would-be Russian trophy wives. The only difference is that he starts this shit only 10 pages in so I could bail faster. 

*Erin Morgantsern is absolutely the kind of person who uses “valid” un-ironically. 

IMAGINE: THE AVENGERS VS CORONAVIRUS

Tony Stark: Will never leave the comfort of his suit. Quarantines himself in the lab, and eventually kidnaps Peter Parker to keep him safe. Hoards half of the supplies in the Compound/Tower. If Tony does come in contact with ANYONE, he will spray them with a can of Lysol (he uses black flag on Scott Lang).

Natasha Romanoff: Sickness trembles before this woman, so Natasha isn’t afraid to chip in to help the community. Nat drives around in Clint’s minivan, yelling at people on the sidewalk to stay inside. She also steals supplies from Tony’s lab without him knowing.

*Sam Wilson jogging innocently on the sidewalk*

Natasha, driving alongside the road: SAM! STOP JOGGING! YOU’RE PUTTING STEVE AT RISK!

Steve Rogers, riding shotgun: Nat why

Steve Rogers: Steve is well-familiar with terminal illness (he used to be a toothpick before his transformation), and helps out at the supermarkets. Steve gets very annoyed at the hoarders. This pandemic also brings out his true patriotic side.

Steve Rogers: This country kicked Nazi and Commie ass. We’re gonna destroy a little flu outbreak. 

Stephen Strange: It’s more severe than a flu...you know what? I’m just gonna hide in another dimension until things cool down here. 

Steve Rogers: Coward. 

Thor: The hysteria hasn’t really hit Thor. He thinks he’s completely immune, and probably would continue along his daily routine if all of his favorite places to go weren’t closed. Instead, he lives his life on video games, enjoying the over-populated servers. 

Thor: Humans will get over this! I remember when my brother accidentally released a plague seven hundred years ago, and the human race is still thriving.

Wanda Maximoff, counting on her fingers: Seven hundred years...

Vision: Are you saying that your brother, Loki, is responsible for the Black Plague?

Thor: Actually, that was my doing...I tried to make some soup...

Bruce Banner: Tries to help Shuri make a vaccine, meanwhile trying to keep Thor from getting sick. Like T’Challa, Bruce overextends himself too much.

Bruce: I kinda wish I still had my old cell from S.H.I.E.L.D. it would be a really good place to camp out in right now...or to hold Thor captive.

T’Challa: Probably the most stressed by the outbreak. T’Challa tries to keep Wakanda safe, help Shuri and the medical experts find a cure, and lend aid to other countries. 

Clint Barton: Hides in his secret log cabin in the woods. No one knows where he is. 

Wanda Maximoff: Wanda’s another clean freak, but an organic one. She piles up on herbal tea and healing crystals. She creates a new blog online dedicated to making cute face masks and tips on how to stay healthy. 

Tony Stark, wearing one of Wanda’s face masks: I know we don’t agree on much, but I think this virus has brought us closer.

Wanda: I think so, too. 

Tony: I mean the organic crap is a load of hooey, but otherwise, I’d quarantine with you.

*Wanda sprays Tony with his own can of Lysol*

Vision: Probably the most outgoing and useful during the pandemic. Vis has been researching the disease, and is immune to the virus itself. However, because he’s been in contact with it, he’s probably a carrier. 

*Wanda locks him outside*

Vision: My love, I promise I’m sanitary!

*Wanda throws down a container of Clorox wipes from a window. Vision sighs*

Sam Wilson: Sam still goes for his daily jogs, although he misses seeing his support groups. Like Wanda, Sam creates a blog filled with funny videos and things to do at home. Sam goes on hikes and does some bird watching in his spare time. He finds Clint one day on accident.

Sam: WHAT THE HELL, MAN. WE THOUGHT YOU WERE TRAPPED IN THE VENTS AGAIN.

Clint, with a full beard: HUMANITY IS DOOMED. I’M DOING A RON SWANSON. 

Bucky Barnes: Bucky is doomed. He has no clue how to take care of himself, and is trying to keep Steve from overexerting himself. Bucky asks Bruce to stick him back in his old tube in Wakanda. 

Bruce: You all snug in there?

Bucky: Yeah...can I ask you something?

Bruce: Sure

Bucky looks over to the side, where Thor is drooling in the tube next to him: Why is Thor in here? 

Bruce: Because the sexiest man in the world is also the grossest man in the world. I had to keep him from getting sick.

Bucky: Oh...hey, you think you can do that for Steve?

Scott Lang: The absolute Pro. Scott has tons of practice from house arrest, so he stays at home with his stash of Disney movies and young adult novels. Sometimes he’ll meet up with Thor online. Hope will eventually force him to help her find a vaccine for the virus. 

Hope Van Dyne: Come on, Scott! People are dying!

Scott: SO IS MY LEVEL 57 GNOME ROGUE, GNOMEO. THOR AND I ARE IN THE FIGHT OF OUR LIVES. TONY IS LEADING A WAR AGAINST OUR GUILD—DAMMIT PARKER JOINED HIM. TEXT SHURI AND BRUCE, HOPE, WE NEED BACKUP.

Stephen Strange: Hanging out in other dimensions, not just to avoid the virus, but also looking for anything close to a vaccine. Otherwise, he traps himself in the library of the Sanctum, looking through the archives for anything against the disease. 

Carol Danvers: Nick Fury called her in. Carol’s been helping people get to hospitals, and carrying supplies out to cruises. In her spare time, Carol camps out on the moon, away from all traces of the virus. 

Carol: Hey, I don’t usually get a lot of visitors. What are you doing up here?

Vision: ...My girlfriend kicked me out. I have nowhere else to go. 

After a hot sparring session with Thor, the couple wants him in their bedroom. The god is more than happy to participate in their new fantasy.

• Explicit • Ironstrange + Thor • IronStrange Bingo 2020, PWP, Threesome - MMM, Established Ironstrange Relationship, Open Relationships, Anal Sex, Size Kink, Top Thor (Marvel), Bottom Stephen Strange

Written for the @ironstrangebingo​ 2020, square: Thor and loosely based on prompt #629 by @ironstrangeprompts​ 💜

It all starts with an innocent training session at the Avengers Compound. Stephen has a new magical axe, found in another distant universe. He needs help training and so he asks Thor. The Asgardian God is not the best teacher but he owns Stormbreaker so he has a few tips for Stephen to use. Actually, Thor is not very good with words, he expresses himself best with his body. His big, muscular, and particularly handsome body, Stephen soon remarks, as Thor’s chest presses against his back, his arms wind around Stephen and his big hands guide his writs to wield the new axe.

After exchanging a few blows with Thor, Stephen pauses to see Tony carefully watching them from the side. There’s no jealousy in his eyes, only envy and lust. Stephen can guess what he’s thinking and the way the engineer adjusts his pants is all the evidence he needs. Stephen doesn’t say anything, just smirks before returning to his training, quite aroused by all this himself.

His excitation increases to a whole new level at the end of their training session, in the communal showers. Stephen gets a great look at Thor’s absolutely stunning body. He even sneaks a peek below the belt of pure mouth-watering abs and damn! That man isn’t a god for nothing. Huge and mighty, he is. Perfect.

And just like that, a new fantasy is born.

Tony and Stephen are in a very open and sharing relationship. For a few years now, they’ve been inviting people in their bed for very fun activities. So of course, Stephen tells Tony about what he saw. They are both very on board with the idea of Thor with them.

That night, while they make love, Tony whispers sweet dirty words to Stephen’s ear, painting a wonderful picture of the things he wishes to see them do with Thor in their bed. Stephen describes what he saw and Tony just wishes to have that huge godly thing inside of him or inside of Stephen. Tony’s not picky. He just wants to have fun.

It doesn’t take more than a week for all the Avengers to know about their new fantasy. At this point, it’s more of an obsession but who can blame them really.

Most of the Avengers had their turn in the couple’s bed and they are kind of surprised they haven’t invited Thor before. Because, well… He’s Thor. The god sould have been the first on their list.

When Thor hears about this, he just beams and agrees with an enthusiastic: “At long last!”

After several negotiation discussions, the three of them end up in a big bed, more than ready for what they hope will be a night of pure and indecent pleasure.

“Are you sure about this, friend Tony?” Thor asks.

“Yes,” he rasps, his voice hoarse with excitement.

“Wizard?” the god asks.

“Oh, yes, I assure you I want this very much.”

“Perfect. Well, then… I will just…”

Thor slides inside Stephen in one smooth glide. Stephen gasps. Tony moans and bites his lip, his tongue, his knuckles, everything, and anything to contain himself. This is so ridiculously hot and breathtakingly beautiful. He’s already rock hard and if he gets more turned on, he’s going to pass out. But boy, oh boy, Stephen and Thor paint a beautiful picture together.

Stephen leans on his knees and forearms - both Tony and Thor are very careful of his hands. He bends his heads down, his usually so well kept hair falls over his forehead and his glassy eyes. He’s a panting mess, heavy breaths and lewd moans coming from his mouth. Pink colors his cheeks and sweat gleams on his skin. He’s beautiful.

Thor towers over him, on his knees behind him, tall and broad and big and all muscles. His big hands press on Stephen’s narrow hips. He barely sweats and seems glorious. He is regal and godly when he moves back a few inches just to push back inside Stephen.

“Oh, dear god,” Stephen moans and Thor laughs quietly.

“That’s the spirit.”

He pushes back again inside of him and Stephen’s words dissolve in deliciously erotic moans. Tony’s gaze falls on Stephen’s ass and where their bodies are meeting. It’s indecent. It’s hot. It’s absolutely obscene.

Thor is huge, massively huge. His big - big, big and big, did he mention how fucking BIG - cock is wet with saliva, lube and cum. The god already came twice and he’s not showing any sign of fatigue or even slowing down. Gosh, why did they wait for so long before inviting him? He is perfect.

Probably in an attempt to break Tony’s sanity at how hot this is, Thor uses his own cum as lube to push inside Stephen. The ring of muscles stretches obscenely wide around his girth. It must hurt in all the best ways and Tony shudders at the thought. With all the prep they did, and all the lube they’re using, there’s no resistance. Thor just withdraws and goes right back inside Stephen in slow and long thrusts. Again and again. Stephen whimpers in pleasure and Tony is about to burst, just watching them.

On the bed, Tony crawls a little closer to the pair. He nudges Stephen’s elbow and maneuvers him a bit until Stephen’s red cheek falls on Tony’s thigh and his arms around his waist. His ass is still up in the air and Tony has the best view of Thor fucking into it while he gently pets Stephen’s hair.

“Tony…” Stephen’s voice rasps, wrecked from pleasure.

“I’m here sweetie, I’m here,” he whispers back.

“He is big. So big.”

“I know. That’s what we fantasized about for weeks, sweetie.”

Thor chuckles, a deep gravely sound that vibrates through his body and his cock and sends a shiver down Stephen’s spine. The poor - more like lucky, very lucky - sorcerer moans a little bit more if that’s even possible.

Tony knows the answer to his next question but he still has to ask:

“Are you okay, sweetie?” he says, carding his fingers through Stephen’s hair.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay,” Stephen moans against Tony’s thigh.

He is drooling all over Tony’s groin, mere inches away from his hard cock. Tony aches for that slack and wet mouth around his dick but it’s all about Stephen’s enjoying Thor for the moment. Tony will get his turn.

That doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy himself too.

“How do you feel? Tell me, sweetie,” Tony coaxes.

His fingers grip Stephen’s hair, his eyes settle on his husband's ass and Thor’s massive cock.

“Because from where I’m standing, it seems pretty huge and insanely good. You know how I said you were beautiful on your hands and knees for my cock? Well, I’d like to make an amendment to that: I absolutely love seeing you with a dick up your ass. Mine, Thor’s, Scott’s, Cap’s… It doesn’t matter. You take it all so beautifully and I love it. Is that considered a fetish?”

Stephen’s weak laugh quickly turns into a moan. He’s so out of it, Tony wonders how he can keep up with the conversation. Thor still thrusts into him, relentlessly.

“He’s so big. I feel so full,” Stephen mumbles against Tony’s thighs and his arms tighten around his waist. “So good, it feels so good. Can we keep him?”

“That’s a great idea, sweetie. Terrific. But let Point Break prove he’s really worth it, first,” he taunts with a wink for the big guy.

Thor doesn’t answer with words. He pulls back and pushes back inside Stephen. And again. And again. He slowly increases his rhythm, slamming in his ass with more strength, more speed. His pelvis slaps against Stephen’s round ass cheeks, flesh against flesh. The drag of his cock against Stephen’s rim makes indecent wet noises.

Stephen is a mess of whimpers and cries of pleasure. Tony can only watch as his husband gets thoroughly fucked and stretched and wrecked by the God of Thunder himself.

“Oh dear god, you look so good like that, sweetie.” Tony grips at Stephen’s hair while his other hand goes to his own neglected cock, he can’t stop himself. “Jeez, he’s destroying you and you more than take it, you love it. You love being fucked like an animal.”

Stephen is screaming and weeping with pleasure. Thor keeps his rough pace. His hands are everywhere on Stephen’s body, crawling all over his skin, pinning him down by the nape of his neck, kneading his cheeks then parting his ass to better fuck him. A magical electric sparkle, Thor’s thunder, follows the path of his fingertips on Stephen’s skin. And the sorcerer loves it, his whole body shivering.

“You have a very good lover here, Stark. Very open and wanton,” Thor comments like he’s not fucking his Stephen like that.

Tony can only watch, mesmerized and drooling, while the god pounds into his husband. The sight is indecent and Tony is reduced to stroke himself, following Thor’s thrusts inside Stephen.

And why is it so hot to have this big beefy guy take his husband like that?

“Oh yeah, I know. Keep fucking him, big guy, he loves it. You do love it, right, sweetie? I can see it on your face, darling. You love it so much. You love being fucked by that big fat cock, don't you?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Stephen muffles his cries against Tony’s thigh but can’t completely hide them. His arms tighten around him, in a bruising embrace. His legs shake, his body quivers. His red and neglected cock bounces with every slap of Thor’s hips against his butt. He leaks cum copiously on the mattress under him. He’s on the edge, ready to tumble over at any second and fall into an abyss of orgasmic pleasure. Tony can almost feel it.

He bites his lip. He’s so gone himself. This is so hot. Fuck.

“Oh, he is good,” Thor says, still pushing inside Stephen. “Am I allowed to come inside him?”

“Yes!” both Tony and Stephen say, desperate to see and feel that happening.

Thor’s big hands grip Stephen’s waist tighter, he thrusts faster and faster and faster until finally, he spills his pleasure inside Stephen, fills him to the brim. It’s the last push for Stephen. He strangles his moan against Tony’s leg and succumbs to his orgasm. His cum paints the sheets with white sticky strips right before he collapses on the bed.

Tony is left with an erection so hard it hurts and a craving for more.

“FRI, baby girl, I hope you recorded that because it was the hottest thing ever and I’m gonna play it every day until I’m sick of it or completely dry and empty.”

“Got it, Boss”, the AI says from the speaker in the room with a voice both smug and a little bit embarrassed.

“That’s my girl. Would you help over there, Point Break?” He directs Thor and they both lie Stephen down on clean sheets and a soft pillow. Tony stretches out next to his husband, Thor on the other side and they all cuddle in a big pile of sweaty bodies and sticky fluids. Tony is still hard, hot and bothered, properly horny - well, he’s waaaaaay past that point actually - but he has to make sure Stephen is all right before going any further.

“You okay, sweet thing?” he asks softly.

Stephen turns on his side, cuddles up to Tony, and mumbles an incoherent answer on the pillow. Thor laughs softly behind him where he’s spooning him.

“I think your wizard is done for the night.”

Tony smiles and gently strokes Stephen’s hair, letting his husband enjoy his post-orgasmic bliss yet still making sure he’s okay.

“Anything hurts, baby? Please, I need words now.”

“I’m good. It was good. So good.”

“Well you sure seems well fucked, I’ll give you that,” Tony answers with a peck to his husband’s lips.

Satisfied with Stephen’s state, Tony sits up. His eyes immediately fall on Thor’s big cock, still hard and wet with cum, resting against Stephen’s abused ass. Oh boy, they are going to have so much fun. His own erection seems to grow at the sight, is that’s even possible.

“Well, big guy,” Tony drawls, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You seem like you’re still up for a few more rounds. So… my turn?”

Thor’s laughter is contagious and very much enthusiastic. He gets up and over Stephen, crawls up to Tony, and cages him with his very big, very muscly body. Tony can’t complain and he is ready to be thoroughly swept off his feet like Stephen. Speaking of his husband…

“Give me a minute to catch my breath,” Stephen says, voice slurred, “and I’m up for another round too.”

Yes. They’re going to have a very very interesting night.

💜

Eddie Kaspbrak deserved better.

Let me start with this. IT, written by Stephen King, made into a movie in 2017 and then another in 2019, about a clown with a big forehead, who likes dining on children, and gets his ass kicked by a group of teenage misfits (and then again when said misfits are just about past their midlife crisis). It's a horror, it's creepy and it's gross, now you see, I don't do horrors. I'm an absolute wuss. I can't even walk into a creepy abandoned building without a plank of wood in my hand for protection, and at least two people on either side of me who would obviously be kidnapped first (and that gives me enough time to scream and run away). Anyway, I don't like horrors. So you can probably guess that there was no way in hell, or earth, that I would be watching something that involved a terrifying monster who drools as much as a bulldog (he should seriously get that checked). No way I was going to read the book, as much as I love reading, and wouldn't even consider the original from the 90s although the 90s rules the movie scene (don't argue, we all know Jurassic Park is the best movie of all time). But the thing was, I have a friend, and he can be very persuading (in the form of pizza and snacks) and also, I'm a huge McAvoy fan, and James Ransone, I've never seen that guy before but well, when I saw him in the trailer, hello handsome. And don't get me started on Bill Hader, man do I fancy that bloke... Anyway I'm going off topic. So blah blah, we end up sitting down one night, with our buffet and many cups of tea, and weirdly, we start watching IT Chapter 2 first, because he wanted to see it since it was new. I go into it with no bloody clue what was going on, who was who, why parents would let their kid out in the rain by themselves, or how nobody noticed a load of bodies leaking out of the sewer. I was asking alot of questions. But, here's the thing. Onto the whole point of this rant. Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie Spaghetti. Eds. The cute, little, angry man who instantly caught my attention (not just by the fact that Mr Ransone is a handsome S.O.B). From the moment he sped down the road in his posh jeep, yelling at other drivers (I feel your pain Eds) to crashing said posh jeep because he was distracted by a phone call (bad Eddie!) He instantly stole my 28 year old, attracted to dark and handsome older men, heart. Of course, I had no clue about these characters, all I saw was cute, angry man, funny dork with glasses, red headed lady, that guy from New Zealand, man who lasted five seconds, handsome librarian, and Professor X, and of course that clown that lives in the drain. So, as the movie went on, Eddie became my number one (Richie following behind in second). I learnt all about him from my friend, and more about him during the film, and couldn't help but feel sorry for the little bastard. He had a wife that I could tell he didn't love who treated him like doodoo, as a kid his dearest mom was overprotective, controlling and gave him freaking placebos to make him think he was ill (the fuck Mrs K?), that made him so nervous about getting sick and paranoid beyond belief, and I mean, his job wasn't the most exciting. Not to mention he has anxiety worse than a nun in a whore house, and was obviously afraid the most out of the group. And then, AND THEN, the film decides to drop some hints about Richie. Ah, dearest Richie, who has perfect taste in men. He's in love with Eddie. In. Freaking. Love with him. You could tell by the way he was so protective of him, constantly made fun of him (we all know that's how dudes get their crushes attention) and of course, R + E. So, of course, nearing the end of the movie, there's me grinning like an idiot, having the thought of Eddie and Richie getting out of the final fight untouched, Richie declaring his undying love for his Eddie Spaghetti, Eddie admitting his feelings for his Trashmouth, getting a kiss in there, Eds declaring he was divorcing him moth- sorry, wife, and the two walking into the sunset to start a new life together, in a nice cottage in the hills, getting married, having three kids, five dogs, ten cats, and living happily ever after. But then, my hopes and dreams were shattered. Stephen, I'm looking at you. They killed Eddie. THEY KILLED EDDIE! EDDIE! Out of all the FREAKING characters they could have booted off, they chose Eddie the rage monster, the little man with a big personality, the least deserving to freaking die in my opinion. Stephen, how could you? How could you?! Why did he have to die? Why did they have to end his life that way? Why couldn't he have a happy ending like the rest of the Losers? Not including Richie of course. Oh no, they didn't just fuck Eddie over, they also fucked over Richie. Killing the love of his life, right after he saves him, bleeding all over his big ass glasses, calling his name softly, looking at him with his big, brown eyes. Yep, Richie probably went home after the Kissing Bridge and thought about Eddie every damn day of his life. But no, they didn't just kill Eddie, oh no no, they went a step further. They left his body to rot in the sewers. Yes Andy, I'm glaring at you, you evil, evil man. They didn't take the route that Mr King took in his book, or from the original IT movie (yes I watched that later on too) no, Mr A decided to have Eddie die all alone whilst the Losers finished off Pennywise, then have Richie go back and see his dead body, freak out and have hope that they can save him, hug him tight, and not let him go. And then, oh boy, and then, they have Mike and Ben literally FORCE Richie off of Eddie, and DRAG him out of the sewers. WITHOUT EDDIE. I'm sorry Mr Andy, but tell me, how could they, Eddie's best friends, the ones who were always there for him, who they loved and adored, leave Eddie there in the sewers, all alone, in the dark, dirty, graveyard that would have had Eddie crying at the thought? It didn't make ANY sense to me. If Ben and Mike had the strength to drag a struggling, six foot something Richie away from Eddie, then surely they could have picked Eddie up between them, and got him out of there. If I was Richie, I would have decked the lot of them, Losers or not. And that's where I got pretty darn mad. Eddie didn't deserve that shit. For one, he didn't deserve to die. And two, he didn't deserve to be left down there, to slowly decay. He should have been pulled out by his friends, Richie could have had a moment with him, Eddie could have been given a funeral where his friends, and especially Richie could have said goodbye. Then, they'd have had somewere where they could memorialise him, go back and place flowers and silly things like inhalers and red shorts on his headstone, have a get together and remember him and talk to him, somewhere where Richie could always go to, knowing that Eddie was put to rest properly, and somewhere were he could sit and cry to himself, remembering all the fucking good times they had as kids and how god damn hard he fell for the crazy little shit. But, nah, we'll just leave him in the sewers, under a collapsed house, somewhere the Losers wouldn't want to visit again, somewhere they can't have a funeral, can't put Eddie to rest, somewhere that has too many bad memories and would remind everyone of how exactly Eddie lost his life. So yeah, you can say I'm pretty mad about all of that. I know he's a fictional character, but damn, he didn't deserve that shit. Neither did Richie. And to make it worse, when I watched the first movie afterwards, Eddie was just as freaking hilarious, and ridiculous as his older self. Little Eddie was a force to be reckoned with, he was definitely still my favourite even as a kid. The dude who played him, huge kudos to him. How could you not like tiny Eddie? It also showed me a lot more about how Eddie grew up, by that I mean how his mother really did treat him, and boy did I hate the fact that he died even more! So yeah, I may have gone off on one a tad... I couldn't help myself, Eddie Kaspbrak has now got a big place in the fictional character side of my heart. Just goes to show just how much actors can make an impact on people's lives, and how real they make them seem! So, I've said my part, and it's pretty obvious what I think about the ending to Mr Spaghetti's story. Encase you didn't get how I feel about it, it sucked. Eddie Kaspbrak should have lived. Should have had a second chance, especially with Richie! Not all movies follow the ending of books, so why did this one have to? Why did Ben and Redhead get to have a happily ever after and Richie and Eddie didn't? Why didn't they at least make his death meaningful and give him the send off he deserved? In other words, Eddie deserved better. That should be the motto of the movie. That's me signing off, I'm going to go be mad somewhere else, because I'll never get over this movie. I'm a huge fan now, but man, the ending was as bad as Bill's endings. Oh and uh, fuck you Pennywise. Oh, also, if anyone's going to Wales Comic con this Saturday (you should, because James Ransone will be there, I know right, what are the chances?) come say hi. I'll be dressed in a yellow raincoat and green wellies, holding a red balloon... Don't ask why, I just like the colours. See you later, Losers.

five times that peter parker succeeded in seducing older men, and one time that he didn't

i rewrote this three times which is why this took so long i'm sorry :(

part one here :) part three here :)

contains: daddy kink, crossdressing (i think), blowjobs, um they make out and stuff 😳, no beta we die like men, minimal plot maximum porn

part two: stephen strange aka doctor strange

***

Peter felt way too exposed in this outift. Actually, a lot of him was covered, it was just very... scandalous. For a lack of a better word. But it had to be done. Any other look other than absolutely scandalous would foil the plan. He supposes it's because Dr. Strange has a lot more self-control and needs to pull out the big guns, so to speak.

Peter walks out into the living area, mock-sneaking-out. Stephen is there, as planned. He never thought he'd be marching right at the doctor, wearing a pink crop top with "BABY SLUT" emblazoned on the front. But hey, there's a first time for everything.

"Peter?" Stephen asks, eyebrow raising. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh-" Peter starts before being cut off.

"-especially dressed like that?" The doctor continues.

"Um- out?" Peter says, the sentence coming out as a question. Just playing the part of innocent and naive Peter Parker. "I'm meeting someone."

Stephen stands, and Peter backs up a few steps on instinct. "No." The older man says, meaning to leave no room for argument. He looks like he wants to go over there and tear those clothes off of Peter, but whether it's because he wants Peter, or he wants those clothes off, he doesn't know. Stephen sits back down.

"N- What?" Peter says incredulously. God, he should be given an Oscar for this. "You're not in charge of me, Doctor."

"You're right. I'm not." Stephen says calmly. "But no man in their right mind would let a boy go out like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Peter scoffs, crossing his arms. He catches the way the doctor's eyes linger at the inch of skin that the action reveals.

"You're a smart boy. Should be able to figure it out," Stephen says nonchalantly.

Peter huffs and stomps (in the heels) towards the door, and as his hand lands on the door handle, the doctor is suddenly in front of him. They're about arm's length apart, and Peter steps back a little when he finds that he has to look up at the older man because he's this close.

"No, Peter. You're not going anywhere dressed like that." Stephen reiterates, face a mask of calm.

Peter takes two steps forwards, backing Stephen into the wall, really tilting his head up to look at the doctor. His body is almost flush against the older man's, and he vaguely wonders whether his hardon can be seen through the fabric of his booty shorts.

"Make me." Peter smirks, hooking a leg around Stephen's as if it's a pole. He uses that to pull the doctor closer until he's sure that his crotch is pressed right up against the older man's thigh.

Stephen raises an eyebrow again, and pushes Peter back, hard, until the boy's back is against the wall, hitting it with a thump and Peter's soft unf.

"Make me?" Stephen asks rhetorically, arms straight out to the wall, hands by Peter's neck. Enclosing him, almost. "Who were you going to meet?"

Peter doesn't reply as he stares into Stephen's eyes and reaches a hand downwards towards the older man's crotch. He's hard, Peter thinks.

"You're hard, Dr. Strange." Peter giggles, licking his top lip, watching Stephen track the movement. "Can I suck you off?" he asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

Peter's impressed that up until this point, the doctor had been totally calm. But now- now Stephen's façade is crumbling.

"Or you can fuck my mouth?" Peter whispers, going on his tiptoes to press a light kiss to the corner of Stephen's mouth. He hears a low growl and suddenly they're on his bed, the doctor on top of him. Peter's completely naked save for his plain black panties. The one with a little bow on the waistband.

Stephen is completely dressed, except his pants are pulled down to his knees and his fully erect cock is out. "You want me to fuck your mouth, baby?" the doctor says, voice hoarse. God, Peter is drooling at the sight of that dick. It's an average length, but it's thick, so thick. Peter gapes at the sight.

"Yes, please-" Peter whines, and Stephen is turning, his cock in Peter's mouth in a second, the fatness of it forcing Peter's jaw open wider and wider and wider. He blushes at the filthiness of this, how the doctor's ass is on his face, dick in his mouth, face right on top of his own cock.

"You like taking my cock, baby?" Stephen grunts, fucking Peter's mouth with short thrusts. The boy doesn't reply, can't reply, as he starts to drool around the fat cock in his mouth. "You like it, don't you? I see you, drooling all over my cock, like you're hungry for it. You feel so good, babyboy," Stephen groans.

Peter moans a little, feeling the doctor's cock hit the back of his throat, and chokes. His throat is constricting around the dick in his mouth, and it's good, it's so good-

"Look at you, choking on my cock, such a good boy," the doctor grunts, pulling his dick out slightly. "Look at you, letting me fuck your face like this."

Peter whimpers as Stephen lowers himself down again, this time fucking his mouth quickly. "I'm coming-" and the doctor shoots his load into the boy's mouth. He slowly pulls his cock out and turns back around to face Peter. The boy is slack-jawed, drool everywhere, his hair an absolute mess. "Daddy-" Peter whimpers, and Stephen fucking chokes.

"You want me to be your Daddy, babyboy?" Stephen asks, pulling the both of them to sit upright, Peter on his lap. He barely feels the weight; the boy is light.

"My Daddy," Peter says deliriously, looping his arms around Stephen's neck and kissing him. He leans forward with his mouth open, and that's how their mouths make contact. Peter whines as they exchange open-mouthed kisses, and humps at the doctor.

"Your poor little cock, baby." Stephen coos as he humps at Peter's crotch. Hearing the soft "unh, unh, unh"s of the boy makes Stephen willing to go to Hell.

"Daddy, I- I-" Peter whines, cutting off at a particularly rough thrust from Stephen. "Can you make me cum, Daddy?"

"Can I make you cum?" Stephen mutters, more to himself than to Peter. "Of fucking course I can make you cum."

"Please, daddy? 'M- 'M so hard, it hurts-" Peter moans. Stephen starts humping at Peter's crotch, fast and unrelenting, and soon enough Peter's telltale whimpers and whines of "Daddy"-

"-Cumming, I'm cumming- oh, oh, oh-" Peter breaks off with a long moan, cumming in his panties. Stephen doesn't want to forget the look on Peter's face when he cums. The black panties that the boy is wearing are completely soaked. He peels them off gently, fingers sticky with Peter's fluids. The cute hairless cocklet that greets him has the doctor speechless. He traces a finger down from the base and draws a little gasp from Peter.

"So sensitive, baby," Stephen murmurs. "It's okay, I'm gonna take care of you."

The doctor leans down and takes the little cocklet in his mouth gently. He suckles at the tip, almost like sucking at a pacifier.

"O-Oh, Daddy!" Peter moans, his tiny cocklet spurting out drops of precum. Stephen doesn't reply as he takes the entirety of the boy's pink cocklet into his mouth, and continues sucking.

"Daddy! Oh, oh- unhhh-" Peter gives no warning as he spills into Stephen's mouth. The doctor vaguely wonders how many time Peter can cum just like this.

"It'sso good, s'good, unh, unh, Daddyyyy-" Peter moans, cumming again. "I- I can't, I can't,"

Stephen switches tactics. "Do you wanna fuck Daddy's mouth, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy, please-" Peter whispers, and then he's being lifted up, above Stephen, then put down, ass on the doctor's face. Peter bounces up and down, fucking his cocklet into Stephen's mouth, and it's so hot. His head is thrown back, face flushed a lovely pink, moans and whimpers falling from his lips, ass bouncing up and down on Stephen's face.

"I'm cumming, Daddy, I'm cumming-" Peter wails, plopping his ass right down on Stephen's face, and he can't breathe. The thought of him being suffocated by this boy's ass, together with how his own cock has been rubbing at his pants, makes him cum, pretty much untouched.

Peter launches off of Stephen's face as he realizes what he's been doing. His face flames as what just happened hits him.

"Hey." Stephen says softly. "It's okay. It's okay." He leans forward to kiss Peter chastely. "What do you think about a bath?"

Peter beams up at the doctor. "I think that sounds great."

"Good." Stephen says, looking at Peter, who's positively glowing. He hands the boy a damp towel to wipe the stickiness off, then heads to the bathroom to run a hot bath.

"Peter, get in." Stephen calls. "You're already naked."

Stephen stands in the middle of the ridiculously large bathroom as Peter walks in, hands covering his crotch, looking like a little deer caught in the headlights. The boy's blush extends all the way from his cheeks to the light trail of hair below his belly button. Absolutely gorgeous, Stephen thinks.

"No need to be shy," the doctor says, and Peter blushes even harder, refusing to look him in the eye. Nonetheless, the boy steps into the ridiculously large bathtub (enough room for 4, Stephen dares to say, no doubt for Stark's escapades) and inhales quickly at his feet touching the hot water. He soon gets used to the temperature, however, and lowers himself down to soak in the water, closing his eyes. He hears the rustling of fabric and opens his eyes to find Stephen undressing, back towards Peter.

Peter finds himself mesmerized by the lines of the older man's back and how the muscles stretch and move as he takes off his shirt. Finds himself staring as Stephen slides off his trousers, revealing thick, strong thighs and toned calves. He wonders if this is what heaven feels like.

"As much as I would love for you to continue staring, I do want to get in that tub." Stephen chuckles as he strips off his boxers, watching Peter blush a bright tomato red.

"It's alright." Stephen murmurs, stepping into the tub, sitting beside Peter. "I love it when you blush like that." Which makes Peter blush. Again.

They sit in comfortable silence until Peter suddenly lunges at the doctor, climbing on top of him and kissing him. It's absolutely filthy, the boy's tongue practically assaulting his mouth.

When he finally pulls away to take a breather, Peter finds Stephen hard again.

"Don't mind me," the older man says, reading Peter's mind. "Keep going."

So Peter keeps going, kissing at Stephen's neck, his collarbone, his hair. Eventually, he realizes that the doctor's just sitting there, sans reaction, other than his erection nestled right in between Peter's ass.

"Don't worry," Stephen murmurs again. "I'm just transfixed by your beauty."

"Transfixed by my beauty, huh?" Peter teases. "I bet you say that to all the twinks."

"Would you like me to compile a list of things I admire about you?" Stephen asks lightly, almost jokingly but not quite. Like he would do it if Peter asked. "I'll start with your physical beauty, then." the older man says, flipping them around so he's on top.

"Your hair. God, your hair," Stephen groans, kissing the top of Peter's head. "It's like a halo. These fluffy chestnut curls will be the death of every man. And every woman."

Stephen moves lower. "Your eyes. I've never found the colour _brown _to be particularly beautiful," he stops and chuckles to himself. "But your eyes. Gorgeous. A gorgeous chocolate honey whiskey colour. Utterly dazzling."

"Chocolate honey whiskey doesn't sound very appetizing," Peter jokes.

"Oh, but it is," Stephen says darkly, then brightens. "Your lips. How do I even start?"

They were in that tub for quite a while.

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Sound

My Reddie fix-it fit because fuck ur canon Stephen.

Read on AO3 here!!

Sound.

It was sudden, soft, and comforting; Almost as though it was bursting through a deep darkness that Eddie had found himself trapped in. It was something he felt as though he hadn't experienced in a while - A faint voice came through the ring in his ears. What were they saying? He could barely make anything out. The words sounded jumbled and muffled, and - Why couldn't he make his eyes open? Why couldn't he move? Everything hurt. Where was he? His home? A hotel? Somewhere with Myra?

Derry.

Memories rushed into his mind as he struggled to open his eyes. He had come back to Derry. Mike Hanlon had called, and they — They had all come back together. The Loser Club. They had Chinese food and drinks. They reminisced and laughed and joked and shouted — The fortune cookies.

Pennywise.

Eddie felt his breath catch in his throat, but something kept it steady. Was something helping him breathe? His chest ached. Why did it hurt so badly? He was vaguely aware of tubes and wires and the pressure on his chest. But why the hell were they in him? Why were there so many things poking at him? Damn, why did it hurt?

Richie.

Pennywise had him caught in those lights. The deadlights. He couldn't break out of it. He was dangling limply in the air, his eyes blank, staring into nothingness. The fence post. 'It kills monsters if you believe it does.' The words Beverly had spoken to him echoed in the swirl of memories filling his head. He had to do something. Eddie couldn't let Richie die; He wouldn't. He threw the post, convincing himself that it would hit. He made himself believe that it would be enough to save Richie. He remembered thinking that he had done it. That everything was over. He was sure he had redeemed himself and saved everyone — Then it was dark.

Richie...

It was Richie's voice that had broken through that thick darkness. The emptiness he was feeling — the hollowness in his chest and throat. But he knew now that the words he had been hearing were Richie's. Though, there was a tone to his voice that Eddie didn't recognize. Almost a crack in and between his words.

"Eddie, please..."

It was soft. Sad. Was Richie crying? Why in the hell would Richie 'Trashmouth' Tozier be crying? No, he never cried. He cracked dirty jokes and spat on his hand then tried to rub it on your face. He was the one that always made everyone laugh. He always made Eddie laugh...

Touch.

Eddie felt a gentle warmth against his hand. Calloused fingers desperately brushed against his own. Richie's hand closed gently around his; He was shaking. "Please..." Eddie felt a shift in weight and felt a tickle of curls against his skin. Richie's forehead was pressed against his hand. "I can't lose you, dipshit. Please," he continued, a quiet whimper breaking his words. "Don't leave me again."

Richie.

That was enough to keep him grounded. Enough to force himself to pull away from the darkness; To focus on the breath filling his lungs and the steady beat of his heart. Eddie made himself listen to Richie's voice as the sound of it became more and more stifled. Behind his closed eyes, he could feel the world spinning. Where was his inhaler?

"Eds... Eddie..." A sob.

Richie...

Nothingness.

----------------

Hunger.

How long had it been since Eddie had felt hungry? Or anything, for that matter. The air around him was thick and cold, and damn did it smell horrible. But it was familiar. He had been in hospitals enough times to recognize that he was in one now. He moved. Fucking hell, he was stiff. How long had he been stuck in this place? His fingers twitched against another's hand. Callouses.

Richie?

Eddie squeezed his eyes tight before slowly opening them. The room he was in was dimly lit; Dull sounds came from the small TV hanging against the wall. He strained against the sting of air as he readjusted to sight and tilted his head just slightly enough to see the man sleeping in the chair next to his bed.

"Richie..." His voice came out as a soft hum, his throat burning with each syllable. He barely recognized it. In the pale light, he could tell that Richie hadn't shaved in a while. "Rich..."

"Nngh..." Eddie felt Richie's hand twitch against his own. "Fuck'ff... 'm stayin.." Drool ran down his chin. Eddie cringed.

"Hey... Richie..." He tried to move, every bone in his body screaming in protest, begging him to stop. With a deep, even breath, he gathered every ounce of energy he had to nudge Richie's hand off the bed. "Hey."

"AH! What the fuck!" Richie jumped three feet off of his chair, his weary eyes wide, panicked. "What..." He reached up to rub at the sleep still lingering on his face and adjusted his glasses. "E - Eddie?"

"Hey, Rich..." Eddie cracked a smile, fighting back the urge to vomit. The room felt like it was spinning.

"H - Holy fuck, Eddie!" Richie lunged forward, gently setting a shaking hand against Eddie's cheek. "Eddie! Holy shit. Holy fucking shit." He was smiling, but - Tears filled his eyes, his voice was cracking. Eddie could count on one hand how many times he'd seen him this way. Richie had always seemed unbreakable. Unwavering from his comedic front, but now - It was almost as if he didn't know what to do. His thumb rubbed quick circles into Eddie's skin. He kept rocking forward but hesitated at the last moment, like he was resisting the urge to throw himself onto the bed. "Jesus, we thought you would never wake up..." His head leaned forward, defeated. "Fuck you, man..." Eddie heard a few drops hitting the rumpled bedsheets. His hand dropped from his cheek and clenched tightly onto the hospital gown covering Eddie's weak shoulders.

"Hey," Eddie managed, shifting his head to the side to press a warm cheek to Richie's still trembling hand. "Relax..."

"Don't you fucking tell me to relax, Kaspbrak." He didn't lift his head. He barely even moved. "I thought that I -" Richie cut himself off and paused before quietly continuing, "I thought I lost you... And I - I had barely just gotten you back, dipshit..." His shoulders jerked. "I saw your stupid face in that," he scoffed and shook his head. "In that fucking nasty restaurant and I... When I remembered you - I realized that I'm fucking sick of living in a world without you and..."

Eddie felt his heart flutter, his breath leaving his lungs. Who was this man that was sitting at his bedside? He was tired and broken. He was so soft, so quiet. Eddie closed his eyes, nuzzling into Richie's fingers. He remembered when they were younger - More than once, Eddie snuck out of his house when his mother was being particularly hard on him. It was never too early or too late for him to show up at Richie's home. His parent's always welcomed him with open arms, offering anything he could need. He always appreciated their kindness but, the only thing he ever really needed was time with Richie. He smiled, remembering the countless nights they had spent hiding in Richie's bedroom, reading comics, watching stupid movies, doing homework, or just talking. They talked about everything. School, parents, music, the other losers, crushes...

Rumors.

He remembered one night in particular. One of the only times Eddie had ever seen Richie truly break - School had been rough that day. Henry Bowers was relentless, calling Richie some horrifying names, and then the rumors started circulating; And of course, being in middle school, it happened fast. Eddie could tell that it was all getting to him - Even though he insisted that it wasn't. So when he showed up at his house later that evening, he wasn't shocked to find Richie sitting at his desk with his face in his hands. He yelled and cried and hit his fists against his thighs. He didn't make one stupid joke.

They slept in the same bed that night. They held hands. Eddie vaguely remembered watching him cry himself to sleep, wishing he could do more to help.

More than once, Eddie was the one crying and yelling - More often than not, about his overbearing mother and how she had been giving him more and more medication. Things with weird side - effects now. They made him dizzy. They made him sick to his stomach. So maybe the pills had never been placebos in the first place... But no matter how upset, no matter how sick he got, Richie always brought him back from it. So -

"I - Richie..." Eddie closed his eyes. What in the hell was he supposed to say to that? 'Oh yeah! Sure, sure! I'm sick of that too! Let's get fucking married!' Holy fuck, he needed some pain killers. He could tell him that everything was okay; That he was okay, and that it was all over. He could tell Richie that his voice was what anchored him to this absolute shitstain of a life he had been living - But all he could manage was, "I'm sorry."

"What the fuck are you sorry for?" Richie snapped, almost offended. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He had lifted his head, eyes puffy and red.

Eddie blinked, "I -" and stopped.

"If it weren't for you, I would be dead," hesitation. "We'd all be dead, Eds."

Was that true, though? Eddie had also almost gotten Richie killed and... He grimaced. It was a memory he wished he could forget. "...Don't fucking call me that."

"Man shut the fuck up." Richie smiled, Eddie grinned. He had gotten what he wanted. "I am trying to have a touching moment with my best friend that almost fucking died. Like twelve times. Let me call you Eds."

"Better than fucking 'Eddie Spaghetti...'" Eddie smiled and tilted his head downwards to avert his gaze, but it wasn't lost on him what it did to Richie's attitude. He saw him choke on a bit of a sob, then hide it with a laugh. "Don't laugh at me, I'm fucking right." He raised a brow, waiting for the snarky reply or another silly nickname - But it was silent for a moment before Richie spoke again.

"Don't... Don't distract me, you piece of shit." Richie reached out and grabbed Eddie's hand, holding it tight in his own. "I have to get this out now before I lose my fucking nerve and end up having to wait another 27 damn years."

Oh, God.

"I almost lost my chance, okay?" Richie's face tensed. Eddie could tell he was fighting off tears again. "I don't want to lose you. I can't. I don't know what the fuck I would do." He tilted his head, forcing their eyes to meet. Eddie could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks.

'For fuck's sake, Eddie, you're 40 years old. Stop acting like a fucking school girl.' He bit his lip, waiting for Richie to continue.

"If you had died, Eds - I... I don't think I would have been far behind."

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, the breath leaving his lungs. "Don't - Don't say that -"

"I'm a little bitch, Eds. I wouldn't have been able to last without you. Not after remembering all these fucking..." He chuckled to himself. "Do you remember the kissing bridge?"

"How could I not?" Eddie smiled, letting his fingers lace together with Richie's. "You got shit on by a bird on that bridge," his smile faded, "and then you tried to wipe it on me. Fucking asshole."  

"Would you expect anything less of me?" He shrugged. "If I recall correctly, you kicked me in the shin, so I'd say we're even."

"Even?! You wiped bird shit on my fucking face! I should have kicked you in the di -!" Eddie cringed, gripping at his stomach. "Jesus fuck..." He closed his eyes tight, then leaned his head back against the pillow. There were eyes on him.

"Eddie..?" Richie's voice dropped, his fingers brushing against Eddie's pale arm. "Hey, I'm trying to fucking confess here, don't go... Don't crash on me... Eddie."

Eddie could hear the panic in Richie's voice. He needed to pull himself together. "I'm fine, Rich. Stop worrying so damn much." He opened his eyes; a soft smile spread over his lips. Richie looked so tired... "Listen -" He stopped and broke the gaze between them, reaching up to grab Richie's hand. It was so familiar in his own - It was just like when they were kids, though much bigger now. Eddie's lithe fingers laced through Richie's clumsier ones. "Why... Don't you try and get some sleep?"

Richie stayed quiet for a moment, his eyes focused on their entwined fingers. He tightened his grip, trying desperately to hold himself together. "This fucked me up, man..."

"I -" A pause. "I'm sorry."

"You should be Goddammit." Richie's eyes stayed focused on their hands, but Eddie could feel the tears stinging them. "I... I almost lost my," A pause. "I almost lost my fucking chance to tell you and..."

"Richie." Eddie shook their hands, trying to break him from his daze. What he said next shocked him. It was nothing but word vomit, and he was surprised his pride didn't get in the way. Maybe it was something induced by the insane amount of drugs running through his system. Perhaps it was real vomit? "Shut the fuck up and stop being a damn coward. Fucking do it."

Oh, God.

Sound.

The chair Richie had been sitting on screeched against the ground, and there was a new weight against Eddie's chest. He hadn't even seen him move. He barely noticed Richie's hand leaving his own.

Touch.

Richie's lips pressed desperately into Eddie's. They were chapped, thirsty, sad, tired. A hint of cigarettes lingered for a moment before he stopped caring. They kissed for seconds, minutes, an eternity, making up for so many lost years. Eddie's stomach ached, his muscles screamed in protest but -

Richie.

"It's about fucking time," a voice came from the doorway.

Richie fell back into the chair, wires tangled around his arm. "JESUS CHRIST, MAN." His face was burning red, Eddie's head buried in his pillow.

"When were you going to come and tell the rest of us that he was awake?" Stanley leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, brow raised.

"Fuck you, man. Do you have any fucking idea how long I've waited to do that?" Richie stood, a finger pointing accusingly in Stan's direction.

Stanley grinned. "Yes. I have. You were 12 when you started pining. So what? You're 41 now... That's 29 years?"

Hey, Have You Heard About This Coronavirus Thing? Crazy Shit, Right? (Ferret/Shower Cap)

History texts depicting this period will read like deranged Choose Your Adventure books written by sadists; no matter how frantically you flip backwards, you just can’t seem to find the page when you still had the option to vote for the really smart lady with the email server. Anyway, join me for a quick news round-up, it won’t take long, and when we’re done, I give you permission to run away to join a roving Thai monkey street gang.

(As always, find this post WITH nifty news links here: http://showercapblog.com/hey-have-you-heard-about-this-coronavirus-thing-crazy-shit-right/)

For those of you just waking up from a Rip Van Winkle nap, the United States is facing a massive, coast-to-coast, health crisis, whose tragic consequences have exploded exponentially because our Idiot Manchild President really believed, in that churning campground septic tank he calls a mind, that protecting his personal approval ratings by understating the problem was more important than the health and safety of the American public. I don’t know what you can call that but murder. On the one hand, it’s weird to say “wow, the President murdered a bunch Americans through boneheaded, unforgivably selfish, neglect,” but we already saw him get away with precisely that crime in Puerto Rico, so here we are.

Now, I have come to expect malice from the federal government under Hairplug Himmler, but sometimes their capacity for raw, senseless, evil still shocks me. This is my way of saying that, until they got fucking caught, the Department of, and Someone Should Slap the Word Out of Their Filthy Mouths, Justice attempted to remove CDC fliers offering potentially life-saving information regarding the coronavirus from...immigration courtrooms. My God. What a small but potent horror. Feels like the work of an ambitious intern in Stephen Miller’s office, doesn’t it? Trying to impress the boss? Just a sinister little trick, to spread a little more pain, a little more misery, a little more death in an already vulnerable, and whatta-coincidence-nonwhite, community? Fuck these awful, awful, people.

It seems President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster has been calling up leading Taliban terrorists on a secret U.S. kill-or-capture list, presumably to trade tips n’ tricks on how to undermine the USA at home and abroad. Now, negotiating with these murderous dirtbags is a big diplomacy no-no (and of course Donnie Dotard got rolled anyway) but in all honestly, if I had access to a secret kill list contact sheet, I’d probably give in to the temptation to make some prank calls. “Is your refrigerator running? Yeah? Are you sure it’s not a FLEET OF DRONES ABOVE YOU RIGHT NOW?”

For Jeff Sessions, the wages of sin turned out to be a faceful of Trump-branded fecal matter, as the Candycorn Skidmark, whose campaign Ol’ Beauregard embraced way back before fascism was cool in conservative circles, endorsed his opponent in the coming Alabama Senate runoff. How must it feel to have been the very fellow who flipped the switch on the Rube Goldberg/Mousetrap Board Game device that destroyed America, and to watch the machine work its destructive magic for years, only to realize it’s also got one special crotch punt in store for just you personally. I’d feel bad for Bilbo Bigot, if it he weren’t, y’know, one of the very worst people alive.

Alex Jones got arrested for drunk driving, and, upon his release, got right back to work selling...sigh...selling some bullshit toothpaste that he’s telling the rubes magically cures the coronavirus. Authorities are cracking down on Jones and fellow charlatan Jim Bakker over their odious snake oil peddling enterprises, but I don’t know what’s more shocking and disappointing to me, that there are such vile fuckwads in the world, who seek to profit off the fear of the misinformed during times of crisis, or that said fuckwads have so many blind, willing, disciples?

Speaking of fuckwads, Ron Johnson seems to have backed down, for now at any rate, from his quest to stage a show trial for Hunter Biden in the U.S Senate. And that’s awesome and all, but never forget how ready, how eager, RoJo has been, to corruptly manipulate the vast powers of the government for his democracy-stomping Turdlord’s political benefit. Ron is the kind of fellow you’d have found stamping documents outside trains bound for Dachau.

But yeah, I suppose the big story is still that coronavirus thing. Great choice on evolution’s part, the way symptoms don’t necessarily manifest right away, so we can spread that shit around without knowing we’re even infected. Anyway, I made sure to thoroughly disinfect tonight’s blog before posting, and medical professionals inform me that though the virus can linger on plastic and metal surfaces for as long as days, it cannot survive on a poo joke, so please rest easy, knowing you can safely consume this content in comfort. Unless you're reading it next to somebody with the coronavirus, but that's on you, kid.

The Shart Administration has actually slowed progress in this crucial fight, by classifying high-level coronavirus meetings, because they’re more worried about congressional oversight of their crimes n’ fuckups than they are about OUR LIVES, and y’know what, I do believe I’ll be voting Democrat this November.

And of course, many conservatives are more concerned with blaming the virus on the Chinese than preventing its spread; by gum, there’s no need to abandon yer principles, even when your ineptitude is getting countless folks sick and/or killed! “We may be a cabal of dangerously incompetent assclowns, but let none forget that we are also RACIST assclowns!”

With the stock market finally catching up to the rest of the world in noticing a pudding-brained twit had inexplicably been placed in charge of the most powerful nation in history, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot oozed into the Oval Office for a prime time speech, and if his goal was “fuck up the entire world as much as humanly possible in ten short minutes,” then he succeeded beyond his wildest imaginings.

It was a speech that completely failed to reassure, instead reminding the world that this drooling manbaby, this bathtub drain hair clog in an ill-fitting suit, truly is President of the Entire United Fucking States, and not only is he light years out of his element but he’s probably spending most of his time practicing his “the world is ending, you have to go out with me now” phone call to Salma Hayek rather than pursuing desperately-needed solutions.

Despite being on teleprompter, with the text of the fucking speech right fucking in front of him, Dorito Mussolini somehow managed to catastrophically misrepresent his own administration’s policies, dropping one more cartoon anvil on the stock market’s already-throughly-bludgeoned ballsack. This is, of course, on top of nonsensical non-solutions like banning travel from Europe, when the virus had already had weeks to spread throughout the country thanks to presidential bungling and neglect.

For 73 years, this cretin has somehow never encountered a problem he couldn’t lie, buy, or bully his way out of, but COVID-19 doesn’t care how much money your daddy gave you, little man. And may I say, on behalf of the thousands who are about to become sick, fuck you. Fuck you eternally with a rusty shovel, for daring to take on such an important job without the skills, temperament, or character to execute its duties. Asshole.

In contrast, Smilin’ Joe Biden gave a speech of his own; calm, collected, solemn, and filled with concrete steps to address the problems facing the nation. And America collectively went, “Oh right, it’s actually highly abnormal to have a gibbering, rectum-mouthed, dolt for a President, and we can actually have a decent, competent, one again! Soon!” It was like leadership porn. I got aroused.

Meanwhile, our already-hopelessly-overmatched Golf Cheat in Chief is multitasking, lobbing missiles at Iran-backed militias in Iraq. I’m just hoping the buttons on his desk are clearly labeled, y’know? Or at least that there’s somebody hanging around who can tackle him before he bombs Seattle and launches 500 respirators at Tehran.

So, um, in the midst of this once-in-generation shitstorm, I guess Sarah Palin dressed up in a bear suit to perform “Baby Got Back” on a reality television program. I’m not a religious person, honestly, but I’m increasingly open to the idea that there is a God, and that s/he’s been on a meth bender since mid-2016.

Social distancing is the zany new anti-dance craze sweeping the nation as we all do our damndest to not get sick and die! As a result, public gatherings are getting called off left and right. March Madness, MLB, NBA, PGA, SXSW, Broadway...personally, I don’t think I fully appreciated the scope of this crisis until I saw the XFL shut down their season. Like, are we even America anymore without one billionaire’s sad attempt to reboot his once-failed vanity project?

As sensible organizations all over the world made painful but obviously necessary sacrifices to, y’know, slow the spread of a deadly disease and save lives, naturally the Velveeta Vulgarian was among the last holdouts, canceling his precious hate rallies only grudgingly, because the safety of even his own fervent base is secondary to the sugar rush of their rageful cheers, filling, if only for a moment, that empty space within him where most people have a soul.

Now more than ever, I am brimming over with gratitude that we took the House back in 2018. Thank god there’s a little leadership, a little accountability, a little common frickin’ sense in Washington now. And thank god for Katie Porter, one of the standouts in a freshman class packed with absolute ass-kickers, cornering the CDC chief into exercising his legal authority to make coronavirus testing free for every American. Imagine if Kevin McCarthy were running the House right now. He’d be fleeing from reporters, in mismatched loafers, trying to sell the public on a bill bailing out nothing but Trump University and Marm-a-Lago.

Well, the Emperor of Hemorrhoids finally buckled and declared (acknowledged) a state of emergency over the coronavirus, which is admittedly a pleasant change from his previous “do everything I possibly can to help the fucker spread” position. We’re still woefully behind, and god only knows how deeply the virus has penetrated while the doddering old bastard diddled and dawdled, but the good news is, the President of the United States finally moved his bloated ass out of the road so we can get to work cleaning up his mess, which is, I suppose, as close to an act of kindness as he’s come in his entire misspent, treacherous, life.

In the middle of today’s press conference, Vice President Mike Pants paused to give Boss Turdworm a rhetorical handjob seemingly designed to last through an entire 14-day quarantine. Jeeeeesus. Mikey Hairshirt was a man once. Not much of one, to be certain, but at least he didn’t have to worry about the possibility of bored schoolchildren pouring salt on him, which would of course prove swiftly fatal in his current state.

A reporter asked Government Cheese Goebbels, “Hey, if you’re not too busy fellating yourself over fucking up slightly less than you’ve been fucking up for weeks, why the fuck did you close down the pandemic office, you nation-wrecking clod?” and he whinged that the question was “nasty,” before reiterating his refusal to take responsibility for the things that are, objectively, his fault. I truly do not understand how this trembling coward’s approval rating isn’t 0%

So Nancy Pelosi spent the week trying to hammer out an emergency bill with Steve Mnuchin, but Republicans naturally balked at many necessary measures. It’s a tricky spot for the GOP; they can’t risk the mass-extermination of the underpaid labor/consumer force that keeps their donor class filthy rich, but doing anything to improve working folks’ lives is just instinctually anathematic to them. But at the time of posting, it does appear as though a deal has been reached, let’s hope no spray-tanned morons fuck it up, right?

In conclusion, I am sick of typing the word “coronavirus,” and you are sick of reading it, so let’s let’s all retreat to our quarantines for the weekend, okay? Enjoy the solitude! Read that novel you bought back in college! Watch that 425-minute Russian film set in a fish cannery! Hey, you can even peruse the archives at showercapblog.com if you feel like reliving just how the fuck it all came to this! Anyway, if you don’t hear from me for a bit, fear not, I’m turning production of this blog over to Jared Kushner, I’m sure he’ll figure it out.