#❝...one gaze that left a particularly deep impression on me... ❞ ┋ anon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sserpente · 3 years

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A/N: Surprise! Here’s the thing—I don’t normally write sub!Loki at all. However, since Christmas is a time of gifting and making wishes come true and it has been requested quite a few times in the past, I decided to take on an anon request. I can’t write fully-fledged sub!Loki, I just can’t… so I hope this will do! There’s another anon request in there too. I hope you all enjoy it!

Words: 2357 Warnings: sub!Loki-ish, fluff, smut

Additional NSFW warnings: light bondage, oral, usage of anal sex toy

You cursed when you stubbed your toe on the door, shutting it aggressively all the while flinging your bag into the corner like it was the reason for all of your problems. You were trembling, anger and exhaustion gnawing at your guts.

When you let out a desperate sigh as you kicked off your winter boots, Loki tilted his head. He had appeared in the threshold leading to the living room on your floor—an entire floor on Stark Tower, all to yourself. Today, however, this very circumstance did not cheer you up in the slightest.

“A good evening to you too, pet.” He said, eyeing you with curiosity.

“I bloody hate working in retail!” You spat in response. “Why are people being so idiotic, can you tell me that? Oh, I want a refund on this obviously used item which I don’t even have the receipt for, oh, can’t you hurry up I need to catch a train—I had hours to spend on browsing but I want to pay for this immediately or I’m just gonna leave, oh, can you recommend a gift for my niece, I barely know her or her interests but surely you’ll find a gift for her because I am too lazy to use my own brain?” You were fuming. Loki chuckled.

“My dear… breathe.” He was never this gentle with any of the other Avengers but then again, you were the only one he had taken a romantic and sexual interest in. You sighed when he approached you to pull you into a tight embrace, forcing you to calm down for him. Your hands wrapped around his middle almost automatically, allowing him to lift you off the ground and carry you into your bedroom.

Loki spent most of his time in your flat here in Stark Tower. Here, he wasn’t always under suspicion of plotting world domination again—and in fact, all he did was reading, stealing your sweets and learning more about Midgardian culture, first and foremost Christmas. Last week, you had forced him through all Santa Clause films and he had actually ended up enjoying them in the end.

Another sigh escaped your lips as you pressed your face against his chest, letting his hand stroke over your head. Perhaps you should finally let the cat out of the bag and tell the others about your relationship. Loki could be so sweet… and he loved being pampered by you, even if you made sure to take your time teasing him thoroughly first.

“Is there a particular reason you left me a gift this morning?” He changed the topic. Oh yes. You had almost forgotten about this. You had shoved part of Loki’s Christmas gift into his green and gold socket above your bed before you had left this morning. It was Christmas Eve and since you would be spending the 25th with the other Avengers, you had decided that him receiving part of his gift in private would be more appropriate.

“Me?” You asked, playing innocent. “That must have been Santa, Lokes.”

“Are you going to tell me what exactly it is?” He probed. You giggled, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

“I was hoping you’d ask. Where did you put it?” Loki conjured it up seemingly out of thin air—you’d never grow tired of seeing him use his seidr—and handed you a black plastic packaging which contained an equally black butt plug with a prostate massager for men. Loki and you had recently had a conversation about toys for men as opposed to women only and much to your surprise, he had shown quite the interest in the topic. The faces of the Avengers would have been priceless, had you put it under the Christmas tree for him along with his main present.

You grinned. “Lie down on the bed for me—and magic your clothes off, will you?” Loki smiled at your request. He did not often let you command him around like that—but when he did he knew you needed it, to have some fun with his arousal for you to distract yourself from work and other sorrows, much like today. You shouldn’t be in such a bad mood on Christmas Eve, after all.

Still smiling gently, he did as he was told and then slightly raised his eyebrows for you to make the next move. You winked at him after admiring his semi-hard cock for a bit, disappearing in the bathroom. Once you had returned, hands washed, clothes changed and sex toy sanitised properly, you got to work. Loki’s eyebrows shot up all the way when you produced the bondage rope you kept in the drawer right next to the bed and then climbed on the bed as well, straddling his strong thighs.

“Please? Let me play.” You pouted. Loki sighed—allowing you to tie his hands together and then to the bedpost. Both of you were very well aware that he could rip himself free at any time—it was more a matter of it looking pretty and downright hot to have the God of Mischief tied up and at your mercy, at least hypothetically.

He shifted on the mattress just a little when you reached for the toy again which you had already coated in a thick layer of strawberry lube and brought it to his anus. It was designed to directly stimulate his prostate and you positively couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

“What are you doing?” His question was a warning; reminding you it was a privilege he was playing submissive for you and that the… situation could change at any moment. You swallowed, your own arousal pooling in your knickers like a waterfall.

“Trust me? It will feel good, I promise.”

Loki sighed once more—and gasped when you slowly and carefully worked the butt plug inside of his rear. His cock twitched, joyful anticipation mixing with impatience. By the time it was snugly in place, he was as hard as rock and moaned upon you wrapping your hand around him, giving him a few strokes with your hands partially still covered in the strawberry lube you had used.

Loki bucked his hips almost immediately, growling when you drew your hand away again. You chuckled. “You look pretty adorable like that, you know… desperate for pleasure…”

He growled in response. “You will be the one desperate for pleasure and begging me for my touch if you keep this up for long.” He threatened. Your giggle intensified. You felt so much better already.

“Just you wait.” You said, pressing the button of the small bullet vibrator inserted into the butt plug. Loki tensed up when it hummed to life, sending continuous vibrations through his anus and stimulating his prostate.

Then, taking mercy on him, your hand returned to his impressive length, jerking and pleading for attention. A few drops of precum had already formed on his red tip—it was too tempting to ignore. Unceremoniously, you bent down and closed your lips around him, licking over his slit and lapping up all he had to give for now.

Loki tugged at his restraints. A little more strength and he’d tear them apart altogether and he was barely just containing himself anymore already. Knowing he could stop this anytime and pin you down underneath him to just take what he desired for some reason only fuelled his arousal. He bucked his hips in an attempt to plunge himself deeper into your mouth but you were being particularly relentless today. He growled once more, watching how a grin formed on your lips. With a smacking sound, you released him again, continuing to stroke him all the while the prostate massager kept vibrating inside of his rear.

“Does that feel good?” You asked, almost timidly. Loki was an experienced lover, you knew this much. How many Asgardian women had had the pleasure to learn what had earned him the nickname silver tongue you did not want to know and yet, even though his confidence in bed and knowledge of pleasing a woman was exciting, at the very same time it intimidated you.

Loki nodded, blue eyes locked with yours. “Yes. Keep going, my dear.” It almost sounded like an order—one you’d do better not to defy. You took it as an invitation and pressed the button of the vibrator again.

The setting was on high now—but not high enough to tip him over the edge just yet. You needed to hear him whimper first. You had managed once, a few weeks back when Loki had allowed you to tie him up and tease him for a while for the very first time. In the end, it had resulted in him flipping you around and fucking you roughly from behind so hard you had been unable to walk the next day. Your cunt clenched upon remembering how deliciously sore you had felt. It was a risk you were willing to take again.

Loki bucked his hips once more, thrusting up in a steadier rhythm now and desperate for more friction… which gave you another idea. Biting your lower lip, you stood from the bed and peeled off the comfy trousers you had changed into, right along with your underwear. If only Loki could see the wet spot on them as you stepped out of them, he would be grinning like a cat who got the cream but fortunately for you, you were in charge tonight—or at least, for now.

He eyed you like a hungry wolf, growling in an animalistic manner as soon as your slick pussy lips rubbed against his tip and you massaged your clit with it for a while before slowly, painfully slow, sinking down on him and sheathing his cock deep inside of you. You moaned, throwing your head back. Riding him always felt so much deeper than when he was on top… unless he hauled your legs over his shoulders that was.

“More…” He choked out, his blue gaze getting almost feverish, about to turn him into a mindless beast. You stilled, not moving an inch and just kept him inside of you all the while the vibrator in his rear kept stimulating him. He gritted his teeth when you failed to move, bucking up his hips in a desperate attempt to get you to ride him but you decided to take your time. Leaning forward, you began covering his chest and neck in light kisses, tongue darting out every now and then to taste him. Loki was already sweating, his limbs shaking and you knew then just how badly he needed his release. The restraints keeping his hands above his head on the bedpost gave a suspicious tearing sound as he thrust up into you once more.

He was close. He was so close. Smiling, you kissed him and moved back up and into a sitting position. Your fingers found the switch of the vibrator, turning the setting even higher. There was no need for you to move and ride him anymore. Loki came by himself and finally, gave you the whimper you had so desired to hear from him. Your lips parted when he starting twitching inside of you, spilling himself with a groan. His warm seed coated your walls, his cock jerking until he was all but spent. Once he had caught his breath, you turned off the vibrator… for now.

“Get that lovely quim of yours up here.” He ordered with a hoarse voice, once more raising the question whether you had ever truly been in charge of his pleasure. But who were you to defy him? Biting your lower lip, you let him slide out of you, whimpering at the loss of feeling so deliciously full, inched forward until your most private parts were only inches from his mouth and then carefully sat again, your thighs to either side of his head.

Loki wasted no time. Humming contently, he licked over your slit and clit, suckling on your outer lips and circling your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue pressing against it, massaging it, until you dug your fingers into his raven hair, urging him on. You were so incredibly wet for him it wouldn’t take you long to gush all over him either and so you did. Loki ate you out like you were his last meal, pampering your clit until your body couldn’t take it anymore and you fell, seeing stars as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in pure pleasure. You only realised once you lifted yourself off his face because he would not stop that he had wrapped his fingers around the bars of the top of the bed. The bondage rope was torn apart beyond repair.

You smiled, allowing him you wrap you in his arms as he flipped you both around so you came to lie on the bed more comfortably.

“Feeling more relaxed now, my dear?” He asked with a sly smile.

“Much better. Thank you.” Loki hummed in response. “I’m pretty hungry… how about an early Christmas dinner? Just the two of us, without the others.”

“That sounds promising. But first I will need you to get that thing out of me.” He said, eliciting a devilish grin from you.

“I think I’m gonna leave that thing where it is for now. You’ll get a taste of your own medicine. Remember that golden butt plug you made me wear on Christmas last year? Revenge is sweet. So…” You paused. “Are you going to help me cook?”

Loki’s expression darkened, sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine. “You are going to remove that right now.”

“Nope,” you announced smugly, freeing yourself from his embrace and climbing off the mattress. “I’ll be in the kitchen, whenever you’re ready.”

Truth be told, you never made it to the kitchen. Loki was after you in a matter of seconds, dragged you back into bed and made sure you came to regret teasing him like that. Oh, and you most definitely lost count after at least five more orgasms.

A/N: There’s a hint in there for another smutty Loki Christmas Imagine soon to come. Can you find it? ;-)

If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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omg-imagine · 3 years

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F!V and Johnny would definitely have hours long angry sex/hatefuck in the beginning. 100% guarantee. Like hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk galore. Both are pretty loud, with V screaming her heart out (her neighbors are like wtf?). And they can’t stay in one place, moving from the bed to the floor to the couch. When they finish, both are covered in scratch/teeth marks, hickies, sweaty, breathless and tired but are soft and aftercare ensues.

pairing: johnny silverhand x female!v

words: 846

warnings: rough smut

a/n: thank you anon for the inspiration :)) wrote this drabble late last night so i hope it’s alright. enjoy!

Darkness and lust delight in his eyes; throaty groans fleeting to the shallow, rapid breaths blowing hot against her skin. The bruising grip on his little merc’s hips prevents her from squirming away as he fucks her hard and fast, pace brutal, punishing, ravaging.

There was nothing gentle in the way Johnny handles V; nothing soft about it, either. He has her bent over the bathroom sink, mercilessly pounding into her from behind. The delicious sounds they make together was pissing off her neighbors on the entire floor, not that they gave the slightest fuck about them.

A metal hand wraps around V’s neck, forcing her drifting gaze to meet their moving bodies on the glass mirror. “Watch me,” Johnny growls into her ear, husky voice as rough as his thrusts. “I want you to watch me as I fuck your pretty little pussy.”

He lessens his hold to allow V to speak, but she was too damn lost in her own pleasure to even manage a coherent thought.

They’ve been fucking like this for hours. On the couch, on the floor. In the armory, in the bed. The whole apartment reeks of sex, pieces of furniture moved out of place. Every surface had been desecrated following an earlier spat between the two resulting in this passionate show of dominance, one that V was losing.

She’s not sure how many times Johnny has made her come. All she knew or cared about was that she did, thanks to his deft fingers, skillful tongue, and impressive cock.

V feels her orgasm nearing once again. The pressure in the pit of her stomach starts to snap with each unforgiving stroke Johnny provides. Her knuckles turn white as she grasps onto the edge of the ceramic basin. Loud moans pierce through the air when he somehow goes deeper, his dick reaching the depths where no one has ever had before.

And by the looks of it, Johnny was swiftly approaching his climax, too. Chrome fingers tangle themselves into V’s hair, pulling her back flush against his panting chest. “Feels good, baby? Gonna give me another one soon?”

Barely, she nods in response. Johnny’s hitting that sweet, sweet spot of hers, and she quickly unravels. A harsh slap comes down on her ass, the stinging sensation only adding to her pleasure. V doesn’t mind that it leaves a deep red, swirling imprint knowing she had scratches, bruises, and bite marks littering all over her body.

V likes them. She likes how they show Johnny’s claim on her. That he owns her.

They come together in a matter of seconds, V’s moans crescendoing into high-pitched cries as the tight walls of her cunt milk his cock. With a roar, Johnny slams himself into her one last time before spilling his hot seed into her, so much that it leaks out even while remained sheathed inside.

“Still angry at me?” He mutters his question low, peppering kisses lazily along her shoulder.

A chuckle rumbles through V as she shifts her body around, facing Johnny. In an instant, his arms encircle her waist, bringing her in close. “Honestly, can’t remember what shit we fought about this time.”

“Me neither,” came his short reply, his brown eyes studying the marks he’s left on her glistening skin. “Wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

“Nah, it was perfect.”

Johnny exhales, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. They hold each other for a while, allowing time to quietly pass by as they caught their breaths, lips meeting in a slow, tender kiss. V was especially fond of this; when he’s all soft and caring after a particularly rough romp.

Who knew Johnny Silverhand would be the king of aftercare?

“Shower?” he later suggests, though he was already leading her towards the stall. “Let me wash you up, then give you a back rub. You seriously could use one.”

“Sounds relaxing,” V smiles at the idea, watching silently as her lover tests the temperature of the water. “And Johnny?”

He turns around, furrowing a brow at her. “Yeah?”

“Think I like it when you and I get mad.”

His cocky exterior returns yet again, along with that smug look on his face. It keeps surprising V how much they turn her on.

“And why is that?”

She joins Johnny under the warm spray, his hands roaming her body as he kneads them across her silky skin. “Our best fucks happen when we’re at each other’s throats.”

“I’d say tomorrow, we find something else to argue about again.” Johnny flashes a cheeky grin at V before his lips descend briefly onto hers, “but for tonight, relax. Let me take care of you.”

V hums in agreement as he begins to lather her up. She closes her eyes for a moment, thinking to herself how she wouldn’t mind staying this way forever. Johnny may be a snarky son of a bitch, but at least he makes it up to V by never failing to give her the best orgasms she’s ever had in her life.

---

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse @overheardatthecontinental @meshlababy @ataraxydreams @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread

#johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand fanfic

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mello-jello · 3 years

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Don't we all agree that Hange loves to play pranks on Levi? I'm pretty sure the most fucked up joke she made was when she pretended to sacrifice to save humanity and being burn alive? lord, Levi was so pissed off! It tooked like 3 years to finally forgive Hange and they finally living in a small cottage in the forest. How do I know this? Cause I'm their handmaid.

omg anon, how does one get that job? I will do it for free! I would PAY to have that job.

I realize Tumblr is collectively over the BBC Sherlock, but can you just imagine Hange with a stupid pencil drawn on moustache, trying and failing SO HARD to lighten the mood?

Maybe Hange needed to lay low? Maybe the Yeagerists has eyes on Levi, and making contact with him would have put him at risk?

oh no...

UhHHmm... hang on, I made this into a whole thing:

It’s midday and yet the sky is dark. Thick storm clouds circle above, threatening torrential downpour at any moment. The ceremony was good, all things considered. The 104th all gave short speeches about their beloved commander, which was nice. The priest was a little religious but kept the service pretty well non-secular, which is what Hange would have wanted.

Levi on the other hand, would have loved some sort of reassurance that this wasn’t the end. He would love to be able to believe in a heaven, where Hange is spending their time in complete bliss and will be there when it’s his time. He wants to believe there is any sort of omnipotent being in control of everything. He wishes he was capable of that kind of thinking.

And yet.

Everyone has left by now, and Levi’s not sure how he’d been standing there, staring at the freshly laid soil below a headstone. Fighting back tears, he speaks aloud, a last ditch effort to communicate with God or whatever. How does he know for sure Hange’s not listening anyway?

"Hange,” his voice catches as he had been clenching his jaw all day.

“I… I was so alone and I owe you so much. But please, there's just one more thing... one more thing, one more miracle, Hange, for me? Don't. Be. Dead. Would you do that, just for me? Just stop it. Stop this..."

Levi felt silly. Talking out loud to the dead never appealed to him before, why would he start now? He dropped the bouquet of flowers he was gripping too tightly onto the grave and turned to leave, just as the rain started to pour.

---

Onyankopon, Gabi, and Falco can sense Levi’s depression. It stems from more than the loss of Hange, it comes from everything Levi has ever lost in his entire life. There is no need for Levi to fight anymore. No more distractions. The lack of distractions is what makes living on so difficult.

It’s been three years since that fateful day, and the trio wanted to do something on the anniversary to take Levi’s mind off of it, even if just for an evening. Levi was bitter and cold as usual, but he knew they were just trying to help, and he did appreciate it. So reluctantly, he agreed to a movie and dinner.

He never even needed to shave before, but Levi had grown quite an impressive moustache during this time. The kids seemed to like it, they said he looked distinguished. Levi figured it would also help get attention off his scars.

Gabi and Falco were particularly excited for the movie. It was a musical comedy, of all things. Levi surprised himself by actually kind of laughing at it. He enjoyed the caramelized popcorn, too. At dinner, the 4 of them sat around a fancy table and Levi listened wholeheartedly as the other 3 discussed the movie. At one point, Gabi had shot soda out of her nose from laughing too hard, and Falco was teasing her about it.

Levi was about to interject with a snide remark, when he was suddenly interrupted by a particularly terse waiter.

“Sir, I think, you’ll find this vintage to your liking”, they said in an accent Levi had never heard before, while shoving a bottle of wine in his face. Levi was pissed, as the bottle so rudely brought up unpleasant memories.

“Tch, no.” Levi said as politely as he could muster through his teeth.

“It ’as all the qualities of the old, with some of the colour of the new,” they said, as if purposefully ignoring him. Levi was actually having a good time tonight, why did this guy have to be so pushy?

Keeping his locked forward, Levi said again, “No, thank you.”

The waiter switched sides, now on Levi’s left, which had the eye he could see with. Onyankopon gave Levi a sympathetic look as the water continued, “Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers, suddenly one is aware they are staring into ze face of an old friend.”

“No, look seriously,” Levi finally breaks and looks up, “could you just-”

Levi’s face drops. His entire body jolts impossibly rigid, as he stares with an expression of utter disbelief.

Hange. Hange was the waiter. They dipped a napkin into a glass of water, and wiped off the fake mustache from their top lip. “Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends, and anonymity to waiters,” they said in their normal voice.

“Levi?” Gabi asks, and Levi is suddenly aware that he forgot to breathe. He forgot to blink too. He feared that if he moved in any way, Hange might disappear.

He turns his head to Onyankopon, then his eyes fill with tears and he ducks his head momentarily before he stumbles clumsily to his feet, shaking the table in the process. He looks at Hange again, who then extends their arms, as if expecting Levi to hug them.

“Hange?” Oyankopon questioned, incredulously.

Levi looked down at the table, breathing heavily before locking eyes with Hange again.

“Hey, does your rub off, too?” Hange gestured to Levi’s facial hair, to which he did not find funny. His gaze was slowly turning murderous.

Falco put his hand on Levi’s arm. “What-?”

“Well, long story short,” Hange explained, a little awkwardly. “I’m not dead.”

Hange stares into Levi’s eyes as they slowly realize that this was a bad idea. They start feeling guilty. “It was a bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know. I could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defence, it was very funny. Okay, it’s not a great defence-”

“I SAW YOU!” Onyankopon broke through their rambling.

“Oh, no-

“YOU DIED!”

“I just checked, and no, no I didn’t!”

Levi made a fist and pounded the table, nearly spilling all their drinks and drawing attention to them. Hange looked around nervously, but Levi did not care, although he whispered, “three years.”

“Okay, Levi, I’m suddenly realising I probably owe you some sort of an apology,”

Levi took another, deliberately deep breath and asked, “how?”

“Just… okay, one question! Let me ask one question,” Hange asked. They pointed to Levi’s moustache, “Are you really going to keep that?” They blurted out in laughter for all of 2 seconds before Levi launched at them. They both crashed to the floor, Levi on top of Hange, trying to throttle them.

#levihan #levihan drabble #i might have more 👀#i wrote this on break on a night shift so don't look at it too long okay #this is a wee bit angstier than i thought

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

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Now I don’t know if you take requests, but If you do here’s an idea. What about Steve being the King Steve he was, but he’s very slutty one and lets guys fuck him a lot. He would be such a tease to Billy at a party, grind his ass on Billy’s cock on purpose while they’re dancing, because he really wants this hot Cali boy to fuck him senseless already and that’s exactly what happens when Billy finally makes his move and fucks Steve somewhere away from other peoples eyes (Wow this got long sorry!)

Dearest anon, Don’t ever feel the need to apologise for such a long message, especially not one as grand as this!!! Here you go, just grazing 9 pages with the last line, so this is long yes, and I will “warn” you that there’s an excessive amount of dirty talking, at least to my standards, and a bit rough play, but nothing severe of course. Enjoy!

Another Saturday, another unsupervised party in the distant Harrington Mansion, music pulsating so vividly that Billy swears he can feel it through the soles of his heavy boots as he walks between cars parked on the grass.

It doesn't take a fool to know that the high and mighty King Steve has issues with the solitude his house brings, nestled between grand trees, so distant from the rest of the town that there's never once been a noise complaint. That he has issues with the lack of parental attention, and instead seeks to fill the emptiness of his house with his loyal subjects; particularly his bed.

Which might be why Billy always shows up, or maybe not, but who's to tell. Everyone's always at these parties filled with alcohol that Daddy Harrington pays for unknowingly, so it would be weird if Billy wasn't here, too, right? At least he's content with thinking so.

Billy knows loneliness like Steve does, seeks the cure for it just as well, finding brief notions of it when he's got his dick buried in any hole really, his body flooded with liquor, his head pounding to the beat of shitty synth.

So here he is, looking for a saving grace, to have another night filled with sweaty, writhing bodies, stepping through the front door to King Steve's castle once again; having stopped counting how many times around 20.

Just like last week, there's people everywhere – every single junior and senior that knows what's good can be found here, perhaps even a few older drunkards that has nothing better to do in this shit hole town than to crash a high school party.

And just like each and every other time, it's overwhelming in the best possible way. All senses gets fulfilled the second he's completely inside;

Sweaty bodies bumping shoulders as he squeezes his way through the hall, guys patting his shoulders, girls bashing their eyes, and he can't help but grin all smooth and charming at the attention.

Tight jeans and short skirts, bulging muscles and exposed cleavages, all so pleasing to his wandering eyes as his peers twists and turns to ensure he sees it all.

Through the music he can barely hear it when one girl says, “Looking good, Billy,” or when a guy leans in to ask, “Can I get you a drink?” as he makes it into one of the living rooms.

With every breath he takes, a wild and intrusive mixture of perfumes and colognes and deodorants fills his lungs to completion, cheap and expensive alike, and it brings him to life.

All there's left now, is to taste a nice, cold beer, and his soul will be satiated, the checklist for a good party completed, and the festivities could truly begin. But when he turns in to the kitchen, it isn't the giant fridge he focuses on, or the girls passing by, giving him all kinds of bedroom eyes, or the impressive array of chips on display on the kitchen island.

No he sees the host immediately, Steve Harrington, leaning with his back to the wall. His jeans sit a bit more snug than usual, and his tee a bit higher up; not exactly a crop-top per se, but just short enough to expose a gorgeous, wiry trail of hair dipping beneath his pants.

His face is turned towards Tommy Hagan who stands awfully close for that to just be a friendly conversation, and there's no doubt in Billy's mind what they're talking about, if the way Steve's eyes sliding up and down is any indication, or the way he bites into his lower lip.

There is no hiding why Steve is so popular, or why he remains on the top even though Billy managed to beat his keg stand record with ease. Hadn't been any hiding the way Steve leered at him at Tina's Halloween party either.

The first week in Hawkins Billy had caught Steve twice doing the most salacious things, that Billy to this day, 7 long months later, still think about daily.

Steve, on his knees in the showers of the boys locker room one Monday after practice, probably nearly drowning under the water with his mouth wide and stretched around some teammates cock. Even now Billy can recall the way he was moaning and gagging passionately; hears it louder in his mind than the music of the party.

Steve, underneath the bleachers during third period, skipping class to fuck hard into some blonde bitch who struggled to keep quiet as she stood bent forward, arms wrapped around one of the supporting beams for the seats above. And he can still see Steve's lewd expression as he caught Billy staring, Steve's mouth slipping into a sly smirk, eyes dark and heavy as he kept their gazes locked, cumming with the most enticing groan.

Of course that wasn't the last time he saw Steve like that.

Sometimes Steve was the one bent over, against a tree or knees in the grass. Billy has passed by that brown BMW bouncing and wiggling by the side of the road indiscreetly plenty of times. And at almost every party he's attended, he's watched Steve go in and out of rooms with anyone really.

One time he followed along, peeked in through the crack in the door, and watched from start to finish as Steve laid on his back on a desk, hands firmly around his neck, some dude balls deep inside of him.

But with one blink, Steve turns his head and looks directly at Billy, as if he knew the other was watching. And he tilts his head aside, allowing for Tommy to kiss and suck his way down the exposed neck, Steve's lips parting from the smile into something more comfortable.

Billy keeps staring, intently. Walks to the fridge, blindly reaches in to grab what he's hoping is a beer can, then leans against the counter; scarcely ever blinking as to not miss a single second of the show.

And it is ardently clear that Steve enjoys having an audience, enjoys performing. Eyes heavy on Billy, Steve lifts up his right hand in a slight fist, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he simulates giving a blowjob.

Something which Billy can't help but snort at for some reason, despite how the suggestion courses through him rapidly, and Steve seems to find that equally as humorous, as he laughs quietly.

He then grabs Tommy by the chin and guides him off of his sensitive neck. Steve says something that might sound like, “Not tonight,” which wipes Tommy's lustful grin right off. And when Steve looks towards Billy, Tommy's gaze follows right along, and now the freckled guy looks downright pissed off.

Billy stares with a strong intensity, daring him to try anything, as Tommy walks right by with a clear scowl, jaw tense and hands curled by his sides. But he manages to make his way out the kitchen without as much as a word.

When Billy turns to look for Steve again, he finds him standing right by his side, hip against the counter.

“Hi,” Steve purrs.

“Hey,” Billy says and lifts up his beer to take a sip, but Steve is quick to snatch it from his hand, to then drink from it slowly, eyes locked together.

Steve gives a little satisfied hum and licks his lips clean, a gesture that at this short distance sparks inside of Billy's chest, lighting him up.

“What's his problem?” Billy asks and nods in the direction of where Tommy had marched off. “Thought he was dating that Perkins girl.” He tries to play it cool, pretend he's above knowing who's who here, despite the fact that Carol has flirted with him enough times to need more than two hands to count on.

“Him and Carol loves to play this little game where they flirt with others at parties, get all excited at the thought of being unfaithful, then find a place to bang it out.” Steve offers Billy what's left of his beer, which is less than a half, and much less than what Billy needs to keep somewhat calm right now.

“So you and Tommy never...” he trails off, hoping that the insinuation is clear enough.

And judging by the way Steve smiles something so suggestive might just be enough of an answer, yet he says, “Wouldn't you like to know?” And watches how Billy's mouth opens to take a sip.

Neither of them talks as he empties the can. Billy watches how Steve is almost admiring the view; the bob of his Adam's apple, the way his shirt is unbuttoned nearly all the way, the tight fit of his jeans. And Billy wants to say something, a slight quip about enjoying the view, or if he sees something he likes, but it's redundant, because who doesn't like what they see when they look at Billy Hargrove, Keg King.

The tense silence between them gets interrupted, when some drunk girl shouts, “Steve!”

She's got dark hair, a low cut blouse, and an impossibly tight leather skirt. Pretty enough, Billy would say, but he can't remember her name; too many cows around here for him to bother learning what they're all called. It's only important that they know his name, yet it's Steve she calls for and reaches out to grab his hand.

“Steve come on,” she coos and sways even when standing still, “You owe me a dance for doing your essay!”

Steve doesn't resist when she starts pulling him along, just turns to Billy with a certain grin, and says lowly, “Duty calls.”

Admittedly, Billy is kinda impressed with just how easy it is for Steve, or rather, how easy Steve is.

And maybe he spends the next hour thinking about that, as he walks the party with a fresh beer in hand and a searching gaze, always keeping a lookout for where the host might have sneaked off to.

When he stops by the dining table to assist in a victory of beer pong, he's thinking about how often he's seen Steve in compromising positions, rarely ever with the same person twice in a row, but always with such a euphoric expression.

Or when he's standing with a gaggle of girls, charming his way into their hearts, and hopefully their panties, he's thinking about how Steve pays others to do his homework with the pleasure of his company, and how Billy got an A on his history test last week, and how he knows that Steve struggles with that especially.

And when he walks into the other living room that has been designated as a dance floor it seems, he's thinking about that happy trail being exposed whenever Steve raises his arms too high, the way his hair moves fluidly along with the motion of Steve's lively expression, the way his hips goes from side to side in rhythm to the music, and the way his grin twists something so delicious when almond eyes catch angelic blues staring.

Without missing a beat, Steve prances through the crowd; the flow of his body uninterrupted and damn near beautiful as he makes his way to still before Billy's motionless stature, and they share similar smiles as Billy looks at Steve with hooded eyes and something darkening the calm skies in his eyes, tongue out to wet his grin and Steve's appetite.

You Spin Me Round plays louder than Billy's thoughts, and Steve turns his back to him, dancing, arms up, making the shirt expose his dimples of Venus, and Billy finds himself wanting to grab on to the swaying hips, press his thumbs into where the skin dips in the small of Steve's back.

Billy's not much of a dancer himself, but he still sways slightly to the song, shoulders pumping to the rhythm of the least detestable song that's been played so far tonight. All the while he stares at Steve putting on quite the sweaty, twisting, swirling show, and it wouldn't be hard to believe that it is all for the enjoyment of Billy only, despite how others occasionally shoot jealous glares at the pair of them.

He doesn't even notice it when Steve takes a step closer, having once stood a respectable distance away, now so close that Billy can smell perfume on him; whether it's Steve who's gone diving in his mothers drawers, or from girls having been all over him tonight, is an uncertain factor, but he smells good. And perhaps Billy takes a step forward, the movement of Steve enchanting, but the Keg King would absolutely deny it. Deny that there's someone in town who can so easily bewitch him with barely any effort. Deny that he's not in control of this attraction no more than magnets are to metal.

But when there's contact between them as Steve accidentally grazes against Billy with his ass, it becomes increasingly difficult to sustain plausible deniability, and his salacious little smirk falls. And as Steve continues to flow with the rhythm, he meets with Billy's crotch again, this time with more accuracy- more force, and Billy chokes back a, “Fuck,” that wouldn't have been heard no matter what here. When it happens again and again and again, Billy feels heat drain down to pool near his gut, and with every timid grind against his swelling flesh, it ripples through him, like rain breaking surface tension, a fever pulsating.

And this time he takes a definite step forth, pressing himself into Steve's confident movement, who pushes back against him, hips circling around, plump cheeks pressing deliberately into the noticeable bulge now, and although Billy can't see Steve's face, he would bet money on how he's undoubtedly smiling at the attention.

Enough is soon enough, and Billy grabs on to Steve's hips with near brutish force, stopping the irritatingly erratic motion and pulls him as close as possible, so that hopefully Steve can feel just how hard he is.

He leans forward, lips at the shell of Steve's ear, as he growls, “If you don't stop what you're doing, I won't be able to hold back.”

Steve turns his head as far as he can, ass flush with Billy's trapped erection, and shows just how eager he is for that little promise; mouth not turned up in a smile, but hanging wide open as he pants out, “Then don't.” Honeyed eyes drowning in black, lashes fluttering as he gives a tentative roll of his hips, causing Billy to lurch forward, grinding into the friction with a stuttering notion.

Behind a locked door, Steve's desk slams against the wall as he lands on it, Billy shoving at him, tearing off his shirt and dipping down to kiss rudely and bite along the exposed shoulder. Steve with his legs spread wraps them around Billy's firm hips and draws him closer to feel just how eager he is, too, as if the way he's moaning wasn't enough proof of that.

Steve yanks at golden hair to guide Billy up for a desirous meeting of lips, when Billy pulls away to hiss out, “You taste like pussy,” almost in wonder.

“Didn't think you'd mind that,” Steve chuckles then drives his slick tongue into Billy's mean mouth, feels how he sucks it all in, groaning at the mix of spit and booze and pussy that lingers. “How you want me, big boy?”

It takes Billy a second to understand he's being spoken to, as alcohol and his own unadulterated lust mixes in his system, making him grind all animalistic into the spread of Steve's thighs, like a fucking dog humping a leg.

“On your stomach, in bed,” he breathes out wetly and licks his lips to savor what's left of Steve there.

With a hand spread out onto his chest, Steve pushes Billy away, so that he can move off of the desk and step around the hulking, panting stature of Billy's burning hot body. There's a not-so-subtle chime of Steve's belt, his zipper going down a joyous melody, and honestly Billy shouldn't be this surprised to find out that Steve is going commando tonight, and perhaps he always is.

Billy doesn't move at first, paralyzed by the gorgeous curve of Steve's naked ass, how long and perfect his dick is, and he understands now why girls flock to him the way they do. Each and every mole across pale, lean skin the landmarks of a treasure map guiding you down between his legs.

And Steve crawls on to the bed, his knees just on the edge of the mattress, his back turned to Billy still, and he bends over, cheeks spread to expose his tight hole. Moves his right hand down between spread legs where his leaking erection hangs lonely, starts stroking it with slow pulls that brings out fresh moans, while his left hand goes past parted lips; two fingers knuckle deep as he sucks on them, tongue slipping between to get them proper wet and dripping.

“I want you so bad, Billy,” he whines once he's removes his fingers from his mouth. Leads them behind himself, presses both inside with ease, voice stuttering as he pumps them in and out. “Every since I saw you at Tina's party, ahh, when you knocked me off my throne, beat my keg stand record- fuck-” Fingers speed up for a moment, then slows down again, teasing himself- teasing Billy. “I've- I've never felt so defeated, so... alive.”

Billy feels his underwear stick where he's leaking, untouched, but the performance that of a lifetime, and fuck he wishes he had a camera – convinced Steve would be into that, into being filmed like this. He's heard rumors about certain Polaroid pictures circulating school, but he hasn't had the chance to see yet, although that only makes this all the more sweeter, to see King Steve in all his glory afresh.

He tugs his shirt off over his head, unbuckles and unzips, moving closer with a hand down to massage his painful, throbbing cock. Knows that Steve is watching him as he leers at his entrance begging for more, clenching something so unsatisfied at his own two fingers. Without warning, Billy slicks up his own fingers with spit and plunges them inside along with Steve's own two digits.

“Fuck, ahh!” Steve cries out and arches his back, “Your fingers are so thick.”

At a pace set by Billy, they dive in and out, stretching him together, and Billy sees it fit to spit right on him, lubing him up a bit more and moves faster as he intently listens to how Steve is moaning and calling out for more, harder, deeper.

“Jesus Harrington, you're so fucking insatiable...” Billy looks down at where Steve's eyes are closed tightly, knitted with pleasure, mouth wide open to let out all these delicious noises. “Such a slut,” Billy drawls, and is convinced that Steve's ass clenches a bit tighter at that word. Slut. “So hungry for my fat cock, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve whines and nods profusely, opening his eyes finally to catch cold waters meeting his gaze immediately. “Please,” he begs.

And as Billy pulls out his fingers, so does Steve, who brings both hands down to clutch at the bed sheets, his breathing shaky with anticipation, his prick drooling all over the blue covers.

“Lube and condoms in the top drawer, there,” he pants and points to the bedside table.

Where Billy is quick to yank it open and grabs both in one hand; his other continuously stroking himself through the trunks that are suffocating him, knowing that if he didn't keep that barrier of fabric in place, he'd blow far too soon from just the sight of Steve being so damn horny and needy.

“Can't wait to fill you up so good, princess,” he huffs as he slips on the condom.

Steve shakes his ass in a taunting manner with a lazy smile, and Billy can't help but laugh lightly at it, then brings his hand across one cheek, and-

“A-ah!” Steve moans out and presses his face deeper into the duvet.

And the grin that cracks across Billy's handsome features is awfully telling.

“I'm gonna fuck you so hard, baby, you won't be able to walk or sit straight for month,” he growls and licks his lips. “When I'm done with you, no other guy in Hawkins will be able to make you cum as good, won't satisfy you the same way I do.”

The cap of the lube pops open, and Billy slicks up two fingers, then promptly pushes them inside to lather Steve's ass up, who whines impatiently and moves his hips against the broad digits.

“Please, Billy,” voice all pathetic, “Just fuck me already.”

“Mmm patience,” Billy coos as he removes himself again, “Don't wanna hurt you by going in too dry.”

He covers his steely erection in a spirited amount of lube, excessively so as he strokes himself through the condom, and then goes to line up with Steve's fluttering hole, gasping, aching to be full. Pushes inside with nary a hint of kindness, bottoming out in one headlong swoop, leaving Steve moaning out long, and Billy grabs on with both hands to quell all motion between them, as he revels in how tight Steve is, how he's sucking him in.

“Oh fuck, Billy,” Steve keens and tries to move, but stern hands keeps him locked in place. “You're so big.”

“Yeah, I know,” Billy chuckles out like rumbling thunder in his chest.

Hands move off of Steve's hips to go grab two fistfuls of soft ass, where he spreads the cheeks as far apart as they can go, as to get a good and proper look at how his girthy cock is sunk deep inside, watches how the rim clench around him with a hunger to be thoroughly fucked. And at a pace menacingly slow, Billy pulls out, feels how every muscle clings to him like he's the most important thing in the world right now, and Steve whines as if it's true, too.

He keeps his stare there, watching with great interest as he moves till just his fat head remains inside, then shoves right back in, receiving the most vivid and alluring cry of his name from Steve's pretty pink lips.

“Billy- fuck, ah-” Steve moans with no inhibition as Billy sets a brutal pace of pulling out just to snap his hips back against Steve's exposed ass.

Skin slaps louder than the music downstairs, accompanied well by the squelching of Steve's dripping wet hole and his lascivious singing of praises and curses; the bed concurring with slight creaks. Steve arches his back in the most gorgeous curve, a pose with his plump ass raised with such expertise it shows just how often he's found himself like this, yet still calls out as if it's his first.

“Shit, princess, harrh, for being such a slut you sure keep tight,” Billy groans out as he slams his veiny cock into the most fantastic velvet heat.

A warmth that stirs perfectly at the base of his dick, waves of it washing down his thighs as he continues to chase his own high with the most ferocious will.

He bends forward, driving himself as deep as physically possible, and brings one hand down onto the back of Steve's neck, squeezing and pressing him into the bed.

“Yes- yes! Ah-” Steve croons like a bitch in heat, eyes rolling back, hands seeking for something to grab on to.

And Billy barks a laugh at how lost Steve becomes, how indignant and uncontrolled his voice becomes.

“You like it rough, huh bitch?” Billy growls like a wild hound, baring his canines and licking across the sharpness there, his thrusts rapid. “Like it when a real man fucks you?”

“Yes,” Steve chokes out, oh so pliant and dazed.

“Mmnh, hah, feel so good inside baby, sucking me in- my thick cock splitting you open.” Billy grazes his teeth across where he can reach on Steve's shoulder.

The response a whine, high pitched and erotic, and Steve reaches for himself-

But his wrist is quickly grabbed by Billy's other hand, pinning it above Steve's head; now most of Billy's heavy body weight pressing onto his neck, and his body tenses tighter.

“Fuck, ah,” Billy grunts as he feels muscles clasp around him like a vice. “Why don't you show me how beautiful you look cumming on my dick alone?”

“Billy,” Steve moans in a telling way of how close he is, and of how helpless he is. “I'm- I'm close-”

“Yeah you are.” Billy grins and bucks his hips all cruel and ruthless; wants Steve to remember this, to maybe be a bit sore after, cheeks red and ass puffy, throat sore from overuse. Want hims to know that absolutely no one else is ever going to make him nearly scream like this. “You're such an easy little whore, Stevie.”

“I am, ah- shit-” Steve admits readily, mumbles something more in agreeance, but all Billy can make out is his own name being called for again and again in tandem with his girthy cock hitting all the right spots.

It barely takes more than that before Steve's cumming; shooting hot and white all over his expensive sheets, body tensing up to a choking point that pulls Billy closer, the tightness unparalleled by any pussy he's ever been this deep in.

“Fuck that's hot,” his voice dripping with lust thick as honey.

“Don't- don't stop, please,” Steve's voice barely there, fucked out and hoarse, body going limp as he whines at the delicious overstimulation.

“Oh yeah, pretty boy? Want me to-” Billy gasps as he can barely manage words as he slams hard against Steve's worn ass, desperately clenching around him, and he stands up fully, plants his feet and digs his nails into fleshy hips. “-Want me to use you? Like a fucking toy?”

“Yes! Yes, Billy, fuck me-”

The wet slapping of skin in perfect harmony with Steve moaning a whole ballad, brings Billy to his blinding climax, forcing a stutter to his hips as he slams home hard enough for Steve to move up the bed, and he calls out with no restraint as his throbbing cock pulsates and kicks; draining him of all heat and energy into the condom buried deep in Steve's desirous hole.

As adrenaline seeps out, exhaustion comes in and he slumps forward, shoving at Steve's shoulder to keep him in place as he twitches and goes soft. Chest heaving, curls sticking to his neck and forehead, thighs sore from a good days work. He rubs the space between Steve's shoulder blades with a firm thumb, who hums pleasantly between equally exhausted pants.

But Billy has to pull out, takes off the condom and ties it neatly, before collapsing next to Steve on the bed.

And Steve rolls on to his side, rests his warm palm on sweaty pecks, smiling all satisfied and admiring the view of Billy's spent dick. “You did good, tiger... think you can go another round?”

Billy snorts abruptly – he can barely keep his eyes open right now. “Are you serious?”

Steve climbs right on top of him, landing with his own impressive cock side by side with Billy's vastly shorter, but definitely thicker, dick. He rocks back and forth all lazy like, sighing with a definite promise of more.

But Billy winces with a sharp inhale and reaches down to stop the motion of those pale hips on top. “Fuck- stop! I'm spent, go find some other hole to fulfill your needs.”

“Hmm...” Steve thinks about something, but climbs off never the less. “I'm gonna give you fifteen minutes, and if you're still to weak after that I can easily find someone else.”

He's quick to get dressed again, leaving Billy to feel, yes, weak and perhaps a bit piteous, sprawled out on King Steve's bed, a mess of sweat next to a pool of semen, yet Steve steps up to him and leans down.

“But,” he coos softly and smiles just so, “If you ever want to do this again, or something else, I can make room for you in my busy schedule.”

And Steve kisses Billy on the lips, making the poorer guy immediately desire more, but as Steve pulls away again, Billy continues to feel defeated and impossibly exhausted.

The last thing he notices before dozing off is the bedroom door closing.

#Harringrove #Lemon #My Writing #request #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Anonymous

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lailannajacobs · 4 years

Text

War of Hearts

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Request: Hiya! Could you do a Loki X Reader body swap fic? AND Hey! Can you do a fix where Loki is doing some spell or magic and accidentally ends up switching his body with the reader. Sexual innuendos maybe? ;)

Warnings: Mostly fluff, maybe a tinsy, weensy pinch of angst?

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I’ve never written a body swap fic before, so to the two wonderful anons who requested this, I hope it’s at least a little bit close to what you had in mind! It was a fun challenge for me and I hope you guys enjoy! What love to know what you think! <3

Loki was bored. Absolutely, no doubt about it, going-out-of-his-mind bored. And everyone else - well, everyone he could tolerate to be more specific - had other, more important things to do. And Loki…well he was on house arrest. According to Captain Goody Two Shoes, disguising himself as a falcon and pecking the Bird Man with his dagger-sharp beak violated the terms of his agreement with the Avengers. Good behaviour meant he wasn’t their prisoner. Apparently bad behaviour meant house arrest. But really, it had all been in good fun. No one had gotten seriously hurt.

After an uneventful morning, Loki had thought that maybe he would have been able to convince the Spider Boy to spend the rest of the day sparring with him, but the child had a date. The moment Loki had seen that stupid little grin on his face, he knew there was no convincing the Spider Boy otherwise.

His first and best option, the Scarlet Witch, was mission bound for another day. It was no secret that she distrusted him, but at least she was powerful and had an inkling of common sense - unlike the majority of the other agents in this tower. She had gone off with YN, one of the few other people Loki didn’t mind so much.

Loki wandered down the halls, trying to find something to do. His book was predictable, he had already gone for a run, and he wasn’t tired. He was itching to get out and being cooped up on one floor did nothing to stifle the excess energy he had drumming under his skin. House arrest, without a single intelligent soul around, was proving to be an annoying punishment.

Before he realized where he was going, he found himself in the kitchen, scaring off new Shield recruits with nothing more than his presence. Loki smirked. Some things never failed to satisfy him.

But the feeling didn’t last long. Once again left to his lonesome, Loki began to play around with his magic, finding comfort in the familiar hum resonating through his body. He didn’t pay much attention to where the magic went as he made himself dinner, mindlessly letting it ebb and flow through and out of him, transforming it and drawing it back in. Although his body went through the motions, chopping carrots into tiny pieces, his mind turned inward, falling further into the abyss of himself and the soothing whirlwind of his magic.

Then the kitchen door banged open. Loki lost his grip on the magic, feeling it spiral out uncontrollably as it threw him to the ground and the world immediately went black.

The kitchen blinked back into view, but Loki couldn’t understand how he had landed so far across the room. He tried to move, but immediately knew something was wrong.

He looked down at his body; a body that wasn’t his own.

He was in a woman’s body. But the change in gender wasn’t what had let him know he wasn’t in his own body. After all, it wasn’t everyday he looked in a mirror and saw a man staring back. No, what had tipped him off was that he recognized this body. This body belonged to YN. But if he was in her body then that meant…Loki found his own body crumpled to the floor, the knife he had been using mercifully far from his body. He wasn’t sure how his body would have fared a stabbing with a mortal inside it.

Unfortunately, Loki wasn’t quite aware what the rules were for trading bodies. The only thing he was certain of was that she’d have to be the one to change them back now that she was in his body. He crawled over to her, not trusting himself to stand in this body that wasn’t his.

Cupping her face - his face - gently, he lifted her head from the awkward position on the floor, “YN. YN? Are you all right?”

She barely stirred and his heart began to race. Had he just killed her? His palms began to sweat, and he had the impression that his heart had lodged itself far up his throat. He wiped his hands on her combat suit. Stupid mortal body.

Shaking her with more force, he refused to admit that anything terrible had happened to her…well anything other than having switched bodies with him. When her eyes finally fluttered open, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. Loki smiled when he noted that the colour was not the usual green he saw in the mirror. They said that eyes were the windows to the soul, and the soul in his body wasn’t his, which meant neither were those eyes.

When she registered what she was looking at, she panicked and backed into the kitchen counter, hands reaching for her knife. Little did she realize, it was jammed uncomfortably against his leg at the moment.

“YN, it’s me,” He blurted, then realized she probably had no idea who ‘me’ was. Just because she was one of the few people he tolerated here didn’t mean that she had any particularly good feelings towards him, “Loki.”

The silence seemed to draw on forever, but he knew she believed him when she narrowed her eyes dangerously, “Loki. What the hell have you done to me?”

He paused, not quite sure how to answer. Rather than try to, he backed away from her, figuring he was overcrowding her by being so close. She was alive. He had no reason to be there anymore. But now, he only felt cold and a strange pain in his arm.

“Loki, I swear I’m-” She stumbled as she tried to stand, and looked down at her body, then seemed to realize for the first time that she was in his, “Give me back my body. Now.”

She forced herself to stand, and although it was clumsy at first, she quickly found stability. He would have been disappointed if she hadn’t. Following suit, he stood, immediately hating that she was the one who now towered over him. As if sensing it, she smirked - the kind he used to terrify all the new recruits.

“So, this was an accident.” It wasn’t a question.

He crossed his arms over his chest and briefly noted that she had cut herself - himself? - across her forearm earlier, the dried blood caked across the gash on her sleeve, “You weren’t supposed to be back for another day.”

“What can I say?” She lifted her new fingers to the light, examining them with unimpressed curiosity, “Wanda and I are quite the pair.”

He rolled his eyes, though he had a feeling it didn’t quite convey the same amount of sass as it did in his own body.

“Enjoying what you see?” He crooned when her inspection had travelled from her fingers along her bicep to her new chest and torso.

Her head snapped up before her gaze could get any lower, black hair flicking back from her face, “It’s nothing new. I know what you look like.”

“But do you really?” He approached her, his lips spreading into a grin, “Because I think that’s a lie. I know for a fact that you’ve never gotten this close. I think both of us would have remembered that.”

“Who says I want to?” She countered, though he knew she was flustered.

Her tells were now his own and she had no idea how to hide them the way he did.

He tucked her - his? - hair behind her ear, watching her eyes widen as he did, “I do. You can explore if you’d like,” He purred, “I don’t mind.”

She shook her head, “Why would I want to do that?”

He looked down at himself, at the body that wasn’t his but that he was very much appreciative of, “How can you not be the least bit curious?”

“Are you?”

“Absolutely,” He answered candidly, relishing in the surprise on her face, “I always like to know what makes another person…tick. I wouldn’t be against a little exploration of my own.”

“And what makes you…tick, Loki?” She whispered.

He stepped a little closer, tilting his head back, “Would you like me to show you? Or would you rather discover it on your own? You can take your time, Agent, I’m in no rush.”

He watched his body shiver and satisfaction washed through him, knowing that even in this body he had gotten under her skin. Sucking in a deep breath, she jut out a hip, hand placed furiously on it. He smirked at the sight.

“What I want, is my body back,” She growled, eyes widening in surprise at her own tone.

He shrugged, “Well, that’s on you, mortal. You have my body.”

“And how,” She stared down at the body as if it was a prison, “Do you want me to do that?”

“I can’t explain,” He looked back down at his arm, annoyed with her that she hadn’t healed her own body properly, “It will come to you, I’m sure.”

She let out a long, annoyed sigh, “Any words of advice, Witch?”

“You’re the god now,” He corrected, “Focus on our bodies and our souls, and it will come to you.”

He ignored the deadly look she shot him and moved toward the sink to wash off the blood. When the water touched the scratch, he hissed. He looked back down in surprise. He had experienced scratches like this, and they had never affected his own body. He had seen her come back from missions much worse, and yet, her smile had never faltered. How fragile were these mortal bodies? How had he never realized that she could be in so much pain?

Loki looked back at her, trying to get a good look at the agent for the first time since they had met, but all he saw was his own body, his eyes shut and body tense with concentration. He gingerly cleaned out the wound and wrapped it tightly with the medical supplies from the kitchen drawer. There were a few other minor scratches that didn’t need much care, but that he took care of as well.

When he began to feel a tingle go through his body, Loki knew the transfer was about to happen. He laid down on the floor, waiting to black out. Before he did, he saw his own body crumple painfully to floor and he winced.

There was a ringing in his head when he woke, and Loki knew he was back in his own body. The magic had taken a toll on his body, and the fall hadn’t done him much good either.

YN was standing over him with her hands on her hips when he opened his eyes. She was furious.

“You’re an ass.”

“An Asgardian,” He corrected, unfazed, “At least I left your body in better shape than you left mine.”

“Am I supposed to apologize?” She demanded.

He raised a brow, “It wouldn’t hurt.”

She was about to say something else but seemed to notice her arm. Glancing down at the wound, then back at him, her brows furrowed. He attempted to stand and had to hold onto the counter to stop the swaying, ignoring her outstretched hand.

Something dawned on her, and he didn’t trust the way her face softened. Looking like she was about to say something both of them would regret, Loki shook his head to cut her off.

“Don’t worry about it, mortal. I can handle a little magic backlash and a fall to the ground,” He pushed past her, knowing he had to get out of the kitchen. She had used far more magic than necessary to reverse the switch, but the fatigue wasn’t the only reason he had to leave, “Consider us even now.”

“Loki?”

He didn’t turn around. He had gotten far closer to this mortal than he had wanted to and Loki was going to get away before he made another dangerous mistake.

One Week Later

Loki was finally off house arrest. What surprised him the most was that he had actually accepted his punishment when it would have been so easy to escape. But quite frankly, it would have been more trouble than it was worth.

It had taken a few days, but Loki’s skin no longer felt too tight, like it belonged to a stranger. He hadn’t seen YN since the little incident, but he preferred it that way. On his first official day of freedom, Loki knew exactly where he was headed and was ready to get there.

“You know, for someone so powerful, you’re awfully predictable.”

Loki jolted, not having heard YN approach. He smoothed down his shoulders and twisted to face her, rocking back on his heels. Raising a brow, he motioned for her to explain.

She narrowed her eyes at him, emotions brewing under the surface that he wasn’t privy to. When she said nothing, he figured it wasn’t worth staying in the hallway waiting for nothing.

He shrugged, “If that’s that, then I’m going-”

“To Time Square,” She finished for him, crossing her arms over her chest.

He cocked his head, trying to get a better look at her. It hadn’t been what he had been about to say, but it was exactly where he planned on going. There was something about the chaotic bustle of tourists and locals that he found calming, and after his miserable house arrest, he could use a little calm. But how she knew that was beyond him.

“How-”

“How do I know?” She asked, cutting him off once again. He wasn’t sure if she was doing it to annoy him or for another reason he couldn’t fathom, but she had enough of his attention for him to tolerate it. For now. “I know that most of us will avoid Time Square if we can help it. I also know you’ve learned to thrive in situations that break most people. Do you know how I know this?”

“Because you’ve read my file?” He asked dryly, though he found her words unsettling.

“I know this because, despite your past crimes, Tony has you on our most difficult missions. And the ones that throw our plans out the window have you at the front, adapting faster than the rest of us. There is a reason you’re not imprisoned, and not all of it has to do with your brother’s generosity.”

Unsure of what to say, Loki hardened his face, burying his emotions as far away as possible, “Do you expect me to be flattered?”

She shook her head, “No, because, like I said, you’re predictable. I also know you care about the people you get close to. I’ve seen you with your brother. I’m not blind. But I also know you don’t get close to anyone.”

“YN,” Loki forced a laugh, “I believe you’re reading too far into things. I didn’t think you were this naive.”

She smirked, “And there it is. Proof that I’m right.”

“And how would you know all this, YN?” He countered.

“I,” She paused, obviously not having expected the question, “I know all this because I’ve been watching you, waiting for you to try and escape. It was what I was tasked to do. And what I couldn’t understand before last week, was why you hadn’t tried to leave.”

He grinned dangerously, “And who says I don’t have a plan in the works?”

“I do,” She shrugged when he shot her a look of disbelief, “It turns out that watching someone and getting close to them means that you actually get close to that person. You’re not leaving, Loki.”

“You’re awfully sure.”

“You wouldn’t have patched me up if you were going to leave. It wouldn’t have mattered to you.”

“That’s circumstantial,” He snarled, starting to lose the grip on his emotions.

She took a step toward him, puffing up her chest as she got up in his face, “And then you avoided me like I was a danger to your sanity. I think you care, Loki. I think you realized it the same night I did.”

“I do not,” He punctuated each word, drawing in closer so that he was invading her space.

She looked up at him, a satisfied smirk on her lips, “Really? Then prove it. Walk away right now.”

He stared into her eyes; eyes that never seemed to dim or lose their fight even when they were trapped in another body. Loki knew he should turn away and never come back. That he should push past her and keep walking until he was far, far away.

But he couldn’t.

Annoyed with the victorious smile growing on her lips, he did the only thing he could think of. He smashed his own lips to hers, not caring about being gentle, and pulled her in tight so that their bodies couldn’t get any closer. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers curling into his hair and he moaned, his hands travelling down to the small of her back to line up their bodies. He was about to deepen the kiss when she pulled away. He didn’t let her get far.

“Feel better?” She asked, that infuriating smile on her lips.

“Not yet,” He growled, “You cut me short.”

She began to laugh, but the sound was cut off by his lips on hers.

#loki fanfic #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #body swap #body switch #marvel fanfiction #MCU fic #fan fiction #fanfic

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sp00kworm · 4 years

Note

I love Hawk Eyes! 😍 If you could, would you please do more Asa Emory? We need to raise the fandom! 🤩

A/N: I’m glad you liked the tiny fic anon! I enjoyed writing something a little bit weird for The Collector. Hopefully this little piece can add some more joy to your day? We shall see. Asa isn’t exactly the most ‘exciting’ person…Or is he? Readmore for ahem, saucy reasons.

–

Collected (Asa Emory (The Collector) / Female Reader)

–

How the fuck had you ended up here?

There was nothing and no one. The strange hotel was abandoned, run down and incredibly old. Somehow you have managed to avoid the particularly rotten looking floorboards and hadn’t fallen to your death through the floor. Your clothes felt dirty as you clutched at your arms, rubbing heat back into your arms as you crept over the flooring. You’d been out for a meal, meeting him in a restaurant before heading home. It wasn’t far, or so you had thought. Everything after leaving the Italian place was fuzzy. You’d been on three dates with Asa, knowing he was a Post-doc worker in the Entomology department. A man with a degree in Biology and a PhD in the bug side of it. He was well acquainted with most intelligent conversation, though he was quiet, eyes judging you before he spoke softly. The loudest noise you had heard out of him was when a waiter spilled wine over his cuffs. For some reason he’d brought a spare shirt. It was an odd habit, but everyone was different. Asa liked to be clean.

The black dress was filthy, mud clinging to the pleats of the bottom of the dress. The seer tights were just as filthy, laddered and ripped in places meaning you would never see use of them again. Your shoes however, those were gone. The little heels were hardly threatening, but they had exaggerated the lines of your legs and the curves of your body. It was all a dress up to impress the stoic Doctor. He’d smiled, eyes roving appreciatively before letting you sit down first. You wished you’d asked him to walk you home now. Asa was a large man, well defined but by no means had a model’s fake muscle body. The stomach muscle was heavy and his shoulders broad. It was a lifter’s build. Muscle for lifting and heaving. Still, he cut and imposing figure in a black jumper and deep green suit jacket.

You wished he were here.

A creak sounded where you put your foot as you continued your shuffling down the corridor, peering around the chilly place as the wind rattled through the wood panelled walls. Another creak sounded over head and you peered upwards to watch dust fall from the ceiling, light slitting as someone walked overhead.

“Excuse me?!” You shouted, resting a hand against the wall, “Could you help me?”

The boots paused over a crack in the floorboards, dust drifting from above as you looked upwards, shuffling closer to try and peer through the gap in the wood. As you came close, you heard a thump, the person above you crouching down to also look through the boards. You watched a knot in the wood rattle before it popped free, a black finger retreating out of the hole before an eye peered down. A pearlescent eye surrounded by black. It observed you for a moment, unblinking before the lids fluttered and the face snapped away, boots thumping down the corridor, dragging something behind them.

“What the fuck?” You shuddered and listened, watching the ceiling as the person walked down the corridor. A door slammed overhead before a muffled scream sounded. That was a person. The heavy object. You held your breath as a woman screamed.

“No! No, please! Not the tank. NO!” The door was slammed shut as she screamed again. The noises were muffled but the pipes on the wall screamed as hot water passed through them. Her screams died eventually. Scuttling along the corridor, you waited beneath the door slam and listened again. The lock clicked above, and the boots thumped overhead before the door shut behind them. They rotated, turning dust through the boards before thumping back the way they came, slowly, leisurely. He stopped over the hole and peered down. You were sure you were hidden. His knee clicked as he got back up and continued to stroll on.

You had to get out.

Letting go off your mouth you ran, trying not to get splinters into your feet as you skidded around the corner and tugged at the door handles. They merely rattled, locked and bolted. You continued, panting as you turned again. Looking back and then forwards you realised that the corridors were in a square. You were going to go in circles. You were trapped. Stairs. You needed to find stairs. Bolting, you ran to the next corner and peered around. There was an emergency staircase. Sighing, you pushed open the double-way door. Something snagged as you did, and it took everything in your power to rush backwards as a blade swung downwards. It missed you but slammed against the floor with a great clatter, the metal ringing sharply. You peered through the doorway, shaking, and looked around. Nails were placed everywhere, covering the floor through great long boards of wood. It was impossible to get through, and you didn’t have the time or tools to try and heave them away from where they were glued in place.

Trapped.

A sudden feeling of despair crossed you as you watched the blade on the floor, glitter in the yellow artificial light. You weren’t going to get out. It rang and rang in your head until a sharp ‘ping’ broke you from your revere.

The elevator.

The doors trundled open with some protest, the rust squeaking at the joints as someone waited to step out. You inhaled sharply and watched, feeling tears beginning to form in your eyes. A man adorned in black stepped through the doors, heavy boots thudding against the floor as he stood, breathed, and steadily looked around. The black mask hid his features, and the black jumper, cargos and black nitrile gloves hiding anything you could use to describe him. He turned slowly, left to right, and you froze when his eyes landed on you. The black colour glittered with green as his mouth opened and the knife span over his fingers. His boots ground into the wood as he turned to face you, breathing, bulky form facing you. A sigh. He let out a sigh before moving, striding towards you as you stared.

Your legs were frozen before you managed to bolt, thumping down the corridor. He followed at a brisk pace, his boots thumping as he went. The floor underneath you suddenly felt slippery as you ran, sprinting, thumping doors as you went, the boots behind you a reminder of the man with the knife hot on your heels. The tears dripped down your cheeks as you slammed into another door, finding it locked. Your stocking slipped under your feet, sending you to your knees as you slid over the floor. Splinters dug into your hands and knees as you cried out, sliding into the wooden boards.

The skin over your knees split open and you reached to press at the grazes and cuts before the male was upon you. His knife was pushed into it’s sheath as he grabbed you from the wood, heaving you upwards with ease. His breathing deepened as you were grappled into his arms, his gloved hands holding you tight against his chest as you cried and wiggled.

Everything went black again as something sharp pierced the side of your neck.

There was the sound of water dripping as your eyes opened for the second time that night. The ache in your bones was deep and tired. Lethargically, you reached up to your head and groaned, the cold in your bones feeling painful. With a deep breath, you realised that your clothes, as minimal as they were, were not covering your body anymore.

“What the fuck?” You cursed as you pushed yourself up, trying to reach for anything to cover yourself with. The bed was covered in fine silks, and you dragged the red sheet over yourself as you sat up. The room was lavish, and you had to wonder if it was still the hotel you had ran around for a while. It was pretty. Old but chic, with all the fancy old furniture from some sort of expensive movie scene. Putting your legs over the side of the bed you frowned, looking at your knees. They were covered in slave and bandages, making sure the cuts and scrapes would heal.

Someone had undressed you and tended your wounds.

Then you peered down.

Shining eyes gazed back at you from the side of the bed, the man’s mouth open. His tongue licked at his bottom lip as you recoiled. He was found out. He stood with a tilt of his head and crooned softly; black nitrile covered hands reaching for the sheets.

The pearlescent gaze was unsettling.

You knew those eyes, “…Asa?” You croaked as the male stood up, fingers grazing your ankles, watching goosebumps ripple over your skin, “Asa? Why?”

His insectoid eyes glittered again, shining green as he sat on the edge of the bed and admired the cloth over your form, gloves trailing upwards, the material catching on your skin with a squeak as he observed the colour and look.

Perfection.

He smiled underneath the black mask and leaned forwards, lips ghosting near your face.

“You…You didn’t have to do this. We could have been…normal.” Your hands snapped to his face, touching the latex of his mask before he flinched backwards, gloved hands peeling your fingers away. His gaze was unreadable as his fingers trailed downwards, sinking between your breasts before he cupped them in each of his hands, kneading the soft flesh with a lick of his lips, sighing as he felt their softness. He stopped with a flick to a nipple before continuing downwards. He pushed his fingers into the softness of your stomach before stopping at the bottom of your abdomen, fingers tapping as he contemplated his next actions.

You didn’t stop him. A sick part of your mind reveling in being worshipped.

The cold steel of a knife pressed to your arm, trailing upwards before detouring over your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple before he pushed it into the sheets and crooned, his fingers dipping lower, pressing over your mound. The surgical gloves pressed between your legs, a long pointer finger flicking upwards and over your clit.

The Collector purred.

Your hips pressed downwards as he sheathed a finger inside of you.

#the collector x reader #asa emory x reader #the collector #the collection #the collector 2009 #the collection 2012 #the collector x female reader #asa emory x female reader #slasher #slashers #slasher reader insert #ask #answered #request #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing

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hypmic-writings · 4 years

Note

Omg helloo I love your blog💕 I'm a HUGE Ichijiku fan, I love her a whole lot but I saw there's very few content about her,, If you have time could you maybe write a confession scenario or something?? Where the reader works at Chuuoku as a soldier or something,,,

This was so much fun to write so I really hope you enjoy anon~

The main building was large and the expansive hallways made the walk to Ichijiku’s office feel never-ending. The long windows lined the hallway, sunlight pouring into the walkway, but you were already feeling hot. As you tried to keep a slow pace, you focused on steadying your breathing. Every know and again, you looked down at the envelope in your hand and shifted it slightly so as to not wrinkle it between your fingers.

When you finally reached her door, you paused for a moment to collect yourself.

You had been working for Chuuoku for a while now and had slowly been moving up in the ranks. You weren’t nearly at the top yet, but you had a plan to get there and had been working hard to do so. Unfortunately, there was something…or rather someone…that had distracted you.

Ichijiku Kadenokoji.

You had first met her back when you were working on the development for the ‘true’ hypnosis mics. Due to your diligence and loyalty to Chuuoku, you were approached by Ichijiku herself and given the opportunity to join a small group of women on a special, incredibly secretive, assignment.

You remembered how she had deemed you ‘trust-worthy’ and ‘particularly bright’. You remembered the way she had confidently explained the purpose of what you would be creating. But most of all, you remembered the months spent after you had accepted the position.

Working late nights with her whenever everyone else had left for home. Reading each other’s research. Even spending your lunch hours eating and discussing together.

It pained you to have to admit, but you had fallen in love with the pink haired woman, and you had no idea of what her feelings were towards you. But you had never been one to shy away from your feelings, so you did what you deemed any rational person in love should do.

Confess.

That led you to this moment, standing outside the office door of your coworker, superior, and friend. You tapped your leg nervously as you paced around slightly, trying to gather your thoughts. Knowing that you would be nervous, and were apt to mess up your words, you had written a letter. But the more you thought about it, the less sure you became.

What if she didn’t feel the same way back? Would she be comfortable working with you if she didn’t return your feelings? What if she became angry? Was there a possibility you could be fired? Why were you only just thinking of these things now?

You shook the thoughts away from your head. You knew how you felt and knew that Ichijiku deserved to know them too, regardless of how she felt. Taking another breath, you stepped forward and knocked on her door.

“Enter,” her voice rang out from inside. You reached out and slowly pushed the door in, poking your head into the room.

Ichijiku was sitting at her desk, the window behind her making the sun beam down and shrouding her in a silhouette of light. You gulped as you took in the sight of her, intensely focused on her computer.

“Hi, Kadenokoji-san,” you said, softly from the door. Ichijiku looked up at the sound of your voice and her face relaxed, giving you a small smile.

“Y/L/N, this is a surprise. Please sit,” Ichijiku said, motioning for you to enter the room. You nodded slowly as you walked over to the couch that was opposite of her desk.

Ichijiku stood up and walked over to a side desk, opening a cabinet and grabbing a bottle of water for you. She tossed it to you casually and you caught it hastily, causing her to chuckle as she leaned up against the wall, crossing her arms.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, shooting you a smirk.

Your breath caught as it always did when she smirked at you, and you felt the heat rise to your face. This was normal for the two of you – Ichijiku would say something that would make you startled and would then comment on your flushed face.

“Well, I…um…actually, I came because…” you looked down at your feet, trying to find the right words. You had known this would happen though, so you looked down at the letter still clutched in your hand.

“Is everything alright?” Ichijiku asked, frowning ever so slightly. Her words carried worry and you hurried to answer her.

“Yes! I’m fine!” you exclaimed, holding up your hands. “I’m alright, really. I just…I’m not very good at explaining my feelings so…” you trailed off as you gripped the letter and stood up. You faced Ichijiku and took a deep breath, holding out the envelope to her with both of your hands. “Please accept this!”

“What -” A flash of surprise passed over Ichijikus face as she looked first at you, then down at the envelope with her name written neatly on it. Her expression changed to one of curiosity as she brought a finger to her chin but took the envelope from your hands.

“Just a moment,” she stated, walking back over to her desk and sitting down. She flipped open a sharp letter opener which let out a ‘shing’ as the metal flicked, causing you to sit back down hurriedly in your seat.

You watched intensely as the woman you had been in love with for months began to read your feelings for her. Her eyes scanned the page, quickly at first, but then slowing down. You hoped that your sentiment had come across in the way you intended and you clutched your firsts tightly, waiting for her to finish.

Once she did, she dropped the letter onto the desk, staring at it for a moment with her hands still held up. Then, her eyes flickered towards yours. You instinctually wanted to look away, but you willed yourself to hold her gaze. You were sure that your cheeks were red by now, but this was the choice you made and you had to stand by it.

There was a brief moment of silence before Ichijiku broke into a smile.

“I’m impressed,” she said. “Most subordinates would never be bold enough to give something like this to their superior. It’s far too risky and warrants the possibility of infraction, don’t you think?” Ichijiku leaned back into her chair, a coy smile playing at her lips as she crossed her arms once more.

You felt the color drain from your face as you heard her words.

“W-what? No, no, I didn’t…I didn’t mean to – ” you hurriedly stuttered, trying to explain yourself.

“This could be bad, you know. What would the others think if they found out about this? They would suspect I’d be giving you special treatment. We wouldn’t want that,” she continued, eyeing you up and down as she rested her chin on her hand.

Your heart rate was through the roof now, and you were shaking ever so slightly as you had to steady yourself on your chair.

“Please, you have to believe me, all I was trying to do was explain – ”

You were cut off once more by Ichijiku.

“Weren’t you listening?” she said, leaning forward now. “I said, ‘if´ they found out about this.” You watched as your superior pulled out her office key and unlocked one of the drawers. She placed the envelope neatly inside before closing it.

Your confusion only rose as she stood up and walked over to you, sitting herself down on the couch next to you. Before you had the chance to ask her what she was doing, you felt her bring her hands to your face and lean in, kissing you deeply.

Eyes widened with surprise, and you were unable to respond until Ichijiku pulled away. She gave you a smile which still looked too much like a smirk to you as she held your gaze once more.

“I like it when you do bold things like this,” she whispered, trailing a finger along your jawline. The confusion in your face must have been overwhelming because Ichijiku gave out a small chuckle before pulling away.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she stated, plainly. “I accept your feelings and return them,” she added, watching you with intensity as you took in her words.

You held your hand up to your heart as you realized that she had accepted your feelings. Feeling as though you had just experienced every emotion possible within the past few minutes, you let out a deep exhale and allowed yourself to smile. The feeling of happiness overwhelmed you and you let out a small laugh as you nodded happily.

“I…thank you,” you managed as you felt your vision get blurry, threatening to spill tears of happiness. Ichijiku leaned her head on the couch and reached over to brush her fingers over your cheek.

“You’re very welcome,” she purred, pulling herself closer to you, ensuring that her gaze was still ever so slightly higher than yours.

“But we should set up some ground rules first. We wouldn’t want to get in trouble with Otome, now would we?”

#ichijiku #Ichijiku Kadenokoji #hypmic #hypnosis mic #Ichijiku Kadenokoji x reader #ichijiku x reader #hypmic drabbles #drabbles #imagines #scenarios #hypmic imagines #hypmic scenarios

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sundropscribbles · 4 years

Photo

Gullible | Thirteen x Reader | 8.0K

Good morning, all!! 🌷 Who's ready for something new? This request took some time, I'll admit... largely due to me knowing exactly zero things about the seventeenth century. 😅 But we got there in the end!! Here you are, anon. ♡ I hope it was worth the wait!

“Well, then… we’re all going to need a change of dress, aren’t we?” you ask, gobsmacked. Your eyes are as wide as can be as you take in the spectacular sights before you. Needless to say, the… the castle that you’ve found yourself standing smack in the middle of is quite a lot to take in.

You and the gang had just landed a few years inside of seventeenth century England, and while you weren’t entirely sure whether The Doctor had had a specific mark in mind apart from the year, this was quite the first impression. Wherever and whatever this building actually was, it was an absolute spectacle, complete with quirky furniture, extravagant velvet drapes, and very regal, very expensive-looking artifacts strewn all about.

In the face of all of it, your wardrobe likely shouldn’t have been the first thing on your mind. No — your wardrobe should definitely not have been the first thing on your mind. No matter how true that might have been, though, it was safe to say that you felt just a hair out of place in your very casual jeans and tee-shirt — thus your suggestion of an outfit-change. There was no way you were the only one, was there?

“I think Y/N is right,” Graham pipes up, and you turn to cast a smile his way, grateful for his acknowledgement.

“Could be fun, anyways, couldn’t it?” Yaz says, and you nod your head happily as you meet her gaze.

“Right?” you reply, and then turn toward The Doctor, who appears to be cautiously surveying the area as she so often does upon finding herself someplace new. “I thought so too! Like a bit of dress up. What’dya say, Doctor?”

“Eh,” she says with a shrug, and you don’t make an effort to hide the disappointment on your face at that. “I reckon I’m alright,” she goes on to say, sparing a glance back at the four of you. She smiles in a quietly amused way as she meets your eyes, first, and then looks on to the rest of the group to take in their reactions.

“Oh, c’mon, love,” you tease. You don’t hesitate to pout a bit when her eyes find yours once more. You’ve had to put in a bit of work to get your way with her in the past — surely it wouldn’t be all that hard to persuade her today. “Have a bit of fun, won’t you? You never play dress up with us.”

The Doctor makes a face in response to that, something still a little amused but quite a bit offended, too. She’s about to respond (more than likely with something witty, as is her trademark), but Ryan cuts her off before she gets the chance.

“Maybe because she may as well be playing dress-up with her usual getup, eh?” he suggests with a smirk, and she abruptly turns a not-at-all-amused glare on him.

“Oi! Don’t go dissing the getup,” she retorts, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. “If anything, you lot dress way too casually to be traveling through time and space.”

“It’s not an insult, though — just a fact,” Yaz pipes up. “Your style is a whole lot quirkier than any of ours.”

There’s a smile on her face, and Graham’s (even despite the fact that everything else about his expression clearly says “I’m not about to get involved in this conversation”). You can see in The Doctor’s eyes that she wants to argue her point further, but you don’t let it get that far. You’re in a bleedin’ castle, for goodness sake, and you’re not about to let the opportunity to feel a bit like royalty pass you by.

“Well, no matter who’s coming with! I’m going to have a go at the wardrobe,” you declare, flashing first The Doctor and then the rest of the gang a happy smile as you turn on your heel to head back in the direction of the TARDIS. Yaz, Ryan, and Graham are hot on your heels, evidently very onboard with your plan, and the moment The Doctor realizes that she’s the only one not on the way back into the TARDIS, she groans out loud.

“Oh, fine,” she grumbles, finally pocketing her screwdriver and hurrying to catch up with the lot of you. You’re not entirely sure if she actually plans to take part in the dressing up bit, but you hope nonetheless; she’s never been one to allow herself to be left out, after all. And that aside… while you would never freely admit it, you would definitely have liked to see her in a manner of dress from this century. You happened to know for a fact the ladies’ attire consisted of tightly-laced dresses with an abundance of lace and flowing skirts, and blimey — wouldn’t that have been a sight.

The five of you make it into the wardrobe in just a few minutes’ time, and in a few seconds’ time the racks and racks of clothing are being rifled through like nobody’s business. You definitely hear the TARDIS spout a dissatisfied vworp or two at that, but you don’t pay it any mind; you’ve seen The Doctor in the midst of the occasional wardrobe change a few times before, and you’re certain that the chaos of this is nothing new for her.

Yaz and Ryan are deep in the throws of a discussion about proper fashion for the seventeenth century while Graham quietly looks through different sections of clothing, and you can hardly help but smile at the sight of it — of everyone looking so genuinely pleased. It’s something that the lot of you don’t do often enough, you think, the dressing up bit; there’ve been plenty of times that you’ve all gone back (or forward) to periods of time with a dress entirely different from your time’s, but you can count the times you’ve actually dressed for the occasion on one hand, and in your opinion, there’s something very off about that particular ratio.

You’re only just beginning to venture into your own little corner of the TARDIS’s wardrobe when a familiar hand finds yours, effectively stopping your progress before it begins.

“Is this dressed up enough for ya, love?” The Doctor asks. There’s a hint of sarcasm to her voice, but the swell of excitement that bubbles up in your chest is instantaneous nonetheless. All of your own plans to find an outfit go forgotten as you whirl around to face her, more than excited to see what sort of costume she’s drummed up. You wind up thoroughly surprised, in the end; it’s due in part to the fact that she had actually, properly dressed up, yes, but there’s also the fact that she’s dressed rather a lot like a pirate.

You weren’t sure what you should have expected.

“It’s… it’s dressed up, alright,” you admit, taking a step back in favor of having a good look at her. In her defense, she definitely doesn’t look bad. It’s just…

“It’s very appropriate, if I do say so myself,” she says with a proud smile, brushing what dust she can manage off of the old clothes.

All of your own shock aside, you mirror her smile, because blimey… it might not be what you had expected, but she just looks so chuffed with herself, and in the same way that she manages to wear her quirky everyday clothing like some leggy model wearing Gucci, she pulls the whole look off rather effortlessly.

“It might be a bit… Captain Hook, if I’m totally honest,” you say, reaching out to touch the shoulder of the outfit. It looks to consist of several layers top to bottom, and none of them look particularly soft, or comfortable — not apart from the silky-looking shirt underneath, anyways.

“Now that’s just inaccurate,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. The look on her face is something of a pout, and it only softens the smile on your face.

“Is it?” you ask in a manner equal parts rhetoric and a bit flirtatious, dragging your fingertips across her shoulder, toward her collarbone. You toy with the ruffled collar of her shirt for a moment, watching her expression closely as you do so. She drops her arms to her sides (without much thinking about it, it seems) and leans in a bit closer to you; she still looks mildly offended, but it’s definitely a bit softer than it had been moments before.

“Yes, it is! If I’m any character in that particular story, it’s obviously Peter himself,” she insists. Her smile has begun to break through her stony expression by now, and you cock your head to one side, faux curious as you admire it.

“Oh, obviously, hm?” you echo her, pure innocence as you touch the lapels of her hefty coat with your idle hand.

She seems to catch onto your ruse, then, because rather than arguing the point any further she spares a glance down at your hands on her, watching them with interest for a moment before meeting your gaze with narrowed eyes.

“You—!” she begins, pointing a very accusatory finger your way. She’s grinning regardless, though, and you grin right along with her as you watch the gleam in her eyes rekindle along with the full warmth of her smile. “You just wanted to get a rise out of me!”

She leans in closer to you, still, as she reaches her conclusion, and you shrug your shoulders as she shifts from waggling that finger in your face to tracing your jawline with it.

“It worked, didn’t it?” you ask. She rolls her eyes and bops the tip of your nose with that same fingertip.

“Always does, with you,” she admits, and leans in to give your lips a soft kiss.

You smile into it, promptly gripping the collar of her shirt with both hands and holding on tightly.

The kiss has only just begun to deepen when from a few feet away, there’s a chorus of faux-disgusted noises, coming from both Yaz and Ryan.

“Are you pair sure you wouldn’t rather just get a bloody room and let us do all the exploring?” Yaz asks, and you pull away from The Doctor with a snort.

“Right, like I’m going to let you lot gallivant about a literal castle without me,” you say, rolling your eyes at your friends. You don’t part from The Doctor before you’ve planted one more sugar-sweet kiss on her lips, however — how could you?

It doesn’t take you a very long to find a dress on the rack that you like, and before you know it you’re dressed to the nines. The outfit you’ve picked out is proper extravagant, complete with a full, heavy hoop skirt and a very real corset. The corset bit had been a bit of a challenge, because you had never had to lace a corset before, and as it had turned out, neither had The Doctor. What it had come down to had been you and Yaz and The Doctor fussing over the old thing for around 20 minutes while Graham and Ryan has sat off to the side, laughing themselves blue in the face.

“ThisIs the reason I’ve never made a real effort to figure out women’s fashion,” The Doctor had muttered, trying her best to keep your corset in place while Yaz had tugged at its lacing. “Well, this and the fact that I didn’t actually have any reason to think about it for a thousand-plus years.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t grow up in this century,” Yaz had grunted, tugging harder. “No bloody way I’d do this every day. I’d sooner die.”

“I can’t breathe,” you had wheezed, because at that moment the corset had gotten just a little bit too tight.

It had all come together in the end, after a whole lot of sweat and likely a few tears on your part, and you had a whole lot more fun with the accessorizing part of things. Apparently the people of the seventeenth century were big fans of jewelry and ornamentation, and being able to deck yourself out in lace and (very) gaudy jewelry had been more fun than you could have imagined.

Following the struggle with your dress Yaz had chosen to follow The Doctor’s lead and stick to the men’s typical dress. It left you the odd man out, but you didn’t mind very much — you had always been one to enjoy sticking out a bit, anyways.

Something like forty-five minutes later you were on your way out once again, and this time, stepping into the regal-looking building, you felt absolutely ecstatic. You allow yourself to have a bit of fun with the whole thing, twirling this way and that as you take a handful of steps outside of the TARDIS.

“That’s definitely more like it,” you say, much more to yourself than to anyone else. You hear your mates laugh from a few feet behind you regardless, though, and it only causes your smile to grow.

“You look a bit like a princess, Y/N,” Graham comments, and you grin, full on.

“I rather feel like one,” you say, lifting the skirt of your dress up just a bit and giving one final twirl about.

“I might be jealous if I didn’t know full well that you can’t breathe properly right now,” Yaz pipes up, and you snort, because it’s not entirely untrue.

“It’s pretty well worth it though, I reckon,” you say, and when you hear The Doctor give a thoughtful hum, you look her way. You find her eyeing you up, not the least bit subtle, and your cheeks grow warm at that.

“I have to agree,” she says, and you giggle bashfully as you backtrack a bit, happily returning to her side. She takes your hand in hers and presses a rather sweet kiss to your knuckles, and you couldn’t be more content.

“So,” Ryan chimes in, making to tuck his hands into his jumper’s pockets as he so often does, and promptly giving up when he remembers that the eccentric outfit he’s wearing does not, in fact, have proper pockets. “Where to?”

—————-> ————————->

You only get a bit of wandering about done, in the end. As it so often goes, things begin to go askew not far into your little escapade.

You’ve wandered a hallway or two, and spent a good little while marveling at the castle and all of its showy trinkets before there’s really any problems.

You had only just finished struggling to navigate a very large, very lavish spiral staircase (with very little help from your weighty dress) when you had come to what had looked like an exit, and you had all been excited, because the outside of the castle had looked just as dazzling as the inside. As it had happened, though, it’d been just as you’d made your way out into what looked quite a bit like a large, lovely courtyard that you’d run into trouble.

Well — it’s not trouble, not really. Not compared to some of the extraterrestrial things that you tended to run into, anyhow. What you come upon is a sizable group of what could very well be guards, and it’s not very long before they make a point of posing an obstacle.

“Oi, stop right there,” one of them commands, and pulls a sword from his belt. You blink, startled, and stay close to your friends, who all take a few stumbled steps backward.

“How come we didn’t think to pick up a couple of swords?” Ryan hisses under his breath, and you hear The Doctor scoff.

“Don’t be stupid, Ryan,” she says under her breath. “Swords are just big knives, and—“

“—only idiots carry knives,” you finish for her, and she flashes you a smile.

“Exactly right, Y/N,” she says, reaching for your hand and giving it a comforting squeeze before righting herself and slipping toward the front of the group in favor of addressing the guards. She raises a hand in greeting and her smile is as friendly as ever as she speaks up.

“Why hello, gentleman,” she greets them. She doesn’t flinch when every last one of them raises their swords — how, you don’t think you’ll ever understand. “My sincerest apologies — there’s really no need for all of that. My mates and I have gotten a bit turned around, you see. We were just making our way out.”

The explanation is as confident and smooth as ever, but the guards don’t seem to be buying it. The entire group is still on the offense, weapons poised and gazes suspicious as they eye the lot of you up.

A few of them begin to mutter amongst themselves, gesturing between The Doctor and Yaz, and you’d have been willing to bet that they were discussing your friends’ manner of dress. It wasn’t exactly typical, after all, for two women to be roaming around dressed like men.

“Very well, madam,” one of them says with clear disdain, and inwardly, you roll your eyes, because of course you’d been right. “But I’m much more concerned with how exactly you wound up inside of a royal residence — you must agree that it’s all quite suspicious.”

You share an irritated look with Yaz at that, because it all feels absurd, frankly.

“I knew it was a castle,” Ryan says under his breath as he gives you an excited nudge or two with one elbow. The Doctor, however; scoffs, clearly having caught onto the guard’s condescending attitude.

“I always forget how you lot treat women in this day and age,” she grumbles, and you smirk. “I just told you, didn’t I? We got turned around. We aren’t exactly from around these parts.”

She’s a bit more insistent than friendly, this time around, and you don’t blame her. If you and Yaz aren’t used to being treated like second class citizens because of your gender, then The Doctor certainly wouldn’t have been accustomed.

The look of the guard indicates that his next response won’t be anything different, and The Doctor seems to be onto that already, because the next thing she does is reach into her overcoat for her psychic paper.

“Look, I’ve got identification right here, yes? Official tour guide at your service, lads,” she begins.

You blink at that, because typically, The Doctor would certainly have picked a title more official than “tour guide”. That’s not the first thing you notice, however, because in the same moment that The Doctor pulls out her psychic paper, her sonic catches on the little wallet and takes a tumble out of her coat.

It hits the ground with a soft thud, and your eyes go wide at that, because it doesn’t just hit the ground and lay at her feet, no; it hits the ground and rolls forward, toward the group of armed guards. You open your mouth to warn her on instinct, but it doesn’t do a terrible lot of good. She hasn’t noticed yet that her screwdriver has gone rogue, and by the time you’re able to give her a subtle tap on the shoulder, it’s too late.

One of the guards takes notice of the small, silvery device that’s landed by his feet, and he momentarily lowers his sword in favor of of stooping to pick it up.

It takes The Doctor a good bit longer to notice, as she’s both attempting to figure out what you’d been trying to tell her and making her best effort to chat all of you out of the sticky situation you were currently in, but she catches on soon enough.

“Sir, take a look at this,” the man who had picked up the sonic says, gesturing with it to draw his superior’s attention. The head of the group of guards pauses mid-accusation to take a look, and, well — its all downhill from there.

“What in the lord’s name—“ he begins, but pauses to stare in awe when he accidentally hits the one of screwdriver’s two buttons and its tip begins to spin and glow its warm golden color.

“It fell from her doublet,” the lower-ranking guard explains, and each and every guard’s gaze snaps toward The Doctor, who still looks a tad startled.

“Well, I’m not surprised she’s keeping secrets,” he mumbles, eyes narrowed as he gives first The Doctor, and then the rest of you yet another judgmental once-over. The Doctor scoffs at that, tucking her psychic paper away once more and gesturing toward her sonic.

“First of all, no secrets — I’ve not been lying to you,” she points out. “Secondly — that’s my screwdriver and I’d like it back, please.”

Both the guard and his troop look spectacularly confused at that. He proceeds to flip the screwdriver over in his hands, hitting the button a time or two more as he does so.

“Screw... driver,” he mutters, and you hear The Doctor grumble at that.

“Blimey, that’s right — your average screwdriver doesn’t come about until the 1930s,” she grunts. She recovers soon enough, though, and it’s not long before she’s smiling at the guards once more. “Doesn’t matter, though. Sir, that device won’t be of any use nor value to you. It also doesn’t belong to you. Now, can I please have it back so that my friends and I can be on our way?”

“I don’t think so, Miss. You’re trespassing on these grounds,” the guard says, and promptly tucks The Doctor’s sonic into his coat. “You may well have stolen this artifact, for all we know.”

“I believe we would do well to check in with our Lord about all of this, sir,” a third guard suggests, gesturing toward the lot of you.

The Doctor makes a clearly frustrated noise in response to that, and she looks as though she’s going to argue, but the small troop of guards doesn’t give her the opportunity to do so.

“Quite right. You and your... friends are going to need to come with us,” their leader goes on to say. The Doctor rolls her eyes at that but turns her gaze on you all nonetheless, looking mildly apologetic.

“M’afraid we’ll have to do what they tell us for the time being, gang,” she says, and the group collectively sighs.

“S’always something, innit?” Graham says, and you snort softly.

“Oi, we’ll get to see more of the castle, at least,” you suggest, because it’s true, isn’t it? You find The Doctor smiling at you when you turn back to face her, and you offer her a sly wink along with your hand.

“She’s not wrong,” Ryan shrugs, and you’re about to cast another bit of wit to the wind when you’re interrupted by the palace security once again.

“Right then, let’s be on our way,” Guard #1 says, just as a few of the others come ‘round your small group to effectively box you in.

Most of them still have their swords drawn, so you don’t bother making a ruckus as you walk, holding The Doctor’s hand tightly in your own. You aren’t terribly nervous; these are only humans, after all, and given your broad spectrum of experience with making quick escapes from hostile situations, it shouldn’t be much trouble.

The only real challenge, now, would be retrieving The Doctor’s sonic.

The guards lead you back inside of the castle, and down a select few corridors before they pile you into a relatively small room, which you assume must been the seventeenth-century royal equivalent of an interrogation room. It might not have been furnished specifically for that purpose, though, because more than anything, it just looked like a very small, very old-fashioned study. It’s lowly lit, and there are a few old chairs scattered about, and they all have the same sort of antique-y look as the rest of the place.

“We’re supposed to have a meet with a king here?” Ryan asks, hushed. The majority of the guards have already piled out of the room (apart from one, left posted inside to keep watch of you), but it never hurt to keep your voices low, you supposed.

“You really think we’ll be meeting with a king?” Yaz asks, looking skeptical.

“I should hope not,” Graham weighs in, “I’d have picked a nicer outfit if I’d have thought we’d be facing royalty.”

“Not likely it’ll be an actual king. They did say Lord,” The Doctor says. She doesn’t bother to keep her voice down — not that she often does. “And castles actually started off as a militant sort of thing. Fire was such a common threat when it came to the homes of so many lords and other highborns that they started building their fortresses out of stone instead of wood.”

“So..?” Yaz urges her on, and The Doctor looks her way with a shrug.

“So whoever we’re meeting’s probably just going to be the lord who’s been given control of this area by the actual king,” she explains. You hum thoughtfully at that, smoothing your hands across the fabric of your dress as you think it over.

You’ve got to wonder where all of this is going; while you weren’t sure the guards would have let you go either way, it would surely be a challenge to persuade them now that they had a real leverage over you — over The Doctor.

While you could have left without the sonic (because it wasn’t likely that anyone from this century would have been able to operate it properly), you knew full well that she wouldn’t have wanted that. The Doctor had always talked so proudly about how she’d made her handiest tool herself; there was something sentimental about it, you knew, and it would likely have taken quite an event to convince her to leave without it.

There was still the psychic paper, you supposed — perhaps between a bit of “proof” and The Doctor’s smooth-talking, it wouldn’t be as difficult as you might have anticipated.

And, still — these were only humans. And humans that weren’t posing any real threat to you, at that.

“So what’s the plan then, Doc?” Graham asks, looking just as worried as ever regardless of the situation. The Doctor turns a smile on him (just like she always does), about to provide him with a handful of reassuring words when the door to your small, makeshift interrogation room bursts open and the ruckus returns.

The guards are back, and this time they’re led by a man much more regally dressed than anyone else in the room. The clothing he wears is much better fitted (although that could been because it had actually been fitted for him) and far more ornamental — decorated with gold, jewels, fur... the whole lot. He also wore something that looked vaguely like a crown, and carried an expensive-looking staff in one hand.

In his other hand he held The Doctor’s screwdriver, and upon entering the room, he pointed it in the direction, somewhat predictably, of Graham; the wrong person entirely.

“I presume you can tell me what the purpose of this trinket is?” he says — in a very high-and-mighty way for someone who isn’t even a proper king, you think.

“Mate, I’ve been doing this for quite some time now, and I couldn’t even begin to explain most of the things that I see in a day,” Graham says, and then gestures toward The Doctor, who’s already grinning. “You might want to ask the woman who made it to explain it to you.”

Lord-Whoever-He-Might-Be turns to look at The Doctor, then, obviously skeptical of the situation, and with pursed lips, he holds the sonic out toward her, instead.

“Very well,” he says, very clearly displeased at the fact that the person with the knowledge he wants just so happens to be female. You can hardly help but snort at that — a bit less than subtle, you’ll admit, but it’s not likely he’ll pay you much attention anyhow. “You created this, then?”

The Doctor only continues to smile at him, cheerful as ever in the face of judgement. “I did,” she says proudly, nodding toward the sonic. “Patent pending and all of that.”

The Lord squints at her, and you smile when you realize that it’s quite likely that he hasn’t any idea what The Doctor means. That’s how you know she’s lost her patience with a situation, you think — when she doesn’t even begin to bother censoring herself.

“Tell me then,” he begins, and turns his primary focus back on the screwdriver. “What is it for? Is it a weapon?”

The Doctor scoffs. “Quite the opposite,” she says, arms folded across her chest. You have to admit, you’re rather shocked that she hasn’t simply snatched it out of this pompous bloke’s hands, but then — there is an armed guard just a few feet away. Perhaps sudden movements wouldn’t have been the wisest execution of her goal. “It’s only a tool. Although — only isn’t really the best word to put in front of it. Terribly inaccurate, because it’s not onlya tool, it’s me handiest tool.”

The Lord gives her an odd look, but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he goes on to hit each of the sonic’s buttons a time or two, just the way that the guard had done earlier. You snicker under your breath at that — at the way that both of these men seem to have been completely and utterly captivated by what their personal knowledge could only allow them to see as a small, shiny object.

Typical,you think.

“Pray tell, madam, what cause could this… invention possibly be useful to?” he says, finally, clearly not about to budge without being given some sort of detail.

And The Doctor, well... she just isn’t having it.

“My cause;” she says, quite simply. “Which frankly, sir, isn’t really any of your business. Now, please give me back my sonic before I get cross with you.”

She holds out her hand for the screwdriver as she speaks, but Mr. Pompous holds his ground. He doesn’t actually say anything in response to her demand, but he doesn’t give the sonic back to The Doctor, either; in fact, he proceeds to fiddle with it, avoiding her gaze like some sort of petulant child.

She gives him another moment, bless her, but just as she’s gearing up to speak again (with every intention of giving him a good telling off, you’d have guessed) he decides to open his mouth once again.

“Not until you give me a proper explanation for all of this,” he says, sounding as high and mighty as ever, and that… that’s when you decide you’ve had enough — of being stuck in this dusty room, of the way that this quote-unquote Lord was talking to The Doctor — of the whole bloody thing. It had put a real damper on your day.

“Look, mate — you heard what she said. It’s a tool, her tool, and the rest is none of your business,” you say, as blunt and to the point as possible. “Now, hand it over, would you?”

His eyes are on you in the next instant, wide with surprise. At first, it seems as though he simply hadn’t expected you to speak; why would you have, after all? You were meant to be a lady — at least, that was what his outdated expectations had probably told him. You hold your ground and stare him down, expecting him to either concede or come back at you with another bit of snark.

Much to your surprise, he does neither of those things. There’s a fraction of a second during which he gives you a mildly offended look, but it doesn’t take long for that air of defensiveness to dissolve into something far more off-putting.

You watch as his eyes slide from the stony expression on your face down toward the tightly laced bodice of your dress, and in those few seconds, his perception of you becomes more than clear. A few too many seconds later he meets your eyes again, and the smile on his face is nothing short of predatory.

“Well you’re dressed properly, at least,” he says, and you couldn’t have stifled your scowl if you’d tried. The rest of the gang seem to be on the same page; Graham and Ryan shuffle uncomfortably, Yaz visibly prickles, and The Doctor... you can feel The Doctor’s energy shift in an instant.

Where there had been mild annoyance before, there was now bitter anger. It rolled off of her in waves, so much so that there was no way everyone else in the room didn’t feel it, too.

“And why do I get the feeling that that won’t make any difference in whether or not you hear me?” you say with a roll of your eyes. You make a point of reaching for The Doctor’s hand once more with the intention of calming her, even if it’s just marginally. After all, no matter how... unfortunate this bloke’s attitude was, making a scene was still not likely to be the best course of action.

“Oh, I could be persuaded to listen, among other things,” Lord-Whomever says, waggling his eyebrows. “So long as you were the one doing the persuading.”

You very nearly scoff at that; you’ve never been one to keep your displeasure with unwanted advances at bay, after all. However, his choice of words gives you an idea. You’re not entirely certain it’ll work, but you think it’s probably worth a shot.

When you were interested, you knew how to flirt. You’d have counted yourself very good at it, in fact. The Doctor wouldn’t have liked the idea of it, you knew, but if your flirting with some entitled, unimportant twat meant getting her sonic back and getting out of here? It would be well worth it.

In just a coupe of seconds’ time you school your expression, settling for neutral with a smile as you allowed your gaze to settle upon the castle’s Lord. Before you allow yourself to settle into your course of action you make sure to give The Doctor’s hand a tight squeeze, doing your damndest to convey with everything in you that she shouldn’t at all think into what was about to happen.

“Oh?” you begin, dropping The Doctor’s hand following one final brush of your thumb across her knuckles. You take a step forward, effectively putting yourself in the space of the man who’s been so determined to turn himself into a human road block for you and your friends. He looks to be visibly startled at this, which isn’t the biggest surprise, if you’re honest; after all, he doesn’t exactly seem like the type of man who would be accustomed to women being forward with him. “Well, how fortunate for you that I happen to know a thing or two about the persuasion of men.”

You hear a choked noise from behind you that you think comes from Graham or Ryan, and a snort that almost certainly comes from Yaz. There’s an unusual lack of a reaction from The Doctor, and you try to assume the best of that, because maybe it means that she’s understood what you were trying to convey to her. Either way, you don’t think too much of it, because there’s no way your plan

will go over properly if you’re distracted.

“I don’t find that hard to believe in the least, madame,” the Lord says, and takes a step toward you. He reaches a hand out to fiddle with one of the strands of your hair that’s fallen loose from your messy updo. It’s a real battle not to shrink away from the touch; it’s forward, too forward, and to say that it unsettles you would have been an understatement. Even the guards avert their gazes and shuffle uncomfortably, and you have to wonder if they’re accustomed to putting up with this type of behavior from their leader.

Quite fortunately for you, his forwardness works to your advantage. It allows you to take another half a step forward, and to reach out for the lapels of his coat without it looking like anything too suspicious. He’s so focused on your face and your apparent advances that he hardly notices when you quietly slip your hand into the very pocket that you had seen him tuck The Doctor’s screwdriver into. Once you have a firm grip on the sonic, you pull it out of his pocket and take a sizable step back in one swift motion. There’s a smug smile on your face as you return to The Doctor’s side and hold the sonic out to her proudly.

“You see? Barely had to say a word,” you say. The group of men you had just very thoroughly swindled all stand bolt upright, staring with wide eyes as The Doctor takes her sonic back and pockets it.

Lord-Whomever makes a thoroughly offended noise, looking a whole lot like a spoiled child as he points an accusatory finger your way.

“Witch!” he exclaims, positively red in the face. You grin.

“Nah mate, you’re just gullible,” Ryan chimes in, and you snort.

The man looks like he’s about to say something more, but before he gets the chance The Doctor cuts in.

“And before you go ordering your little troop to wrangle us up — don’t,” she says. There’s a definite bite in her voice that seems to catch the lot of them off guard, and it definitely works to your advantage. “We’ve done nothing wrong, here, and you can’t have us arrested for reclaiming our own property.”

The Lord fish-mouths at that, and with a smile equal parts proud and smug, you move to take The Doctor’s hand once more.

“You heard her,” Yaz says confidently. “We demand to be released.“

“And we’ll be on our way and out of your hair in no time,” Graham pipes up, and you smile happily. On an average day there isn’t anything in the world you’d trade your little family for, and today is no exception.

Mr. Lordly seems to want to argue, to start, but before he can even get his bearings his head guard is piping up to tell him that your lot is right — that they can’t lawfully hold you prisoner when you haven’t done anything wrong.

He simmers down fairly quickly following that, and with a pointed glare in your direction, he nods his head.

“Very well. Let’s be on our way, men,” he says, already turning toward the door indignantly. “I trust one of you will see these trespassers out.”

“No need, lads,” The Doctor says, sounding much less biting, now, and a lot more plain irritated. “We’re plenty capable of seeing ourselves out.”

Each and every person in the small troop of guards hesitates, just for a second, but in the end it seems they decide that arguing isn’t actually worth the trouble. You’re thankful for that, obviously, because you couldn’t very well leave the TARDIS lying about the castle, could you? It was the last thing you needed a big-headed lord and his guards stumbling upon.

Your friends seem to breathe a collective sigh of relief the moment you’re all left alone in the small room; Yaz smiles and shakes her head, Graham relaxes, and Ryan snorts, sidestepping to clap a hand over your shoulder.

“Well done, Y/N,” he says with a laugh. You shrug your shoulders, laughing along with him as you take a moment to relax as well.

“Further proof that men will never be hard to fool,” Yaz pipes up, and reaches your way for a quick high-five. Graham and Ryan each make a mildly offended noise at that, but they don’t argue, and you can’t help but have a laugh at that.

You expect The Doctor to chime in as well, perhaps to give her two cents about her experience as a man; but she doesn’t. In fact, she’s unusually quiet, even though there’s a small smile on her face. You make a point of smiling her way, anyhow, and she responds by giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You all linger about for a moment or two more, chatting amongst yourselves and waiting patiently for your militant friends to get themselves a safe distance away; there needn’t be any conflict on the short trek back to the TARDIS, after all, and it’s a good opportunity to talk over the remainder of the day’s plan, anyways.

It’s not long before you’re on the move once again, though, on your way back into the castle’s common area at The Doctor’s suggestion.

“Best get a shift on, then, gang,” she says. She brushes her thumb across your knuckles as she says it, effectively drawing your attention to her, and you smile. “We’ll park the TARDIS outside of the castle and go forward from there.”

Everyone nods their agreement, and with that, they turn and head for the door. You’re close behind, and The Doctor is, too, to start, but just as you’re about to set foot outside the room, things take an unexpected turn.

The Doctor still has ahold of your hand, and she uses that to her advantage, stopping a good few feet from the door and pulling you back toward her sharply.

A surprised noise escapes you as the door swings shut behind Graham, and your eyes are wide as you’re whirled around to face The Doctor once more. You mean to ask her what’s going on, what’s wrong, but you don’t actually have the opportunity to get a word out before you’re being crowded against the wall behind you.

Before you can really even process it, The Doctor has a firm grip on your waist and she’s pressing you tight against the old wooden door, and the last thing you see before her lips meet yours is her eyes, alight with a fiery determination.

The kiss is passionate, to say the least, a positively hungry thing, and the sound that spills out of you is (very) likely a bit obscene. Her hands move from your waist to your hips — that is, until you reach out to cradle her jaw. It’s then that she takes it upon herself to snatch your hands up in hers. Her fingers slot together with your own as she presses her body to yours and pins your arms up above your head, and it drags a whimper out of you. Not so suddenly, you find yourself feeling very, very warm, and you want nothing more than to beg her to get you the hell out of your bloody dress. Between your wardrobe and hers, it’s one too many layers; especially when you’re so close, and she’s kissing you like this, and all you really want to be feeling is her skin.

It’s about the time you start to writhe against her that she lets up (not by your request — not by a long shot). Her grip on your hands loosens, and she trails her fingertips first along your forearms, just for a moment before she allows her arms to drop in favor of touching your cheeks gently as she draws herself back from the kiss and away from you.

Well — not away from you entirely; not really. Just enough to allow for a bit of breathing space, more like.

Your tongue is in knots even as you open up your eyes and get a start catching your breath. You’re fairly certain you’ll be red in the face for the remainder of the day, but luckily for you, The Doctor doesn’t seem to expect you to speak. She resettles her hands upon your waist and pulls you in close to her, where she allows you to rest as your heartbeat slows back to normal and the thrill of the moment wears off.

It takes you a moment, definitely, but you do come back to your senses. As soon as you feel like you can breathe properly again you lean back a bit, enough that you can catch The Doctor’s gaze, and sigh softly.

“I can’t say I know what that was for, exactly,” you begin, reaching to fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “But I definitely appreciated it.”

You’re smiling the entire time you speak, obviously — making light of the unexpected situation, and that. However, The Doctor still looks just a little bit tense, even as she stands there smiling back at you. You don’t entirely understand why that is, not really — at least, not until she goes on to explain herself in the next moment.

“We’ll just put it like this,” she says, meeting your gaze with a certain intensity in her eyes. “You’re clever — annoyinglyclever. And it astounds me, it really does.” You raise an eyebrow at that, but don’t say anything in response; the look on her face tells you that the explanation is on its way, anyhow, and you don’t want to go derailing it. “As clever as you are, though... please don’t go around flirting with seventeenth century Lords often, yeah?”

It takes you a split second of confusion to realize that all of this — the sulking, the stoic attitude, the downright steamy kiss behind closed doors — has been because The Doctor has been jealous. Because of some strategic, but wildly phony flirting that you had plucked out of your back pocket in a pinch.

“You were—“ you begin.

“Don’t you dare,” she warns you. There’s not much fight to it, though, and the irritation has all but melted straight out of her expression already, so you don’t hesitate.

“Doctor,” you go on, just a touch sing-song. “You were jealous.”

She groans aloud at your relentless teasing, refusing to meet your eyes only briefly before fixing you with what could only be described as a pout.

“I don’t think I can fairlybe blamed!” she exclaims. A smile plays at the corners of her lips as she speaks, and it makes you feel warm inside, the fact that she’d been so thoroughly fraught over all of this. “Not with all of the touching and the eye-batting, and — and! Ugh!”

You giggle, absolutely delighted as you watch your companion have her little fit. You allow it, and you’re even quiet for the majority of her minor tantrum, but the moment she’s finished, you take her hands in your own and make a point of pressing little kisses to the backs of each of her palms.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” you say, and grin when she begins to pout once more. “You of all people should know what my flirting — my genuine flirting — looks like.”

She makes a point of grumbling under her breath, still, but the flush on her cheeks gives her away, and you smile proudly at that.

“Still,” she argues, finally smiling back at you as she lets go of one of your hands in favor of turning toward the door. “Promise me no more flirting.”

She pauses for your response before opening the door, seemingly unwilling to take no for an answer. You roll your eyes and sigh in response to her persistence, but you nod your head nonetheless.

“No more flirting,” you promise. “Not with anyone but you, anyways.”

The smile that overtakes her expression at that is one strangely reminiscent of the sun, and you giggle happily as she turns and proceeds to open up the door. In doing so, she also reveals your three remaining friends — all of whom are standing just outside the door with crossed arms and expressions equal parts amused and impatient.

“Can we get on, then?” Yaz teases the pair of you, a smile playing on her lips all the while.

“Of course we can,” The Doctor says, cheerful as ever once more, and you snort.

With that, the lot of you are off once more, and you make a mental note to yourself to exact a bit of revenge on The Doctor later, when you’ve finished your adventuring for the day — after all, once you’ve returned to the TARDIS, you’ll have the entire evening.

You only hope that she’s prepared.

#lfv fic #doctor who #dw #dw fanfic #doctor who imagines #imagines #thirteenth doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #the doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x y/n #reader insert fics #Jodie Whittaker #fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction #requests #writing prompts #story prompts #lfv requests

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needsmoresleepwrites · 5 years

Text

To Anon for MP100 SS: Reigen swears he has a boyfriend but Ekubo doesn't believe him and Serizawa is Serizawa

The Teenager Who Cried BOYFRIEND

Read on Ao3

Reigen was slightly upset and ok, perhaps it was his fault he was in such a predicament but really, would he exaggerate (because he never lied...just told it how he saw it) about something as serious as a boyfriend? No. Except nobody believed him

He shivered, bringing his shoulders closer to his body and burying his nose into his soft pink scarf (a gift from his BOYFRIEND). Apparently, the color had reminded him of Reigen and Reigen being the sentimental boyfriend that he was, wore it religiously once the weather got colder. Yes he got some talk from it ('What is that THING' was Ekubo's horrified response when he'd first worn it) but, Reigen colored a little from the cold and from remembering his boyfriend's pleased look when he sent him a picture that day, he didn't care

It really does suit you

Idiot! It's just a scarf, are you still coming?

Yes

Now that he was on school break he could start holiday shopping. Yes he'd left it last minute but he already had some ideas in mind and not many people to gift. Only Serizawa, Ekubo (He grunted. He should get him some socks...in the wrong size!), and -

"Reigen!" but it was too late. He nearly collapsed under the height and weight of Ekubo

"Hey, lover boy, where are you headed off to so sneakily?" The guy always (and he repeats always) sniffed him out. But only when Reigen needed him to be miles away. If he were ever to need the taller man to bail him out then it's like nobody even knew who he was. Like my "imaginary" boyfriend

His voice was muffled under his scarf, "Christmas shopping, I'm meeting Mob this weekend."

Suddenly there was a shadow over him and he was grateful to see the giant umbrella his friend seemed to carry around religiously

"Oh, are you spending Christmas with him?" was Serizawa's kind reply. He seemed to be the only one who "believed" Reigen but it seemed more so that he was trying to keep peace

"Yes, and you guys don't need to come with me," he made sure he was looking at Ekubo when he said this because honestly, he didn't mind Serizawa's company and his umbrella, but Ekubo could be troublesome in many ways, "Don't you have someone else to bother? Girls and boys to make cry this holiday?"

It was a well-known fact that Ekubo was a raging bisexual and by raging he meant that he'd never turn down an adoring fan from his fanclub, which he was the president of (he seemed to love that people loved him). Some people tried to get into his pants a couple times and yes Ekubo had a few flings here and there but he seemed more amused with just messing with people and waving at his adoring crowd than actual relationships. Aside from Serizawa and himself it seemed.

"Come now Rei-chan, friends need to help each other out. Plus, knowing you, you'd probably give this Mob fellow something plain and boring. I'm here to spice up the holidays," and that was what Reigen didn't want. But he didn't try sending his friends off again. Not after Serizawa nodded in assent and not after Ekubo laughed aloud and added, "Besides, I need to know how far you're going to take this whole boyfriend business."

Reigen sighed at that

Serizawa stage whispered Ekubo's name right before hitting him with the umbrella

---

The first time Reigen met Mob was at a Spirits and Such Seminar about a year ago. Reigen had attended as a self-proclaimed psychic, as whenever anyone in school needed a little extra hand, his services were requested. Unfortunately (or fortunately), none of his assignments ever involved actual spirits. It was usually something about lost animals, stressed-out students, and creepy photographs. Which he usually solved in a manner of a few minutes, sometimes a few hours. Rarely more than that. It was a good way to earn money and it combined many of his unique skills

He'd found out about the seminar while browsing online and was particularly impressed with the whole proclamation about a "real esper" attending. He'd never heard of people with actual powers before. Everyone he'd met along the way had been phonies and, well, he was intrigued

The seminar was being run by someone named Tome Kurata, who was well known in the community for being obsessed with aliens and telepathy. She'd also run a couple other seminars (that had all flopped) but this one had been legit. When he arrived they'd been given some candy, which he'd then re-handed out, and once it started, boy had he been impressed

Impressed by the handsome guest speaker in more ways than one

Not only was he an ACTUAL esper, but he was a powerful one. To settle everyone's minds he'd done a few tricks like made some objects in the room float and then made bubbles with water, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere. They'd then gotten down to business, talking about the dos and don'ts of spirits, and how to avoid catching the attention of one. Many things he already knew but also some new tidbits he hadn't known. Like the part where Mob had pointed at the woman next to him and said she had a playful spirit atop her head, feeding into her dreams. She'd then confessed that yes, she had been having some strange dreams and the spirit had been exorcised

It had been brief but their eyes had met and he'd seen interest in those black orbs. Possibly because he was the youngest in attendance.

It has to be that, because, unlike his friends, Reigen was average. He didn't work out so he had no muscles to brag about. He was also rather short, something he never thought about until he started high school and found himself dwarfed by quite a few people. Ekubo and Serizawa being two of these people. And he didn't have any distinguishing features.

Mob on the other hand. He was tall, like all the people Reigen seemed to be doomed to meet. And there wasn't anything eye-catching about his physical features aside from his height - he wore a black suit and there was a black jacket on his seat, black hair, black eyes, and pale skin - but there was something about the way he spoke, how kind and patient his voice sounded (like he truly cared about them) and how his eyes wouldn't stray from whoever he was talking to

Which is why Reigen decided he needed to talk with the man

It took a while since everyone wanted to talk to him but finally, he pulled through. Unfortunately, it was because Kurata was shooing everyone away

"Wait, Mob?" the man turned at his name being called but Kurata stood in front Reigen, her voice stern and a scowl on her face, "Mob is tired and the seminar is over kid. Everyone needs to leave now, he'll be consulting for a few days this week, you can come by then. There are flyers being handed out when you leave."

"Ah, but, we're colleagues!" he blurted out and then began to sweat. It wasn't technically a lie. They both worked with spirits afterall

She eyes him suspiciously, "You an esper?"

"Tome-chan?" Mob called out, walking over to her. If Reigen felt dwarfed, he wasn't sure how Kurata felt as she was nearly a head shorter than him. It was slightly amusing

"Mob! He's saying he's an esper!" her eyes seemed to almost sparkle in his direction and Reigen wondered if she liked the guy

Mob turned to him, his eyes almost boring into him and Reigen felt his face heat up. Could espers tell each other apart? He wasn't sure but there was something playful in Mob's gaze, amused, and yup, Reigen got his answer

Reigen cleared his throat, "I'm Reigen Arataka, I'm a senior from Salt Senior High School-"

"Hey! You said you were a colleague!" Kurata cut him off

"-and I also work with spirits." He looked pointedly at Kurata, "And that's why I called myself a colleague."

That made Kurata pout and she promptly walked away, continuing on her duties and leaving him to Mob. Seemed the rumors about that were true

Mob's mouth lifted into a smile, "It's nice to meet you Reigen, don't mind Tome-chan. Did you need help with something?"

"Well, not of the usual sort. You see, I've been helping around the school and town, anyone who says they're haunted or you know, have ghost problems. I was hoping to learn more and since you're clearly more experienced on the matter..." oh god, his eyes, that attention, "uhm, and well, Kurata mentioned you travel a lot, I plan to keep myself local, help out here in Seasoning City. You'd be surprised considering its size but there's a lot of people here who need help!"

Ok he was rambling now and his heart was beating too quickly and he felt sweat beading his brow and upper lip and if he didn't calm down he'd have clammy hands and breath, breathe!

He took a deep breath and nearly rushed through the rest, "Could we maybe keep in contact? Exchange numbers? I'd only text you when I absolutely need help of course!!"

Smooth. That was smooth, right? Ekubo would be proud

"You want Mob's number?" Kurata asked behind him and Reigen nearly jumped out of his skin, his face more bright now he was sure, "Aren't you a little too young? You do know that Mob is already 30, right?"

He turned towards her quickly, "It's for work purposes!"

But just like Ekubo, she gave him a disbelieving look. And no he didn't know Kurata like that (just read a couple things about her) but if it turned out she and Ekubo were related in some way, he wouldn't be surprised

He looked over to Mob, "B-but that's fine if you'd rather not. I know it's weird to have a stranger ask for your number and you probably get this a lot and don't listen to her I didn't mean-"

"That's fine," Mob's quiet voice made Reigen pause, "I don't mind. Here."

"He could also be a serial esper killer Mob," Kurata warned, "Remember what happened last time?"

Last time? Now Reigen was intrigued but Mob only hummed before passing him a business card with a number written on the back, "Don't worry about the time. I can't promise to reply immediately but I'll try to help out however I can."

And okay, maybe Reigen did want Mob's number for that. Or at least eventually, maybe. And maybe Reigen also melted a little when Mob smiled at him and when he placed his warm palm on his shoulder and maybe the rest of his day was a blur because of that

---

Reigen pauses as he feels Serizawa tug on his jacket and he sees Ekubo a couple shops down, waving at him, pointing towards, he looks over, Victoria Secret? Why would he...

"He thinks your boyfriend would like it," is Serizawa's answer and Reigen can't believe that smile on Serizawa's face. Is this betrayal?

Reigen ignores Ekubo's calling and continues walking around the mall. And maybe he's a little glad that they lose Ekubo for awhile but then he finds the two of them again

"Where did you go?" Serizawa asks quietly

"Oh just getting a friend a present, WAIT, Reigen why not get something from here? I hear the back has a few interesting things!"

They stop by at this strange little alcove with the name Spencers on top and shrugs. They go inside, Serizawa giving Ekubo a pointed look and Reigen raising a brow at them both. It seems they carry similar content to Hot Topic. He goes to the back and quickly leaves the store, a laughing Ekubo trailing after him and Serizawa the traitor!

---

Reigen isn't sure what to do. It's been a few hours since they arrived at the mall and he can't seem to pick out what to get Mob. Ekubo has tried to get him to buy some indecent things (I bet your 'boyfriend' would like this and For when you're not around, don't want him getting bored, right?) but it's obvious he means all of them to be for Reigen (as they're for his size). Reigen has gotten close to buying Mob a tie (then remembered he hardly used ties), a coat (then remembered Mob recently bought himself a coat), and a scarf (but he left the store, blushing when Serizawa mentioned a matching set would be cute). And yeah, Reigen kind of liked the idea of matching

They'd passed a couple jewelry places (Why not get him a collar so everyone knows he's taken) but he'd never seen Mob wear anything flashy and some of the prices were way over budget.

But they did pass by a movie theatre and he did see a movie he wanted to watch so perhaps they could come back later that week. Serizawa thinks he wants them to go in and starts looking at the times as well, noting that everything has started already

It's only when they're heading back and he sees a sports shop that he remembers Mob likes to work out. Has told him stories about his middle school days and the Bodybuilding Club and he decides to check it out. It confuses his friends and he can't help but smirk a little. He doesn't work out so obviously this stuff isn't for him

He ends up buying a hairband and a work out sweater with a wide neck because he is a healthy teenaged boy and Mob has a beautiful neck

"Well, I think that's enough for today," Reigen says, a bit of a yawn in his voice, "I don't think I'll find anything else here."

"Were you planning on going elsewhere later?" Serizawa asks, a bag of his own in his hand, his umbrella in the other

"Maybe, though I still don't know what else to get. Do you think these are enough?"

"BORING," Ekubo calls out as he's trailing behind them, "He probably could have brought that stuff himself."

"You should also give him chocolates," Serizawa recommends, "Does he like them?"

Reigen nods, mentally adding that to his list. That's when his phone goes off and he checks his messages

"Is that him?" Ekubo asks. Reigen nods, quickly reading over the message and pocketing his phone, "Joining us?"

"No, just sent me the details of when he's coming by. His plane comes in on Christmas Eve. I told him I'd pick him up."

Serizawa coos and Ekubo raises a brow, "When's he coming in?"

"He's on an early flight, 7."

Ekubo chuckles, "Isn't that rare! You waking up early. WELL, Seri and I are going to bolt now, we have some planning to do."

He nearly pushes Serizawa away and the bigger man waves at Reigen. Planning?

---

It's early on Christmas Eve when Reigen leaves his home to head to the airport and pick up Mob (though really Mob doesn't need picking up, he's a grown man but Reigen didn't want to wait to see him later today). He's still yawning when he leaves and maybe he dozes a bit when he catches a taxi. He's decided to dress casual because they're probably going to head back home and just sleep until later today. Mob did mention he hadn't gotten enough sleep and he was sure to be jet-lagged for awhile. Today wasn't as cold so he wore a cozy hoodie, his scarf, and some jogging pants he had lying around.

He makes it to the pick-up terminal about half an hour early and he finds a place to sit. As it nears time for Mob to come in Reigen begins to nod off, semi-aware of his surroundings and semi-thinking about later tonight. He'd tidied up the house and made some chocolate cookies (thank you internet) and bagged up Mob's gift. He'd also taken out the fluffy blanket Mob liked and made space in his closet. All that was left was for Mob to come home

And really, he could have sworn he'd only closed his eyes for a second, maybe five minutes, but next thing he knows he's being woken up by Mob. That instantly wakes him up and he bolts upright, "Mob! A-uhm, sorry! I said I'd be picking you up and here I am falling asleep and-and...Welcome Home."

Mob is smiling down at him, amusement in his eyes and leans down until they're only centimeters apart, "I'm home."

---

OMAKE p1

"I can't believe he fell asleep. Probably wouldn't even notice if I mobbed him," Ekubo said, a hand to his forehead, "But he's wearing that so he probably didn't bring anything on him."

"We should go wake him up, Mob should be here any time now and it's not safe to be sleeping out here," Serizawa fussed, his trusty umbrella on hand.

"We can't go up to him!" Ekubo nearly cried out when Serizawa started to walk over, "What part of secret mission didn't you get?! He's not supposed to know we're here!"

"I could walk by him and make a noise or something, he won't know," Ekubo looked at him pointedly

"With that umbrela there? Yeah, he won't recognize you."

"Good, I'll be-"

"I was being sarcastic!" Ekubo groaned. That's when they both noticed someone walk up to Reigen

"I told you it wasn't safe!" "Is that him?!"

It was a taller man dressed in a black hoodie, a turtleneck peaking out the top, black jeans, and black beanie, a carry on bag with wheels trailing a few inches behind him. They couldn't really see his face from where they were hiding but they could tell Reigen hadn't noticed yet. Not until the man nudged his shoulder. Suddenly Reigen stood (probably apologizing) and -

Ekubo whistled, "Guess he does have a boyfriend and a hot one."

Serizawa raised a brow but also looked on in wonderment as the couple kissed

"Good thing I got that gift in the right size."

---

OMAKE p2

Mob curled up closer to Reigen and smiled at how sensitive the younger man was. Since Mob traveled all over the place he had gotten used to colder weather so something like today was nothing. And even with the heater on, a breeze still entered the house (he'd need to find out where, didn't need Reigen to get a chill).

"You know," he placed a kiss to Reigen's ear, "you have great friends."

"What?" Reigen answered, confused, "You haven't even met them."

Mob only smiled, placing a kiss to Reigen's neck and sighing happily.

---

OMAKE p3

"Soooo," Ekubo pried once they got back to school, "How was it?"

Reigen lifted a brow, "How was what?"

"Don't play sly! Did you guys use my Christmas gift? He liked it didn't he? He seems the type."

Reigen colored at the little Christmas bag he'd hid in his closet and glowered at his friend, embarrassed, "NO!"

That wiped the smirk off Ekubo's face, "Prude."

The bell rang and the rest of his class started to trickle in, the ones inside settled down. He noticed Serizawa was running late and he began to worry. That guy was never late. He felt a kick to his chair and turned back to see Ekubo grinning at him, waving him to come closer. He clearly had that playful look to him and Reigen felt weary but came closer anyways

"Since you didn't use the gift I so generously sent, why not try out kabeshiri?" Ekubo whispered low enough where only Reigen would hear but loud enough that his voice would carry past the noise of everyone. A sort of stage whisper

"Kabeshiri? What's that?" Reigen mimicked him, a bad feeling stirring in his belly

Ekubo whispered the rest (quietly THANK GOD) and Reigen colored, his earlier worry of Serizawa gone

"I bet he'd be into it and don't forget to use the gift."

The teacher called attention and wow, Reigen had to cool down. Now. But the image of Mob's attention on him, pounding into him while wearing that in such a vulgar and primitive way...would Mob like it? They'd never talked about doing anything different but if Mob wanted to - No wait! Yes, it turned him on but also he liked to see Mob, liked to kiss him, liked to hold him. No, there were too many cons

He was distracted the whole day and Ekubo kept sending him knowing looks

-----

A/N:

Thanks for reading!

Can also leave kudos, comments, bookmark via ao3~

p.s. i can’t find the horizontal line break thing, is that no longer an option for tumblr posts? oh and this was written for Anon H (as i shall call them) for the mp100 secret santa like a year or two ago?? i don’t even know. i noticed it wasn’t on my tumblr and since it’s the one i had the most fun writing (and plan to “continue”, i thought i’d share it)

#I write ff #reimob #mobrei #mp100 #fanfiction #reimob drabbles #mp100 secret santa 2017 #ekuseri #high school au #age swap au #older mob #amwriting #gifts and exchanges #ekubo is the devil but i love him

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avirams · 3 years

Note

Hi hi! Do you have any favorite edit blogs you follow or enjoy seeing their edits? Thanks for answering /g

:O favourite edit blogs.. honestly im mutuals with so many cool people its a bit hard to decide fmdmdj. but heres a shoutout to @ideal2d, @dazed-editz, @electro-kins, @thefinalturnabout, @maskdemasquedits, @sweetheartedits, @persocms, @cuibic, @primrose-rondo !! all of them are SUPER awesome, not only in editing but also just as people :} seeing them on my dash is great and i love interacting with them too :DD thank you all for being a part of the editing community!! i hope you dont mind me considering us friends,,

#❝...the world is full of unsolved mysteries... ❞ ┋ ask #❝...just what will we come across this time... ❞ ┋ nonrq #❝...one gaze that left a particularly deep impression on me... ❞ ┋ anon

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justreadingfics · 6 years

Text

Looking For a Heartbeat (Part 1/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. Now, it’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings for this chapter: angst, mention to painful break-ups, nightmares.

A/N: I’m ignoring Infinity War and other canon stuff here. I promised myself I would only start posting a series again when I had at least great part of the chapters ready. This isn’t what’s happening, I warn you. The idea came from this anon request which has been waiting on my ask box since forever: Do you still do requests? I really want a story where the reader has F.R.I.D.A.Y. wake her up whenever Bucky has nightmares so she can calm him down and Steve finds out. I’m sorry, dear, for taking so long. I hope you like the outcome. Two Ghosts by Harry Styles is an inspiration for the entire series. @lesqui Ily.

Please, let me know what you think.

Part1/ Part 2

Masterlist

“But… How long will you be out?” You fidget with your fingers on the table, before grabbing the cup of coffee and taking it to your lips to try and conceal your uneasiness.

“ I'm leaving in a few hours and it'll be two or three days, tops.” Steve answers with a shrug, “Easy peazy,” He smiles, chewing the impressive amount of pancakes he has just filled his mouth with.

“If it´s so easy, why do you have to go?” You place your cup of coffee on the table again, with a little more force than necessary and his brows furrow at the act, which you deliberately ignore to continue questioning the man in front of you, “You can send anyone of us, instead. I can go, why don’t you send me?”

“Well, the fact I consider it easy, doesn´t mean it is to other people.” There´s not a trace of arrogance in his tone, only honesty and even a little bit of humility only Steve Rogers can pull off, which makes you sigh in defeat. “Besides, you’ve been here for what? One week after over two years away and already wanna leave again? What’s this really about, Y/n?” He points and shakes his fork at you, frowning questioningly.

“What, I can’t be worried about my workaholic and overloaded Captain, who deserves a break every once in a while?” You lie, grabbing some pancake from his plate with your own fork, hoping stealing his food would divert his focus.

He looks nothing but unconvinced, eyeing you suspiciously, “Not when I´m talking to the most workaholic person alive, and-" before he could inquiry you further, you hear the door, catching his attention as well as he looks past your shoulder. You hold your breath upon the voice you hear.

“Hey, Punk, you're still here-” You don’t dare to turn around, but can picture the discomfort taking over his expression on finding you there, too.

At the silence that follows his entrance, you glance at Steve, returning his apologetic look with a sad smile, before the chair scratches against the floor with you standing up, “Stay safe, Steve.” You dismiss taking your dishes to the sink in favor of leaving the scene as soon as you can.

Bucky steps aside for you to pass through the opened door, answering your mumbled good morning with a slight nod, none of you daring to exchange glances. The door swings behind you as you force a steady pace to get to you have no idea where.

It’s been like this ever since your return. Awkward, uncomfortable, silent, painful…You thought two years would make it better, would erase everything which had devastated your life together, or the life you thought you had together and you could, at least, have some cordial or even a friendly relationship. But it hasn’t been that way, there is still the same, if not more, sorrow, anger, resentment. It is all there, growing with each day, refusing to let go, consuming you, building a thick barrier between you both, leading your mind to replay over and over that dreadful day two years ago.

But all of this isn’t enough to make you not worry about him, apparently. Because as soon as Steve mentioned he had a solo mission coming up, your thoughts ran to your ex-boyfriend. Who would be there for him when the nightmares arrived?

You knew they were back, you saw this often on the rapid glances you dared to steal in this last week, glimpsing the dark circles deepening his still devastatingly gorgeous blue eyes. They had stopped, when you were the one to spend the nights with him, calming him down, running a soothing hand over his trembling chest, whispering sweet nothings on his ear. They would go away, until, towards the end, they stopped entirely.

The end…

Your feet end up driving you to your new room. On a new floor. You know your old one is vacant and wonder whose idea was it to relocate you on another room instead of the one on his floor. Some smart person, for sure. The thought leads you to your current concern, with Steve away the floor would be totally empty and he would be alone with his night terrors.

Letting yourself fall face down on your bed, you stay like that for a while, before rolling over and placing a hand over your forehead.

You know what do.

It was a terrible, terrible idea, which could easily lead to catastrophic results. Mostly for your heart. But what choice did you have, really?

“Friday,” you listen to the prompt response from the A.I, “Would you please wake me up if- I mean, when you notice any kind of distress in Bucky´s sleep?”

You frown, finding very odd the unusual silence from the always efficient AI before the tentative answer, “Are you sure, Miss Y/L/N? Considering your history with Sergeant Barnes...”

An inevitable curse leaves your lips aimed at Tony Stark for creating such a clever and sensitive program, if you even could call her that, “I am,” you lie, “Just don´t tell anyone, please.”

~~~~

“Miss-”

“I got it, thank you, Friday.” You´re still awake, rolling between your sheets, when the first warning of the night arrives.

Barefoot and in your pajama set, you don´t think twice before taking the elevator up to his floor. The overwhelming anxiety manifesting in your sweaty cold hands and tight jaw. An ice cold wave rushes through your chest to your limbs. It´s been so long since you´ve done this.

You find his door locked. “Friday?” you call, and you hear the unlocking sound before the doorknob gives in your push.

The whole apartment is pitch-dark as you cross the small living room towards his bedroom. When you get there, the sight before you wrenches a gasp from your lungs. His sheets are a complete mess, the borders already out of the mattress as he tosses and turns. Small whimpers slip out of his lips and, as you cautiously walk over to him, you see the desperation twisting his expression.

For a split of a moment, your mind drives you back to the very first days. Ironically enough, this was how you started getting closer in what felt like ages ago, with you not being able to stay quiet and sleep peacefully with the sounds of deep, deep mind torments behind your room.

A particularly loud cry blurs your memories, pulling you back to the similar present. You weren´t exactly sure of what you would do when you asked Friday to wake you up, but now, it´s second nature when you hurriedly drive yourself closer, but when you climb on his bed, you do it slowly and carefully, conscious of what a sudden awaken could cause, including to your physical health.

You lay down facing his side, getting a better look of his scrunched up expression and clenched jaw. His chest heaves as his hands grip on the sheets and his legs squirm. Aware of your own unstable breathing, it´s like you´re a spectator of your own actions when you do what you always did. You place a timid hand over his chest and the familiar warmth rushes through your veins, his skin is as hot as you remember and it takes all you have in you to not envelope him in your whole body, to feel every bit of him.

The single touch is enough to make the movements of his limbs and chest calmer, but his anguish is still evident on the incoherent mumbles and droplets of sweat falling from his forehead, which encourages you further, despite your own fretfulness.

“Hey,” you whisper, leading your mouth closer to his ear, hoping it wouldn’t be enough to wake him up, but to call his attention out of whatever terror is taking over his mind, “It’s ok. You’re ok. You’re safe,” You don’t notice but your hand gently draws circles around his chest, “It’s not real, it’s just a dream. I’m here, I…” this used to be the part when you said you loved him, “I… I missed you.” You gulp, not being able to help your own tears as you continue speaking softly to him, noticing the rushed heartbeats that only he was ever able to arouse in your chest. You can´t decide at this moment whether you to be scared or comforted by this well-known feeling.

You smile when his expression becomes softer, a little bit at least. His breathing is fully back to normal and his muscles are finally relaxed. You weren’t sure you would be able to help after so long, after everything… But despite it all, you’re glad you did. If there´s one thing you´re sure of it’s that he doesn´t deserve that kind of suffering, that kind of pain, no matter what he may think about the matter.

Before you would leave to your room, you allow yourself some time to take him in, which it has been impossible in the last week, since you ran from his presence and avoided looking, really looking at him, being certain he´s been acting the same when it comes to you.

He has cut his hair, which is odd to your eyes, you longed for his long locks, even if you’ve never admitted it to yourself through this last year. Under the touch of your hand, you feel he’s even more bulked, and you wondered how many hours he’s been spending in the gym. There’s a light scruff growing on his sharped jaw, defying you not to lay a kiss upon it…you breathe him, his scent, closing your eyes…still the same shampoo. Your gaze lay upon his completely peaceful sleeping face again. You really missed him, there’s no way to deny it anymore, at least not to yourself.

Deciding to leave before he would wake up and catch you in the unexplainable position, you remove your hand from his chest, and draw out one last glance at him before quietly turning to leave his bed, sitting up and letting your legs fall to the edge.

“Y/N.”

You freeze. Your eyes shut and a grimace twists your face. Ignoring the best you could your racing heartbeats and the tremble of your hands gripping the sheets, you open your eyes and tilt your head to look behind you.

He’s still peacefully sleeping, unmoved, except for his metal hand touching where you’ve been touching on his chest. You let a relieved sigh out of you.

“Y/N…Y/N.”

Nothing but faint whispers, but they’re efficient to make your heart pounding all over again. Is he dreaming of you? Is he sensing your presence? You want to move and leave him to his privacy, before it would be too late, but your body doesn’t seem to respond your commands as you keep staring at his sleeping form. Until you hear it.

“I’m sorry, baby…I’m sorry.”

The simple and unconscious words are enough for you to choke on a sob and storm out of his bedroom, allowing yourself to cry in your bed for the rest of your own restless night.

~~~~

Part 2

Permanent Tag List: didn’t work

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky barnes series #angst series #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes

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bohemianimagines · 6 years

Text

Flying Rage - Peter Quill x Reader

Summary: You and the rest of the guardians are on a mission to arrest a notorious criminal on Xandar; however this villain may have underestimated you by a long shot

Warnings: Some swearing and some violence

This was requested by anon who asked for these prompts to be used

#5 “I’m not here to make friends” #59 “I could punch you right now” #53 “Do you think I’m scared of a woman?” #29 “How is my wife more badass than me?”

This is the longest thing I’ve written on this blog yet! Hope it’s okay!

Requests are open!

You ducked out of the way of Rocket, who had just been thrown through at an impressive speed directly at you by the twelve foot slug-like man who had been antagonising the people of Xander for a few months now. A few of the richer Xandarians had offered the Guardians of the Galaxy a fat stack of units, in return for their valiant trip back to Xander to conquer this asshole and to do what the Nova Corps should be doing apparently.

The being you were currently battling oozed a slime-like substance; you thought that it could be some sort of mucus or something along the lines of that, as it didn’t seem to harm any other of the guardians’ skin (or bark in Groot’s case).

“Watch it boogeyman, if I even have one thrown-Rocket inflicted injury I’ll shove him straight up your ass as payback!”

Rocket had managed to steady himself midair, as he defensively replied

“Hey! I’m not the one who should be involved in any ass related threats.”

The mucoid man let out a deep rumble of a chuckle at your comment. His leering eyes met with yours as he obnoxiously asked

“C’mon little one, you gotta play nice; you never know, if you play your cards right we could even be friends.”

You couldn’t hold back the pure sound of disgust that came from the back of your throat.

“Well, asshole, I’m beyond pleased to let you know that I’m not here to make friends, in fact, we’re here to drag you to Nova Corp.”

After a particularly pregnant pause Drax steps forward and sends you a glance of approval as he adds onto your message.

“...Indeed Y/N is correct, we are here to take you to Nova Corp… Or kill you, whatever comes first.”

Peter steps quickly forward and looks dismayed at Drax.

“No! We’re not killing him you idiot! We won’t get the rest of the units for this job if we do!”

The annoyance plastered over Peter’s face was hilarious, you would’ve laughed out loud if you weren’t too grossed out and pissed off.

“Could we just focus on a mission properly for once?”

Gamora had came to stand by your side; she seemed to possess the same amount of determination as yourself to hurt this dick as much as possible before you handed him in.

Peter’s previous annoyed face briskly turned appalled at Gamora’s comment.

Peter spoke up as be began to gesture his hands towards you.

“Um excuse me? We were perfectly focused until Ms ‘I-always-have-to-make-a-smart-comment’ started shit talking!”

You glared daggers into him as you replied with a straight face.

“I could punch you right now. Or any time for that matter.”

“See?? This is exactly what I’m talkin’ abou-”

Peter didn’t get to finish his remark before a tentacle shot out of the mucus-man’s stomach, wrapped around Peter’s middle and snatched him into the air.

You and the rest of the guardians stood to attention as you all brandished your weapons, ready for immediate use, preferably all into this guy’s head, all at once.

“Jabba, I swear, if you don’t put him down right now, I’ll slice that slimy dick of a tentacle off and slit your stomach open for good measure!”

The oozing slime cascading off the man’s skin added to the predatory gaze his lime green eyes sent to you; he released a bark of a laugh in response to you.

“Do you think I’m scared of a woman?”

The second the utterance came from the man’s mouth all the guardians shared pointed looks of judgement with each other; all along the line of;

Oh shit, he shouldn’t have said that.

You immediately tapped the device on the side of your head, which connected to the rocket pack, located on your back. You shot up into the air and promptly released your sword from it’s hold, slicing through the slime-ball’s tentacle, which was until that moment crushing Pete within its grasp. The oozing thing let out a piercing screech at the pain of it’s limb being sliced clean off. Peter began to plummet to the ground, still being enveloped within the tentacles grasp; fortunately you managed to fly past Pete’s falling body and catch him before he could break several bones from the impact.

After you took action, Gamora and Drax took advantage of the creature’s injured state and knocked him upside the head; making sure Groot was safely out the way as his body tumbled to the ground, unconscious, and now ready to be taken to the Nova Corp.

***

The Nova Corp had been agitated yet graciously thankful that you and the rest of the Guardians had taken this scumbag out and handed him straight into their hands; he was guaranteed to not be released for a long time.

After you had dropped the ooze-ball off and collected you much-deserved units from the bourgeois Xandarians, everyone was onboard the Milano, celebrating by having lots of drinks and planning on what to waste your units on next.

Pete was sat at the control board, most likely waiting for you to join him; you did exactly that as you took your place next to him in the co-pilot's chair.

Both your eyes met; Peter let out a uncharacteristically gentle smile that adorably made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

He broke the eye contact and took a long swig of his beer; he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt as he turned around in his chair to face you again. He let out a sigh as he addressed you.

“I meant to thank you earlier… For y’know, saving my ass from having that guy’s tentacles going god-knows-where.”

You let out a huff of a laugh as you leaned forward on your hands, so your face was closer to Pete’s.

“But I’ve been asking myself the same damn question ever since you saved me.”

You leaned back in your chair, putting your hands comfortably behind your head in amusement.

“Oh yeah? Which question is this?”

The smile reached his eyes again.

“How is my wife more badass than me?”

You couldn’t help the grin that appeared on your face at that moment; you gracefully pulled yourself up from the chair to plant a tender kiss on your husband's cheek. You began to walk towards the table Rocket and Groot were sat at to get yourself another drink, but before you left Pete to himself, you turned around to answer the pressing question.

“I’ve always been more bad-ass than you.”

#peter quill #star-lord #star lord #peter quill x reader #star-lord x reader #star lord x reader #fan fiction #fanfic #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #request #drabble #prompts #anon

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lettersofsky · 7 years

Note

I know you said you take fic request. I would love to see a sephiroth/femcloud/genesis one

I don’t personally enjoy OT3+ but I’m gonna try my best. Then again, I’m a firm believer of ‘Practice makes good but diversity makes slightly better,’ so yay! ^_^ There obviously isn’t a prompt or anything attached to this so that’ll also be good, I’m gonna do it and I’m gonna do it as best as I can.

This is going to be bigger than I originally thought so I’m going to post what I’ve got so far as a sort of teaser. It’ll take me a while to finish the entirety of it as I’m trying out a new way of writing for this thing, so hopefully this will interest somebody besides the lovely anon that asked for it and didn’t know what the result was going to be.

It starts, he thinks, when Genesis and Angeal joined Shinra’s soldier program.

He hadn’t met them until some time later, not until they were Second Class SOLDIERs but he was still aware of their presence within the company.

Angeal Hewley was the perfect example of what the program was looking for; tall and a muscular build that would other become more defined with age and training, he carried with him an unwieldy blade that Sephiroth would be very effective even if Angeal could swing it with any level of efficiency.

Genesis Rhapsodos was a completely different case; he was shorter, leaner, all around smaller than the other SOLDIER recruits, even with the muscles he came with he could barely handle the blades they were asked to train with. He was also prettier than the others too; his bright red hair an obvious difference from the dark hair Hewley and the other cadets sported. Sephiroth thought that the other would have been sent away by Shinra and labelled as a failure as a recruit.

He most likely would have, if not for his talent with Materia. Rhapsodos had a way of weaving spells together to create a symphony of magic that could level a building, something that no one else in SOLDIER could claim.

That skill alone was enough to keep him in the program even if he was looked down upon by the other cadets and covered in a motley of colours whenever Sephiroth caught sight of him. The negative attention didn’t seem to be affecting him though, the other seemed to barely notice the hissed insults and the new bruises rising on his skin.

He couldn’t help but be impressed by Rhapsodos’ attitude at the time. He was only a year older than he was at sixteen and he was already so determined to make something of himself.

Both were accepted into SOLDIER with little fanfare; Shinra had recently declared war with Wutai and they were losing more men than the executives had originally planned, so there were many spots that needed to be filled. Not to mention Professor Hollander seemed particularly invested in their advancement in SOLDIER.

Sephiroth was deployed to Wutai soon after and wasn’t able to observe their progress through the ranks of SOLDIER.

When he returned from his tour of duty, it was to stories about how the two were quickly rising through the ranks. Hewley was the perfect image Shinra wanted to portray about the SOLDIER program; large, strong and clean, a kind young man that got alone with anyone. Rhapsodos, though barely able to handle a sword and only fought with Materia, was abrasive and eccentric but was somehow clawing his way up through the ranks with a single-minded determination that the other First Classes couldn’t help but respect.

Sephiroth’s first interaction with them was when he was ordered to report to the Science Department by Professor Hojo. They had been in the waiting room for some reason, most likely for a physical of some kind and they had both changed since the last time he had seen them.

They’d both gained height and muscle during his deployment, the SOLDIER injections adding strength to their frames. Hewley had gained more in the way of muscle while Rhapsodos’ frame remained slim and wiry, he could see why the other Firsts were impressed with Rhapsodos’ progress. He probably would have remained a Third if not for how determined he was to make something of himself.

Rhapsodos had been the first to notice him, saluting a respectful greeting and alerting Hewley to his presence. The larger teen turned in his direction, giving him a kind smile and a small wave of his own. He acknowledge their greetings but was called into the exam room by Hojo before they could do anything else, they were gone from the room when he emerged hours later.

He truly interacts with them for the first time a few weeks later while eating in the Shinra cafeteria, they had surprised him when they dropped into the seats across from him. Rhapsodos had appeared first, immediately drawing Sephiroth’s attention from his own food when he placed a tray on the table and sat down with a polite greeting.

Hewley followed soon after, offering a kinder greeting as he sat down next to Rhapsodos and began to pick at the cafeteria food. Sephiroth blinked at them for a moment before returning to his own tray of food.

They were silent for several moments until he heard a throat clear from across from him, drawing his attention to the two across from him. Rhapsodos seemed to be the one who had cleared his throat as he was the one focusing on him with a steady gaze. When Rhapsodos noticed he had his attention, he offered his hand and formally introduced himself, “Genesis Rhapsodos, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Sephiroth stared at the offered hand for a moment before taking it in his own hand, noticing that the hand was missing the callouses that the SOLDIER’s hand held. His voice was stiff as he replied to Rhapsodos’ introduction. “Sephiroth.”

Rhapsodos seemed pleased by his answer, nodding with a satisfied smile and taking his hand back. Hewley decided to add his own introduction, though without a handshake, “Angeal Hewley,” the other’s name was accompanied by a kind smile and small wave.

Sephiroth gave an acknowledging nod and tried to focus on his food, listening to the soft conversation between the other two at the table. Rhapsodos wouldn’t allow him to remain silent though and kept trying to draw him into the conversation, despite the short, concise answers he gave them.

Rhapsodos seemed to be treating each word out of him like a victory, which confused Sephiroth at first but Hewley seemed to treat it as a common occurance so he put it out of his mind.

Overall, the experience was a pleasant one and he was not opposed to it when Rhapsodos and Hewley continued to sit with him at lunch.

~Page Break Line~

Months passed and they slowly became friends; Sephiroth had never really had friends before so the experience was a new one for him and he hadn’t been quite sure that they were friends. But Genesis and Angeal, as they had insisted he call them, insisted that they were so he chose to believe them.

Rumours quickly circulated Shinra about their friendship and Sephiroth had many of his fellow Firsts approach him with words of concern; they warned him that Genesis was merely using him to further his own career within Shinra. Sephiroth hadn’t been sure what to believe; Genesis had been sincere in each of their interactions but he hadn’t been able to dismiss the thought from his mind.

Genesis was undoubtedly an ambitious person.

He had decided that the best course of action to take would be to question Genesis about his worries directly, he doubted that Genesis would lie to him if he asked. He had broached the topic a lunch a few days later, when it just the two of them at the table.

Angeal had apparently been held back for one reason or another, so Sephiroth decided to use the opportunity to question Genesis about his concerns.Genesis’ response had been extended silence, during which he started to fear that the other was going to burn the building down around the, before dissolving into peals of uproarious laughter and drawing the attention of everyone else in the cafeteria.

Sephiroth was willing to admit that the sound was pleasing to his ears.

Genesis calmed his laughter eventually, taking deep breaths to fill his oxygen-starved lungs. “My friend the fates are cruel,” he quoted, voice coloured with laughter. “I have no interest in riding coattails, I’ll get to the top by my own merits, just wait and see.”

Sephiroth found himself reassured by Genesis’ words, the teen had gotten himself to Second Class without anyone’s help and he had no doubts that his friend would make First soon enough. He told that to anyone who came to him with concerns about Genesis from then on, his friend didn’t need his help to get ahead and there was no bases for their concerns.

Genesis was given the chance to prove himself during their deployment to Wutai.

Genesis spent most of the deployment hanging back and shooting magic at any enemies that slipped past their defences. He took down several insurgents on his own; they had thought the Materia-user an easy target as he lacked a weapon of substance, needless to say, none had lived to tell of their mistake.

Genesis had left smouldering corpses at each battlefield.

His shining moment came while they were being bombarded by enemy insurgents and monsters alike and the majority of their SOLDIERs were injured and unable to fight. They had been slowly losing ground against the enemy, being forced closer and closer to their base.

Sephiroth had been starting to fear that they would be forced to either abandon the area or continue to fight in hopes the others would manage to escape. Then Genesis had done something.

The world around them erupted in bright colour and his ears deafened with the force of whatever Materia Genesis had used against the enemy. He endured the sensations as the magic ran its course, leaving a peculiar taste on his tongue as it dispersed. The air sparked with heat and energy long after the enemy had been eliminated.

He had remained tense for a few moments, hearing Angeal rush to Genesis’ side behind him but unable to follow until he was sure that they were safe. He relaxed when none approached them, it seemed that whatever magic Genesis had cast had swept through the entirely of the enemy’s ranks and any that had survived the onslaught of magic had fled the area.

He turned to his friends once he was sure they were safe and found himself momentarily frozen by the look on Genesis’ face.

Pride, disbelief and pure euphoria painted Genesis’ features, his eyes were lit up with the magic that still sparked around him. Red and blue sparks danced over pale skin, moving along his friend’s skin until it dispersed into the earthen ground beneath them.

Angeal had one of his hand’s on Genesis’ shoulder and seemed to be trying to pull the other out of his thoughts, seemingly unaware of the sparks that ran from Genesis’ form up into his own arm. Sephiroth’s ears were still recovering from the deafening swirl of magic but he could hear the soft words Angeal was saying to their friend.

Genesis blinked slowly, listing forward slightly as he came back to himself. He slowly turned his head between them and the rest of their surroundings, his brow furrowing as he spoke in a soft, confused voice. “Is everyone ok?”

Sephiroth flicked his gaze to the few SOLDIERs that had been holding the line with them, they were staring at Genesis with a stunned awe. He dropped down in front of Genesis, noticing how the other’s pupils were blown wide, and answered him. “Everyone’s as well as they can be Genesis,” he reaching out to grasp Genesis’ shoulder to straighten him a bit, ignoring the red and blue that sparked uncomfortably against his skin. “You’ve done well.”

Genesis nodded distractedly and tried to stand up but both Sephiroth and Angeal kept their grips on him and wouldn’t allow him to move. Genesis glared at them but they both ignored him, instead focusing on each other and working together to stand Genesis up safely.

“I, I’m ok,” Genesis breathed in irritation, he forced his head up to look Sephiroth in the eye as he spoke, “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are,” Angeal snorted, securing his arm firmly around their friend as Sephiroth shifted to Genesis’ other side. “Let’s get you to Medical,” Angeal jerked his head in the direction of the tent and Sephiroth nodded his agreement to the other over Genesis’ head.

Sephiroth called out to the other SOLDIERs to hold the line until they were relieved, hearing their affirmatives as they started to direct Genesis to Medical.

“I don’t need Medical.” Genesis spat, trying to pull away from their hold, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine Genesis,” Angeal stated, his voice as firm as his hold on their friend. “Besides, Cloud would murder me if you die before making First.”

Sephiroth found himself confused by Angeal’s words, he’d never heard them talk about anyone named Cloud before.

“Yeah,” Genesis breathed, his tone soft and affection. “She’d tear you apart.” He lost whatever fight he had in his body then, letting them take him to Medical.

Sephiroth resolved to ask his friends about ‘Cloud’ later.

~Page Break Line~

He didn’t get the chance to ask who Cloud was until they returned from Wutai, too concerned with keeping them alive while taking as much ground as they could under the president’s orders. Genesis used the Materia twice more before their deployment finished, leaving him less exhausted with each cast.

They were exhausted by the time they were relieved by the next group of SOLDIERs four months after the start of their deployment.

There was a rush of activity when they returned to Shinra as they were debriefed by the Director. By the time Sephiroth was called in for his debrief there was already talk of promotions in the air.

His opportunity to ask Genesis about Cloud arose a few days after their return to Shinra. They were planning to spend the night watching movies together in his apartment, just him and Genesis as Angeal wasn’t going to be there.

Their friend had originally been planning on joining them as he usually did but they had encouraged him to accept the offer to go out with some of the other Seconds. He had resisted them at first but ultimately had decided to join the Seconds, they could always arrange to spend time together at another time.

Genesis would be arriving at his apartment soon so Sephiroth was arranging some of the things they might need for his arrival, mainly the delivery menus they had insisted he keep in his apartment and the hand-knitted blanket he kept on his couch. Genesis had given him two such blankets for his apartment, stating that he needed them more than he himself did.

His apartment was their usual place for something like this, as Genesis and Angeal shared an apartment with two other Seconds and they didn’t seem to have the best relationship with them. Genesis had had altercations with them in the past, but nothing too negative had come from it; a few bruises were nothing new to the older teen.

His apartment had slowly been gaining more touches from his friends as time went on, the menus and blankets only some of the things that made the space looked lived in. Parts of his bookshelf had been taken over by the two older teens, some of Genesis’ favourite works were mixed in with his texts and there was almost an entire shelf of movies on his shelf.

There was knocking on his door a few moments later and he opened the door to allow Genesis into his apartment. The other was dressed in comfortable, everyday clothes; a pair of comfortable pants and a brightly coloured button-up, he himself was dressed in soft lounge pants and a long-sleeve shirt.

“Hello Sephiroth,” Genesis greeted with a smile, tone warm and teasing. “Are you ready for our date night?”

Sephiroth was stunned for a few moments, staring at his friend as he processed the other’s words. He didn’t know how to respond to them, nor the warmth that suddenly flared in his chest at hearing them.

Genesis’ face fell at his silence, words rushed in a concerned, apologetic tone, “I’m sorry, I meant it as a joke. I didn’t mean to upset you, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth schooled his expression, ignoring the stab of disappointment he felt at Genesis’ apology, “It’s ok,” he knew that Genesis was teasing, there was no need to get his hopes up, “I was simply shocked.”

Genesis nodded at him, relaxing from his tense posture as he walked into the apartment the previous atmosphere disappearing. He watched his friend move through the apartment to the shelf holding their dvds and run his finger along the spines, deciding what to put on.

Sephiroth didn’t have much of a preference so what they watched was usually decided by Angeal and Genesis, there were a few films of each genre on his shelf so they had a variety to choose from. He made his way over to the couch, sitting in one of the corners and watching Genesis pick out a film and put it on.

Genesis dropped down next to him on the couch once the dvd was starting up, sprawling across the length of it as he usually did. They made it halfway through the movie in comfortable quiet, with Genesis complaining about the actors and the story, before Sephiroth brought up what he wanted to ask his friend.

“Genesis?” He started, immediately catching his friend’s attention. “Who’s Cloud?”

Genesis blinked up at him from his sprawled position, face confused for a moment before realization washed over him. “You’ve heard us talk about her, have you?” Sephiroth nodded his answer and Genesis continued, “It’s a bit of a story, I’m afraid.”

Sephiroth’s gaze narrowed on his friend and he remained silent, waiting for the older teen to start talking.

Genesis rolled his eyes at him in an exasperated manner, “if you insist,” he said in an amused voice. “She’s a friend from home, we grew up together and she pushed me to follow my dreams by coming to Midgar.” His next words were spoken almost flippantly, “she’s also my wife.”

Sephiroth frozen at his friend’s words, shock and disbelief warring in his chest. That couldn’t be true, Genesis had only recently turned seventeen, he couldn’t be married already.

His expression must have shown something as Genesis offered him a wane smile accompanied by a small shrug, “it was arranged by our parents I’m afraid. A sort of business decision on their part.”

Sephiroth blinked, this was a new piece of information about his friend, the older teen never talked about his family or life back in Banora. “A business decision?”

“My parents own the Banora White Apple Orchards,” Genesis explained. “Cloud’s family owns a transportation business, they thought it would be in their best interest to join the two together; my family would always have someone to transport their goods and her family would be the only ones my family did that kind of business with.”

So both families had used their children as bargaining tools to further their own agenda.

“When were you married?” Sephiroth asked, wishing to know more about Genesis’ life in Banora while the other was willing to share.

Genesis sighed heavily, shifting on the couch, “not long before coming to Midgar.”

That sounded odd to him, he had been taught that people waited until adulthood before marriage came into the picture. “But, you were only sixteen at the time.”

“It was originally planned for us to wed when we were twenty,” Genesis explained in a bland tone. “But they decided it was necessary to move the date up when I decided to join SOLDIER.”

Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed, voice reflecting the confusion he felt, “why would your decision to join Shinra make them move up the wedding date?”

“My soul corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment. They thought I’d get myself killed before I was twenty and they didn’t want to lose their business partners because I couldn’t keep myself alive.” Genesis’ tone was still bland, seemingly resigned to the fact that his family cared more about their business than their child.

Sephiroth’s gaze narrowed at his friend, a thought suddenly entering his head. “I’ve never seen you wearing a ring.”

Genesis blinked at him for a stunned moment, “I don’t really wear it.” Genesis explained, lifting a thin chain from where it rested inside of his shirt. The chain held a plain, gold band on it, a nice simple piece of jewellery he hadn’t expected from Genesis.

“I was expecting something a bit less, plain from you.” He couldn’t help but note gaining a soft scowl from his friend.

“It’s not,” Genesis agreed, “I want to get us something more personal once I have the opportunity. I deserve something more than this.”

Sephiroth couldn’t help that snort that got out of him, making Genesis grin up at him. He decided to change the subject back to their original topic, “what’s Cloud like?”

Genesis’ face relaxed sudden his eyes softening and a warm smile settling on his features, causing something to twist in Sephiroth’s chest. “She’s my sunlight; bright, radiant and always there for me, even if I can’t see her. I adore basking in her warmth and how she won’t let anyone jerk her around.” He sighed softly, smile growing sad as he finished speaking, “I miss her, sometimes.”

“She sounds nice,” Sephiroth said softly, unable to come up with anything else.

“She is,” Genesis said, taking out his Shinra-issued PHS and showing him a picture of a blonde-haired young woman next to a large bike. She was wearing dirt-covered travelling clothes and there were a few bandages visible in the photo, but she had a satisfied smile on her face, her bright-blue eyes gazing at the photographer with a soft-look.

“When was this taken?” He couldn’t help asking, staring at the picture of Cloud.

“Right after Angeal and I made Second,” Genesis explained, “She brought some things from Angeal’s mother and my parents from Banora with her, she was very proud of making it to Midgar on her own merits.” Genesis sounded equally as proud of her accomplishment.

“She sounds nice,” Sephiroth said awkwardly, unable to come up with anything else.

“She promised to come to Midgar after we made First Class,” his friend informed him in a bright tone. “I’m sure you’ll like her.”

Genesis sounded so certain that Sephiroth couldn’t help but agree with the older teen. He wouldn’t mind meeting someone Genesis held in such high regard.

#ffvii #Sephiroth/Cloud/Genesis #fic teaser #anon #reply #teaser #yes I'm actually working on this #It's fun and I have a story in my head #Probably doesn't make sense yet #But this is only the first draft #this'll be fun #not my usual writing style but hey #Longpost #more to come at a later date #I'm gonna name this with songlyrics #Cause I've bad at titles either way #Skyee Writes

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thegoddamnfangirl · 7 years

Text

Pristine

Pairings- Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Awkward Bucky. Awkward Reader. I love awkward. Steve and Nat shipping you and Bucky slightly/

Request-Hi! if youre still doing requests, can you do one where the reader is a doctor or medic or something (whatever you want!) and thinks bucky doesnt notice her or whatever but he secretly does and hes intrigued but too shy/thinks he'll scare her? from anon

AN- I’m sorry I didn’t put it up earlier! I know I said a day but my boards are in a couple of months.... and I’m also sorry it’s kinda awkward....

“Morning, Dr. (l/n),” someone greeted you as you walked past them. You smiled and greeted hem back, as well as returning the many other “morning”s and “have a nice day”s thrown at you.

You saw to a few of your patients- children, mostly, before getting back to the Avengers facility. It was a part of your weekend routine- every Saturday morning you would go to the hospital where you volunteered, and treated people for free.

Your actual, paying job was working as a doctor/surgeon for the Avengers- one of the most gifted people in your field, you worked closely with Dr. Bruce Banner.

This particular Saturday, Steve and the Winter Soldier were set to return from a mission, and you were certain you would have to patch them up. You were on first-name basis with all the Avengers- you were quite close with Wanda- except the Winter Soldier.

His name was apt. To you, he was cold, winter-y. But then, he was like that to everyone but Steve.

He would talk quietly to Steve, sometimes to Nat and Wanda. Clint and Sam he would just occasionally nod at, Tony he completely (and understandably) steered clear of. And you, he didn’t acknowledge your existence. Ever.

Which was maybe a little okay- this way, he probably didn’t notice how nervous he made you.

You made your way to the infirmary, where Nat was cleaning up a long cut down the side of her shin with a piece of gauze.

“What happened?” you asked, putting on a white coat.

“Steve and Bucky called for a bit of backup around the end,” she replied with a grim sort of smile.

“Where are they?” you asked.

“Steve’s in his room, Banner’s seeing to him, but Bucky has a few deep cuts that need stitching, he’s in the back room with the surgery things,” Nat said, winking at you.

“W-what?” you stammered.

“Ooh, nothing,” she said in an offhand way. “You’ll be stitching up Bucky.”

She knows, you realized with mortification. Nat was grinning all over her face.

You sighed and quickly went to the side room, banging the door shut behind you.

Ahh, that sight.

The Winter Soldier was sitting back in the surgery chair, his shirt off to reveal several deep gashes down his chest.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw you. “Dr. Banner told me to wait here for my stitches,” he told you. “He’s attending to Steve.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m here to do you,” you said. “No! I mean- I’m not here to do you, I’m-”

You broke off when you caught the look of confusion on his face. You realized he probably didn’t know the meaning of the term just yet.

Tugging on a few loose strands on your hair, you quietly brought yourself up to his side. You pulled on some gloves and got a needle and some suturing thread.

The first thing to do was to clean up the wounds- even though the super-soldier serum made him mostly immune to germs and also made his wounds heal faster, it was always safer to clean and patch up.

Placing one hand on his pectoral, you began to sponge away the blood on his chest, biting your upper lip the whole time.

His intense gaze was on you. You glanced at his face once or twice- he was making you nervous, and being nervous annoyed you with yourself.

Not another word passed between you two. After you were done stitching him up, he got up, thanked you with a polite smile, and left. You could only sigh wistfully.

You were out for another round of the hospital that evening- working made you feel good.

Helping people made you feel good. The smile on a sick child’s face when you told her you would make her okay, make her healthy. The ecstasy of the poor, single mother whose baby you had treated for free. It made you feel good, and it kept your mind off of your growing crush on the Winter Soldier.

You were just heading out of your tiny office in the hospital when-

“Dr. (l/n)?”

You nearly jumped a mile when you heard his voice behind you- you turned around to see the Winter Soldier, the hood of his Captain America sweatshirt drawn over his head.

“O-oh, hi!” you said, nearly dropping the clipboard in your hand.

“You’re needed,” he said, his blue eyes boring into your (e/c) ones. “Wanda had a little...accident... in the kitchen, and Wanda’s arm got slashed by one of the butcher knives. Steve sent me to get you.”

“Oh, yeah, I was just heading out,” you said, frowning when you heard about Wanda. She was probably trying to juggle the knives with her magic again- no matter how many time you told her not to, she’d do the stupid thing over and over. She hadn’t ever gotten hurt at it, though.

You walked out of the door with him at your heels. There was a car waiting outside with a driver up front- which meant it was you and him in the backseat.

You sat down beside him somewhat awkwardly, holding yourself stiff and straight.

“What do you do here?” the Winter Soldier asked, his tone curious. “I thought you only attended to us- the Avengers, I mean.”

“I volunteer here for free,” you replied. “I treat people who are too poor to pay for long medical procedures.”

He didn’t say anything, but you noticed a change in his expression. He looked...impressed.

Somehow, you started seeing more and more of him. You’d bump into him at breakfast, and instead of giving you a cold once over he’d actually mutter a ‘good morning’. Your breakfast times seemed to coincide, and soon, you found that when you came downstairs he’d actually make some extra coffee for you.

Then there would be his missions. Suddenly, he became ‘germophobic’ and began to insist that even the smallest of cuts on his body be cleaned. You obliged, even though there wasn’t any need to attend to such minute scratches.

Oddly, you would catch him haunting the floor that had your room on it. He’d nod at you, ask if you’d seen Nat or Wanda, who lived on the same floor. You would reply, and regardless of whatever you replied he would skulk away.

His behavior was driving you insane. You could look at him without your heart pumping as if you’d just run a mile. It wasn’t as if he was increasing in friendliness particularly, though. You were still calling each other a very formal “Dr. (l/n)” and “Sergeant Barnes”/”Winter Soldier” respectively.

You were just on your way to Bruce’s room- passing by Steve’s, you heard your name mentioned.

You weren’t an eavesdropper, but you couldn’t help but stand still outside.

“I can’t Steve,” you heard the Winter Soldier’s muffled voice. “I’ll....I’ll scare her away.”

“No, you won’t, Buck! She deals with the Avengers, for Pete’s sake, have you ever met a group of more screwed up people?”

“Steve, I just can’t ask her out. What if she says no? I’m...me. Messed up and PTSD. And she’s...innocent. You get what I’m sayin’? She’s....pristine. Untainted. Being with someone as unhinged as me...it could affect her.”

“DO YOU LIKE (Y/N) OR NOT?”

“I DO!”

You couldn’t take it.

You pushed the door open to see the Steve and the Winter Soldier standing face to face, glaring at each other. They broke eye contact when they saw you though.

“You like me?” you asked, breathing deeply.

He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again.

“I gotta go,” Steve said hurriedly before fleeing the scene.

“Winter Soldier...” you said.

“Bucky,” he interrupted. “Please, call me Bucky.”

He looked mortified and upset.

“Bucky,: you said, smiling slightly. “And you can call me (y/n).”

“(y/n),” he said, savoring the feeling of your name rolling off his tongue. “I’m...I’m sorry about what you might’ve just overheard...”

“I’m not,” you said, blushing but still quite decided. “I-I kinda like you too.”

He stared at you for about a full minute.

“You don’t think I’m dangerous?” he asked.

“Well, I never said that,” you shrugged. “Dangerous is quite an appealing shade on you.”

There was awkwardness, while the Winter Sold-Bucky, Bucky bit his lower lip and you twiddled your thumbs.

“So, uh, you wanna hang out some time? Hang out, that is what the kids say these days, isn’t it?” Bucky broke the silence, his words rushed.

You let out a small laugh. “I’d love to,” you said.

You heard a huff behind you.

“Really? Hang out? What are you, thirteen? Go on a date, you idiots!” Nat said. You turned to face her, just to see her rolling her eyes at the two of you in a very expressive way.

reallyyy sorry it’s turned out so weird and crappy. i swear i’ll try to do better. but i write these things at midnight when insomnia is keeping me up but also making me wuzzy because im tired and its so late g’night y’all.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james barnes x you #bucky barnes x you #the winter sodlier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #midnight crap #buckyxyou #james buchanan barnes x reader #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #steve shipping you and bucky

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