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tickle-bugs · 9 months

Note

Hellooo! If prompts are still open can I request some ticklish loki? :) maybe the prompt “ you’re not ticklish? Really now? Lets see about that”

Or somethin, feel free to improvise :))) teehee

Thank you so much!

In Fond Memory

Summary: As an analyst, Mobius's knowledge of Loki comes from stale sets of data. He wants to know more about his partner. Loki decides to take them on a tour of his memories...to interesting results. Pre-relationship to confessing Lokius!

This got wildly out of hand. We're a little over 6k words. Not super happy with this fic, but I'd been sitting on it for too long to start over. Have the long-simmering origin story of Loki's eighth rib lmao.

The TVA cafeteria is chilled and reliably empty when Mobius and Loki take their lunch break. As usual, the break consists of Loki watching Mobius eat--both lamenting his agonizing pace and soaking in his company.

“I know nothing about you.” Mobius takes a thoughtful bite of his salad. His non-sequiturs phase Loki less and less these days. They make an interesting pair, he thinks--a fallen god burdened with caring and a mustached auditor who speaks only in riddles.

“I thought you knew everything about me.” Loki huffs.

“More like bits and pieces. I know little factoids. What makes you tick.” Mobius points at Loki with his fork, a tomato skewered on the end.

“So then you know what you need?” Loki plucks the tomato off the fork and pops it in his mouth. It crunches beautifully.

“Well, I mean, I’d like to know more. If a certain someone would like to share with the class.” Mobius replaces the stolen tomato with a pointed stare.

“You are terrible at asking for what you want.” Loki steals a crouton from Mobius’s salad.

“Yeah? Pot, meet kettle,” Mobius chuckles, wiping his hands. Loki smiles, but the thought rattles around in his brain. Mobius makes so much noise, truly. Noise about morals and fixing things, about proving himself better than the TVA believes him to be--useless, frivolous noise.

Compelling noise.

“Fine.” Loki sniffs. He holds out his open hand.

“Fine…What?” Mobius raises his eyebrows.

“Your TemPad.” Loki wiggles his fingers insistently. Mobius stares at him, clearly calculating the risk, and then slides his TemPad into the waiting palm. Loki balances the weight of his past smoothly in one hand--he’d expected the TemPad to fall heavier with a sense of occasion. He frowns at it.

These little reminders that he’s not special—significant, really…they start to grate on him after a while.

“You don’t have to do this, Loki.” Mobius’s voice is worn smooth by something like fondness. It’s compelling to the cowardice still within him, but Mobius will stop looking at him like that if he doesn’t at least try.

Loki fiddles with the device until the clock hands on Ms. Minutes’s digital face spin rapidly backwards. A portal of orange light opens beside the table.

“Shall we?” Loki gestures. He can’t quite make eye contact.

…….

They stride through the door to Old Asgard’s throne room in all its glittering glory, when its majesty seemed untouchable by the whims of war and time. Mobius gapes at the high ceilings and intricate stonework with a wide grin. It’s cute, stupidly so, but then the grand doors open yet again and Loki’s hackles raise.

He pulls Mobius behind one of the grand pillars and puts his finger to his lips.

“They can’t see us, Loki. It’s a memory—“

Loki clamps a hand over Mobius’s mouth. Mobius rolls his eyes. He’s right, of course he is, but the survivalist in him can’t take the risk. Not with Odin.

A younger Loki, toothy and tiny, races up to Asgard’s great throne. He stops before the giant steps, cradling something in a bright red cloth. Odin heaves a great sigh.

“Father, look! I got my spell to work!” Young Loki carefully holds up the bundle. The fabric falls away to reveal a bulbous little frog with stark blue eyes. It blinks each eye separately.

“What is this?” Odin looks down upon the creature with disdain.

“It’s Thor.” Young Loki beams. The frog leaps onto his shoulder, then his head, and ribbits triumphantly. He laughs.

“Bring my son back to me at once!” Odin hisses fiercely.

“But—“

“Now!” Odin’s shout still tears something open in Loki all these years later. He flinches back into Mobius. The younger Loki does the same, but there’s no one to hold him.

With a shaky voice, he murmurs an incantation and folds Frog Thor back into the fabric. He tosses the bundle ahead of him and, in a flash of green, a young and shiny Thor stumbles on newly human legs. He’s shorter--still taller than Loki, as he always was--and rounder in the cheeks, but he’s the unmistakable spitting image of his father. His cape, no longer frog-sized, unfurls to brush his ankles.

“Woo! Loki, that was awesome!” Thor cheers. He pulls young Loki in for a sweeping, spinning hug. His boyish giggles are infectious--soon young Loki joins in, clinging to his brother to keep from falling.

“Get out.” Odin seethes. The throne room doors slam open, echoing his command.

“Father--” Thor tries, but one icy look from Odin silences him. He immediately bends the knee, so small that his cape nearly swallows him whole. Young Loki looks at him in disbelief, but when he reaches for his brother, Odin clasps his gloved hand around the shaft of Gungnir, the Spear of Heaven.

Young Loki stumbles backwards, then flees, scrambling right by his older self without a thought. Loki turns his eye to Odin, the golden sack of shit, and scowls.

“Come,” Loki says hollowly, following himself outside. He doesn’t look back. He knows Mobius is with him.

He walks the familiar grounds but the stone doesn’t remember him. The sky is too bright, the torches too warm--this is a childhood preserved in amber. It’s too clear to be real. He passes his hand through the braziers, bitterly amused by the way the flame clings to his fingers. It’s not hot.

Loki finds his younger self exactly where he expects him to be—no amount of years could erase that instinct to hide, to wait, to be forgotten until he could emerge again. The child is tucked between a pillar and one of the giant braziers, his dark clothes lending themselves as camouflage.

Young Loki didn’t have that fire in him, yet. The scorn of being lesser. He was still naive, still thought Odin’s love was a real, attainable thing.

“Loki?” Frigga approaches. Loki looks up at his mother’s face for the first time in years, but she peers directly through him. He steps aside as she approaches his younger self. When the child doesn’t answer, she crouches in front of him. It’s unbecoming of a Queen, but she’d never cared much about that.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Frigga takes his younger copy’s face into her hands. She wipes away his tears with her thumbs and his skin briefly shimmers its natural blue.

“Father, he…” Young Loki shakes his head, retreats further. “I upset him.”

“Oh.” She swipes more tears from his face. “Let us spend the day together, hm? I have new tricks to show you.”

The child allows his mother to lead him away, down onto the giant lawn beneath the terrace. Loki watches them go, the bitter sting of grief still raw, even after all this time.

“My mother was…is everything to me.” Loki sniffs. He can’t tear his eyes away from her. It’s selfish to miss her, but he’s a selfish wretch.

“She seems like a wonderful woman.” Mobius’s hand is warm on Loki’s shoulder. He leans into it.

“Extraordinary. There’s no one like her.” He leads them over to a bench on the terrace, one that overlooks the most spectacular view of the palace lawns and waters beyond. He watches his younger self fling bursts of magic back and forth with his mother.

“Can I ask you a silly question?” Mobius turns to face Loki better. Loki raises his brow.

“Are you still…blue? Under here?” Mobius gestures at Loki’s face. “I’m not too sure about how this magic stuff works. It’s fascinating.”

Loki barks out an embarrassing laugh and does his best to rein it in, but surprise still leaves him chuckling. Mobius looks at him like…well, he’s not entirely sure what that look is. No one’s looked at him so softly before.

“I was raised Asgardian, but the nature of changing forms is…fickle. Do it too much and you lose sight of where you start.” He turns his hand over, back and forth, and his skin glimmers blue. Mobius takes his hand, wrinkling his nose slightly at the cold.

“That’s awful wise of you.” Mobius squeezes his fingers.

“I like to think I have my moments.” Loki smiles. Mobius holds out the TemPad to him. Loki pushes a few things on it, opening another portal. They step through it with lighter hearts.

…

What greets them is not the stale brutalism and dizzying expanse of the TVA cafeteria, but the very same terrace, gleaming in summer sun.

“Okay, so this…isn’t headquarters.” Mobius gestures. Loki scowls. He presses a bunch of buttons at random. The machine beeps at him. The animated Ms. Minutes icon sticks her tongue out at him. He scoffs.

“I noticed.” He slaps the TemPad into Mobius’s hands. Mobius stares at him, plainly amused, and Loki scowls harder.

“Well? Fix it.” Loki turns towards the lawn to lessen the weight of Mobius’s gaze.

A great shout rings out across the green, utterly unmistakeable, and Loki runs up to the terrace railing. Sif and the Warriors Three mill about on the lawn, their chatting only perceptible by Volstagg’s loud and grating laughter.

“Brothers, please. I need some help!” Thor’s voice cuts clear and desperate through the air. He can’t be far past coming of age--he’s taken on all those distinctive features that won’t budge as he grows. His hair sweeps his shoulders the same way his cape sweeps his ankles. He supports a drooping teenage Loki as they stumble towards the trio.

On the terrace, Loki’s eyes widen. He squints at where Thor is hauling his younger self--yep, the little shit is definitely alive and well. Which means only one thing.

“What’s all the commotion?” Mobius shades his eyes from the sun and looks out towards the fields.

“Did you fix it?” Loki snaps impatiently, gesturing for the TemPad.

“Hm?” Mobius blinks. “Yeah. What’s happenin’ down there, though?”

Loki snatches the TemPad and punches in whatever he can. A wave of orange energy ripples over and through them with a loud woosh. Loki opens his eyes to….

The same field. The same day. He’s actually managed to put them forward in time. Just splendid.

“Get help!” Thor spins and launches his Loki like a shotput. He barrels straight through Sif and Fandral. Their mingled screams of surprise and displeasure ring out. Thor cackles, doubling over, as Sif chases Loki around the field.

On the terrace, Loki buries his rapidly heating face in his hands. Mobius snickers up a storm beside him. He leans into him for support.

“Get help?” Mobius wheezes, eyes wet with mirth. Loki’s chest flutters and his face progresses into full redness.

“It was…a phase. An ill-advised distraction--”

“Seems to me like you used it plenty. One of your variants did that with Thor on Sakaar.” Mobius wipes his eyes and flicks the tears away, grin still splitting his face in two.

“Shut up.” Loki groans into his hands until silence falls. He can feel Mobius’s keen eyes on the side of his face. He hopes for a random bolt of lightning to put him out of his misery.

“You’ve changed, y’know.” Mobius bumps their shoulders together.

“Have I?” Loki drawls, mostly unamused. The sincerity on Mobius’s face makes it hard to keep up the act.

“You willingly showed me an embarrassing memory! You’ve changed plenty.”

“I wouldn’t say…willingly,” Loki grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“You and I both know you can fight a lot harder than that. This is growth, Loki. It’s good for ya.” Mobius pats his shoulder. Loki hums in acknowledgment.

“Careful, Mobius. I might start to think you’re fond of me.” Loki smiles teasingly.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Mobius chuckles and squeezes his shoulder. “Let’s get outta here.”

…

Another flash of orange, another failure to return to the TVA. Loki contains the urge to scream.

“Where are we now?” Mobius puts his hands on his hips.

“…I don’t know.” Loki frowns, turning in place.

“That’s generally not good.” Mobius quips. Loki makes a snarky, incoherent noise at him as he takes in their surroundings.

Vaulted wood ceilings, immaculate stone walls, and green silks welcome them. Atop a giant fireplace, a regal painting of Loki leers at them, foxlike and empty-eyed. He cringes and turns away from it. He briefly considers throwing himself down on the green velvet divan and smothering himself in the throw pillows.

“We’re on Asgard, certainly, and this is my room, but….”

The doors fly open of their own accord and the hearth flares. A brunette with a strong build strides through the doors, their fingertips dripping with red motes of light. They’re clad in reds reminiscent of the magic--flowing fabrics gathered neatly under bits of strong leather armor. With a twist of their wrist, the leather breastplate falls away and arranges itself on a stand, right next to a stand with his own armor on it.

“Who is this handsome devil?” Mobius raises his eyebrows and elbows Loki, but he is far too windswept at the sight of them.

“Signy,” Loki breathes.

“Who?” Mobius furrows his brow.

The doors fly open yet again. A past version of Loki enters in similar dramatic fashion. It’s uncanny to see himself like this. Signy turns their gaze sharply towards him. The fire once again flares in the hearth.

“Hello, darling.” Signy purrs, pulling Past Loki in for a kiss. They drink him in possessively, as if he’s going to evaporate without their claiming touch. He leans into it as much as he can without drowning. When they pull apart, they murmur to one another, low enough for the fire to swallow their words.

“Ah, I see.” The bitterness in Mobius’s tone pushes Loki to clarify.

“They were wonderful, but their jealousy often got to them. For all our happiness, we made each other worse over time.” Loki whispers conspiratorially, but Mobius doesn’t seem entertained.

Signy and his past self begin to raise their voices, yelling at each other in an incomprehensible tumble of Asgardian. Mobius’s brow knits in concern.

“Were you always this…loud?” Mobius frowns. Loki swallows the joke he wants to make.

“Like I said, we made each other worse. Much worse. We were betrothed all of two months before they tried to assassinate me.” Loki pulls back his shirt collar to reveal a thin, curved scar on his neck.

“Assassinate—what?” Mobius touches it and Loki shivers.

“It’s fine, Mobius. My Signy had naught but poison in their soul. This one seems…kinder.” Loki watches as they take his past self’s hands to stop him from wringing his tunic.

“How is that fine—“

Their voices escalate into a tumble of shouting. Concern morphs into frustration and confusion. Why does Mobius even care? It happened, he survived, whatever—

A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. His past self is…staring at him.

Loki squints at his past self and he squints back. Loki looks over his shoulder, then back at his past self, who is suddenly beginning to behave less like a memory and more like a—

“Variant,” Loki breathes. He opens his mouth to shout, but—

The variant disappears in a gentle flash of green light. Fuck.

“I think you just got outsmarted by yourself.” Mobius hums. Loki whips around, panic starting to bubble in his chest.

“You said this was a memory.”

“It’s supposed to be.” Mobius rubs his chin. “With all the buttons you pushed, it’s possible that you sent us to a branch instead of a projection of your history. I’ll take a look at it.”

“Loki.” Signy eyes him carefully. They take him in with warm, red eyes that crackle with the hearth.

“Heyyy…Signy.” Loki gestures awkwardly. Mobius snorts.

“Darling, I apologize. You’re under much pressure. I shouldn’t add to it.” Signy wraps their arms around Loki’s shoulders and pulls him close. He knows he should derive some comfort from it—he hasn’t been hugged in years—but it feels more like a creature pulling him into its clutches. Their fingers glide over the scar and Loki snatches their hand.

“I’m…also sorry.” Loki pats their arm awkwardly and tries to worm out of their grip.

“No need, my blade.” Signy presses in closer, cradling his cheek. Mobius snickers at the nickname off to the side.

“Don’t.” Loki, blushing, points an accusatory finger at Mobius. He holds his hands up, the perfect picture of innocence.

“I think you’re lovely, but I’m not…your Loki.” He puts his hand over theirs. Their face pinches sharply. The fire kicks up.

“You are beyond ungrateful. You are mine. I made you.” Signy grips his chin and forces him to look at them. Loki presses his lips into a line.

“Signy—“

“Perhaps you need a reminder.” They press their hand to Loki’s side, right over the ribs on his right side. He panics and grabs for their hand. A tiny green spark jumps from his fingers, but it cannot stop the pulse of scarlet magic that wriggles deep into his skin. The magic snaps into cords, winding like puppet strings around one of his ribs.

A strangled sound slips from him before he can stop himself. A terrible, toe-curling tickle—a powerful scritching like the blunt end of a quill over the bone—sends him clutching at Signy’s shoulders for dear life.

“We are each other’s undoing. There is no you without me.” Signy pulls sharply on the threads of red light and Loki yelps.

“Oh.”

“Mobius—“

“Oh my god.” Mobius makes a noise that can only be described as a squeak of delight. Loki flips him off.

“Even when I’m right in front of you, you cast your attention elsewhere.” Signy turns Loki’s jaw toward them, eyes darkening possessively, but their lips curl up in that damn smile that had drawn Loki back in over and over.

There was a time when he’d daydreamed about Signy by his side on the throne. Now, he can’t fathom it.

“You’re mine, Loki.” Signy tweaks their fingers, manipulating their magic, and Loki chokes down a screech. He laces his fingers into theirs and the magic blissfully vanishes.

“Yes, yours. Mobius, help.” Loki casts a frantic look in his direction, gesturing at Signy. Mobius makes a ‘stall’ motion, then starts fiddling with the TemPad.

“Look at me.” Signy pulls sharply on his tie. They sigh deeply, and their edge begins to wane.

“Thanos has you dreaming of more, my love. I want more for you. But have you not enough here? Am I not enough?” Signy smooths their hands down Loki’s chest. He freezes.

“Thanos?” He asks quietly. Dread sinks into his gut. Signy’s expression softens.

“I know that you crave what you are owed. Your family has robbed you of your birthright. You are meant for greatness, Loki, but not at the cost of his greed. Asgard is yours for the taking. By my hand, you shall have it.” Signy leans their foreheads together. He squirrels away as much of this momentary comfort that he can.

“Why would you help me?”

“Have you contracted your brother’s oafishness?” Signy playfully holds their hand to his forehead as if checking for fever. “I love you, you fool.”

“Oh.” He blinks. He looks towards Mobius and finds him with a haunting expression, like some sort of ache had burrowed forth into his face. A suffocating hollowness crawls through Loki’s chest. He swallows thickly.

“Yes, ‘oh’.” Signy curls their fingers beneath his chin. He laughs softly, involuntarily, and flinches away. Mischief and embers dance in Signy’s eyes.

“My, you are…handsier than I remember.” Loki twists out of their grip.

“Can you blame me?” They appear behind him in a scattering of red sparks. Warm hands wrap around his waist, tracing feather-light shapes that seem to burrow into his skin. He chokes on a quiet, suspiciously giggly sound and they light up.

Mobius scoffs and clears his throat loudly. His scowl seems baked into his face, a chilling force against the fireplace.

“Okay, so I’ve got good news and bad news. Which one do you wanna hear?”

“Bad news first.” Loki wrestles with Signy’s roaming hands. Signy trips and tumbles backward onto the divan, scattering the pillows. They start tugging at Loki to try and get him to follow.

“Your collar is broken. Kaput. S’probably why your variant was able to escape. TemPad can’t get a read on which one of you is real. You also MemLocked us, which is fascinating—“

“I’m sure it is,” Loki huffs, fighting to leverage Signy under him. Mobius barrels on.

“MemLock allows us to manipulate a branch as if it were a memory, but the tech is volatile, so we rarely use it. It is neat though. Lets us walk right through as if we were invisible. Shame it ain’t workin’ on you.” Mobius snaps his fingers next to Signy’s face. They don’t seem to notice.

“And the good news?”

“I can probably fix it.” Mobius smacks the back of the TemPad and a panel pops out the side of it. He starts fiddling with the components.

“Probably?” Loki’s voice cracks.

“Well, I don’t wanna take the wrong Loki back with me. That’d be a fiasco. Though Signy—“ Mobius draws out their name with disdain— “probably wouldn’t even notice.”

“Jealousy is unbecoming, Mobius.” Loki’s joking, but Mobius’s eyes don’t light up the way they usually do.

“Y’know, far as I recall, you got yourself stuck in this mess. You should be thanking me for helping you.” Mobius puts his hands in his pockets. He tilts his head with a smile, easy and mischievous. Loki lobs a throw pillow at him.

Mobius punches something into the TemPad and, with a glorious beep, Loki’s collar disengages and clatters to the floor. Mobius scoops up the collar gently, letting the straps dangle between his fingers.

“I’m keeping track of what you owe me.” His half-smile is somewhat dim.

“I’d expect nothing less,” Loki breathes. Mobius nods sharply and turns towards the door.

It’s an unfortunate distraction, one that lets Signy discover they can buckle his knees if they tickle him there, but Loki can think of nothing else but the reflection of the firelight on Mobius’s cheek.

…

Mobius ducks quietly into the hall, shutting the chamber door behind him. The stone floors eagerly amplify his footsteps, tired of its own quiet.

It’s unsettling, this place. People don’t seem to live here as much as they haunt it. Mobius can see how Loki turned out the way he did. It sets loose an ache in him.

“Stop.”

Mobius turns around with his hands raised. The variant twirls a dagger in his hands. He’s clad only in a green shirt and soft pants, his feet bare against the cool stone floors. This Loki is duller—he’s exhausted around the eyes in a way Mobius’s Loki isn’t.

His Loki. Hm.

“Who are you?”

“I’m afraid that doesn’t concern you, Your Highness,” Mobius says calmly. Loki disappears in a flash of green and reappears behind Mobius.

“I could have you executed.” Loki’s dagger materializes across the plane of Mobius’s throat. Mobius tips his head back slightly to avoid the sharp edge.

“I’m not scared of you, Loki.” He says it firmly, even as his skin prickles at the kiss of the blade.

“Maybe you should be,” he snarls lowly, his lips brushing Mobius’s ear. Mobius flinches away. He kicks himself for it--Loki follows him easily with morbid interest.

“Aren’t you curious about what I know?” Mobius hums. Silence stretches down the long hall. There’s a suspicious lack of guards in this wing. Is Loki’s chamber not worth protecting?

“You have a…clone of me. Why?” The blade presses in again. Mobius takes a careful, measured breath.

“He’s my companion. We took a bit of a tumble, ended up in the wrong place.” A smile quirks at Mobius’s lips. Loki doesn’t look as confused as he thought he might—more…thoughtful.

“Wrong place being?”

“That I can’t tell you. I can tell you that we’re trying to leave. If you don’t mind.” Mobius puts two fingers on the dagger and gently pushes it away from his throat. Loki releases Mobius but keeps his blade leveled at him. He’s tired, so tired, Mobius can see it in his bones. His eyes, dark-rimmed, seem frightened of closing.

“You, uh…” Mobius pauses, taking in Loki’s twitchiness-- “I noticed you tryin’ to escape your beau in there. Signy, right?”

Loki stiffens at the utterance of their name. The blade remains steadfastly pointed at Mobius’s throat.

“They ever hurt you?” Mobius clenches his jaw. Loki eyes him warily.

“No. Never. Never.” The blade wavers with Loki’s voice. “But we don’t…agree on many things.”

“Well, I think you could do better. For the record.” Mobius steps forward—how could he not? But Loki’s knife and hackles meet him. He stops.

“I’ll be sure to tell them you said so.” The fingers on Loki’s other hand twitch, glowing the faintest green.

“You fancy making a deal, Your Highness?” Mobius sticks his hands in his pockets. He tries to keep his demeanor light, but he clasps his hand around the collar where it’s hidden.

“I’m listening.” Loki shifts his fingers on the dagger’s hilt.

“My Loki and I will distract Signy for you if you stay with us long enough for us to secure an exit.” Mobius jerks a thumb in the direction he came from. Loki follows the movement with his eyes.

“All you require is my presence?”

“That and preferably that you refrain from using that toothpick of yours. Rather fond of my Loki.” Mobius inclines his head towards the knife. A wealth of emotions flickers across Loki’s face--he’s always been terrible at hiding his feelings, it seems. He tries to steel himself back into something sharp, but it just turns…sad.

Loki lowers his blade. He loosens his fingers and it falls, but it vanishes before it hits the ground.

“I agree to your terms.” Loki sniffs sharply, once again locating his arrogance.

“Excellent. Shall we?” Mobius gestures. Loki nods. They stroll back towards the bedchamber, relishing in the quiet comfort of their footsteps falling in line.

“What are you to him? To me?” Loki’s voice goes soft. Mobius is usually quite adept at compartmentalizing, but it escapes him at this moment.

“I’m not sure.” Mobius swallows. It’s easier not to think about it.

“But you’re fond of him, as you said.” Loki sweeps closer, a familiar teasing grin playing across his lips.

“I am.” Mobius huffs. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“The honor’s all yours, mortal.” Loki tilts his head, his smile growing wider. Mobius rolls his eyes.

…

Mobius opens the door for the variant and they’re greeted by a wall of noise. Loki screams bloody murder and Signy yells over him in Asgardian, their sharp fingernails plucking at his ribs. They’ve switched positions, with Signy expertly pinning and tickling Loki down into the divan.

The variant snickers, covering his mouth to hide it, but Mobius’s ears have long-since been tuned to his partner’s laugh. Interestingly enough, Signy looks up too. They furrow their brow as if searching for something, eyes glazing right past their variant, and then return to taking Loki apart.

An idea prickles at the back of Mobius’s mind.

“You.” Loki shouts from the tip of his toes. His hair is a frizzy, disheveled mess. The variant goes to run, but Mobius scruffs him by the collar.

“You okay over there?” Mobius calls. Loki’s red face grows redder. He points angrily at the variant.

“Come take your place, you sniveling little brat—“ Loki hisses, but he’s cut off by Signy tickling his waist. The most hysterical little giggles slip free and he buckles under them.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. That weakness is your plague to bear, not mine.” The variant’s regret is all mocking.

It’s a stupid idea, but it’s an insistent one—the longer Mobius gazes at this variant, the more he finds that he can’t let it go.

“Sorry, just to clarify—you’re not ticklish?” Mobius doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. The variant eyes him stubbornly.

“No. I’m not a child.” Oh, but like with every Loki, his eyes betray him.

“Well, that’s a shame.” Mobius regards him thoughtfully. The variant turns a lovely pink. “Then, would you mind asking Signy to release my friend? Seeing as they pose no threat to you.”

Mobius crowds in closer. The variant pulls his dagger. Mobius tuts at him and pushes it away. The dagger’s point makes gentle, insistent contact with his stomach.

“This wasn’t part of the deal,” the variant snaps, but Mobius stands before him un-stabbed.

“Sure it was. I said we would distract Signy.” Mobius smirks. “Just never said that you were part of the distraction.”

God, Loki is really rubbing off on him.

“I’ve been told I’m quite stabbable, if you’re not amenable.” Mobius gestures to the dagger between them. The variant shifts his fingers on the hilt.

“D-Don’t you dare touch him!” Loki pipes up through gritted teeth. He’s managed to pin Signy underneath him, but judging by his twitching, they’re not quite done with him.

Mobius grins at him. Loki makes an endearing little pinchy face and refuses to meet his eyes. The variant takes the chance to try and slink away, but Mobius grabs his wrist. The dagger disappears in a flare of green sparks.

In a slick maneuver, Mobius loops the collar around the variant’s neck and it magnetically fastens. It beeps in confirmation of acquiring its target.

“What is this?” He hisses, tugging at it. He flexes his fingers, calling for the dagger, and nothing happens.

“Just a bit of insurance. Now, would you like to deal with them—“ Mobius gestures to where Signy is wreaking havoc— “or me?”

“I’m sure there’s a third option.” The variant chuckles almost nervously. His eyes dart around for an escape.

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Mobius sighs deeply, as if it pains him. The variant’s eyes widen, and—

There it is. A flicker of thrill.

“If you think you can stand to a god, I welcome you to try.” The variant spreads his arms wide. Mobius puts his hands on his hips. He’s never considered himself a particularly great fighter, but he prides himself on knowing his targets well. For example, he knows that nearly every Loki lacks small-scale patience. If he just waits…

The variant snarls and charges. Mobius ducks past him and loops his arms around his torso.

Any Loki is deadly with or without their magic, but thankfully Mobius doesn’t have to worry about killing him. Or harming him at all, for that matter.

The variant lets out a confused, almost-offended squeak, like a kitten being bested. Before he can speak, Mobius starts clumsily tickling him. The resulting stilted laughter is interspersed with threats he can’t understand--both for being peppered with giggles and incoherent Asgardian. The variant tries to headbutt him in a way that doesn’t seem entirely on purpose. Mobius dodges predictable flying elbows and waits.

Over on the divan, Loki’s mostly given up. He’s wheezing more than anything, more focused on hiding himself from view than doing anything helpful. The quiet allows for the variant’s patchwork laughter to carry, just as Mobius hoped. He folds on a particularly powerful guffaw and Mobius follows him with a snort. S’cute, sometimes, the ways in which they’re the same.

Signy’s gaze snaps up. Loki squirms out from underneath them and darts to the other side of the room, clutching his side. He makes eye contact with Mobius. His gaze is so full of sheer fondness that Mobius has to look away.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The variant tries to back up. Mobius squeezes his side and he yelps.

“How’d you get over there?” Signy narrows their eyes.

“Suppose I’m quicker than you.” The variant falls immediately into his role, ever the Loki. Mobius curls his finger into the collar and it disengages. The variant whirls on him, but then Signy starts to stalk across the room.

“We’ll see about that, love.” Signy’s tongue curls sharply around the word. The variant bolts for the door. Signy laughs and chases after them. Their footsteps echo down the empty hall and carry them both from sight.

A wave of green magic slams the door shut so hard that it rattles in its frame. Loki hefts a bookshelf in front of the door, then a heavy chest, then about every piece of furniture he’s capable of moving in the room. He slumps down onto the divan with a heavy sigh. Mobius hovers by his side, shoving his hand in his pocket so he doesn’t start fiddling with the disheveled bits of Loki’s appearance.

“Well, come on then.” Loki bares his throat with an impatient gesture. There’s an imprinted red line where the collar usually sits. Mobius runs his thumb over it, gently, and Loki scrunches his nose with a smile. The sight is so lovely that Mobius spaces out a bit.

“You are cruel and terrible, you know that?” Loki grumbles. Mobius remembers himself and tries not to savor the brush of Loki’s jaw against his fingers. He holds the transmitter box of the collar to Loki’s throat, scooting it around a bit in search of a signal. Loki twitches.

“Mmm, just the worst. Stay still, will ya?” He huffs. Something in Loki’s collar clicks and the TemPad chirps a jolly tune. Both of them sigh in relief.

Mobius punches in a few things and the familiar orange door opens up before them. He looks down at the collar in his hand, then shoves it deep into his pocket. Loki makes a soft noise.

“Why?” He blinks almost innocently. Mobius swallows.

“You wanna go back or not?” He juts his thumb towards the portal. Loki pulls him through as if it’s going to disappear.

…

They have duties to complete, but living so many years in a day has thoroughly eroded what tiny sense of duty Loki has. His mind is abuzz with various iterations of he trusts me--a new and exciting thought--and it leaves him with zero desire to do anything but sit in Mobius’s presence like a flower in the sun.

So, when Mobius heads for the library, Loki hooks their arms together and drags them towards the cafeteria. Responsible grumbling turns into fond chuckles, and soon enough, they’re assembling God's mistake: frozen yogurt.

They enjoy their spoils on a bench deep in the massive sprawl of the TVA. The complex sprawls out infinitely before them, twinkling in the abyss. It’s a prettier sight than this place deserves, but Loki can only pay attention to the unnatural strawberry hue of Mobius’s lips.

“This is awful,” Mobius laughs, cringing through a spoonful of frozen-solid chocolate chips.

“It’s perfect. Completely mediocre in every way. Humanity’s only worthwhile creation.” Loki bites a gummy worm in half with a smile. He offers the other half to Mobius and he takes it.

Loki thinks of Signy, of the look of muddled pain on Mobius’s face through the entire back half of their misadventure, and he cringes. Mobius pauses in picking at his froyo.

“Brainfreeze?”

“No, not quite. I want to…apologize, Mobius.” Loki fiddles with his fingers. He looks up just in time for the back of Mobius’s hand to gently slap against his forehead, as if checking for fever.

“You? Apologize? Maybe I did bring back the wrong Loki.”

“Hilarious, you bastard.” Loki rolls his eyes and bats away the hand.

“Well, don’t let me get in the way of history. Say your piece.” Mobius sweeps his hands out. Loki turns to straddle the bench, facing him fully. He leans his back against the wall. The cold of the concrete leeches through his shirt.

“Earlier, things got…out of hand. I hoped if I showed you my past, you might find some detail, some tiny minutiae that would set me apart from the other variants. But, I suppose nothing you saw surprised you.” Loki runs his fingers over his throat, right where the collar usually sat. He felt lighter without it and, strangely, more exposed.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Mobius mumbles around a strawberry piece.

“I spent my life chasing after destiny. Everyone in my family had a grand purpose to fulfill, and I believed mine would be the greatest of all. Now I know that my destiny is to be disposable. The only significant thing I’m part of is the time I’ve spent here with you.” Loki pokes at his froyo with the spoon. Mobius swings to also straddle the bench, grumbling as he does, but it gets Loki’s attention.

“I’ve got my own confession to make.” Mobius chuckles. “I don’t actually know everything about you.”

“We established this.” Loki scoops up an Oreo piece and pops it in his mouth.

“Well, yeah, but—“ Mobius makes a series of grand gestures— “I mean, I don’t know everything about you, Loki.”

“Now you’ve said the same thing twice.” Loki frowns. Mobius makes a frustrated little noise.

“Look, you’re different. Sure, your story starts the same as the others, but you overwrote my expectations the moment we met. You are unique. You’re a unique pain in my ass, really, but…you’re a good partner. A great one.” Mobius gestures more with his spoon.

“Go on.” Loki takes the cherry into his mouth, stem and all. A few moments later, he pulls out the stem—tied in a perfect knot. He smiles at his handiwork.

“I’m trying to compliment you.” Mobius huffs.

“I’m aware.” Loki grins teasingly, but the mischief caves easily under a wave of genuine joy.

“Alright, wise guy.” Mobius narrows his eyes. A flutter of thrill picks up in Loki’s stomach, but no chase ensues. He tries not to be disappointed.

“What I’m trying to get at—“ Mobius huffs dramatically— “is that it’s not your past that makes you. I’ve always studied you guys in patterns and matrixes. I thought a flip would switch and I’d understand how you fell into my lap instead of any other Loki. But…you defy sense. Turns out, you can bake some drastically different cakes with the same core ingredients.”

“Careful, Mobius,” Loki says softly, so his traitorous heart doesn’t hear. “I might start to think you’re fond of me.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Mobius smiles.

“No, we can’t.” Loki’s eyes flit to Mobius’s lips. The air between them pulls taut. Loki scoots forward, bringing their knees to touch.

“You have something on your face, right here. Terribly distracting.” Loki gestures to his lips. Mobius furrows his brow and pats his face with a TVA-branded napkin. Loki bats his hand aside and kisses him. It’s shorter and tamer than what his heart screams for, but he can’t dive into untested waters. Not yet. Not with something so important.

Mobius, wide-eyed, follows Loki’s every move. He swallows once, thickly, then clears his throat. Not a single coherent word comes out of his mouth. His eyebrows move in nearly every direction as he tries to string some words together. Loki tips his chin up, catching his eyes. Mobius quiets, succumbing to a lovestruck smile.

“Did you get it?” Mobius gestures to his face. Loki laughs, knocking his head into the wall behind him. Mobius scrambles forward to catch him far too late, but they’re close. Close enough for Loki to see the pink froyo flecks actually hiding in his mustache. He smirks.

“Hm, only one way to be sure.” He pulls Mobius in by his tie and kisses him like it's the end of times.

#my fics #loki #lokius #ticklish!loki #*sigh*#much like with my other loki fics this didn't turn out at all how i wanted. and its way too long. but i hope ppl still like it.#i love writing them so much but i struggle to write tk stuff around them.#just UGH posting it and moving on. writing is hard :(#sorry to be a downer in the tags lmao

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communicationthroughlyrics · 8 months

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I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 11

You’re a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.

3.6K Word Count

Ch 11: Army Green Was No Safe Bet

It was now just after 5pm, and you were just leaving Scarletts house after having a VERY long, probing discussion of everything that has been happening to the woman since this ‘mystery man’ has shown up- and quite honestly you couldn’t say you were shocked. You knew Steve well enough, you knew his tactics, and he was going to mentally wear someone down till they made a mistake, and that’s when he’ll capitalize. He was like a goddamn shark in bloody water.

You were sitting in your truck at the base of Scarletts driveway, finishing up a text to Kris to let her know you were coming back to the office, and then a text to Jim about your discussion with Scar today. You were still surprised at how Steve would expose himself enough to be seen at any event that fans are allowed. But then again, he is sick and twisted enough to let you know he is there. Just as you were readying yourself to leave, buckling your seatbelt and starting the truck, you heard a click to the passenger side. Your gaze shifted to the door, taking note of a silhouette on the other side. You unholster the gun underneath your seat, and reach for your door handle.

You can tell the figure isn’t Scarlett, its too tall. You look back, noting the lights still on in the house at the end of the driveway. “Fuck.” You think to yourself. You open the drivers door, pistol at the ready and you lock the truck, never breaking eye contact with where the silhouette had been standing. A deep chuckle caused the hair on the back of your neck to stand up.

“Oh, Y/L/N, save us whatever this is,” Steve waved his hand in your direction, then leaned against the truck, lighting a cigarette, promptly blowing the smoke in your direction. “Let’s just save the catch-up chit chat, and the not-so pleasantries. You can probably imagine why I’m standing in front of you, again, talking to you.” He punctuated the fact that this wasn’t the first time, reminding you of your run in at the store back in Idaho. The mans appearance was a stark contrast to the almost nerdy appearance he had the last time you saw him.

You lower your gun as you wrapped around the rear of the truck, leaning up against the back of it. You wanted to keep distance between the foul being in front of you.

“I always knew you were doltish, Waters, but this? This is a new low, even for a slop sucker like you.” His smile faltered as he took in your words, turning towards you, his cold, dark eyes locking onto yours.

“That’s rich, coming from a true sucker like you. Pretty pot-kettle, if you ask me. Last time I saw you, you were pretty handily taking me in full.” He smirked, looking at the last of the stick in between his fingers, before refocusing on you. The sheer thought that this memory of you came up so freely for the man, as the feeling of your skin crawling and the ghost of his hand on the back of your head made you want to throw up. “We wouldn’t want that to come up, now would we? I suppose it would be fairly easy for me to paint you as the bad guy, make up some victim-card story, like how you ruined my promising military career, made me loose all my benefits, and tarnished my family name to fuck your way to the top.”

“Well, the last time you saw me, you were fake drooling over my credit card and my car. But I do seem to remember J.A.G. and the MP’s doing their bit. No one asked for you to try your own conversion therapy, Waters.” You spat.

He approached you getting close enough to where you could smell the lingering smoke on his breath. “A little slut like you? You were practically begging for attention, and no one was willing to give you what you wanted. I gave you what you needed. And then you had to run and cry to your little friends. You probably turned them too, the little heathen you are.”

“Maybe I could have, had they been around long enough.” You respond, pulling the dog tags out of your shirt, one tag was your fathers, one was your grandfathers. The other two? Those were Nikki and Cams. They had been sent out on a tour of duty shortly after you were found that night in the showers, and coincidentally, were sent out with Steve as one of the commanding officers. The last you had heard, he made their lives hell- which was no small feat when you get shipped to the middle of nowhere, tasked with protecting some local villagers who knew the whereabouts of a high ranking terrorist group, but he made it his secondary mission to ensure your closest confidants were miserable. In doing so, their judgement and focus faltered, and Nix was killed in an ambush, and Cam couldn’t cope with the guilt. You helped to have a funeral for the pair, as both of their families couldn’t, and in turn, their families gifted you the dog tags of their fallen loved ones.

“Maybe you should have taken the punishment for what it was, then. Maybe they’d still be here.” He sneered, and it took all of you to not throw this man down onto the ground.

“What. Do. You. Want.” You punctuate every word, having already been over his antics the moment you saw him by your truck.

“Well, sweetheart. I was supposed to work on ridding the world of the little vermin that your client has proved to be, amongst others- but now you’re in the picture too. So this is…kismet, as they say.” He narrowed his eyes at you, and it immediately sent you back to your last day in his office. “Now, I can make your life hell too, and maybe I will get rid of one of MY problems…” he continued, but all he said slowly faded to black as your mind wandered to all the times you were in the unfortunate presence of this man. Eventually, you had collapsed during the memory lapse, at the foot of Scarletts driveway. The man laughed, leaning over your body and grabbing hold of your chin, whispering a “pathetic” before he kicked your unconscious body, and spit on you, stomping on your injured hand and crushing it into the pavement before stalking away.

You were awoken by a few quick slaps to your face, and three concerned faces above you. Kris, Jim and Paul were huddled around the sofa in your office, where you now were laying. Jim was leaning directly above you, and had been the one trying to snap you out of what trance you had been in.

“How did I get here?” You question, trying to sit up, only to be pushed back down to the sofa by Kris.

“Well, we knew you were having a meeting with Scarlett, and decided to do a security sweep anyways.” Jim answered, settling himself next to your legs. “I noticed that damn car sitting a few blocks away, so I knew he was somewhere. I came up the driveway and saw your truck, and didn’t think too much of it at first. I was about to turn around, thinking you were still inside, but then I saw the outline of an arm, and realized a body was against your truck. I got out of my car, and ran up to where I found you, slumped against the back tire of the truck.”

You groaned, placing your hand on your forehead. “No one else noticed?” You asked, not directly stating that you were concerned if Scarlett had seen you.

“Not that we’re aware of. We haven’t had any reports come in, at least.” Kris answered, kneeling down next to you. There was a deep look of concern in her eyes. “What happened, Y/N?”

“Paul, can I speak to you-alone?” You ask, turning your face away from Kris. She huffed, and both her and Jim stood from their respective places, Jim moving to stand next to her.

“Come on, Kris, let’s let her discuss. Give her some space.” Jim placed his hand on the small of her back, turning her away towards the office door. He turned back to you briefly, shooting you a reassuring look. You knew that he was full aware of what happened. Once you heard the click of your office door, you began to put your sentences together.

“Well, Y/L/N, this isn’t a scenario I ever would have foreseen when I hired you. What’s going on?”

“Timmons, do you remember the redacted portion of my military file? You had asked me if I knew what it was about?”

“Yes? Why?”

“The redacted portion of my file is the reason we were hired to protect a celebrity. The man that has been following her, and harassing her, he was my C/O for a period of time. A military grade bloodhound, if you will. He’s a dishonorably discharged Ranger, turned militant.” You sit up, wincing at the pain from your hand and chest. You look down to notice deep bruising and more fresh cuts on the already damaged flesh.

“Well, Y/N, it sounds like we have the right person to help her then. You’ll know him better than anyone.” He placed his hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you can handle this. God knows we’ll need to before her big red carpet run.” He smiled at you, and you shot him a questioning glance.

“Red carpet run?”

“Her group informed us this afternoon of her upcoming schedule, and there is a fair share of red carpet appearances scheduled. They’re adamant about her going, especially due to the interviews and appearances she’s had to cut short or cancel because of this guy. It’s set to start in the next few weeks.” Paul looked down at you, before sitting in the chair next to yours.

“We’re going to have our hands full then. This guy is a pain in the ass.” You look away, staring out the window of your office to the night sky of the bustling city below. “He is going to require some extreme resources, boss.” You turn and look back at him.

“You and Grange seem to know what you’re dealing with. Just let me know what you need. I’ll get it for you.” Timmons says, placing his hand on your knee, shaking it before standing and walking away. One the door clicked shut again, you leaned back in the chair, wincing at the pain stemming from your side. “Rotten motherfucker.” You grumble to yourself, before trying to sit back up, and groaning in pain. You hear a shuffle behind you, and a pair of hands on your upper back as Kris swung herself into your line of sight.

“Y/N, what the hell happened?” She whispered softly as you winced in pain. She had seen you in pain after handling a situation, after fighting with someone who decidedly ignored your warnings and got frisky at a bar, but not like this.

“Fucking Waters, that’s what happened.” You respond, wincing once more as you pushed yourself out of the chair, and walked towards the bathroom. You needed to get out of these clothes, and take care of whatever injuries you had. She followed close behind, a strong look of concern still present on her features.

“What do you mean? You know him?” She asked, wincing herself when she watched you struggle to unbutton your shirt with an injured hand. She rushed over to help, but her efforts were thwarted by you batting her hands away.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You inhaled sharply as the fabric slid off your shoulders, and you had to wiggle slightly to let it pool at your feet. Kris picked the shirt off the ground, and when she turned, she saw the bruising on your side and chest, with a perfectly visible footprint centered in the injury.

“God, Y/N/N, what did he do to you?”

“I would guess he kicked me. And stepped on my hand.” You said, looking down at your injured hand.

“Guess?! You don’t know what he did?” The infliction in her voice was that of disbelief.

“No, I really don’t. I… I think I blacked out.” You rested your good hand on the edge of the sink, looking in the mirror to the reflection of the woman lingering in the corner.

“But, you haven’t blacked out since before we were together. You said you only did that when…”

“When my PTSD flares? I know, Kris.” She just stared, like she was trying to figure out what to say next.

“You’re not taking the medicine, are you?” She looked at you, stepping closer, shirt still in hand. “You need to be taking the medicine they give you. It helps.”

“Kris, I haven’t taken it in over a year.”

“Why? Is that why you blacked out?” You laugh a sardonic laugh, turning to look at her face to face.

“No, Kris. No, it isn’t.”

“Well, how can you be so sure? If you had been on the meds…”

“The meds won’t help with this, Kris.” You cross your arms across your chest. “This goes beyond just the PTSD. This is the cause of it.” Your gaze steels, features hardening as the realization hits you that the control that he still manages to hold over you is the sole cause of your vulnerability- and you hate him more for that than anything. Her face shifts to one of confusion, not full grasping what is being said.

“Y/N, being obtuse right now isn’t helping. How is this…” she gestures to your bruised body, “… the cause of it?”

“Honestly, Kris. That’s for me to know.” She huffs at your response, shaking her head.

“Typical, Y/L/N.” She threw your shirt on the counter behind you, knocking some of the items off the counter into the sink. Your gaze shifts down to the floor as she steps even closer, pulling your face up to look you in the eyes. “When you quit being so goddamn self-contained, let me know. Maybe we can have a conversation about what the fuck is going on with you.” She turned on her heel, walking away briskly, and slamming your office door.

“Not likely, Kris.” You mutter to yourself, before stripping yourself of the pants you were wearing today, and grabbed a pair of gym shorts and a tank top to wear to the gym. You had some pent up frustrations you needed to work out before bed, even if it caused more pain. Making sure to wrap your hand carefully, you grabbed a hat, placing it backwards on your head, and walked out of the office towards the elevator. Pushing the button, you stood by waiting for the carriage to arrive, and noticed a faint light from Kris’s office, and realized she was still here, sitting at her desk staring at the darkness out the window. The ding from the elevator brought her attention to you, as you stepped in and went down to the floor where the training center and gym were housed.

The dull thud of the punching bag echoed throughout the empty floor, the rhythmic thump of your fists striking the canvas. You had no idea how long your were down there, but your boxing glove was internally saturated with a combination of sweat and blood, and you were absolutely dripping in perspiration as you continued to beat the bag into submission. Your efforts seemed unyielding, but a calloused hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“While I have always admired your allegiance to fitness Y/N, you need to rest. ” Jim said behind you, his voice offering you some sense of calm.

“I can’t Jim.” You let your shoulder slump, your head hanging as you stared at your feet.

“You have to. Tomorrow is a big day. Technically, it’s actually today, in a few hours. It’s 2 am, Y/N.” You turned to face the man, your face devoid of any emotion, eyes empty after the endeavors of the previous day.

“Why, why is it a big day Jim?” Your arms flop at your sides, emphasizing your frustration.

“First, we have a meeting with Scarlett, but then we have to follow her to a few interviews. I have already coordinated the security.” He looks in your eyes, trying to decipher any emotion or tell as to your thoughts.

“Cool, that sounds like something for the team, not me.” You state, maintaining the blank stare.

“Actually, it’s not. You have been requested to be there, by Mrs. Johansson herself. We have received direct threats to her at these events, you will be following her directly.”

“Great. That’s fucking lovely.” You finally show a shred of emotion, albeit anger and frustration at the situation you found yourself in. You were more upset that there was an anticipated threat and you weren’t in the greatest of conditions to handle it. “Fine. I’ll shower and rest up. What time is the meeting?”

“0700. Paul and I will be briefing the rest of the team at 0630, so take a little bit of extra time for yourself, even if it’s only a half an hour.” With that, Jim turned and started to walk away. He suddenly stopped, turning on his heel and facing back to you. “Y/N/N, you need to take it easy on yourself. I know this isn’t easy. But this plays directly into his hands, with you not taking care of yourself. Kris called me a little bit ago, reasonably worried. I know you wouldn’t tell her what’s all going on, but you need to talk to someone. You can always talk to me.” His gaze softened, and he smiled, before circling back on his heel and walking out of the gym. You shook your head, and made your way to the showers.

You struggled pulling off the glove, but were finally able to work it off of your hand, which was even more swollen than it had been prior to your ten round match with the heavy bag. The tape and gauze you had wrapped your hand in was tinged red and pink with blood, mixed with sweat. You hesitantly unwound the wrapping, grimacing when it got down to the portion making contact with the angered skin. “Fuck. How the fuck am I going to work with this?” You mutter to yourself. Before taking the other glove off, and then ridding yourself of your clothing and hopping into a scolding hot shower.

The familiar screech of your phone alarm alerted you to the fact that it was almost time for people to start arriving back to the building. You don’t even remember getting back to your office, let alone falling asleep. You were just glad is was a dreamless, devoid slumber that had no flashbacks or memories attached to it. You sat yourself up off the sofa, wincing in pain, realizing that you had been so tired you didn’t even bother to pull down the bed, you had just fallen asleep here. You slowly worked yourself upright, and made your way over to the bathroom, so you could take some medicine for the inevitable pain your would become inundated with. You swallowed the pills dry, before getting an outfit out for work. You knew that it had to be somewhat professional, but if there really was a threat, then it needed to be tactical enough to move around in.

You opted for a simple black long sleeve, some of your slightly loose black pants, and a black leather bomber, so you could easily access and dress your injuries from yesterday, and keep them reasonably hidden. You gingerly glued some of the deeper cuts to your chest shut, placing small butterfly bandages along them to hold them closed. Turning your focus to your deeply blackened hand, you thought it best to wear some cut off gloves, that way the majority of the injuries were hidden. Combing your hair, you carefully styled your hair before reaching over to spray yourself with cologne, then scooping the coat and gloves to reenter your office. You threw the gloves and coat behind your office chair, carefully sitting down in your chair, and opening your computer to complete some tasks on your laptop.

“Morning, Y/L/N.” Your head snapped up to see Jim popping his head into your office. “Did you get some rest?”

“Yeah, I did Jim. Thanks.” He smiled, turning and walking away from your office, the door latching soon after. You continued to watch the hallway as more people showed up to begin their day. Kris finally appeared out of the elevator, and you anticipated her walking into your office. She didn’t spare so much as a glance in your direction, and went straight into hers, removing her jacket and settling into her chair, presumably beginning to go through her emails. You felt a pull to go and apologize, but were pulled out of your thoughts by your phone. The familiar ringtone called to you from the table in front of your sofa, and you stood yourself up, walking over and trying to hide the shot of pain you felt as you bent over to pick up the device. At this point, you were certain you had at least a couple bruised ribs. As you went to swipe the screen to answer, the call ended. “Seriously? Fucker, fine I didn’t want to t…” you start, before receiving a text from the same number.

6:23 AM UNK- “I hope you’re feeling better. You’ll need your strength for today.”

Fuck.

CHAPTER 12

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #lesbian nsft #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett johansson smut #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson #ILYBOMTJALTM

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h50europe · 5 months

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MERTHUR AU - FALLEN - Chapter 6 now on AO 3

https://archiveofourown.org/.../50065990/chapters/131574139

Excerpt:

When he heard pots and pans clattering in the kitchen, Arthur sauntered over and watched Merlin put the kettle on the stove and take two mugs from the cupboard above it. He couldn't help feeling a sense of comfort and calm. It was in stark contrast to the uneasy feeling he'd had in the club earlier.

Although Merlin had a few questions for Arthur, he tried not to ask them. They talked about their work, and when the subject of Lancelot finally came up, Merlin kept his cool. It wasn't easy, but he'd lose Arthur forever if he dropped another bombshell. And there was no way he could risk that. Merlin had the impression that Arthur was hiding something as well.

"I can see that you've wanted to ask me something all along. So, tell me," Merlin encouraged him.

Arthur put his cup down on the coffee table. "You said you were an angel. But you don't have wings because you cut them off. I don't remember seeing any scars on your back when I woke up next to you."

Merlin nodded, "That's because I covered them up with a glamor spell."

"You... You can do magic?" Arthur asked skeptically.

"Yes, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. Nothing special."

Arthur swallowed. Then he looked Merlin in the eye: "Would you... would you show me your wings or what's left of them? I mean, if that's even possible."

Merlin thought about it for a moment. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his head. He turned his back to Arthur, closed his eyes and muttered a reversal spell. Two large scars immediately appeared on his back. They stretched from Merlin's shoulder blades down to the waistband of his jeans.

Arthur felt almost magically drawn to the sight and stood up. "Can I touch them?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," Merlin replied.

#merthur art #merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #colin morgan #bradleys james #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #missing merlin #merthur fanart #merthur manip #modern merlin #merthur au #merthur fanfic

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thewitchwannabe · 1 year

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HAPPY MUTATION DAY

NEW DESTINY SINOPSIS

Leona walked into the kitchen, the smell of pancakes filling up her nostrils. “Mornin’ sis!” Mikey said, flipping a pancake with the pan. ‘Show off’ she thought affectionately, a smile grew on her lips. “Ohayo Mikey, happy mutation day”, she said. “Happy mutation day!” The orange turtle answered. Leo walked over to the kettle to start preparing her and Master Splinter’s teas, as well as Donny’s coffee. Mikey continued to work on the pancakes, garnishing the stack with some strawberries. He was going all out for their birthdays but at this rate Leo feared they were going to need April to make a second grocery run this week. A little later Donny walked in, eye bags under his eyes as usual, carrying his coffee mug, making a beeline to the coffee pot. “Happy mutation day, Don!” Mikey said, finishing up Leo’s plate with a number 15 and handing it to her. Donny simply sat down with his now full mug, taking a big sip, his eyes finally seemed to focus on his siblings “happy mutation day”, they said calmly. Mikey handed Donny his plate, a stack of buttered pancakes with a number 14 on it, the purple turtle started eating with delight. Leo shook her head at the sight of her brother, “when exactly did you go to sleep last night?” She asked. Donny looked up a slightly offended look on his face “I’ll have you know Leona, that i went to bed at a reasonable 10:30 pm, my brain just didn’t shut up until 4 in the morning”.

The two of them continued to eat while Mikey prepared the rest of the pancake batter. He turned around once he had his, Raph’s and Master Splinter’s plates ready. “Alright I’ll go wake up the little rascal, Leo you can take dad’s plate to his room” he said. Leona nodded and stood up from her seat and started serving Master Splinter’s tea and placed it with his plate on a tray. “That won’t be necessary my children” Splinter’s tired voice said. He entered the kitchen with a sleepy Raph next to him. A soft “ohayo” left the youngest turtle’s lips as he walked over to his seat. Leo quickly walked over to the old rat, “Tōsan! What are you doing here?” She asked worry clear in her tone. Master Splinter, smiled at his daughter, “It’s you kid’s birthday, I couldn’t spend it in my room again” he said, it was true, he had barely congratulated them last year since his health wasn’t as stable as it was now. “Don’t worry Leona, I’m feeling quite well today”. Leo watched her dad walk over to the table. Raph already devouring his breakfast, the 12 sign left to the side like Mikey’s own 13. A smile made its way to Leo’s lips, as she walked over to her seat to finish up her breakfast.

The little family ate and chatted, a stark difference to last year’s celebration. When Master Splinter was still recovering from their showdown with the Shredder. Donny working non-stop to find a way to bring his health to a safe zone of sorts. Leo patrolling the city looking for any sign of the foot. And Mikey making sure Raph didn’t try to follow their sister. It had been a hard while, but they finally reached a sense of normalcy, things aren’t as dire as they were. The foot has been MIA for a while, and Leo’s biggest concern was her brother’s training and getting groceries and supplies whenever April was too busy or couldn’t find an excuse to buy a family’s worth of food. April was the latest addition to their little clan. Their paths had crossed here and there as she was often caught in the crossfire of their battles with the foot. She’s always been quite the magnet for trouble according to her. But that also meant that she caught sight of Leo rushing to Splinter’s aid the night of their showdown with the Shredder and decided to follow her. April helped her get her father out of the collapsed building they were trapped in after the blast Leo caused when she stopped the draining jutsu. She even stayed with Splinter while Leo went to rescue her brother’s from the foot’s headquarters. She simply stuck around after that night, and Leona couldn’t be happier about that. Sure she had this weird friendship with Karai, but having a friend who never tries to harm her or her family was pretty nice.

Leo was brought back to the conversation, when Raph spoke “nēchan, are you making us train today?”. Leo looked at Raph and raised an eyebrow “mmmmm” she said placing a finger to her chin, “i don’t know, should i give you a day off?” All three of her brothers immediately said yes, making Master Splinter chuckled as he sipped his tea. She faked offense at their response “come on, training is fun” she defended crossing her arms. “It is, it is!” Mikey said, “but come one sis, it's our birthday, we should take it easy!”. Donny and Raph nodded their heads in agreement. Leo rolled her eyes “fine, you can skip training, but remember April is coming in the afternoon” she said heading to the dojo by herself. The cheers of her brothers behind her. “In that case, how about a private lesson, Leona?” Master Splinter said, getting up from his seat with the help of his cane. “Only if you feel up for it, tōsan” Leo said as Splinter reached her at the door. Splinter laughs a little at the overprotective-ness of his daughter and lets her lead the way to the dojo.

Leona practiced the kata Master Splinter had explained, as he watched and gave pointers sitting on the floor a little to the side. Leo made sure to follow all the indications her sensei gave her. She was determined to perfect the move as it would be her job to teach her brothers. This was the system that they had reached, as training and keeping up with 4 students was too taxing for the rat. So Leo took over her brother’s training, being able to spar with them and teach them what she knew as the oldest. And after that Splinter would give her private lessons to her. After a while Leo was making the move with an almost perfect precision, so Splinter declared the lesson over, and called Leo over to sit with him. “You know Leona, while we were all eating breakfast I realized something” he said. Leo turned to look at her father “what did you realize tōsan?”. Splinter looked up at a picture hanging on the wall, the five of them many years before, Master Splinter had just given them their masks, they were all smiling. “I realized how lucky we are” he started “yes we have gone through tough battles, battles that have left us some lasting scars, but we have managed to overcome them all”. Leona thought about it, they’ve grown up hidden away, scavenging for food and supplies, only having each other, but they were happy and loved. “We’ve gone through so much, and yet here we are, the five of us being able to laugh and celebrate another year of our family forming” Splinter turned to look at Leo, “and I have to thank you for it, Leona”. Leo’s eyes grew wide, “me?” Splinter nodded his head, “yes, you made sure we were all taken care of after our last encounter with the Shredder. You provided for your brothers, you cared for them, and continued to train them, when I was too weak to do so. You’ve grown into such a strong young woman, and couldn’t be prouder of you” Leona looked at her father with wide eyes feeling them start to water a little. “I’m so incredibly lucky to have you as my daughter, Leona,” Splinter said, wiping away Leo’s tears with a gentle smile on his face before pulling her into a hug. Leo quickly returned the embrace. The two of them hugged for a while, and Leo let herself be comforted like she comforts her brothers.

Soon enough the afternoon rolled around, the family rested in the living room waiting for April to arrive. Mikey and Raph playing ‘InkSquids’, while Donny scrolled aimlessly on his phone. Leo watched her brother's gameplay, making sure their game fights didn’t escalate. Splinter sat in his chair, with a hot cup of tea, content to have his children with him. Suddenly the sound of footsteps filled the sewer tunnel leading to their home. The five of them turned their heads immediately at the sound, their senses always acutely aware of their surroundings. They quickly relaxed as their human friend appeared through the door. April walked in apologizing for her tardiness. “Jones was helping me with our calculus homework,” she said. She placed her large bag on the kotatsu table in the center of the living room. “Don’t worry April, we're just glad to have you here” Leo said as she walked over to hug her friend. “Well I’m here, and I come bearing gifts”. If Raph and Mikey had ears, they would have perked up, as they clearly got excited at the mention of gifts.

They all gathered around the table, as April opened her bag. “They’re not much, just a few things from me and Master Splinter”, the human said. The four turtles turned to look at their father, with surprise in their faces. “I asked Miss O’Neil to help me get each of you a small present”, Splinter said as he sat besides April ready to hand the gifts. Raph went first, Master Splinter handed him a small set of art supplies. Next was Mikey, who received a figurine of his favorite superhero ‘Arachnid-Man’. Then was Donny, April handed him two very unique looking mugs, one of them the size of a small bowl to add to his collection. And finally for Leona, Master Splinter handed her a small box tied closed with a ribbon. Leo opened her gift inside a small necklace with a blue butterfly for a pendant. “It's beautiful” she said “thank you tōsan, April”. The younger turtles thanked the father and friend once more, all happy with their gifts.

Mikey quickly ran to the kitchen and came back with the cake he and Raph prepared. Donny helped serve a slice of everyone as April helped Leo put on her gift. “I hope it wasn’t much trouble getting them, April,” Leo said. The human girl sat besides her friends as she was handed a piece of cake. “Not at all, Master Splinter already had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to get you guys, I just had to go get it”. Leo looked around at her family, Mikey was in the middle of explaining the story behind his figurine to Master Splinter who simply smiled and nodded along, most likely not being able to follow Mikey’s convoluted explanation. Donny took Mikey’s plays in front of the tv, to play ‘MarcoKart’ with Raph. Leona’s face softened, her family was all together, safe, and happy, and she had a realization of her own. She realized that she’ll always fight to preserve this. To have these moments with her family, and protect them.

“I want the next turn after whoever loses,” Leo says with a smile.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt new destiny #new destiny au #tmnt leona

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avengersnewb · 10 months

Text

Here to Stay

“Didn’t know you’ve been added to the roster,” Rhodey says, filling the electric kettle, turning it on. “It’s a big help though, much appreciated.” He gets the tea bag and chucks it into a red pot. “It’s not so much that there is a lot of work, it’s just that he—you’ll see. He just doesn’t want anyone around.”

He leans against the cupboard, throwing the towel on the back of a chair, and for a moment they stare at the kettle, listening to the low hiss, the water slamming against the confines.

“Pepper hired four different people as stay-in help. The most patient one stayed for 36 hours. He doesn’t know we have a schedule to help out, because we mix it up, we even let him stay on his own a night here and there, just to throw him off. It’s not easy to fool—”

The kettle comes to a boil and starts to whistle. Rhodey turns to fill the pot, and Steve watches the tension, tight in his shoulders. “I’m sure Nat has already filled you in. It’s been one hell of a few months.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say that Nat, in fact, has not said a word about any of that. He doesn’t say that Tony knows already that they are doing a roster, wondering when Steve will finally show up like all of his other friends to help out. Something feels funny in his chest, and his throat is a little tight.

“Here,” Rhodey says, pouring the tea into a mug. “One honey, and then you have to leave it for three minutes exactly before it’s in his hands. He’ll know if it’s one second late.” He laughs and pushes the mug forward across the kitchen counter toward Steve.

“Me?” Steve asks, reaching for the mug.

“Yeah, of course. He’s all yours now, I’m gonna pop into his room, say my goodbyes, and be gone before he kicks me out for real this time.”

And…he actually does that. He’s gone before the three minutes–that Steve is dutifully counting in his head–is over.

Tony’s making his way slowly back to the living room when Steve comes out of the kitchen. Should Steve go ahead and help him out? He knows that the right way to provide help is to ask if it’s needed but the person who needs help is Tony, and Steve is, well, Steve. What on earth is he supposed to do?

“Do you need help, Cap? Having trouble coming close enough to give me my tea? It’s getting cold, you know, if—”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Steve almost runs a few feet of distance to Tony, and stops too late, almost bumping into him. “I’m—” he says out of breath, taking a step back “—fine.”

Tony raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to the side. “Yeah. I can see that.” He shrugs and lowers himself, landing gracefully on the couch. He then holds his hand out. “Do you mind?”

Steve considers him for a moment, and it takes him a few more to realize what Tony is asking. “Sure, of course.” He hands the mug to Tony, taking a few more steps back.

Perfect.

Now he is standing in the middle of Tony Stark’s living room, and Tony is watching him as he raises the mug to his lips as if Steve is on some sort of twisted display.

Steve would stare back, if it was a different time.

If it was back in 2012 when they all lived in the tower, those few months when Tony had broken up with Pepper, when Steve would allow himself to believe that there was intention behind every dirty joke, every lingering touch, those pants that would make Steve’s mouth go dry at the possibilities—Steve would have flirted back.

But it’s not another time.

The burn marks covering the right side of Tony’s face are real. The pain, the wounds, the canyon between them—it’s all real. So Steve smiles, dips his head, and looks at his shoes, for as long as it takes for Tony to get bored with watching Steve squirm under his gaze.

“Cap?” Tony says, after finally taking a loud gulp of the tea, and Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I can’t drink this,” he gestures to the mug as Steve looks up at him. “Too cold.”

-----

My entry for @stevetonyisendgame mini exchange written for @jetblackfeeling 😊

Here to Stay (M, 5.5k)

Steve visits Tony (not unscathed but alive) in his cabin, post-endgame, and stays there longer than intended, because they have so much to do and because Tony never tells him to leave. Endgame fix it, fluff, getting together, no one dies, hurt/comfort, precious Morgan Stark

#stony #stevetony #superhusbands #avengers endgame #stony fic

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obligatorynasty · 1 year

Note

Hi, previous anon here! Hm, if we are talking about really smutty prompts, maybe cumflation with Starker? If that works for you :) PS: I ADORE your stories!!!

Little Blue Prototype

--starker, nff, cumflation--

“I’m sorry, run that by me again,” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, “You did what?” He stared at his boyfriend with exasperated eyes, his gaze rapidly flickering to the lab table, the empty test tube, and then back to Tony.

“Engineered my own blue pill, took the prototype, currently testing the side effects, yada, yada, science,” Tony shrugged, wiping his arm across the sweat beading at his forehead. “May have miscalculated the dosage,” He puffed out a heavy exhale, tapping at the hologram screen floating beside him to check the temperature. “When did it get so hot in here? FRI, bring the arctic.”

“Yes, boss,” FRIDAY chimed over the lab speaker as Peter rolled his eyes. “Tony it’s already 68 degrees in here. You’re either having old man hot flashes or a heart attack,” He gave a threatening grin, crossing his arms. “If it’s a heart attack, I’ll kill you.”

Tony laughed, slumping down against a lab stool, “Hot flashes, plausible. Heart attack, unlikely. Although – and you’ll have to excuse my language here—”

Peter interrupted with a dramatic snort, “Oh my god, you are dying.”

“—my cock may just pack its fucking bags, fall off, and go on sabbatical if I don’t have the best orgasm of my life in the next five minutes. Actually… you know, let’s make that four." He shook his head, shucking his jacket and tossing it against the desk with a hefty breath. "You know what, no, three.”

Peter glanced down, catching sight of Tony’s tenting pant zipper before meeting his gaze again, leveling a look of suspicion. “Did you make this little blue prototype because of what I said yesterday night?”

“You try having your young boyfriend ask for more sex and not be able to deliver,” Tony chuckled, groaning as he wiped more sweat from his forehead, a knit in his brow, fanning himself with his hands. “You’d be playing mad scientist too.”

“Tony, you’re supposed to be a genius,” Peter sighed, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to Tony’s lips, pulling away just inches from his face. “You don’t always have to fuck me, you know? You can just touch, or watch, honestly anything would be fine as long as it’s me and you figuring it out. You don't have to worry about stuff like this.”

“Wow, Pete, you-” Tony paused, laughing at himself as he shook his head. “I’ve really gone and done it this time, haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” Peter smiled back, bringing his hand to Tony’s jaw. “But we shouldn’t waste a good opportunity, right?” He dropped his voice low, stealing another kiss, this one deeper and wetter than the last, before slowly pulling away. “We’ve got a prototype to test, Mr. Stark.”

“I love you,” Tony blurted out as he rushed over to a small drawer at the bottom of his desk. “Have I told you that before?”

Peter laughed, pulling at his jean button, “I remember you saying something like that a few months ago.”

“Good,” Tony returned, a bottle of lube in one hand, while the other worked on his pant zipper. “I mean it.”

“I love you too,” Peter could feel his face flush. No matter how many times they joked around, those words still made his heart race and they probably always will. “You’re such a big sap.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Tony quipped, an arrogant smirk tugging on his lips as his eager hands made their way to Peter’s waist, rushing to pull down on his jeans and briefs, leaving them at his knees. “But you’re right,” He nodded, freeing his cock from his suit pants. “I am a big sap for you, Pete – so I promise to do everything you want later.”

Peter gave a playful gasp. “A lab quickie, Mr. Stark?” He teased, turning around to bend over the lab desk, swaying his hips gently. "Just can't wait to have me, can you?"

“Guilty,” Tony admitted, not bothering to play any of their usual flirtatious games as he hastily lubed his fingers and worked them into Peter’s hole with relative ease.

The effortless stretch was a perk from yesterday night’s events, which Peter found himself breathing a sigh of relief for, considering how quickly everything was heating up. He couldn’t hold back his moans from the push and pull of the hurried finger fucking. How could he? There was something so tantalizing about Tony's haste. He usually took his time with things, but this was different. Peter was convinced that the prototype dosage was too high, might not even be safe for consumption with how fast Tony was in getting his cock lined up with his entrance.

Still, it was thrilling; the way Tony grabbed onto his hips and sank inside, breathing out that deeply satisfied groan that rang in Peter's ears like siren song. Pleasure shooting up his spine as Tony pushed right against his favorite spot – the spot that never failed to have him moaning with shaky legs and squeezed-shut eyes. Had him trembling as Tony began pistoning his hips, fucking into Peter’s tight heat with an unusual vigor, rapidly dragging against that bundle of nerves and making Peter see stars much faster than normal.

“Oh my god, Tony!” Peter screamed, dropping his forehead onto the lab desk, his mind overrun with the sensation of his boyfriend’s cock. “It’s so good!”

“You too, baby, fuck-” Tony grunted, ceaseless in his thrusting, huffing out strained breaths with each forward flick of his hips. “You’re so good,” He mumbled out, brow furrowed, recklessly yanking against Peter’s waist. “Gonna come inside, baby.”

“Mhmm, please, please,” Peter whined, throwing his hips back to meet Tony in the middle, focused on getting his boyfriend off more than his own hardness hanging between his thighs. Once this prototype was out of his system, they could go to the penthouse, fuck nice and slow on Tony’s bed, or maybe he would make Tony watch this time. Yeah. That thought was enough to make him feel lightheaded, swimming in the pleasure of each rushed thrust.

And just as Peter lost himself in his thoughts, Tony brought him back to the present by bottoming out. The sound of his enraptured groan was more music to Peter’s ears. Made him release his own lust-drunk moan, trembling as Tony came, feeling the warmth of his cum hitting him deep inside, filling and… wait, filling?

Peter gasped, surprised that it wasn’t stopping, why wasn’t it stopping?

“Tones, what’s-”

“Won’t… stop,” Tony muttered out between a taut breath, his hands rigid at Peter’s sides like his body was locking up. “Fuck- sorry, Pete, I-”

Peter would be lying if he said panic wasn’t his first reaction, and his second. The flow of cum just wasn’t stopping. It felt fiery and heavy in his gut, a constant stream of pumps that flooded his stomach, building pressure against his abdomen. Panic might have been his third reaction too, because it was happening fast, so fast that Peter couldn’t even think to pull away. Not that he had anywhere to run. He was stuck between Tony and the desk, and all he could think about was how much pressure was on his belly as the cum continued to flow.

“I- I’ll pull- out.”

Tony’s strained words were what brought on Peter’s fourth reaction: “Don’t!”

It surprised them both. Tony’s cock was still filling every crevice of Peter’s insides, causing his stomach to dome heavy from the gravity of being bent over. Yet, something about being helplessly pumped full of cum had Peter’s body buzzing with arousal, so Tony stayed buried inside until the very last drop forced its way out.

Tony took a deep breath, running a gentle hand up and down Peter's side, “You okay, baby? Your stomach is… it’s um… wow.” Tony was speechless as he trailed his fingers on the edge of Peter's belly. “I should pull-”

“Not yet,” Peter whined, desperately clinging to the full sensation as he reached a hand between his legs and began palming at his cock.

Tony inhaled sharp, probably working his way through his own chain of reactions as he rambled out, “Ok, that’s- wow, yeah, um- Pete, baby, let me, c’mere.” He leaned forward, pulling Peter upright with his cock still inside, reaching around to stroke his hand over Peter’s length.

“Tones,” Peter shuddered, his eyes flickering downward, finally getting a good look at himself – a good look at his stomach, the swell of it. Fuck. It felt so good. Too good. Shamefully good. A moan fought its way out of him, involuntary feedback to his torrid arousal mixing with the heady pleasure from Tony’s hand thumbing against the slit of his cock. He was close, barely able to feel the tension of his near orgasm amid the absolute stretch of his gut and the warm slosh of cum that did it.

“Getting off from being all filled up by me, baby?” Tony whispered, catching Peter so off guard that his entire body flinched, tensing and untensing all at once.

“Uhn… Tony!” Peter moaned, coming ribbons against the lab desk, feeling high from the sensation of his own clenching, making the full feel even fuller. “Mmm… pull out, pull out,” He mumbled, wanting to feel the complete release in the midst of his climax.

And Tony quickly complied, pulling his cock away with a soft grunt, but keeping his hands steady on Peter’s waist as it all flowed out.

“Oh- oh my god, Tony,” Peter whimpered as it streamed down his thighs, drenching and pooling in his briefs and jeans where they sat around his knees, sopping into the fabric and leaving his inner thighs wet and sticky with Tony’s cum.

As the swell slowly waned and Peter got used to the feeling of cum-soaked socks, he felt the embarrassment catch up with him because he was a little too into that; a little too desperate for it, a little too eager about it, a little too-

“So the prototype was a success, right?” Tony asked, causing Peter to abruptly turn around in surprise.

“You think so?” He grinned, feeling red in the face from his new found desires and the sheer amount of wetness on his legs. “You liked it too?”

“I might fine tune out the heart attack symptoms, but yes, Pete, I liked it,” He smiled. “A lot.”

“Ok, well, you know fine tuning usually requires iterative testing?”

Tony belted out a laugh, pulling Peter into a quick kiss, “Yes, we can do it again. Is that what you want me to say, hm?”

Peter smirked, “You said it first.”

I hope you enjoyed the fic! It turned out longer than I thought it would but the words finally came to me and voilà, smut! :D

#starker #obligatorywrites

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themculibrary · 2 years

Text

Witches/Witchcraft Masterlist

A Familiar Ritual (ao3) - justanotherpipedream steve/tony G, 686

Summary: “Come on Tony-”

“No”

Bucky crosses his arms. The sleek black cat curled up on his bed continued to blatantly ignore him. Bucky frowns as he leans against the door. “You know I can’t do the rituals without your help.”

Tony flicks his ears. “Well maybe you should’ve thought of that before inviting a stinky, slobbery dog familiar along.”

An' Harm Ye None (ao3) - LinneaKou steve/tony, peggy/angie, happy/pepper, jane/thor M, 92k

Summary: “...do as ye will.”

Toni Stark, small-town witch, has served as the head of the Cravenswood town coven for a decade all the while assisting the police in occult-related crime. Between her and Detective Steve Rogers, nothing that happens in Cravenwood is too big to handle - not even the reappearance of her estranged brother... that is, until someone starts ritually murdering townspeople.

As the death toll climbs and a conservative religious group begins to cast blame upon the town witches, something monstrous begins to stir up Craven’s Woods. Faced with an unknown Craft and drawing the suspicions of the citizens she swore to protect, Toni must put an end to the killings before whatever is haunting the woods comes out into the light.

Fear lives in a small town.

Breath of a Fish (ao3) - picturecat steve/tony G, 4k

Summary: Their relationship was courteous, as it must be for any two witches who had no interest in feuding with one another properly. But to someone he could trust not to repeat his words, Steve often complained that Stark was basically a warlock, the way he carried on with esoteric nonsense and ignoring the needs of the people. For his part, Steve had no idea what Stark’s objection to him was. He knew only that the man so obviously delighted in teasing Steve that the people of their town regularly placed bets on when they expected them to come to blows.

Call Brooklyn's Best For All Your Witchy Needs! (ao3) - attackofthezee (noxlunate) steve/bucky G, 1k

Summary: There comes a point where Steve can go absolutely no longer without his morning cup of coffee and he has to admit defeat, apologize to his coffee pot and go find the nearest coffee shop.

It’s when he’s halfway through his triple shot, almond milk, caramel mocha with no whip that he finds it on the bulletin board.

‘Need a witch’s services?’ is written across the top of a piece of printer paper in large letters, followed by ‘Call Brooklyn’s Best Bitches for all your witchy needs! We provide spells, amulets, potions, mild jinxes, exorcisms, stitch witchery, recipes to capture a lovers attentions (NO LOVE SPELLS!) and can even take care of your plants! Enquire today for all your magical needs.’

In which Steve's coffee pot is haunted and he needs to get a little help from magic to fix it.

Kitty Like Cushions and Puppy Kettles. (ao3) - halelujah bucky/tony T, 1k

Summary: Prompt:"i get a cold and when im sick i really can’t be around non-magic people but u show up at my door and i try to shoo u away but u come in and see my apartment but..." with sick!Tony and non magical!Bucky?

Let Me Inside You (Into Your Room) (ao3) - chaosmanor, KitChaosFic steve/bucky E, 60k

Summary: Bucky knew. He knew, and he still wanted Steve.

“I want to,” Steve said, because that was why he was there, wasn’t it? To stop trying to die? To find out how to live? To be more than the monster in his head?

nectar of the gods (and witches too) (ao3) - spacebuck steve/bucky E, 26k

Summary: Or: the one where Steve owns a coffee shop, Bucky’s a greenwitch, and neither of them are okay, but they’re trying to be.

Something So Familiar (ao3) - leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) steve/bucky G, 6k

Summary: When Bucky was seven the Training Masters told him he had no magic, no potential, that he’d never be a witch. It wasn’t a surprise. Witches came from certain families and a certain class, just like magic was sterile and ordered and familiars were obedient and servile. That was simply the way the world worked.

Bucky grew up and got on with living his mundane life, knowing he was one hundred percent magic free. Which meant it came as something of a shock when the familiar appeared in his living room, claiming Bucky was his witch. It meant the Masters had been wrong. It meant Bucky had magic.

It meant, just maybe, that wasn’t the way the world had to work after all.

Stop On Green (ao3) - Catchclaw steve/tony T, 715

Summary: It wasn’t Tony’s fault that he turned Steve into a cat.

Well, it was his fault, but it wasn’t his fault.

Storming the Witch's Castle (ao3) - JacarandaBanyan steve/tony T, 2k

Summary: The Scarlet Witch rains terror down upon the land. All who stand in her way suffer her wrath.

After his husband is captured and presumably killed by the Scarlet Witch, Steve leads a small group of fighters for one last Hail Mary shot at taking her down, once and for all.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling (ao3) - galwednesday steve/bucky T, 1k

Summary: (Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who’s new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

The Little Witch in the Woods (ao3) - bugsandcoffee steve/bucky T, 1k

Summary: Bucky was content in his little cottage in the woods, he loves practicing magic and cuddling his cat Alpine. Then one day an injured werewolf shows up on his doorstep and Bucky finds something else to love.

Witchcraft (ao3) - MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne) bucky/steve/tony T, 2k

Summary: Tony & Bucky accidentally summon a demon

Witch Hunt (ao3) - Candy_Kittens steve/bucky N/R, 45k

Summary: It’s 1735, and Bucky Barnes is being hunted down for being a witch - which to be fair, is exactly what he is.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #au #witches #witches masterlist #halloween #supernatural

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hobis-hope94 · 2 years

Text

~ It Wasn’t His Fault 15 ~

AN: we’ve reached the half way mark!!! Also I’m back in class today, like on site and I’m bricking it because it’s a new class and new course which means I have to meet new people!! Ahh. So nervous.

Part 14 Here:

it wasn’t his fault 14

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NEW TO MARVEL AND HAVENT SEEN AVENGERS: ENDGAME YET AS THERE IS A MAJOR SPOILER AHEAD

Summery: Y/N’s reunited with Bucky, but at a cost ….

Parings: husband!Bucky x wife!Stark!reader

Characters: the Avengers, Morgan Stark, Happy Hogan and Pepper Pots.

Warnings: major character death, Endgame spoilers, crying, funerals mentioned, death mentioned, grieve, little angst with some fluff.

(gif not mine):

“Morgan’s a great kid,” you said that evening.

Morgan was already in bed, you were with Pepper in the living room, Pepper was going over some papers and you were again reading The Hobbit.

“Thank you,” Pepper looked up at you and smiled.

You smiled back.

“I’m glad Tony still trusted me with you. He saw you’re safest at home,” Pepper said gently, getting back to her papers.

You forced tears back. You were finally feeling some peace. After five long years.

———

The following afternoon, the world felt different. More birds were singing than usual.

You shared the same look at Pepper. Your phone rang. You couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw Bucky’s name appear.

“H…hello?” You asked slowly.

“Oh my god, you’re okay,” Bucky’s voice was music to your ears.

“Bucky?!” You stood up, causing Pepper and Morgan to jump.

“Hi doll,” Bucky said, you started crying.

“Oh my god I thought you were dead,” you cried.

“I’m okay,” Bucky said gently, “don’t cry baby. It’s alright,” he added softly.

Once you calmed down, Bucky then explained they needed yours and Pepper’s help. Pepper wouldn’t let you go because of your broken arm. So she went and you stayed with Happy and Morgan.

You watched as Pepper said her emotional goodbyes to her daughter, then she looked at you.

“If something happens to me and Tony. We’ve talked about this. We want you and Bucky to look after Morgan. Happy’s got the papers all ready,” Pepper said gently.

“We’d happily take her,” you choked.

Pepper smiled. She hugged you tightly, gave one last hug to Morgan then said goodbye to Happy, and then left.

“I’m afraid you girls are under strict instructions not to leave the house,” Happy said gently, you both nodded.

“Y/N, do you wanna play?” Morgan asked after a few hours.

You were sitting staring at the door, waiting for your family’s safe return.

“S-sure. What do you want to play?” You asked.

Morgan explained the game to you and you happily played along. Well, as happy as you could be. Yes you had Bucky home but this war could make you loose him for good.

Then, after a few rounds of the game, Pepper came home. She looked heart broken. You knew, so did Happy. Tony was gone….

Pepper knelt to be at level with Morgan and explained everything, the look of heart break on Morgan’s face broke you. You never got to say a proper goodbye to your father. Pepper engulfed Morgan in the tightest hug, Happy put his arm around your shoulders. You did allow a few tears to go free.

“Bucky?” You suddenly asked, after a while.

“Out back with Sam and Steve,” Pepper said gently as she lifted Morgan and went into Morgan’s bedroom to calm her down.

You looked at Happy, you felt like you should be helping Pepper with Morgan.

“I got them. You go,” Happy said gently as he went to the kettle to make tea then you saw him go into the freezer for a popsicle for Morgan.

You ran outside and clear as day. You saw him. Bucky. Your Bucky. Your husband.

“Hiya,” he said gently.

You slowly went over to him and with your free arm, you gently placed your hand on his cheek. He gladly lent into your touch.

“You’re okay,” you sobbed after checking for any injuries.

“I’m o…doll, what happened to your arm?” Bucky asked noticing your arm in a sling.

“Clint broke it saving my life,” you said, tears running down your cheeks.

Bucky smiled gently and then kissed the palm of your hand. He carefully hugged you and allowed you to cry onto him.

——

“I don’t want to have to say goodbye to daddy,” Morgan said tearfully as you helped her get ready for Tony’s funeral.

You looked at her, for a little girl who’s just lost her father, you all thought she was coping well.

“I know, bug. I don’t want to either but you know. A very wise man taught me a very good lesson about death,” you said tearfully, kneeling down to be at the same level as her.

“What did he say?” Morgan asked, her brown eyes shining with tears.

“He said “death isn’t the end”. And do you know what that means?” You asked, Morgan shook her head.

You sighed tearfully.

“It means. Our dad is still having the biggest adventure ever. And one day, when we’re ready and he’s ready to see us again, we’ll all be together,” you said gently, wiping her tears away.

“When will that be?” Morgan asked tearfully.

“When you’re over 100yrs old,” you said softly, Morgan gave you a little laugh. “That’s my girl. That’s what dad would have wanted. His baby girl smiling,” you added, giving Morgan a brave smile.

“You girls ready?” Pepper asked tearfully.

You looked at Morgan, she nodded as you stood up. You nodded too. Morgan ran straight to Pepper and Pepper picked her up. You sighed heavily. Bucky was waiting for you.

“You don’t have to come, bub,” you said, noticing Bucky looking uncomfortable.

“N-no. I want to be here, for you,” Bucky said gently, wiping your tears away.

You smiled gratefully. The funeral went on and it was hard. You were at the front with Morgan and Pepper, both of you were kneeling down beside her.

Once the funeral was over, you went over to Bucky. He wrapped his arm tightly around you.

“Tony has left a message for you all,” Happy said gently.

You nodded. Bucky let go of you and started to back away.

“He left one for you too, Barnes,” Happy said, noticing Bucky back away.

You grabbed Bucky’s left hand gently. He sighed heavily and went inside.

You were sat on the sofa, Morgan in the middle of you and Pepper. Happy the other side of you. Pepper had her arms around Morgan as you all listened to Tony. Happy had his hand on your knee. Bucky was behind the sofa, keeping his eyes on you.

“And as for you, Barnes,” Tony’s recording said, Bucky looked up. “You hurt my daughter in any shape or form, I will come back and haunt your ass,” he added.

You all whipped your heads at Bucky, then let out a breathy laugh. Bucky relaxed slightly.

“But seriously,” Tony’s recording said, “I know how happy you make Y/N, and I know you’d never hurt her, and I’m sure if you either stupidly or bravely did, I wouldn’t need to haunt you because she’d kick your ass in an instant,” he added.

His recording winked at your direction. You smiled softly.

“You’re a good man, Barnes. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to see. I know you’ll watch over my daughter and keep her safe. I have no doubt,” he said gently.

Bucky smiled tearfully and mouthed “thank you. I will sir.” Steve put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“As for my girls. All three of you,” Tony’s recording said, looking at his girls, “I want you all to save the world. Keep it safe for me, yeah? And don’t forget to have fun and let loose, especially you Peps,” Pepper rolled her eyes with a smile.

He went forward slightly and looked directly at Morgan.

“I love you 3,000,” he said gently.

With that, he was gone. You placed your hand on top of Happy’s and gave him a brave smile.

——

“You two are welcome to stay here,” Pepper said gently.

You had just said goodbye to Steve Rogers for the last time. You were upset. Steve gifted you his dog tags.

“Thank you, but I think we’re gonna move to New York,” you said as you softly watched Bucky interact with Morgan, “while we love Wakanda, I think Bucky wants to be somewhere he knows well,” you said gently.

Pepper smiled softly at you.

“All three of you are welcome to visit any time you like,” you said as you gave her a hug.

“And you’re both welcome to visit as well,” Pepper said gently.

You hugged her again, then bid goodbye to Happy and Morgan.

“Come on you. Let’s go start our lives together,” you said to Bucky, linking your unbroken arm with his.

Bucky smiled at you. He couldn’t wait to get started.

——-

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#it wasn’t his fault series #husband!bucky x wife!stark!reader #husband!bucky x wife!reader #bucky x stark!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #mcu #marvel #avengers #fluffy fics #angsty fics

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omg-just-peachy · 2 years

Text

even if it's made to bleed (you know you can count on me)

a stevetony hurt/comfort moment for the hurt/comfort square on my @tonystarkbingo card, inspired by an ask about tony getting "suit rattle" and steve taking care of him that i couldn't get out of my head 🥺

2.2k words, also on AO3

****

Steve is antsy.

He always is, when he’s stuck at home and the rest of the team is out on a mission. He hates sitting around and waiting for news, wondering if everyone, and Tony in particular, is okay. Steve hadn’t been called to assist with this particular mission because he was, technically, still recovering from the last one, when he’d been nearly impaled by what had appeared to be a giant, flying, dinosaur-looking thing.

Steve might be biased, but it’s definitely starting to feel like it’s always a giant, flying, dinosaur-looking thing.

So instead, this morning Steve had promised Tony he’d take it easy, which mostly meant staying home while Tony donned the suit and met Sam and Nat and the others to save the day, and doing paperwork on the couch instead of at the Compound, or even at his desk at home.

Working from home — resting — was nice for about an hour, at which point Steve started to feel restless and more than a little useless. He’d traded his laptop for the news, in the hopes that he’d catch a glimpse of whatever was going on, since he knew Tony had probably asked everyone to let Steve relax. Tony is persuasive that way, not to mention the fact that everyone liked to remind Steve that he needed to take a break every now and again.

He can already feel the serum working, though. He’s nowhere near as sore as he was the first few days, when it felt like his insides were made of pulp and his chest sported a truly nasty gash from said flying dinosaur.

Now, Steve’s mostly just exhausted, and worried for Tony and the rest of the team, which is why he can’t help but turn the volume up when he finds a news channel actively covering the ongoing fight. They were fighting actual people this time, but they looked to be as heavily armored as Tony, and Steve watches, heart in his throat, as Tony takes a brutal hit before hurtling to the ground and landing with a crash Steve swears he can feel in his own bones.

“...And we’re live here on the Lower East Side, where it appears that Iron Man has taken a hit. He’s down— no, no, wait, he’s up. He never gives up, does he?” The newscaster says on screen as Steve winces, watching as Tony flies up, a brilliant red streak in the sky, the repulsors beaming down at the chaos below.

Tony really doesn’t ever give up. It’s one of the things Steve loves most about him. The problem is, it’s one of the most frustrating things about him, too. They have that in common, Steve knows, and it constantly feels like a matter of the pot calling the kettle black. Steve sighs, then flips off the TV. There’s only so much he can watch without being able to do anything before he feels like he’ll go crazy.

For the next hour, Steve manages to busy himself with paperwork — there’s never any shortage of that, after all — and training plans for the younger, newer Avengers. They’ve come a long way thanks to a whole lot of effort from himself, Tony, and Natasha, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of their progress.

Finally, just when he's starting to get truly stir-crazy, Steve gets a text from Sam letting him know they’re back and on their way to medical. Thank god.

You might wanna come down here. Stark’s looking a little green around the gills if you know what I mean?

Steve frowns down at the text. He does know what Sam means, and had suspected as much himself after seeing Tony fall and get back up like that. The thing about being a man in a can as Tony loves to say, is that he really is just that. A man in a metal suit, using every ounce of strength he has to navigate around in the air. Even ensconced in metal, no one is really meant to take those kinds of hits, let alone fly at the speeds Tony did. It can take a toll on a person.

As a result, Tony is sometimes left feeling disoriented and sore for a good few days; it’s like having a concussion, without the head injury. Steve feels his chest tighten with worry, because even though he knows that, realistically, Tony is and will be fine, it’s still jarring when it happens.

He sets his laptop aside and stands up, clearing away the papers and empty coffee mugs and cups of water he’d been refilling for the better part of the day, and makes his way downstairs to meet the others.

Sam’s the first person Steve sees, and he gives him a grateful nod, a silent thanks for the heads up, and Sam holds out a fist, which Steve bumps with a small smile. It’s not long before he sees Tony, clearly banged up and out of sorts, making his way through the doors. His pale face lights up when he spots Steve.

“Uh oh, who tattled?” Tony asks weakly, looking over at Sam before Steve can admit to watching the fight on the news.

“It’s not considered tattling if it means letting your worried husband know you’re home,” Steve points out.

“Fine, fine,” Tony says. He meets Steve’s eye and tries to give him another small smile, but it looks like more of a grimace than anything, and Steve just shakes his head. “Shouldn’t you be home yourself, soldier? I recall leaving you with strict instructions not to do any hard work while I was gone,” Tony continues.

“Paperwork isn’t hard,” Steve says.

“Speak for yourself,” Tony counters, lifting his eyebrows.

Steve can’t help but smile then, too. Tony really is the definition of stubborn, and he knows that, given the chance, he’d stand here and bicker with Steve all day if he could.

Before Tony can say another word though, Steve lifts him up and into his arms, like a bride on her wedding day.

“Steve!” Tony yelps, “put me down. I can walk, I’m not—”

Steve peers down at him. “I relaxed all day for this,” he tells him. “Don’t you want to make all that rest worth my while?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “You are a menace.”

“Bet you say that to all the guys,” Steve teases. “Bye, Sam,” he says, turning to Sam, laughing behind them and shaking his head.

“Man, is this what marriage is? Will Buck come strolling in to sweep me off my feet every time I get back from a mission as soon as we say 'I do'?”

“Pretty sure he’d do that now if he thought you’d let him,” Tony pipes up.

“Agreed,” Steve says. “You take it easy, too,” he continues seriously.

“This coming from the shining example of rest and relaxation,” Sam laughs, but nods. “I don’t think Bucky would have it any other way, though, so, will do.”

“He wouldn’t,” Steve agrees, giving Sam a final wave before turning, Tony still in his arms, and heading for the elevator.

“This is egregious, don’t you think? Look, my legs are fine, I can—” Steve quiets him with a soft, quick brush of his lips over Tony’s as the elevator brings them upstairs. Despite his protests, Tony doesn’t actually seem to mind being carried this way, and by the time they reach their floor, he’s settled into Steve’s arms, the warm weight of him a comfort after the long day of waiting and worrying.

The living room, once covered in the detritus of Steve’s work from home day, is more or less spotless. Steve had dimmed the lights and rummaged through the closets to find a few of the blankets Tony insisted on buying every time one of them was sick or hurt or unwell in any way, really. There are two oversized throws draped over the couch, and the menu for their favorite burger place waits on the coffee table.

When Steve finally sets Tony down, he sways a little on his feet, blinking his eyes a few times and laying a hand on Steve’s arm to steady himself.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks, leaning down and brushing his lips over Tony’s hair. “Really.”

A sigh escapes Tony at the touch, and he leans into Steve almost unconsciously. “Really… About a million years old,” he says, “like my bones are made of glass. Like I could really use a cheeseburger,” he adds, eyeing the menu.

“I can order us something. Shower and then dinner?” Steve asks.

“It’s a date,” Tony nods. He looks like he wants to say something else, but Steve watches as something tentative flickers in his eyes and he stays quiet.

Without a word, Steve takes Tony’s hand in his and leads him to the bathroom. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says quietly, turning the water on and then sliding his hands under Tony’s t-shirt and pulling him in close.

“I really am fine, darling,” Tony says. “Cross my heart and everything. I should be worrying about you and the hole that thing punched into you the other day.” Tony shudders at the memory of it.

“Sure, but not all of us have super soldier serum to do our healing for us,” Steve reminds him.

Tony just nods, letting Steve all but hold him up as they let the water run and fill the room with steam. Steve tugs Tony’s shirt over his head, then lets Tony do the same for him. They strip down layer by layer, slowly, taking their time, until Steve guides them both into the shower.

“How are you feeling, though?” Tony asks, eyes slipping shut as the water sluices over his skin. Steve traces a line of bruises down Tony’s torso as he answers.

“Much better, thanks to you,” Steve says. It's true, too. If he hadn’t promised Tony he’d take it slow, he’s almost positive he would’ve been back out in the field way too soon, slowing down the whole healing process. As hard as it is to sit back and let the rest of the team handle things, Steve's grateful to have someone who looks out for him now, too.

“Good,” Tony murmurs, opening his eyes and meeting Steve’s. The shower is luxurious, spacious and full of the countless artisan body products Tony picks out for them, and Steve lets his own eyes slip shut for a long minute when Tony wraps his arms around his waist and holds onto him. He’s not sure who’s holding the other up at this point, but he’s hardly complaining.

Tony’s injuries are relatively minor, mostly just bruises from where he fell, but still Steve worries at them with a washcloth, muttering under his breath about ice packs and tea. He drops a kiss to Tony’s shoulder, right in the middle of a smattering of freckles. He thinks for a minute about how few people have probably done that, how he’s one of a set number of people who knows Tony Stark has eleven freckles on his left shoulder, and feels something in him settle.

Steve lets Tony shampoo his hair, and has to fight to keep his eyes open at the soft push and pull of Tony’s fingers through his hair, the dull scrape of nails on his scalp. When he’s done, his hands wander down Steve’s shoulders and onto his chest, where the wound from the other day is still healing. Tony presses a kiss just to the side of it, so soft and careful Steve feels his breath catch in his throat.

“I think maybe we both needed this,” Tony says when they eventually leave the shower and head for the bedroom, changing into sweats and t-shirts in comfortable silence.

“I think you’re right,” Steve says, rubbing at his hair with a towel. Some of the color is coming back to Tony’s face now, though he still looks utterly exhausted and a little unsteady on his feet.

“Now, what this night needs is a decadent, greasy, doctor unrecommended burger with the works,” Tony says, taking Steve’s hand in his as they walk back to the living room. It’s a short distance, but they’re both a little bit needy, a little extra affectionate on nights like this.

Once dinner is ordered, (burgers and fries and two chocolate shakes), they fall against each other on the couch, Tony stretching out like a cat and all but curling up on Steve’s lap while they wait. There’s something mindless playing on TV, the volume on just softly enough that they can hear it, but not loud enough to be distracting. They can both use the easy, comfortable quiet.

“Hey.” Tony lifts Steve’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. “Thanks,” he murmurs. He doesn’t have to explain what he’s thanking him for, and Steve doesn’t need to ask.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Steve promises.

Soon there’d be paperwork, and suit repairs, and the million other things that come with their line of work, but for now, there’s just this: burgers, and Tony half-asleep on top of him, the comforting reminder that in spite of it all, they’re here, together, all in one piece.

#stevetony #stony #steve/tony #my fic

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theskywaslookingback · 3 years

Text

hands

“Somehow I thought the place would have been smaller,” Martin says, bag slung over his shoulder as he looks up at the cottage. “It’s nicer than I would have given Daisy credit for.”

Jon hums, pulling his bag out of the boot of the car they’d borrowed from Basira and letting the lid fall shut with a heavy thunk. The cottage sits nestled at the base of a large hill, surrounded by lush green grass and the last vestiges of summer flowers. Far off in the distance a couple of cows graze lazily, just small dark shapes in the dying sunlight. Bugs hum in the air around them. It’s small and quiet, just the kind of place Jon thinks Daisy might have liked, actually.

The cottage itself is stone painted a stark white, with dark blue, peeling shutters closed tight to the windows. One of the shutters lies broken on the ground, and the glass it had been protecting is spider-webbed with cracks. Two terra cotta flower pots sit on either side of the front door, both empty. There was no evidence that a welcome mat had ever been laid between them. To the left of the door was a box filled with what had once been firewood but was now damp with mist and rot. Jon shuddered to think about creatures they might find lurking in the bottom of that box.

“Charming,” Jon says, the corner of his mouth turned down in distaste. He finds the key in a false rock on the right side of the cottage, just where Basira had said it would be, and lets them inside.

It’s clear from the moment they step inside that Daisy had not visited this particular safe house in quite some time. The air inside the cottage is thick and unpleasantly cold, smelling of dust and age. Dust motes catch in the dim light of the bulb as Jon turns on the light, and he’s displeased to see cobwebs sitting stubbornly in the corners of the room. The wood floor looks old and worn, scratchy looking area rugs dotted along like haphazard patchwork quilt. Jon loathes to take his shoes off.

“Well,” Martin says from behind him, crowding in close, “at least the electric is working.”

Jon shoots a withering glare over his shoulder and steps inside, letting Martin close the door behind them. He drops his bag next to the uncomfortable mound of fabric that someone generous might have once called a settee and goes to check on the rest of the place.

Jon checks the taps in the kitchen and is relieved to find the water running. There’s an expired box of Tetley’s in the pantry that will have to make do until they can make their way down to the village to do a proper bit of shopping, and a couple cans of peaches that might be passable as dinner or breakfast if he can convince Martin to eat them.

He can hear Martin moving about in the sitting room, the creak of the windows and shutters as Martin pushes them open to get the place aired out a bit. “Might be a bit chilly with the windows open,” Jon says.

“There’s a radiator,” Martin replies, “I’ll see about getting it on.”

“Right.”

The hall light flickers when he turns it on, but it gives him enough light to see by. The cottage itself has only four rooms - kitchen, sitting room, one bedroom, and one bath - and Jon can’t bring himself to be surprised that the only bed appears to be a full size. He checks the dresser drawers and finds them empty, thankfully, no nesting mice or other visitors.

The bed is a utilitarian thing. One pillow, though he’s frankly surprised it even has that, white sheets with tight tucked corners, and a navy blue duvet. Jon pulls it off the bed to shake off the dust and sneezes, his eyes watering. He opens the single window with a little difficulty, having to stand on his tip-toes to get it all the way open, and unlocks the shutters. Night has settled quickly over the little valley, but the moon is bright and nearly full, pouring silver light into the room.

When Jon makes his way back into the sitting room Martin is crouched in front of the radiator and frowning, the sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up to show the light brown skin of his forearm. He has a birthmark on his left arm, nestled next to the crease where his arm bends, a dark spot like a smudge of dirt that Jon wants to press his mouth to.

Jon clears his throat, the tips of his ears burning a little. “Any luck?”

Martin jerks a little, swinging his head up to look at him. Jon feels his mouth go a little dry at the sight if he’s honest. Martin’s dark hair sweeping over his forehead, those sleeves rolled back on those thick arms. He likes the look of Martin at work, those calm dark eyes fixed on a problem that Jon knows he’ll find a solution for. Martin sweeps his eyes over Jon, head to toe, before looking back at the radiator. “I don’t know what Daisy did to this thing, but I think it’s well and truly dead.”

“Did you try plugging it in?”

Martin gives Jon a glare worthy of one of his own and Jon feels his lips turn up into a grin without his permission. “It’s a gas radiator, Jon.” He sighs, “Hopefully the gas is just turned off and it’ll be an easy fix, but we’ll be stuck without it tonight.”

“That’s...not ideal.”

Martin hums in agreement.

Silence settles between them, a not unwelcome weight that Jon’s been getting used to the last few days. “Tea?” Jon asks after a moment for lack of anything more helpful to do.

“That would be lovely, actually. Did you find some?”

“Daisy had some in the pantry, it’s likely ancient, but--”

“Tea is tea.”

Jon wrinkles his nose but doesn’t outwardly disagree.

“I’ll just get some things put away then,” Martin says, picking his bag back up off the floor. “Do you want me to take yours?”

“Leave it. I’ll get it later.”

“Alright.”

Jon finds Daisy’s kettle under the sink and starts to wash it out when he hears Martin say something from down the hall. He turns off the water. “What?”

Martin appears in the entry, biting his lip. “There’s er, there’s only one bed.”

Jon furrows his eyebrows. “I’m aware. I saw the bedroom, Martin.”

“Yeah it’s just--“ Martin trails off, his cheeks flushing. “How are...how are we going to sleep?”

Jon remembers the two days they’d spent in his flat, sleeping in the same bed, their hands tangled together even when sleeping because the thought of being separated was too much to bear. But that had been right after Jon had walked Martin out of the Lonely, so he supposes those were extenuating circumstances, Martin needing an anchor to find himself again. It should be a relief that Martin feels safe enough to want a little distance again, but mostly it just sets off a dull ache in his chest.

Jon feels a sharp pain in his jaw and realizes he’s been clenching his teeth and makes an effort to relax, though his shoulders feel pinned next to his ears. Jon goes back to washing out the kettle, filling it with cool water to boil. He avoids Martin’s eyes and says, “I think there might be some spare linens in the closet. I can take the couch.”

Martin shifts, the old wood floor creaking under his foot. “Are you sure? It doesn’t look very comfortable.”

Jon shrugs. “I’ve slept on worse, when I do manage to sleep. It’ll be fine Martin.”

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Jon says with a finality he doesn’t feel.

He finds a couple of mugs in the cupboard that he rinses out before filling with water and letting the tea bags steep. He brings the mugs back into the sitting room and sets Martin’s down on the table. He takes a sip of his own and grimaces. It’s vile, but far from the worst tea he’s ever had so he makes himself drink it.

Martin appears a minute later from the bedroom and takes his tea with a grateful little thanks before taking a sip and making a face.

“Tea is tea.” Jon mumbles.

“I’m not sure this still qualifies.” Martin says but drinks it anyway.

They drink the rest of their tea in silence. Martin volunteers to do the washing up while Jon gets his own things put away.

Martin has left him half the dresser for his clothes and made a space for him on the bathroom counter. It feels almost too intimate, their toothbrushes resting side by side, their clothes in the same drawer. Jon tries desperately not to think about it as he changes his clothes for bed and rifles through the little linen closet for a set of sheets.

He finds a set of dark gray sheets and a threadbare red throw blanket that he drags back out into the sitting room. The settee is as uncomfortable as it is ugly, hardly more than a couple of boulders masquerading as a sofa; Although, Jon has spent many a night sleeping on the floor or bent over his desk at the Archives, so maybe he has no real right to complain.

Martin turns off the kitchen light and waits awkwardly for him to finish, hovering around the edges like he wants to say something but doesn’t have the words. “Are you going to be warm enough?” He finally asks, eyes locked onto the throw blanket. The fabric is almost sheer in spots from wear and dotted with holes along one edge.

The chill is almost impossible to ignore, but Jon just shrugs, a jerky up and down motion of his shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re--“ Martin bites his lip, “Okay. Good night, Jon.”

“Good night, Martin.”

Martin disappears into the bedroom, turning the hall light off, and Jon lets out a shaky breath when he shuts the door behind him with an audible click.

Moonlight seeps in through the open windows, the chirp of crickets ringing along the countryside, a chill settling across the fields as if to prove winter will be along soon. Even in his long sleeve and trackie bottoms, two pairs of socks pulled up over his feet, Jon shivers. He keeps staring at the ceiling, tracing along crisscrossing cracks with his eyes. He kicks his feet and wraps the blanket further up his shoulder and tries to relax. The walls creak and shudder, old pipes groaning and settling inside the wall. Jon throws an arm over his eyes and tries not to think about it. He’s almost asleep when he hears the floorboards start to creak, the soft padding of footsteps coming from the hall.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice is soft, a little strained and raspy like he’s anxious, “Are you still awake?”

Jon sits up, rubbing a hand down the side of his face. “Yes, I’m still awake.”

“Oh,” Martin says. Jon can’t quite see him, can just make out the shape of him, long legs and broad shoulders. His arms wrapped around himself like he can’t keep warm. “It’s...it’s cold, isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

“Might--” Martin clears his throat, “Might be easier if we slept together, yeah? Until we get the heating back up.”

“Are you--” Jon pauses, picking at a loose thread on the blanket, “Would you be okay with that?”

“Would I?” Martin blurts, “I, uh, would you? Be okay with that?”

“Of course. We shared before.”

“Yeah we…” Martin takes a step further into the room. The edges of him blur just a bit, and what Jon can make out of his face looks exhausted. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t, it--” Jon chokes on his own honestly, the lump of it hard and solid in his throat, “It’s okay when it’s you.”

Martin’s mouth drops open into a little ‘o’, a shocked exhale of breath coming from him.

Jon immediately wants to take it back. It’s too much, Jon knows, he’s always been too much at exactly the wrong time. He curls his fists into the blanket pooled at his waist, fighting back the sharp wave of panic that ‘this is it, this time he’s ruined it for good’.

“Okay,” Martin says softly, his lips turning up into a small smile that’s both soft and a little sad, “come on then, maybe we can still get a few hours in before sunrise.”

Jon swallows hard. The panic sits there in his chest, silent and waiting. “Okay,” He chokes out, “alright, let me just--” He gets up and takes the blanket with him, just to have something to do with his hands and follows Martin into the bedroom.

It’s just as cold in here as the rest of the house, but the way Jon’s fingers are trembling has nothing to do with the cold. He picks the side closer to the window, if only so he has something to stare at when he can’t sleep. Martin curls up next to him. The bed is so much smaller than his own back in London. Martin has to draw his legs up just to fit on the mattress, too tall and wide for the little bed. Jon fits just fine, but he’s a little worried about rolling off the mattress during the night. They’re perched precariously, sharing the same pillow, Martin’s warm breath at the back of Jon’s neck.

Eventually Martin sighs. “Here,” He says, shuffling a little behind Jon, “Can I--?” He hovers his hand over Jon’s waist.

It doesn’t-- it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just that the bed is too small for two grown men, despite one being below average height, and it’s cold besides. That doesn’t stop Jon’s heart from beating hard and loud in his chest though, as he slowly nods.

Martin’s hands are large and strong and lovely. Jon’s breath catches when Martin’s arm curls around his waist and he’s pulled back against Martin’s chest. He can feel Martin’s heart beating against his back, thudding almost as loud and hard as his own. Martin’s fingers settle over his stomach, splaying out. Jon thinks his hand could almost cover it completely and it sets off another round of shivering in him that has nothing at all to do with the cold.

“Alright?” Martin whispers.

“Yes.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m-- it’s cold, Martin.”

Martin hums thoughtfully and lets go of Jon for just a moment, long enough to pull the duvet up higher around them before settling his hand back against Jon’s stomach. Jon curls his own hands in front of his face and grabs the blanket so hard his knuckles ache.

“Night, Jon.”

“Good night, Martin.”

Jon is sure there’s no way he could fall asleep like that, pressed so close to Martin that he can feel the warmth of him all along his body, but eventually he does.

[READ THE REST ON AO3]

#fic #my fic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #these are the ways that i love you

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

Text

Imagine being neighbours with Maglor in the 21st century

Inspiration struck me as I realised I am technically an adult now and have no idea how to pay taxes.

Moving out and fleeing the nest was no easy task. With no parents to turn to or an appropriate adult, worries started to pile up high—akin to the envelopes collecting in your mail slot.

Flicking through each bill, you knitted your brows. None of it made sense to you. What did half the words even mean?

Groaning, you threw the letters down onto your coffee table and leant back into the sofa.

Swallowing deeply, you glared at the ceiling. You had googled the process a hundred times, and more often than not you were left with new questions and no answers.

It was only when you heard the crunching of tyres on pebbles that you lifted your head.

Looking outside the adjacent window, you noticed your neighbour—Kano, short for something like “Kane”, you imagined—had returned home from the store.

He was your neighbour, and a quiet one at that. You had moved into the lakeside cottage nearly one month prior now, and had only spoken to him a handful of times.

The most stark of your meetings is when he told you his name. You asked him what “Kano” was short for, and he went quiet for a moment.

He blinked at you a few times, unsure of how to answer, before the gears in his head turned.

“It’s...a Scandinavian name,” he said slowly, as if learning the information himself for the first time.

He was sweet, but definitely weird. He almost always wore a beanie, too, which covered his ears.

Fair enough, you supposed—it was cold down by the mountainous lake.

You watched as he opened the passenger side door to his car, and collected brown bags of groceries.

You knew he was quite older than you, at least thirty, even if he did have the soul of an 80-year-old Scotsman.

Looking between your bills and Kano, you quickly made up your mind. Grabbing the letter pertaining to taxes, you slipped on a coat and rushed out the door.

Met with chilly air, as fog danced on the clear lake, you called out to your older neighbour.

“Kano!” you shouted, jogging towards him. “Hey, need some help?”

You motioned to the groceries, and ignored the studious look in his eyes as he sized you up.

He was always on edge, as if he were growing a pot of marijuana in his living room, and you an undercover cop.

His eyes briefly flickered to the envelope in your hand, and a smile almost tugged on his lips.

“Sure,” he said. “That would be great, thanks.”

“No problem,” you smiled back, helping him unload the car.

Piling your arms high with groceries, you walked behind the tall “man” back to his front door.

He jingled the house keys for a moment, before the door slid open.

Warmth met you instantly, as you entered the house. Embers danced in his fireplace, and you observed his fishtank as you walked by it towards the kitchen.

There were six fish inside the tank, and each were treated exceptionally well by your neighbour—as if they were family.

They each all had names, but he had never told you them. There were three red fish, one white, and two brown.

Smiling at them, as they puckered the surface of the water, you followed Kano to the kitchen.

Setting the bag down onto the bench, you assisted in unpacking the groceries—only after ensuring he didn’t mind first, as you were afraid of what you might find inside.

Satisfied with your momentary help, Kano moved away from the table and turned the kettle on.

“Tea?” he asked.

Fondling the letter in your hand, you looked up from one of the grocery bags and nodded.

“Yes please, thank you.”

He smiled back, and retrieved two mugs from the elevated cupboards.

“Are you dropping off a Valentine’s Day card for me early, then?” Kano’s voice came after a moment of quiet, save for the tinkering of mugs and the rustling of bags.

Stunned and confused, you looked up at him. He was kindly smiling in your direction, as he placed sugar in each mug.

Noticing your perplexed expression, he nodded at the letter in your hand.

Following his glance, you flickered your eyes down at the letter. Holding it up, you in turn looked at it and spoke.

“Oh! No! Actually, it’s a little embarrassing, but...well, since you’re older, I was wondering if you could help me figure this letter out...please?”

He took into account the wince of your eyes, as you smiled sheepishly.

He took another long moment to respond, as he looked between you and the letter.

And then, after a few more seconds, he laughed—a quiet and soft laugh, but an amused one nonetheless.

He now saw frustration flash across your face, as you quickly grew offended.

Kano waved a gentle hand in your direction, and eased your annoyance. “No, no, please don’t take it that way—it’s just, it reminds me of when I was first introduced to taxes. It’s a weird concept, huh?”

Relaxing, you offered a tentative smile back. “Totally, it makes no sense whatsoever to me.”

Kano ignored the fact that you mistook his words regarding learning taxes for the first time, for how could you possibly know he was born long before they were conceived?

He grinned in response, and pondered mortal life momentarily. It was truly funny how young each human he came across seemed, no matter how mature in their own race they were.

Pouring hot water over each aromatic tea bag, Kano slid the two mugs over the length of the counter.

He then walked around the wooden bench, and pulled up another stool—similar to the one you were leaning against.

“Here,” he said, opening the letter and motioning for you to sit beside him.

It took you a few seconds to slowly slide onto the stool beside Kano, as you blew on your tea and watched as he opened the envelope.

Now sitting side by side, you listened intently as your wiser neighbour began explaining the concept to you—making you entirely grateful to have at least one responsible adult around.

“Well, the first thing you’ll want to look at is...”

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Text

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 4

Summary: How do you tell your best friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend?

Warnings: Kissing, and some light petting, underage drinking?

Word Count: 5.7K

Levi wasn't surprised to see that Erwin and Hange did not in fact make an appearance at Mike's party. The party turned out to be much bigger than he anticipated, even freshman showed up. Petra was social, dragging him with her as she bounced around the house, easily conversing with the other party goers. Levi licked his lips as he brought his red solo cup back up to his mouth for another sip. In that moment that dipshit Eren Jaeger brushed past him, jostling him and causing a few drops of his drink to land on his stark white hoodie. His grey eyes locked on the brunette who held his hands up as he apologized profusely. The red kool aid that he had used to mix in his drink already staining.

Petra remained deathly still, as did Gunther as they waited for his reaction. Levi scoffed, pushing past Eren and stalked towards the front door, meaning to go remove the stain with his tide pen he kept in his car. Eren sighed with relief as he watched the raven haired male retreat. Petra groaned, slapping Eren's shoulder before following Levi out of the house. She found him standing by his car, the trunk popped as he rummaged through his bag of miscellaneous items that he kept in case of emergencies.

Petra kept her distance as she watched him pull the soiled sweat shirt over his head, the t-shirt he wore underneath riding up as well, revealing his creamy abdomen. The moon was bright above, casting ominous shadows across Mike's wooded yard. Petra shifted uncomfortably as she watched Levi dab at the red stain, his eyebrows pinched together in concentration. She wasn't sure what was wrong with Levi but he was more tense than usual. She figured that he wasn't in the mood for a party, but then again when was he not? Technically the two weren't exclusive, although that was Petra's end game. He sighed in frustration, setting the sweat shirt down in his trunk and throwing the pen in carelessly.

"Forget it. I'm going to Erwin's to properly remove this stain." he said as he shut the trunk. Petra blinked, wandering if that meant he wanted her to accompany him to the Smith residence.

"Oh...I'll go with you!" she said enthusiastically, turning to walk around the car to the passenger side. Levi shook his head and waved her off.

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'll just catch up with you tomorrow." he said as he climbed into the drivers seat and started the car. Petra felt the brief sting of rejection as she watched him pull out of the drive way. But then she remembered his promise to speak with her the next day and decided that this would be good enough for now. A small victory in this long fight for Levi's attention and affections.

Levi drove slowly down the empty county road. This was a bad idea and he knew it, Erwin was mad at him, he was probably the last person he wanted to see. But still Levi turned into the long winding drive, sure to shut his head lights off. The house sat on a slight hill, the wrap around porch had been decorated with strings of bat lights, and various pumpkins and gourds. The olive green paint job always looked best in the fall with the colorful leaves of the forrest surrounding the house. He pulled into his usual spot under the basketball hoop, he shut off the engine and leaned onto the center counsel to peek into the large windows.

Erwin's minivan was absent, as was Hange's CRV. The house was uncharacteristically dark, usually you would be in the kitchen cooking, or maybe seated in the living room with Hange working on homework. Erwin would usually spend his time in the dining room away from Hange's ranting while he tried to work. Levi climbed out of his seat and popped the trunk, pulling his sweatshirt from the trunk. He locked his car, pausing to flip through his key ring for the spare house key that Erwin had given to him quite some time ago. He hesitated before inserting the key into the lock. He turned it slowly, relieved to hear the lock click, he turned the knob and stepped cautiously into the dark entry way. He kicked off his shoes and frowned at the lack of shoes on the mat. He did recognize your filthy air force 1s but he didn't see Erwin's massive nikes or Hange's ancient chocos.

He continued on into the kitchen, setting his keys down on the counter with a heavy sigh of defeat. He then refocused on the task at hand, setting off down the dark hall to the laundry room. He switched the light on and set to work on scrubbing the stain out. Levi sighed with relief as he studied his hard work. Just as he hung the sweat shirt up to dry he heard a creak from upstairs. He shut the door to the laundry room and slowly made his way down the dark hall. He rounded the corner, his gunmetal eyes widening a fraction when he met your own (e/c) eyes. He stopped before he could bump into you, your hands flew up and clutched at the small towel that was wrapped around you, your damp hair gathered in another towel. You screamed, staggering backwards, your back hitting the wall and the towel wrapped around your head falling off as you clutched at your chest.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You managed to gasp out as you regulated your racing heart. Levi whipped his head to the side, favoring to look into the dark hall way then acknowledge the lack of clothing you wore. You sighed as you relaxed, turning to walk around Levi and down the hall to the laundry room. Levi turned his head sharply to look the opposite direction once again, a small dusting of pink covered his cheeks. He had never seen you so well... naked. He flinched when you brushed past him again, only this time you were wearing one of Erwin's hoodies, your fists balled up at the bottom to add length to the long sweat shirt.

"Don't look you perv!" you yelped, your face redder than a tomato as you shuffled past him. Levi brought his hand up and over his eyes, fighting a smirk.

"Don't flatter yourself, not like you've got much to look at." he scoffed, pleased to hear you gasp at the jab.

"What are you even doing here?" you sputtered, leaning against the wall and tugging the front of the sweatshirt down over the tops of your thighs.

"I had to remove a stain on my sweat shirt. Stupid Jeager kid spilled my drink." he grunted, groping blindly for the edge of the counter to lean against. You smiled at the sight, his hand finally landing on the counter, he pulled himself closer and leaned forward on his elbows.

"Why'd you come here? Why not just ask Mike to use his shit?" you asked relaxing a bit without his intense gaze on your vulnerable self.

"Have you smelled the guy? I doubt he knows where the detergent is kept in his house." Levi scoffed as he made himself comfortable, using his foot to pull a stool out to sit on.

"H-Have you eaten anything?" you asked after a moment.

"No, why does it matter?" he asked, his brows furrowing as he listened to you shift against the wall. You turned back down the hall way and dug around in the hamper, finally finding a pair of old boxers to tug on. You immediately felt better now that you were at least half way dressed.

"You want anything? I have leftovers." you offered, he felt your presence behind him as you walked to the fridge.

"Uh..." you were weird like that, always so tolerable of his teasing. You were beginning to take on more of Erwin's characteristics, although you weren't as much of a push over as he was just yet.

"Fine, I could eat." he said, spreading his fingers to see you pawing through the fridge, your back to him. He frowned at the sight of the forest green boxers that hung loosely off your hips. Not just any boxers, his boxers. The ones that he kept here along with a few other items of clothing since he basically lived here anyway. He quickly clenched his fingers together again as you turned around with your arms full of Chinese food containers.

"Oh, you can look now." you mumbled awkwardly as you dished out some fried rice and lo mein noodles into a dish to microwave. Levi drug his hand down his face, stopping over his mouth to cover his smirk as he took in your appearance. Damp hair, Erwin's sweat shirt no longer covering your lower half, the baggy boxers sagging enough to show your hip bones.

"Where'd you get those?" he asked, pointing a finger at the underwear. Your face turning red once again.

"Erwin's laundry, don't make it weird okay?" you said as you turned back to the task at hand.

"Those aren't Erwin's." Levi deadpanned, his eyes trained on your waist. You froze, your eyes widening at his words, if your face had been red before, it was now crimson.

"I-" what were you supposed to do? Say sorry? Go change? This was so awkward.

"Keep em. They look better on you anyway." he huffed in amusement as you finally turned to look at him.

"Gross." was all you said, your ears and neck flushed as you stuck the plate into the microwave. Levi smirked at the sight of you leaning up on your tiptoes, your hair had left a damp spot on Erwin's white sweatshirt. You set the timer for a minute, settling back onto your feet you began running your fingers through your damp hair to untangle the knots.

"So...you really left a party to get a stain out of your sweatshirt?" you asked, a small smile spreading across your face.

"Yeah, would've bugged me all night." he sighed, the mere thought of the red ugly stain making him cringe.

"Really? Was it a good party?" you pressed, a knowing smirk curling onto your face as you began to understand why he had really left.

"It was mediocre." Levi grunted, raising to his feet he moved to the cabinet with pots and pans. He pulled out the tea kettle and filled it water to boil. Leaning against the counter, Levi took the opportunity to check you out some more. Although you were still young, he still appreciated the insane amount that you had grown in the short time he had known you.

He could remember you being a snotty brat, begging to be included. He remembered the time that you had gotten into a scrap with Nile, the older boy had easily won, much to all the boys amusement. He huffed at the memory, those were simpler times. He finished filling the kettle, he slid past you to set the pot on the stove, you flinched and he frowned. He lit the stove before turning to study your face, your nose was wrinkled at his closeness, eyes glued to his hands, your mouth was pressed into a firm line.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, genuinely curious in your answer. You blinked, your eyes turning to meet his steely gaze as he waited for an answer. Memories of Levi and Erwin's other buddies chasing you around the house, pulling your hair, or just being plain cruel to you.

"No...not really." you said, your voice cracking, of course you were weary around him given your past encounters, but you knew he wouldn't hurt you too bad.

"Then don't act like it. Makes me feel guilty." he scoffed, still standing uncharacteristically close to you. Relief flooded you when the sound of the microwave filled the kitchen. You pulled the food from the microwave and turned to grab a fork for Levi. You stuck the fork into the food and handed Levi the plate, he thanked you, but remained standing next to you. He twirled the noodles onto his fork and took a bite, his eyes still fixated on your own. He chewed the food slowly, his eyes shifted around the kitchen, and he frowned, where had Hange and Erwin ran off to?

"So, where did your idiot brother run off to then?" he asked casually, taking another bite of the noodles.

"Oh, um I think he and Hange went out to dinner and back to her place." you said, rubbing the back of your neck as you eyed a bottle of wine that you had been meaning to open.

"Hange's place?" Levi quirked a brow at the notion, her parents were almost as crazy as her, the house was basically the laboratory, filled with petri dishes and lab rats.

"Yeah, I guess her folks are out on some research trip." you shrugged, moving to open the bottle of red wine. Levi sank back onto the stool, his eyes turned downward as he focused on the food.

"Figures." he scoffed as he twirled another fork-full of noodles.

"Wine?" you asked, digging the opener into the cork. Levi shook his head and held up a hand, seeing as his mouth was full.

"Suite yourself." you muttered as you popped the cork from the bottle, you stretched up to grab a wine glass for yourself. Levi once again appreciated the way your ass looked in his underwear, cringing once he realized he was checking you out. Erwin would annihilate him if he found out that Levi was checking you out. He averted his gaze and quickly finished his noodles and rice, fighting off the thoughts of you and your perfect ass. You poured yourself a full glass and Levi raised a skeptical brow at the sight.

Your shoulders visibly relaxed as you sipped the wine, a sigh escaping your lips as you wandered into the living room and sank onto the couch. Levi placed his dishes in the sink, turning his attention to the low whistle of the kettle. He turned the stove off and poured him self a cup of chamomile tea. He dunked the tea bag in the hot water as he pondered following you, or going into the guest room to pass out. He chose the former. Placing his cup down gently on the coaster, the glass clinking in the silence. You had your legs folded beneath you, arm resting on the arm of the couch holding your wine glass.

Your eyes shifted over to sneak a glance at him, but quickly averted when you were met with steely grey eyes. You slid your legs out from underneath you and swung them over the couch, the room was eerily quiet, only the sound of your heart racing in your chest as you withered under Levi's intense gaze.

"See, that's what I mean." he scoffed, leaning to grab his cup.

"What?" you yelped at his words.

"You act all jittery around me." Levi grunted, gesturing towards the way you had pressed yourself tightly against the arm of the couch.

"To be fair, you did pick on me a lot a few years back, and still do." you whispered the last part, your cheeks flushed from the wine and the honesty behind your words.

"Tch" Levi clicked his tongue, his intense gaze finally falling from your face to your lap, where your hands were fiddling with the stem of the wine glass. You swallowed thickly before setting the glass down on the coffee table, not caring enough to find a coaster. Levi frowned at the sight, leaning over, his hand landing on the couch beside your thigh as he reached to set your glass on the nearest coaster. You sank deeper into the leather, your heart racing when he didn't move his hand, his eyes flicked back onto you as he slowly brought his other hand to rest on the arm of the couch. Caging you in, he remained seated on the sofa, his thigh pressing against yours. You licked your lips as you stared into his cold eyes.

"Wha-"

"I don't want you to be scared of me anymore." he cut you off, his eyes suddenly much softer.

"It's okay really Levi, I promise." you whimpered as he shifted his weight again, his hand lifted off the sofa and fell on your upper thigh, causing your heart to skip a beat. You looked down, your damp hair covering your eyes, cheeks flaring back up into a crimson blush. His head tilted to the side as he studied your reaction.

"Hey, look at me." he murmured, his hand squeezing to get your attention. You slowly lifted your chin and met his eyes, he sighed eyes soft as he studied your flustered face.

"I-Levi what are you doing?" you stuttered, his breath fanned over your face as he lowered his gaze to your lips.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he whispered as he leaned in, his hand sliding up from your thigh to disappear beneath the large hoodie. You allowed your own eyes to drift down to his lips as he neared you. His hands were cold and you flinched as he squeezed your side, you licked your lips, gathering the courage to close the gap. You sat up straighter, tilting your head to the right as you brushed the tip of your nose with Levi's. He let out a shaky breath, you could already taste the chamomile on his mouth, it was unbelievably enticing.

You'd never felt this intense urge before, not that wasn't the word. Lust. You timidly pressed your lips to his, your eyes screwed shut, all your senses overwhelmed with this intimate moment. Just as quickly as you had taken his lips with you own you pulled back, a loud smack filling the room as your lips parted. Levi followed you as you pulled away, his arm around your waist suddenly pulling you onto his lap as he relaxed back into the couch, now you sat perched over him, both of his hands holding your hips. He raised a brow at you as you splayed your hands across his chest, not missing the rapid beating of his heart.

"Your heart's beating really fast." you stated, a coy smirk spreading across your lips as you leaned in to nuzzle against his pale neck. Levi ran his hands up your sides, one wandering up your back beneath your hoodie, he paused not exactly shocked to find that you wore no bra. You turned, once again brushing your nose with his, but this time Levi was the one to capture your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip and you gladly opened your mouth wider for him. A sigh escaped your chest as you tasted the chamomile on his tongue, your own tongue brushing against his. You barely registered his hand on your jaw, little lone his other hand that tugged at the base of your hair on the back of your head. Your own hands gripped the front of his shirt for dear life as you pressed yourself down onto him. Finally you pulled back, the need for a full breath of oxygen overcoming your desire. Levi pressed his forehead against yours as you both inhaled deep lungfuls of air. His hand slid down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, his hand finally settled over your heart, fingers splayed across your collar bones.

"Your heart is also beating fast." he mused, grey eyes glinting mischievously as you blushed, his hands still cold against your burning skin.

"And you have cold hands." you snapped back, bringing your own hand to rest on top of Levi's. His other hand returned to your waist, toying with the hem of his boxers.

"Sorry." he muttered, releasing the hem so that it fell loosely over your hips once more, a small smirk on his lips as he watched them hang off your hips, relishing in the bare skin he could see. You grunted, leaning down to rest your head on his chest. The sound of his heart beating making you smile fondly. Just as Levi was moving to wrap his arms around you, you turned and grabbed your wine, taking a long sip, eyes trained on Levi. His gaze darkened at the sight of the liquid sliding down your throat as you swallowed.

He reached up and took the glass from your hands before returning it to its place on the coffee table. You pursed your lips as you watched him grip your hips tightly, suddenly he rolled you over, your back hitting the sofa with a soft thud. Your eyes widened as you looked up at Levi's stony face, his grey eyes shining in the dim moonlight that gleamed through the large windows. He was so beautiful, your breath caught in your throat as he leaned down to take your mouth in his once more, this time he kissed you slowly. His tongue lapping at yours, savoring the lingering taste of wine. You reciprocated his motions, your hands resting on his sides as he slowly sank down on top of you, his weight oddly comforting. When he pulled away a string of saliva connecting the two of you, a smile spread easily across your face as you admired Levi's delicate features. He furrowed his brows in confusion at your wide grin.

"What?" he whispered, sinking his face into the crook between your neck and shoulder, deeply inhaling your scent. You giggled, his breath tickling you.

"Nothing, just...I never anticipated..." you trailed off as you felt him stiffen above you.

"Huh?" he pulled back to examine your face as you spoke, a brow raised, unsure of the meaning behind your words.

"I just never thought you wanted to be my friend. I thought you barely tolerated my existence." you chuckled nervously, shifting your hips against his. He grunted, his lips were drawn into a thin line as he thought of what to say.

"You have... always been important to me." he finally settled on those words in hopes of calming your anxieties and insecurities.

"Oh? Well I guess that you are kinda important to me too." you smirked, enjoying the slight blush that painted his pale cheeks, and the way his brows drew together.

"Tch." he clicked his tongue and leaned down, planting a kiss on the corner of your lips, another giggle as you turned in an attempt to kiss him. He ducked his head once more into the crook of your neck and began kissing the skin he could reach, impatiently tugging the hoodie down to expose your collarbone. You turned to give him better access, your eyes slipping shut as you basked in his attention.

The loud ring of your phone startled both of you, Levi's lips withdrawing with a string of saliva attached to your neck. You groaned, digging your phone out from between the cushions, blinking in shock at Eren's name on your screen. Levi remained glued to your side, his arms keeping you close.

"Eren?" your voice was thick, breaths still short and airy as you tried to compose yourself.

"(Y/n)! Thank god I got a hold of you! I need a place to crash for the night, I'm piss drunk and Mike's place is filled to the brim." his voice was light, a bit suggestive if you strained your ears. Levi grunted, reminded of his unfortunate encounter with the hot headed boy.

"I guess you can stay here, you bringing your friends too?" you sighed as you rolled off of Levi to stand up and compose yourself.

"Uh yeah if that's alright." Eren mumbled back, feeling the slight sting of your subtle rejection.

"Ok, do you... need me to come get you guys or..." you asked, trying to fill the awkward silence.

"Uh no, I think walking would do us some good, need to um sober up." he stuttered, your shoulders sagged with relief. You didn't have a car, or license meaning that Levi would have to drive you.

"Ok be safe." you said, hanging up quickly. Turning your attention back to Levi, who had an arm thrown over the back of the couch, legs spread wide.

"What was that about?" he asked, leaning forward to take a sip of his tea, grimacing when he realized too late that the liquid had grown cold. You smiled at him, moving to take a sip of your wine as well.

"I told Eren he and his buddies could crash here tonight." you sighed, turning to go unlock the front door so they could let themselves in.

"Why would you go and do that?" Levi's callous tone made your stomach twist into knots.

"I dunno, cause I'm nice like that I guess." you shrugged, dropping back down onto the couch and smiling coyly at him. Slowly your smile fell from your lips and you turned to face away from him.

"You've always been a pushover." Levi teased, a weak attempt at bringing your smile back. You huffed in amusement. But now that you'd had some time to think, you remembered Jean. You remembered him asking you to be his girlfriend. All though you hadn't given him a definite answer, you still felt the guilt creeping into your heart.

"I'm sorry about earlier, it was a mistake." you apologized, eyes averted. Levi scoffed, his hand landing heavily on the back of your head, gently he turned you to face him.

"I'm not." his voice was husky, grey eyes still clouded with lust. You shook your head and licked your lips.

"You should be. What about Petra?" you whimpered, his hand tightening its grip on the back of your head.

"I don't owe her anything, she's probably sleeping with Oluo right now." his words were dripping with venom, and you didn't miss the small glint of hurt in those grey irises. You flinched for Petra's sake, she wasn't a bad person, you knew that.

"But, it's not right Levi." you urged, your hand gripping his wrist and gently pulling it from behind your head. His eyebrows pinched together, rejection wasn't something that he was familiar with.

"I like you but, this is just bad timing." you chuckled darkly, taking his hand in your own you grazed your thumb over his knuckles.

"That's a load of shit." Levi hissed, turning his face away, his bangs hiding his gunmetal eyes.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you'll be graduating soon and I wouldn't want to slow you down or anything..." you mumbled, giving his hand a squeeze. Levi turned back to face you, a scowl glued to his face.

"I don't give a damn about any of that shit." he hissed, squeezing your hand back, his eyes filled with sincerity.

"But I do, I want you to get out of this shitty town and I want you to live." you didn't look sad, your eyes seemed to sparkle with admiration.

"God you sound like your brother." he quipped, turning away from your starry-eyed gaze.

"Maybe, but it's really for the best Levi." you sighed, sliding your hand out from under his with reluctance.

"So...what you're saying is that if I go to school and become successful then you'll let me tap that?" he smirked at you, that same sad glint in his eye, despite his teasing tone.

"Basically." you giggled at his words and smiled broadly at him. He scoffed, certain that this was one of those traits that you shared with your brother.

"Fine, I'd better get going before those brats show up." He sighed, standing up slowly, his hand slipping from your loose grasp.

"Ok, I'll see you around?" You beamed up at him, from your seat on the couch, and he nodded, grabbing his cup to place in the sink. You rose with him, sad to see him go, but you knew that it was for the best.

"Sure." Levi mumbled, gently setting his cup in the sink and turning to the foyer to pull his shoes on while you leaned against the counter. The house was still dark, making it hard to see Levi's face as he tugged on his vans and Erwin's jean jacket that was hanging on the hooks nearby.

"Drive safe." you called after him as he left, he didn't even glance back. But that was just Levi for you, so you stalked to the door and locked it. Leaning against the cool surface and sliding down to crouch on the floor, resting on your haunches. The sound of Levi's car starting filled the silence, and his head lights lit up the dark house for a moment as he pulled out of the drive way. If you listened closely you could hear his music, a small smile graced your lips, before the mental images of you and Levi filled your head.

God what were you thinking? Such an idiot, you should have never kissed him, now he wouldn't want to be your friend, probably thought you were a prude. You hit your head softly against the door once, then harder a second time, you had to be better, you couldn't be this impulsive in the future. With a heavy sigh you heaved yourself back onto your feet to pull out extra blankets for your guests. About ten minutes later the trio arrived, clearly a bit tipsy, Armin's cheeks were flushed and his eyes glazed over, clearly tired. Eren was propped up between Armin and Mikasa, his cheeks were also flushed and his eyes were unfocused. Mikasa was fine as always. You grabbed water bottles for them and helped them downstairs, where you had set up their pillows and blankets on the couch. Mikasa let out a tiny sigh of relief when she lied Eren down, rolling him onto his side. You helped Armin down, he was babbling incoherently, his hands holding tightly to your forearms.

"You're so pretty (Y/n), thank you so much for...for" His face screwed up and you whipped your head around, looking for something that he could throw up into. Your eyes settled on an old bowl that still had some popcorn kernels at the bottom. You leaned over and scooped up the bowl and held it under his chin, running your hand through his blond locks to pull the strands framing his face back. He leaned forward and heaved, only a small amount coming out. Mikasa clicked her tongue, holding the bottle of water up to Eren's lips.

"I'm sorry." she apologized as she opened Armin's bottle, once you were sure he was done you reached around to the side table for a tissue to wipe his face. You took the bottle from Mikasa and held it to his lips, he took it gratefully and took long swigs. You took the bowl and quickly dumped the contents into the toilet and flushed, you rinsed the bowl and brought it back out incase either of them needed it again. Mikasa was slouched against the couch, the boys having already fallen asleep, you set the bowl down an even amount between the two of them.

"You can sleep up stairs with me if you want." you offered, slowly standing and holding a hand out to help her up. She glanced at Eren and pursed her lips in thought.

"Fine." She relented, taking your hand she spared one last glance at the boys as you switched off the lights and went up stairs. You could feel her eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs, and at first you weren't sure why, but then you remembered that you were wearing boxers. You tugged at the hem of your sweatshirt, a blush dusting your cheeks. Once you reached the main level of the house you walked around and switched off the kitchen lights and the lamps that were on in the living room.

Mikasa waited patiently at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the rail, and a foot on the first step. Finally the room fell into darkness as you flicked off the last lamp and you groped your way to Mikasa. She huffed in amusement when your hands met her shoulder, she pulled you around the corner and up onto the stairs. You both climbed up the stairs, you giggling as she held on to you, her hand warm on your arm. You stumbled into your room and you fell onto your bed, a sigh leaving your lips. She fell next to you, the moon illuminating the second floor bedroom through the slit in your curtains.

"So you going to tell me whose underwear you're wearing?" She asked, a playful glint in her eyes. You huffed and shoved her shoulder as you rolled over to face her.

"They're Levi's." you admitted, relishing in the way her mouth opened in surprise.

"Gross why?" she asked, tugging the comforter up over the both of you.

"Well he showed up and I was only in a towel so I wasn't picky when I was digging through Erwin's laundry." You chuckled at the recent memory. She also let out an amused grunt, her steely eyes seemed to flash in the moonlight.

"Stupid shorty. I thought for sure he was going start a brawl at Mike's earlier." she scoffed, her distaste for Levi evident as she spoke.

"Why am I not surprised?" you rolled your eyes, knowing how explosive Eren could be when he was drunk and how easy Levi was to piss off.

"I wasn't surprised at all." Mikasa suddenly looked older, her eyes tired and her features pale in the small amount of moonlight in the room. You shifted, turning on your side to face her, she licked her lips and averted her eyes. You had always admired Mikasa's composure, she carried herself with such elegance and maturity. You only wished that she wouldn't try to shoulder the weight of the world alone, much like another Ackerman that you knew. She rolled over, her shoulders rigid, clearly she was done talking. With a sigh you tugged the comforter up over your shoulder and closed your eyes.

"Good night Mikasa."

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