Stormtopia - Stormi

... Though I'm Not That Flexible

(part 2 following You Can Wrap Me 'Round Your Finger)

You prepare to tell Loki you love him. Much to his embarrassment, Loki has to tell you something, too.

(aka - frost giant biology is weird and Loki has to suffer the consequences) (and you're kinda into it) (oops)

Chapter 2 / 2 -- read it on AO3 here

Word count: ~9k

Warnings: 18+ !! fem reader; courtship/nesting behaviour, smut (and I mean... smut)

You watched Steve haul himself into the boxing ring, internally groaning at the thought of going toe-to-toe with the Man with a Plan himself.

Loki hovered at your shoulder looking decidedly out of place in a button-down and trousers; he was off the training roster for the week after Bucky had benched him for his ‘poor attitude’. The only people currently brave (or stupid) enough to spar with him were Steve and Thor, the latter of whom was banned from sparring with Loki indoors because of, to quote Pepper, the 'Thor-And-Loki Event' in June.

Privately, you agreed with Bucky’s assessment – Loki had been acting strange lately. Clingy, extra affectionate but equally as moody. Any time you tried to pry you were met with the same response – that Loki was “fine” and “had complete control” over the situation.

Sometimes the best option with Loki was to let him come to you. His desire for absolute control was multi-faceted, but it usually worked out best if he could ask for help and feel like he had an explanation as to why. You knew from experience that hounding him could dig up raw insecurities about worth and ability. So - you made the most of it; if Loki was going to be clingy, he could at least be useful and clingy.

“Hold these, please.” You pushed your towel and water bottle into his hand. Loki accepted them with only minor complaint, tucking them under his arm to make room for everything else you were sure to pile onto him.

Steve rattled the ropes fencing him inside the boxing ring. “Come on, soldier. Don’t keep an old man waiting.”

Loki stretched to hide his sparkling fingertips; you knew his seidr well enough by now to recognize how Steve’s shoelaces unraveled with a mind of their own.

With his arms raised like that, there was no denying Loki’s ‘growth-spurt’ – the buttons on his shirt strained to stay in their buttonholes, gaping a little across his chest. You fought back a grin, watching a young intern (definitely part of Tony’s university pipeline program) spill water down her front while admiring the pull of yet another too-small shirt. A few of her friends giggled, their faces downcast but their gazes teasing, peering up through their eyelashes every few seconds.

“What?” Loki glanced over his shoulder in the direction you were looking.

“Nothing. Some kids are staring at you, that’s all.” You honestly weren’t offended - you remembered what it was like to want Loki from afar, and you weren’t blind. You knew passersby were going to gawk and shoot him longing stares. Loki, however, seemed uncharacteristically upset. His eyes narrowed, upper lip curled slightly in dissatisfaction, and he turned back to you with his shoulders drawn taut. He hooked his fingers in the pocket of your hoodie – Loki’s hoodie, actually, since yours seemed to have mysteriously disappeared – and tugged you into his chest, pressing a firm, dry kiss to your mouth.

You blinked dazedly at him once he’d slunk back. “Is this one of those ‘obviously not interested’ moments?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“People stare all the time. It’s nothing new.”

“I know.” A pretty pink blush was creeping up his cheeks, warming his pale complexion. “I just thought it pertinent to make my intentions crystal clear.” Then, after a beat- “Do you think anyone would notice if I locked the changing room doors and had my way with you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course they would. Now– help me up. I have a senior citizen to cream.”

If anyone was getting creamed, it was you.

You circled the boxing ring on shaky feet, watching Steve round on you with that quiet cockiness of his. He flicked his stupidly perfect bangs out of his stupidly beautiful eyes and mimed a one-two punch combo while you considered giving into the universe and letting your limbs turn to oatmeal. Bucky sat in a folding chair on the sidelines, picking your scrimmage apart with his stupidly brilliant and equally beautiful eyes.

You hated them.

Bucky picked up on details you would never have noticed – your uneven stance, the angle of your elbow when you raised your fists – and, while helpful on paper, it only served to raise your blood pressure by a few degrees. Not helped by the fact that Bucky seemed to know what moves Steve was going to make before he did, so could comment on your form before you’d even finished a move.

PAL whistled encouragement when you just barely blocked a left hook. Tony had set him in Bucky’s lap so he could watch you and Steve train. (“He’s so little. He can’t see over anything.”) At least PAL liked you, even if he was out for blood.

“I agree with the pest, darling. You should wring his neck,” Loki offered from the sidelines. He leant his head on his forearms where they were draped over the ropes, his bored expression betrayed only by the way his brow furrowed whenever Steve got too close to landing a hit.

(You were admittedly not very good at hand-to-hand combat. As a telekinetic, your fists were usually a last resort in the field.)

“This would all be so much easier if you stopped - hey! - swinging so much.” You swept the back of your hand across your eyes, hoping to clear the sweat pouring into them. “Also, has your stuff been going missing lately?”

“Kind of defeats the whole purpose of combat training.” Steve frowned, then threw his body weight into a kick to your chest, which you only barely dodged. He stumbled but quickly corrected, spinning to catch your right hook effortlessly. “But no, nothing’s gone missing lately. Well, my veggie straws have been disappearing but I buy those because Bucky insists he doesn’t like them and then sneaks them from my cupboard. Has he been breaking into yours too?”

You squirmed, planting your feet and leveraging your upper body to try and pry out of his hold. Unfortunately for you, Steve was two hundred and seventy pounds of solid steel pretending to be flesh, so you might as well have been a leaf trapped under a fourteen-wheeler. “No. My pillows keep disappearing.”

Your feet briefly left the ground when Steve lifted you by the wrists. He dumped you unceremoniously on the padded floor of the boxing ring and proceeded to loom over you, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and fatherly rage. “Someone’s been perving on you?”

You pushed yourself upright, wincing when you felt your muscles protest the movement. “I don’t know!”

“Weird. Maybe you have a secret admirer. Loki!” Steve mimed an elbow drop but pulled his weight at the last second; he rolled to the side and sprawled out, all six-feet-four-inches of him laid out next to you without having broken a sweat. “Keep an eye on your girl, ya’ hear?”

Loki visibly preened at the idea of you being his girl. You felt a whisper of seidr across your cheek, a sparkling green kiss so fleeting it could have been a trick.

Steve squinted up at him from the floor of the boxing ring. “Are you bigger?”

“You’ve gotta start throwing punches, kid.” Bucky interrupted from the sidelines. PAL bobbed his head in agreement. “Look, I was just like you. A sharp shooter–”

“I’m telekinetic.”

“My point still stands. I did all my best work from a hundred yards away. But sometimes, in the field, you’re gonna have some guy get in your space and wail on you, and I need to know you won’t just fold like a deck of cards when that happens.”

“I’m sorry I’m not built like a tank, Bucky.” You swiped the edge of your shirt over your forehead, grimacing when the already-wet material slid over your damp brow.

“I’m not saying you have to put on a hundred pounds of muscle. Just-” Bucky slipped under the rope and into your personal space, rounding on you from behind to wrap his flesh arm around your throat. His other hand shot out and circled your wrist, holding it at an awkward angle so that your muscles locked uncomfortably. “Just play dirty. If I get this close, I will kill you. So what are you going to do about it?”

You hissed, jerking under his metal hand. “Ow, Bucky, I get it–”

It took all three of you a moment to register that the noise rumbling through the air was coming from Loki. The fluorescents overhead flickered in waves, darkness ebbing and flowing from a point above Loki’s head. They buzzed and crackled unnaturally with displeasure. Bucky’s arms dropped away to put a bit of space between your bodies. Loki’s eyebrows drew tight in the middle, a scowl twisting his pretty face.

“Hey, My Chemical Mischief,” Tony yelled from across the gym. “Cool it with the dick measuring contest, will you? We get it, she’s a kept woman - I don’t think Barnes wants any of that.”

Thor laughed. Racking his barbells, he straddled his padded bench and flicked sparks of electricity from his fingertips, a strange side-effect that manifested whenever he strained himself. He taunted something to Loki in their mother tongue and the effect was instantaneous; Loki gaped at his brother, his growling cut short, and hurled something – an insult? – back.

With a few words they reduced the other to adolescents. Though none of you mortals could even hope to dissect their twisting language, it was clear that the two of them were rehashing centuries of arguments all at once.

Loki reeled back when Thor, his nose tilted to the ceiling, punctuated a sentence with a nod in your direction. “You will do nothing of the sort,” Loki snapped in English.

“Loki.” Exasperation dripped from Thor’s tone, mingling with the kind of joy that came from lecturing a younger sibling. He folded his arms and shot Loki a smarmy do-as-I-say glare. ”This is only going to end in disaster.”

Loki’s jaw snapped shut with a click. His pinched expression seemed to push Thor to hysterics. Thor goaded him on, wagging a callused finger; Loki’s hand fisted at his side as he moved to strangle his brother.

They must have been terrible pests on Asgard.

In English, Thor continued: “I have never been happier that you were adopted. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You’re preening. ”

Loki crossed the gym in a few long strides, a veritable storm cloud brewing over his head. The air crackled, ozone heavy in the air; the difference in pressure caused the open changing room door to slam shut, as if a draft had kicked up. Tony hopped to his feet, pointing between the two brothers. “Nuh uh. You guys take it outside. I am filled with too much scrap metal for you two to be throwing thunderstorms around inside. Again. ”

Loki grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck. Thor stumbled, still laughing, and tucked his shoulder into Loki’s chest as if to throw him over it. Loki hissed something unintelligible - Tony hollered something unrepeatable - and then the two brothers blinked out of sight in a flash of bright green.

You ran into them in the lobby on your way back from the corner store that evening. Both of them were soaking wet, their plainclothes plastered to their skin. Loki brushed by you with a stormy expression, anger rolling off of him in palpable waves; Thor followed a few feet behind, decidedly more jovial. Loki called over his shoulder: “do not say anything, Thor. I’m handling this.”

They left a trail of rainwater in their wake, their shoes squeaking across the marble floor. Thor clapped you on the shoulder as you passed and, through the widest grin you’d ever seen, said: “my darling friend – make sure you use protection.”

A flash of green sizzled across Thor’s knuckles; he yanked his hand away with a shout, raising his hand to examine a line of fresh, pink welts. Loki hissed at him; Thor cast you a sideways look, then winked. To his brother, he called: “I am always right, am I not?”

Loki snapped his fingers, calling Thor to attention like a master might call their dog to heel. Except Thor was the oldest, and had a petty streak longer than the continental United States, and his younger brother’s displeasure clearly brought him unbridled joy, so Thor slung one arm around your shoulder and gave you a squeeze, rubbing his prickly cheek against yours for good measure.

You squirmed under his arm. “Is this another Asgardian thing?”

Thor answered “no” at the same time that Loki answered “yes”.

Loki stormed back to your side and wrenched his brother away, speaking in a low tone. Fixing his brother with a scathing stare, Loki rubbed his thumb over your jaw, then rode his hand down the curve of your neck to sit on your shoulder, as if to wipe the physical evidence of his brother’s touch from your skin.

Thor sidled up behind Loki and scrubbed a hand over your cheek; Loki, hackles raised, elbowed his brother in the side, setting off a chain reaction of flying fists and snapping teeth.

Your groceries were definitely melting. “I’m gonna go. Uh, Loki, you can… You can come upstairs when you’re… done…”

Loki, who was trapped in a headlock by his older brother, nodded jerkily to you. “Of course, dear– Thor. You foul–”

You watched as your boyfriend transformed into a glossy black snake. He fell to the marble with a sad, wet slap and played dead, lolled tongue and all.

Luckily, your ice cream was mostly salvageable.

The shower was hot. Maybe a bit too hot. Steam cloyed, clouding your periphery and leaving you feeling flushed. You contemplated switching the tap a half an inch toward to the right, but then you risked overshooting and being too cold.

“I’m being called away,” Loki said by way of greeting. He was still a bit damp; his hair had just begun to curl around the ends. The steam, its attention caught by the open door, billowed around him on its escape path. “I was going to tell you earlier, but my brother had other plans.”

“Oh, that’s not fair. Close the door, please?”

“Right. Sorry.” The door slipped shut with a click. Loki hoisted himself onto your bathroom counter, his hands clasped loosely between his knees while he watched you rinse the last suds from your legs. “Believe me, darling, I don’t want to leave you, but it seems that Fury wants my head on a stake.”

“Thor, too. What was that about?”

Loki waved a hand. “Brotherly taunts. Now would you hurry up? I want to ravish you before I’m a decrepit, thank you very much.”

“Give me a minute.” You turned your back to him for a better angle under the shower head. You heard the shower door slide open – you assumed so that Loki could ogle you properly – then startled when his shadow crossed over you.

“Loki!” You shrieked, cringing when wet cotton slid over your belly as he wound his arms around your waist. “You’re fully dressed! You can’t– bad! Naughty!”

“I was already wet. Now I’m warm and wet.” He tsked, rubbing his cheek against the curve of your shoulder with an arrogance only a prince could muster. “I just couldn’t resist.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Truthfully, pet, I don’t think I’ve ever felt less remorse in my life.” His wet fingers fumbled with the top button on his shirt. The plastic was slippery and the buttons small, so it took more than a few tries to get the first one out; by the time he had wrenched the third free, he was cursing. “Ok,” he said around a laugh. “Maybe I’m a little remorseful. But this is your fault, let it be known.”

“My fault?”

“Yes.” Two more buttons down. Loki growled, then tore the rest of them out with a firm jerk of the button placket. They scattered, bouncing off the tile with tiny sounds, and Loki struggled to pull the sleeves off his skin. “You’re so beguiling. I’m– I can hardly tear myself away.” He threw the shirt through the open shower doors, then considered his trousers. “Oh, nevermind.” With a flick of his wrist, the last of his clothing melted away. “Why do I even bother, honestly?”

You tipped your head back against the shower wall and hummed, enjoying the simple pleasure of Loki’s nearness. He was a vision under the spray, dark hair plastered and curling over pale skin and pink lips parted, glossy with water. When his fingers crept over your hip to tease the skin under your ribs, your chest soared, the hollow space between your lungs aching ice cold.

(You loved him).

(You promised yourself you would tell him when he returned from whatever mission Fury had assigned, come hell or high water - and you almost believed it.)

When you opened your eyes, you found Loki to be looking at you with the most peculiar hunger. “What?”

“I can’t look at you?”

“I wouldn’t call that ‘looking’. I would say you’re eating me with your eyes.” You rolled your shoulders, then reached around him for the tap. “I’m starting to feel a bit dizzy. Let’s dry off and you can tell me all about why Fury is taking you away from me.”

“You mean you let me suffer through that whole ordeal for naught?”

“I didn’t ask you to climb in here fully clothed. Now– chop chop, loverboy. You’re closest to the towels.”

He left in the early morning. It seemed to take a great deal of physical effort for him to extricate himself from your bed, even greater than it did on Sunday. By the time he had slipped into his last piece of armour, his breath was short and tense, and his mouth turned down in a harsh curve.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You don’t seem yourself.”

“I’m fine. Just don’t… Just wait for me, okay?”

You were a couple seconds behind, your brain still heavy with the early hour. “What do you mean, honey?”

Loki shook his head. He leaned his weight on the edge of the bed and curled over you, pressing a dry kiss to your cheek. “Don’t worry yourself. Go back to bed.”

“I can help–”

“I have it all under control. I’ll be back in a few days.” He said the last part like he was trying to convince himself more than he was you.

Only three days later and you were going a little stir-crazy. Maybe whatever clinginess-disease he had had rubbed off on you.

You couldn’t take it anymore – you missed your boyfriend. He had been scheduled to return that morning but another impromptu snowstorm had pushed his arrival back by a day, leaving you with an empty afternoon to putter. But once your laundry was done and your shower scrubbed, there wasn’t much left to do besides twiddle your thumbs and marathon episodes of Forensic Files.

You took the elevator to his floor and let yourself in with a spare key. Your shoulders dropped, an unregistered tension draining as you breathed in the familiar smell of Loki’s cologne and lavender incense. There was a certain comfort in the menial reminders of him – his shoes by the door, his coat on the rack. You tossed your keys on the kitchen counter. “So much for man-eating wolves.”

You half expected his fridge to be barren, considering how much time he had spent over the last week in your apartment, but you were pleasantly surprised to find it well stocked – too well stocked. Whatever occasion he was preparing for was unknown to you, but he seemed to be anticipating an apocalypse or city-wide shortage of seasonal fruits and vegetables. You helped yourself to some from a pre-cut container and shuffled toward his bedroom to take a nap.

You stopped dead in your tracks under the threshold.

“You are the pillow thief.”

Fabric was draped languorously from every surface - a stack of quilts over his desk chair, pillowcases folded neatly on his dresser. The curtains were drawn tightly, two or three panels layered on top of each other to block out as much natural light as possible. He appeared to have gathered every pillow in his apartment - and a few of yours - and piled them in a semi-circle against the headboard. A few had fallen to the wayside, at the foot of the bed or scattered across the carpet, and a great spread of throw blankets was draped across the comforter. You could just make out the corner of one of your t-shirts peeking out from his pillows.

There was a decidedly two person-sized divot in the centre of it all, like you were meant to burrow in together.

“What have you been up to, my darling boy?”

You crawled across the covers and peeled them back, layer by layer. More of your shirts tumbled out, as well as a hoodie and a cashmere scarf. It was bewildering to say the least, but not entirely out of the norm for Loki. (He once spent two weeks meticulously replacing all of your cutlery with a mismatched charity shop set, so what was a little blanket theft, really?) You just couldn’t quite put your finger on why he had chosen this prank, nor why he would bother to build a veritable nest out of his spoils.

Tired and more than a little giggly, you tucked yourself between two comforters and curled up on your side. You’d have to ask him when he got home.

(In his defense, it was really comfy).

You blinked awake to the sound of your phone vibrating. It took you a moment to find it among the layers of blankets and pillows but eventually you wrenched it free and swiped accept. “Hello?”

Loki’s voice carried through the little speaker. “Where are you? You’re not in your apartment.”

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “That’s because I’m in yours.”

There was a long, drawn out silence. Then, “you’re what?”

“I’m in your apartment. Which– you have so much explaining to do.” You pushed yourself out of his bed. Through the phone, you heard FRIDAY greet him and a familiar jingle when Loki punched the button for his floor.

“I… You weren’t supposed to see that.”

You laughed. You could hear him struggling to find his keys, his anxiety palpable even through the phone. “Loki, was this some sort of prank to keep me from refusing to sleep over?”

“No, it…” His keys ground in the lock. “It was…”

You pulled the door open for him. He blinked owlishly at you, his phone pinched between his shoulder and his cheek.

“Hi,” you said, and your voice echoed through his phone.

He ended the call. “Hi.”

The two of you walked together, Loki on tentative feet while you guided him, pulling on one of his harness straps until you were through the threshold. His bag slid from his shoulder with a thud; he was still wearing his armour, which you smoothed your fingers under and began to unclasp piece by piece, setting it on the table by the door.

“Loki,” you glanced up at him through your eyelashes. “Do you want to explain the nest in your bedroom?”

His shoulders tensed. “Thor, you bastard.”

You worked one of his leather straps free, tossing it aside. “What?”

“Just - ignore this,” he said. “Go back to your apartment. I have to go kill my brother, and then burn everything I own, and then maybe I’ll be able to scrounge up the dignity to see you before sunrise.”

He made an aborted movement to turn out from your arms, but you reached out with your mind and slid the deadbolt in place before he could slip through the door. “Nuh uh. What does Thor have to do with this? Is this about your fight? I haven’t spoken to him since I ran into you two in the hall.”

“Wait.” It was your turn to face Loki’s ire, it seemed, because he whirled on you, his finger raised accusingly. “How did you know about the nesting then?”

“I was joking.” You pulled the final knife sheath free, leaving him in his leather breastplate and heavy wool trousers. “I mean, you piled all of our collective pillows into a queen-sized bed. Do you mean to tell me you’re actually nesting? Is this another Asgardian courtship thing I should know about?”

“I-” Loki looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up whole. A familiar curl of self-consciousness had begun to spoil his expression. He turned his cheek and spit out a curse. “Nevermind.”

“Loki, please.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “If you tell me your secret, I’ll tell you one in return.”

If there was one thing Loki loved more than self-pity, it was being let in on a secret. His eyes bolted up from glaring a hole into the hardwood to catch yours, assessing your deal. “Do not make bets you cannot pay, darling.”

“I already have the perfect secret picked out. Explain.”

He watched you for a long time. Eventually, with a very careful, measured tone, he opened his mouth to speak. “I’ve never… Oh, this is humiliating.” Loki scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Asgardians know very little about Jotun customs. It’s… We didn’t have much need to study them, outside of battle. But it’s common knowledge that frost giants… mate for life. They pick someone to bond with and when they’re serious… In the spring… ”

“Loki,” you cooed. “Humor me.”

He groaned and slunk to his knees before you. His forehead pressed against your hip while both his hands curled around your calves to steady himself. He mumbled something unintelligible against your leg.

You ran your fingers through his hair. “What was that?”

Loki sighed. “When they find a suitable mate they try... I’m… My biology is trying to entice you to tie yourself to me. Forever.”

“So the nesting thing? And the um… the clinginess?”

He toyed with the edge of your t-shirt. “Yes. I… I get quite upset when you don’t respond favorably to my… advances .”

“I picked up on that. Wait,” you pinched the meat of his bicep. “Is this why you’re getting bigger?”

“It appears that my glamours are failing, yes.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re growing in some new plumage to woo me with?” You trailed your finger along a featherlight path over his jaw. Lowering your voice, you couldn’t help but tease him a little. “Are you going to sing for me next?”

A scowl twisted his expression into something mean. “You forget who you’re speaking to, mortal.”

His tone did nothing to dissuade you. So rarely were you the one with the power to tease and you intended to take advantage. “Anything else I should know?”

“Well, if I’m already speaking candidly…” It came out bitingly, Loki’s voice laced with a burning mix of self-deprecation and frustration. “I can hardly think about anything else other than bending you over every available piece of furniture and fucking you until one of us passes out.”

“Loki,” you warned as his fingers wormed their way under the waistband of your pants. “We’re finishing this conversation.”

“Later, darling.” He pushed them down an inch and pressed his mouth to your hip. “Let us at least enjoy my biology for a little while.”

“Loki.” The air crackled, seidr whispering across your skin where the two of you connected as he considered testing your resolve. You felt the phantom impression of hands around your wrists, which you shook off with a glare. “Down.”

His lip curled in displeasure but he obeyed, sitting back on his heels. “It’s infuriating. Let’s just pretend it’s not happening.”

You joined him on the floor, drawing your knees up to your chest. “What does it mean to… ‘mate’?”

Loki’s shoulders rounded and bowed; he tilted his face away from you, hiding his expression behind a wall of thick, black hair. “You just… are. You’re partners for life. A family. I’m not sure there are words in any mortal language to explain the breadth of it.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It seems my biology has decided that you’re a good match for… that.”

“Loki…”

“I love you.” He said it so plainly, as if he was commenting on the weather. Your heartbeat turned hot and dizzy as you watched his long fingers trace the floorboard, his words rattling around in the space between your ears – I love you, I love you, I love– “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re wearing my ring, and my knives, and my clothes. You smell like me–”

“Wait–”

“I built you a nest. I’m not human. Your priorities are in desperate need of reassessment if that’s the part you’re uncomfortable with.” Loki rolled his eyes, that bit of familiar petulance peeking through his foul mood. “Anyway. It makes sense that my body would choose you. That I would… would want to convince you...”

“You know you don’t have to convince me.”

Loki picked at a knot in the wood, a loathsome smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Oh, but I do.”

You couldn’t bear the distance any longer; you crawled the last couple of feet to wrap your arms around his chest. He tipped into you, pressing his cheek against your shoulder and drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. Yet, despite his pain, a part of you sang as you stroked a line down his cheek. You were loved and in love – what greater joy was there than that?

Not for the first time in your relationship, guilt welled up in your chest. Being in love with Loki felt a little like learning a new language; he was so capricious, so aloof, that you sometimes felt like you were left out of a joke when he teased you, or flirted, or sidled up to touch you. It often wasn’t until afterward that you became aware of the fact that he was being sincere, that his teasing was earnestness wrapped up in a barbed tongue.

His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt. You might not have always understood his advances, but you would try to. For him, you would always try.

“Is there some sort of ritual involved? Do I have to cover myself in runes or something?”

He shook his head against your chest. “I think it just… happens. I’m not sure. There are very few intricacies about frost giant habits with which I’m familiar. But based on how my body is responding, I would assume it boils down to ravishing you on every surface available to me.”

You hummed. “And what will happen if we ignore it?”

Loki, turned mute by anxiety, drew a line down your arm with his knuckle. Finally, he mumbled, “I’ll be fine. I’ll just be very… sad. For the next few days.”

“Sad?”

“I know logically that you’re not, but it feels… Like you’re rejecting me.”

“And how do you want me to respond?”

He sneered again and ducked his head, dragging a hand over his face frustratedly. “I want you to bare your throat to me.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up inside of you. “What?”

The glare Loki shot you was bitterly cold. “Do not pretend that you misheard me.”

“No, no, Loki,” you reached out and twined your fingers together. “I mean, surely there’s more than that, right? You want me to do the same things for you? To- to nest? I’m not going to hunt a stag or something for you but I can definitely, like, go to the butcher and get you a prize cut.”

Loki shook his head. “I just want you to accept. To accept me .”

“And the throat…?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You ran your finger along the edge of your t-shirt, where it sat snugly against your collarbone, and watched his pupils dilate. Wordlessly you tugged on his hand, drawing it up to your neck, and placed it there loosely. “That’s it?”

His hand tightened, fingernails catching ever so gently against your skin. “You heard the part where I said that frost giants mate for life, yes?”

You nodded. “Mhmm.”

As if possessed, Loki leaned forward to nose at your pulse point. “So you understand that this… this is forever.”

“And ever and ever?”

“Brat.” His teeth scraped across your skin. “I’ve grown tired of this one-sided vulnerability. I believe you promised me a secret, pet.”

“I did.” You took a deep breath. “I love you, too.”

His fingers stilled around your throat. He seemed to not even breathe as he considered your confession. With a calculated effort, Loki peeled his hands off your neck and his voice, deep and rumbling with restraint, cut through the silence. “You should run.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Unless you want me to fuck you here on this cold, hard floor, I suggest that you run back to that pretty little nest I made you.”

A hot flush washed over you, starting in your cheeks and pooling in the pit of your belly. Loki leaned forward and sweetly kissed your collarbone, then reached up and tore your t-shirt down the middle.

“Loki!”

He smiled against your cheek. “I wasn’t joking, my love.” He sat back on his haunches and folded his hands in his lap, his gaze simmering with something molten hot. Though he moved slowly, projecting a characteristic aloofness, you could see the tendons in his neck straining as he worked against instinct to hold still. He grinned, all teeth, and jerked his chin toward his bedroom. “Run.”

You scrambled to your feet. The hardwood was slippery under your socks. You took a couple tentative steps backwards, watching the way Loki’s eyes raked over you like a butcher pulled pork. Your skin buzzed under his gaze as if you were standing under a powerline, electrified by a well of energy crackling overhead.

His control was crumbling by the second. The faucet was leaking– Tony had promised he’d have someone over within the week to fix it – and the water beading on its edge began to sizzle and pop, blinking out of existence in green bursts. The microwave display went black as Loki’s seidr overwhelmed the kitchen’s circuit breaker; the hum of the refrigerator died with it, plunging the room into an unnatural silence, so heavy that you could hear your own breath catching in your chest. Loki shifted his weight to his knees.

Your heart thrilled.

You broke in unison; you started to run at the same time that Loki sprang to his feet. A laugh bubbled up out of your chest; you reached out with your mind and swept the cushions off the couch, pelting Loki with them before he could reach you. He swore, and a tongue of emerald light crackled at your ankles, nearly tripping you. You stumbled but managed to make it over the threshold of his bedroom door. Something collided heavily with the wall behind you, followed by the sound of debris coming loose and littering the floor.

You landed with a bounce in the center of the bed, sending a cascade of pillows tumbling to the ground. Loki appeared moments later, breathing heavily and bracketing the door with his arms. He must have tripped during the chase; dust and bits of drywall covered his left arm. His irises had disappeared, carved to mere slivers by his blown pupils. Your breath caught in your chest when you noticed the line of his cock, hard and wanting, straining against his pants.

You shrugged out of your ruined shirt while Loki stalked across the small bedroom, still dressed for battle. He swatted a discarded pillow out of the air when you used your powers to raise it, then shredded another one in an eruption of light and feathers when you tried to catch him from behind. A low purr rumbled through him, melting into the hum of his seidr as it thrummed through the air.

Sensing he would tear through every scrap of fabric you managed to throw up between yourselves, you yielded slowly, tipping your chin back, drawing his attention to your throat.

Loki’s body hit the bed with a muffled thump. He crawled up the length of you on shaky limbs, pressing a grateful, sloppy kiss to your mouth before moving down to your pulse point. Burying his face there, Loki dropped his full weight on top of you. “You really should not indulge me. I might never let you leave.”

“I’ve always been terrible at saying no to you.”

He laved at a spot on your neck. His hips pinned yours against the mattress, shifting against you aimlessly as his arousal heightened. Experimentally, you pressed your leg into him; a groan tumbled from his mouth before he closed one hand around your thigh and rutted up a little more purposefully. “Love. My little love.”

Loki pushed up to his knees and pulled on the strap holding his breastplate in place. You sat up on one elbow and pinched your bra clasp with the other hand. It had only just come undone when Loki worked his hands under the band and tugged it off of you roughly. You tsked in retaliation, then pulled his armour over his head. Just as soon as it hit the floor, Loki was crawling backwards, sliding his hands down your thighs with a heavy reverence.

Your pyjama pants joined the scattered mix of armour and plainclothes on the floor. Now that you were completely bare, Loki slunk up to admire you, leaving a wet trail of kisses over your body until he reached the thin skin over your pulse. One of his hands pushed your knees apart to draw featherlight circles across your inner thighs.

You tugged on his hair, trying to convince him to lean up and kiss you properly. Loki grumbled but did not concede; his left hand slipped from between your legs and took your wrist, jamming it against the headboard before returning to run circles around your clit. When you pulled, you found your arm immobilized; a tangle of green light pinned it in place above your head.

“Rude,” you gasped. Loki smiled against your neck, dragging his chin through a trail of his own spit.

“Evil,” he agreed.

“Can you at least- at least take your pants off?”

The air shifted; when you glanced down, you were pleased to find that Loki had magically done away with the rest of his clothing, giving you an unobstructed view of his lithe body. You hummed, satisfied, and slid your free hand down his back to palm his ass.

Loki lazily drew his middle two fingers up and down your slit, toying with you in a display of casual dominance. Occasionally he would dip into you, pressing only far enough to leave you wanting before retreating to trace an intricate pattern of knots between your thighs. Despite the hard weight of him, nestled in the cradle of your hips and burning hot with desire, he seemed determined to take his time tangling with you. You rocked your hips, seeking some sort of pressure or friction, and were met with a haughty grin against your breast instead.

You babbled. You begged. The fingers between your thighs patronized you, pressing but never breaching, circling but never stroking.

Finally, though you suspected it was due to his own neediness and not the way you were pleading, he raised his head to kiss you, sliding his tongue, hot and possessive, over yours. Between the teasing pressure at your cunt and the burning weight of his cock against your hip, a desperation paced in the space between your ribs that left you aching, left you wanting. You tugged a little more firmly at your restraint. When that didn’t budge, you worked your free hand under him to run your fingers up and down the underside of his cock.

The bedside lamp buzzed and flared. Loki nipped at your bottom lip. “I’ll take away your other hand if I have to.”

And yet, despite his warning, Loki slid his fingers inside of you, a little deeper, curling slightly, and pressed at that soft spot you needed him to touch. A smug curl of delight rose in your belly, that you could make him so docile with a touch. You closed your hand around his cock and pumped him slowly, testing your sway.

“Pet,” he pleaded. “Just let me take my time with you.”

You bit back a sigh when he sat up, blinking wide cow-eyes down at you with an expression bordering on insecurity. “Please, Loki. My love.”

He choked out a whine. His eyes shut tightly for a heartbeat, eyebrows creased deeply in the middle. Your hand slipped free from the headboard – victory – but before you could really enjoy your freedom, Loki flipped you over on all fours.

“If all it took to domesticate you was a four letter word, I would have said something sooner.” One of his hands came down in a warning tap against the side of your thigh. You gasped out a laugh, turning your cheek to catch a glimpse of him. His fingers were splayed over his eyes, partially obscured by his wild hair, and his mouth had turned up in a grin, his usual cool demeanour betrayed by a giddy kind of anticipation. You pressed back against him. “Is this the part where you fuck me?”

He tugged you upwards, manhandling you onto your knees in front of him. You felt his chest mould to your back as he shuffled closer to slot his cock between your thighs, tauntingly, sliding through slick, heated skin, his cockhead bumping against your clit with every pass when his hips met the plush of your ass. “Oh, I’m not going to fuck you, darling.”

You reached between your legs to guide him inside you, but Loki snatched your hand by the wrist and held it there, so his cock glided just along your fingertips, occasionally catching at your entrance only to pull away at the last second.

“I’m going to lay claim to you. I’m going to breed you,” he panted against the shell of your ear. Your thighs clenched tight when Loki pressed the heel of your hand against the lip of your mound, applying pressure to your aching clit. “I’m going to ply you until you are limp and then I’m going to fill you until you are dripping, understand? I’m going to mark you so thoroughly that you will never be rid of me.”

He pressed even harder, rolling your hand by the wrist. His eyelashes brushed the heated skin of your cheek as he pressed his face to yours, drinking in the closeness of your body. “And when all is said and we’re sated, I’ll make love to you. And that’s a promise.”

Your eyes squeezed shut. You whimpered, your back arching into him while he worked you higher and higher. Loki murmured praise against your skin. “Okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

He smiled against your shoulder. “Excellent.”

One of his arms hooked under your breasts, holding you up and flush against his chest. The other tilted your hips back, so you were nearly sat in his lap.

“Can you…” Loki huffed out a laugh against your skin. In a small voice he asked, “Tell me you love me again?”

There was no universe where you could deny him that. “I love you. Loki, I love you. Loki–”

Your eyes squeezed shut as he fed you his cock, inch by delicious inch, until you were fully seated against him. He swore, then growled out another stuttering laugh. A hot breath washed over the shell of your ear as he tucked his chin against your shoulder, and an experimental roll of his hips had you jolting in his arms, your toes curling when he slid over that spongy, sensitive spot inside of you.

“God,” you gasped.

He hummed in agreement, slipping his free hand between your legs to apply a firm pressure to your clit. His head rolled against your shoulder as he started a slow, teasing pace. “Pretty thing,” he cooed.

You felt his eyebrows furrow against your back. His mouth dropped open, panting hot air across your shoulder blades. Your hands shook, fisting in the bedsheets; you felt tears well behind your eyes as sensations overwhelmed you, a bit of pleasure and a bit of pain. You choked out a moan, a gasp, his name cut short.

“Loki. Please. I can’t.”

“You can,” he said against your shoulder. The hand between your legs grew a little desperate, sliding in tight circles while the rest of him worked you at his mercy up and down his cock. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you? My pretty little mate,” he continued. “You are, I know you are. You’re going to come for me, and then you’re going to take what I have to give you. You’re going to let your mate fill that little cunt of yours and you’re going to be grateful, hmm?”

You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut. You were teetering on the edge of a knife, a knot in your belly drawn tight but threatening to unravel at any moment. A gasp tore from your chest when Loki changed angles, pulling you down with more force while leveraging his body weight to thrust into your harder. Your head tipped back onto his shoulder and you squealed, one hand flying behind you to anchor yourself against his hip.

“Yes,” Loki gasped. “Yes, that’s it darling.”

Relief washed over you for a heartbeat, a small coil shattered as Loki worked himself into you. You rocked back against him, writhing in his iron grip. The pressure on your clit eased away for a moment before doubling down, his middle two fingers burning molten pleasure in their wake as seidr sparked over your skin from his fingertips. Chasing relief in your body, he mouthed at your shoulder a little mindlessly. Your name tumbled from his lips, a plea, for what you weren’t sure.

Small sounds were punched out of your chest with every thrust, growing in volume as he went on and your body buzzed with overstimulation.

“Please,” you begged. One of your hands curled around his forearm, gripping him tightly, while the other fisted in one of the long-forgotten pillows. “Please. Please, Loki.”

Your legs clamped shut when your orgasm finally crested. Loki swore, tumbling, stuttering to his own edge before plummeting; he tugged you down and held you there, spilling inside you with a shaky groan.

Finally, he lifted you off his lap and slid out of you. You tried to turn over in his arms, but he tipped the two of you onto your sides and held you in an iron grip against his chest. He mumbled something foreign in your ear, intercut by the occasional sigh or a press of his mouth to your sweat-slick skin.

You tried again to turn around but Loki held you still. “Give me a minute,” he panted.

You squirmed. “But I want to kiss you.”

Loki leaned over your shoulder and kissed you, his eyes squeezed shut. Hardly satisfied, you tried to hold him in place, but your exhausted limbs were no match for him; he slunk back out of sight only a moment later.

“Loki,” you whined. His arms tightened.

“I’m not… myself right now.”

Slowly, you rolled over in his arms to face him and soothed your hands up his chest. An attractive flush coloured his pale skin, spreading from the top of his stomach to the highest points of his cheeks. You picked a flake of drywall out of his hair.

His eyes were downcast, shuttered and turned away so you couldn’t see into them. “I don’t want to frighten you,” he mumbled.

You tilted his face up; his eyes had changed, the irises gone red. They weren’t quite gemstones, or cherries, or robins or cardinals. The same red as poppies, maybe. Startling against his pale skin, framed by thick, dark lashes, but so deeply endearing, swimming with emotion as they flickered back and forth over your face.

You must have been quiet too long; Loki huffed and buried his face in his pillow.

“No, wait,” you said. “Come back. Let me look at you.”

“No. I can’t bear it.”

“Stop being dramatic. Let me look at my pretty boyfriend.”

“Your pretty boyfriend is out of commission, I’m afraid.” His voice was muffled. He patted the bed until he found the comforter, which he then pulled over his head petulantly. “He can’t seem to control himself right now. He’ll come out later.”

You wormed your hands under the blanket and pulled it back from his face. Loki sighed and peered up at you from behind his pillow, his eyes barely open to slits to glare at you. You pushed a curl off his forehead, followed by a dry kiss to his cheek. “You know your eyes change colour all the time, right?”

“But the green is handsome. Intimidating,” he grumbled. “This is…”

“Gorgeous.”

“Horrifying,” he countered.

You pouted. “That’s my mate you’re talking about.”

That seemed to break the spell he’d fallen under. You felt the gentle brush of his fingers first, then the smooth slide of his hand down your side to hook around your hip. He drew you into his chest so he could press a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “Hi.”

You returned his smile. “Hi.”

“You’re really not afraid?”

You pushed a stray pillow off the bed, trying and failing to extricate one of the blankets to drape over your bodies. Loki had been right about one thing - it was freakishly cold this week, and the chill was beginning to needle your sweat-damp skin unpleasantly. “Honestly, I’m more worried about the food in your freezer going bad. You blew a fuse in there.”

“Midgardians. You have no sense of self-preservation.” Loki reached out to help tuck you in.

“Mhm… Coming from the guy whose favourite schtick is ‘pretend to grovel until you think up a better plan’.”

“That is, by definition, self-preserving.”

“Whatever. You blew a fuse. And maybe fixed the leak?”

“I also punched a hole through the wall.”

“Tony is gonna be so mad at you.” You scraped your fingernails across Loki’s scalp, drawing a deep rumble from his chest. “Ok, five more minutes and then we need to get cleaned up.”

“I think you’re mistaken, pet. We’re not leaving this bed for the rest of the week.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not risking a UTI for that.”

Loki groaned. He pulled his mouth from your neck just long enough to kiss you. “Fine. Shower?”

“Yes, but we’re just showering. I don’t want to get waterboarded like last time.”

“Of course, darling. Not in the shower.” He kissed you again, slowly this time, coaxing your lips apart with a thumb on your jaw. When he finally pulled away it was with a hiss and a sticky, wet sound. “Although I do intend to bend you over the sink so you can watch yourself fall apart first.”

“Oh?”

His red eyes found yours. They narrowed, sparkling with mirth, as he gathered you up in his arms. “Tell me again,” he purred, “how much you love me. I might just have mercy.”

You did.

He didn’t.

Not that you minded.

Tags

marvel mcu loki x reader loki x you loki fanfic

1K notes View Post

stormtopia

1 year ago

AHHHHSHDJSSK

❝ sensory night ❞ w. gyōmei himejima ੈ✩‧₊˚

.nsfw.smut.

underrated character collab entry !!

• — synopsis. himejima carries you to bed when you’re sleepy and tipsy after a gathering. one thing leads to another when you help him explore his other senses. • — a/n. it’s hereeeee. here’s my piece for the underrated character collab hosted by @honeybleed! ty again for letting me be a part of this. always love writing for my man gyōmei. • — wc. 3,7k

how long has it been? five? six years? you hadn’t had this much time to relax for years. you and anyone included at this small gathering. some hashiras gathered on the terrace, and some slayers gathered inside. for once, you were all decompressing and having fun. including yourself. you had drank enough booze to see blurred whenever you tried to get up from where you were sitting, words meddling themselves into your mouth.

the stone hashira was watching you, as much as he could. when himejima heard your shiny laughter from the other room, he knew you were safe, it’s when it stopped that his brows connected in concern. he had to go take a look.

sliding the wooden door to the adjacent room where some of your colleagues were gathered, he felt the pressure of the floor change when your back met the mat. it wasn’t long before the slayers made way for himejima’s giant stature to come over and gently pick you up, wrapping his arm under your back and knees. you were sound asleep. pretty little snores escaping your mouth. a warm chuckle made its way out of his lips when he heard how peaceful you felt between his hands. “i think it’s time for bed, precious one.”

the others laughed in unison before agreeing that your time at this gathering was over. your bed was waiting for you.

gyōmei had been watching over you for years now. and you were certainly grateful for his presence. the wisest and strongest hashira looking out for you? you couldn’t have been more safe.

but it wasn’t all innocent and you knew it.

he couldn’t quite discern your facial expression when he was dreamingly staring a little too long. or how gently his words landed in your ears when he reassured you after a mission. or your blushing figure when he was standing always so close to you.

oh. you were so grateful.

tuk

the flask you had been carrying between your fingers made contact with the floor when your weight was lifted by his strong hands. leading you to your chamber was an easy task for the hashira. nevertheless, he wasn’t sure if he should leave or stay by your side. would you need more help later when you awoke? would you still be tipsy and unable to stand?

why was it harder to make a quick decision when it came to you than on the terrain?

deep in his thoughts, gyōmei hadn't realized you had just woken up, still in his arms. it’s your giggle that alerted him. a soft and sweet giggle that could’ve warmed his heart if it wasn’t already so full of love for you.

“gyōmei.” your sleepy voice reached him as he walked into the corridor leading to your room. you still weren’t on first-name bases after all these years so hearing it coming from you made his heart skip a beat., but his face stayed composed, as strong as ever.

“gyōmei, gyōmei-” you insisted, lingering on his name. you couldn’t quite figure out why you were in his arms in the first place but it seemed to not bother you when you searched for contact, placing a hand on his cheek with an impudent smile. “gyōmei. look at you, gyōmei.” your left thumb trailed his jaw before you extended your whole right hand around his other cheek. “your face is so soft, gyōmei..”

you jiggled with his cheek, pinching his skin but he did not flinch. he wasn’t bothered, wearing his usual stoic demeanour, as he kept his gaze straight towards the door that was coming to your left. “you’re tired, small one. you should sleep.” if you had his perfect sense of hearing, you could’ve heard his strong heart beat faster ever since you laid your fingers on his face.

he opened the door, with you still comfortably tucked into his arms before delicately setting you down on the squishy bed. you whined, now cold without the warmth of his body as you only wore that kimono that was barely holding on around your shoulders, revealing parts of your cleavage.

his eyes flickered when he heard a ruffle coming from your sheets where he had left you. he was standing on two knees beside your bed now, and you could’ve sworn he was taller than anyone you knew even when in this position.

“gyōmei.”

“yes. what is it?”

he was always so patient with you. so composed and polite. so, was the moment right? was it right for you to continue your sentence and express these buried feelings you had felt for so long?

“don’t you sometimes wonder...”

hesitation drawn in your eyes– it was a good thing he couldn’t see.

“don’t you sometimes wonder what i feel like?”

your words were followed by your hands wrapping around his wrist, slowly lifting his arm towards your face.

he let himself be handled with apprehension and silence when he realized you were leading his hand closer and closer to your mouth. there was no resistance on his part when you moved it further, landing on your face.

his hand was warm, scarred and calloused but it felt so soft against your skin. he was hesitant at first, all of his senses aleterted when he felt your body shiver against his touch. it was the first time he could allow himself to touch you so intimately. his hand cupped your jaw before slowly making its way towards your mouth. he pressed his thumb against your lips. it was such a comfortable gesture when he started caressing your upper lip, slightly opening your mouth with its movement.

you couldn’t help but stare at him. the concentrated gaze he wore when he tried to memorize every inch of your lips made you nervously exhale. your hands were still wrapped around his enormous forearm as he took the lead from you.

the idea that gyōmei had of you was constructed only by the sound your voice made, by the wind caressing his face whenever you moved and by the musical chant of your laughter reaching his ears. all of it was enough for him to favour you.

he didn’t only favour you, he longed for you. longed for more. longed for touch. he wanted to memorize the shape of your figure, the taste of your skin, the weight of your body, the sound of your moans-

he wanted to explore all of his senses with you. and maybe this time you’d be able to help him.

you couldn’t help but realize that he was completely silent when he moved his thumb past your lips without resistance. feeling your tongue and teeth was a whole new experience for him. a slight pressure applied with your teeth made him nervously inhale, but all you could hear was a deep groan when your tongue made contact with his finger.

while he inspected the interior of your mouth, you kept drawing small circles with your thumb still tightly gripping his forearm. you wanted gyōmei to feel welcome and not hesitate to feel more parts of you.

you showed him by releasing your teeth around his thumb and sucking on it. he could feel his heartbeat all the way to his hands when you started to move your mouth. it was all so new and all so sudden, he didn’t know how to react to your invitation. he felt like losing himself. he wanted to lose control.

you took your time, imprinting your lips around his thumb before letting him go with a sloppy pop. now that gyōmei had a taste of your saliva on him, he wanted more. as soon as you stopped, thinking he’d be too hesitant to continue, the gentle giant raised himself on one knee, leaning his whole figure on top of you and wrapping his hand around the back of your head. it was his turn to get a taste.

he started at the beginning of your neck, covering it with kisses and bites. It was slow and measured. he made sure he could remember every spot by heart before moving on to the next. his lips made you quiver as you uncontrollably let your head fall back with your eyes closed so you could get the whole experience. timid moans that he could hear so clearly hurried him to move downward to your exposed chest.

you had never seen gyōmei like this. so imprudent. so eager to explore every single one of his senses with you without minding the consequences. he was already too deep.

when he shifted downward, you could feel his hand run across your whole body, tightly gripping and touching your shoulders, your waist, your hips. his breathing made the most sound when he opened your kimono, meticulously unwrapping the decorative obi string that kept the tissues together without even thinking about it.

gyōmei was so skilled with his hands, you had just now realized, and you too were excited to see what more he could do. under his strong and passive exterior, you knew he’d surprise you with his hunger.

he started attacking your belly with his mouth when your upper body was naked, moving his hands further up so that he’d reach your breasts. his hands were huge when they grazed your nipples. he used one of his palms, slightly rubbing his skin against your pointy nipple. feeling a new part of you made his heart skip a beat. you were so small and frail under him. he could cup both of your boobs with one hand, but he waited. he waited patiently until a small whimper came out of your lips to play with you.

he couldn’t hide it, the sole purpose for his next move was to hear more of these sounds you made that reassembled the most beautiful melody.

one hand firmly grasping one of your breasts provoked another sound before he rubbed his thumb on the tip of your nipple. at his touch, gyōmei could feel your body tense under him while he continued to make circles, taking care of one of your nipples, while his mouth did the work on the other. again, he was deliberately steady and torturous. with his tongue now flat against your nipple, he spread his drool around it. it was wet and sweaty and he loved it. he loved how it made you feel and loved how lucky he was to be able to explore your body like this. when his lips squeezed the tip, you reached for his head, planting your fingers on his scalp. he was immovable but it was mostly for you, so that he wouldn’t leave this perfect spot.

when he finished working on your breasts both with his hands and mouth, he placed a last kiss under your right boob before moving his whole weight again. at the sudden stop, you lifted your upper body to have a view of his next actions and when you realized he was heading between your legs, panic settled in.

“g-gyōmei.” half-drunk you tried calling to him.

“it’s alright, sweet one..”

even when he was whispering you could hear the power in his voice. you could feel his hand clutch around one of your hips and his exposed chest graze your pelvis when he lowered himself even more. one of his hands always stayed put on your chest but the other ran from your hip to your thigh. “let me rediscover myself with you.”

and you let him. you were at a loss for words under gyōmei. even now, nothing about him was stiff. he was as tranquil as all the other times you had seen him, but something differed and you could feel it by the way he took care of you. he was lustful and stimulated. his giant figure towering over you earlier had undoubtedly made you flustered. you never expected to be so overwhelmed by all the attention he could give, but here you were, squirming under his large hands when he separated your legs.

the mix of your sweat and body odour agitated his nose. it made him feel euphoric. he had no problem guiding himself to your naked pussy with one finger trailing along your skin to the interior of your thigh until he could feel your pussy. when he did, his thumb played with your lips. feeling every curve by dragging his finger delicately, until he was satisfied.

he waited a couple of seconds at your entrance before inserting his index in. feeling the wetness of your folds tightening around his finger made him flinch but he went deeper when he heard you yelp. one finger was already enough for you, you thought. it almost filled you and you couldn’t comprehend how he was so huge inside of you.

you tried to close your legs but were unsuccessful under his strong hold. there was no way you’d be able to control your reactions now. grasping the sheets with one hand and your kimono in the other, the only thing you could try to do was hold onto something. unfortunately, gyōmei hadn’t had enough of your sweet sounds and started exploring your insides, fingering your pussy so perfectly. his hot breath against your skin only made your pussy pulsate around him more.

he felt everything around his finger, from the gummy interior to the slimy fluid that drenched his finger. without wasting any more time, he moved around which provoked a sudden cry. you couldn’t believe gyōmei was actually going there. you couldn’t believe that he was between your legs, working his way through your folds while you couldn’t do anything but stare at the silent man.

despise his quietude, the feeling was exhilarating and he wanted more. soon enough you felt another one of his fingers enter your fleshy folds, making its way past your inner lips and joining the index, moving along with it. it made your back arch with pleasure when his fingers filled you entirely. his large digits made their way in and out in unison, searching for the spot that would make you twitch out of delight.

gyōmei took his time when he felt his fingers squeeze every time he went past that ring of muscle. he could intelligibly feel and hear the effect he had on you which made his hand clench around your thigh.

while his fingers took care of the inside, he shifted his thumb landing perfectly on your clit. you could’ve sworn he had done this before but his eagerness made you think otherwise. he could perceive your positioning so distinctly. he knew when you closed your eyes, when you tried to silence your moans with a hand on your mouth and when you placed the other on top of his, towards your inner thigh. he could also sense that you were already so close to finishing with how he worked his way against your clit and how he had stretched you out easily with two of his fingers.

your body tensed up as you tried to restrain yourself from completely letting go of the little control you had over your own body. thighs clenching, with your hand tightly wrapped around gyōmei’s, but he had little to no regard for your current state.

he only wanted you to let go. but these sensations you both felt needed to last so that they’d left an imprint- so that he’d remember it.

“himejima-san.. please.” you begged when you squeezed the hand he had planted between your legs. you felt yourself so close to cumming, but the sudden switch to proper naming frustrated him and you felt him get rougher with his fingers. he knew it would cause discomfort if he tried to insert another one of his digits, so he maximized the hold he had on you.

when gyōmei finally felt your body twitch with anticipation, he completely stopped his movement and felt moans of complaint through his ears. your head peaked up, brows connected in confusion. “h-himejima? why did you-“

he still wore a concentrated gaze when he took his fingers out, letting your plump pussy wrap them one last time, feeling every little inch of your walls against his skin. slimy fluid covering him and dripping out of your swollen and demanding hole.

gyōmei’s euphoric-like state sent shivers down your spine. his mouth was slightly agape like an idea had just blossomed in his mind. nevertheless, you could see that he was still captivated by the unique feeling you had procured him. his fingers were still grazing your skin when you felt a low grunt coming from the man as his breath tickled your skin once more.

you called his name once more but a sudden movement interrupted your words.

gyōmei lowered himself even more onto the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs in a tight hold, easily moving your lower body along with him, until his mouth faced your empty pussy.

when he was correctly positioned, he placed a trail of kisses along your right thigh, eventually sucking on the inner part and stopping towards your swollen lips as his warm breath landed on your skin.

“please. allow me, little one.”

his next words were followed by his hungry mouth against your wet cunt as you yelped out of surprise. flustered, with both hands on your mouth, you tried and muffled the next moans that were bound to come out, but gyōmei couldn’t allow it. he couldn’t allow you to silence the noises that made him feel all kinds of ways- that made him so hard. as a result, he extended one of his arms, effortlessly grabbing onto your wrists and pulling your hands down against your chest, before he continued to devour you any further.

it was when he parted your lips with his tongue that you let out your whimpers and it was like music to his ears. his mouth extended to the outside of your cunt, so he could easily suck on your nub before going back inside with his tongue. he had a large mouth that took such good care of you.

the taste couldn’t be described. this new mix of savour and odour was heavenly. it gave gyōmei a good idea of who you were and how you felt. he was drinking out your soft and tired movements when you pushed your pelvis against his mouth. you let a long-ish moan when he lingered on your clit, a soft touch of teeth before completely engulfing it with his lips. sucking until he felt confident enough to shift to your spit-covered lips.

to get a better grip, he pulled your legs further so they could rest on his broad shoulders. eating you out was like a dream come true. he could taste everything he had felt with his fingers minutes earlier. it awakened his senses and brought a whole new meaning to pleasure. his olfactory glands and taste buds were so stimulated that you felt deep groans and moans vibrating against your entrance that made you flutter. to hear such a composed and collected man lose his mind over you only pulled you closer to your orgasm.

a few minutes in and he had already explored every inch of your cunt, and you finally felt yourself coming. not wanting to make a mess and way too agitated to cum on gyōmei’s mouth, you tried to voice your concerns, tangling words mixed with pretty moans.

“g-gyōmei, w-wait-”

he hummed against you, as if to approve. as if to tell you that you had the right to release yourself upon him.

so when you gave up on containing yourself and with gyōmei’s encouragement you let out a long yelp, cumming all over his lips.

he drank you up, tightening his grip on your thighs while he enjoyed the sweet taste of your seed on his tongue.

he stayed stationed between your legs for a while, properly sampling this new exquisite liquid and taking his time to savour it. he exhaled loudly before parting with your cunt, pressing soft kisses over your lips.

after a while, gyōmei finally decided to pull back completely, sucking at your inner thigh’s skin and taking in a final deep breath before lifting his gaze towards your face, with your sweet cum wetting his lips. he couldn’t see the state you were in, but could guess you’d be a mess.

sweating and trying to catch your breath, you had completely relaxed your body against him. your head lazily tilting back against the pillow, you had never felt more at peace.

your orgasm had left your cunt pulsating, but the only thing you recognized was gyōmei’s fingers rubbing against your palm.

“thank you.”

when you had enough strength to realize that he had thanked you, the sudden gratitude startled you. you lifted your upper body with one of your arms against the sheet while the other was still tightly gripped around his hand.

“you’re thanking me? himejima, why.. why are you thanking me?”

he raised his body with ease, all the way up so that he could stand above your naked figure, facing you.

“sweet one. you taught me how to see without my eyes.” he murmured, as he moved his hand to wrap yours entirely.

“your touch, scent and sound have changed me. I have been waiting to explore these with you.”

his confession warmed your heart and you couldn’t help but stare at his face. he was still drunk on you but he spoke genuine words that made you uncontrollably blush. a cheeky smile appeared on your smile, fully surrendering to a hypnotic whirl of happiness.

that night, after a well-deserved break, gyōmei himejima had explored and reinvented the meaning of senses with your help; when you moaned into his ears, when he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, when he tasted every part of you and when your elated scent almost brought him to tears.

although.. he did promise you he’d need more than one lesson to perfect his technique.

Tags

kny smut gyomei himejima demon slayer smut kny x reader demon slayer x reader demon slayer imagines gyomei x reader gyomei smut himejima gyomei gyomei imagines

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stormtopia

1 year ago

i <3 my man

Skskskskks YES PLEASE I NEED IT AND WITH DIA AND ASMO TOO PLEASEEEE DAMN I LOVE YOU, YOU ARE FREAKING PRECIOUS

Cuddling headcanons with Lucifer, Asmodeus, Diavolo and Barbatos

I got 'chu😤👌

Gender neutral MC

Warnings: none

Lucifer

Isn't much of the cuddling type

Don't get me wrong it's not like he hates it or anything

He simply doesn't have the time or the person to do it with

So at the beginning it's kinda awkward, because he doesn't know what to do or where to put his hands

Gets better after a while though

Prefers laying on his back with your head on his chest

That way he can just wrap his arms around you or stroke your hair

Of course he takes his gloves off

It's safe to say that this is the fastest way for him to fall asleep and he always feels refreshed after waking up

Basically becomes addicted to your cuddles to the point where he gets grumpy if you don't do it for a while

Asmodeus

Big cuddler right here, guys

Laying on top of you or having you on top of him all tangled up is his favorite part of the day honestly

Could stay like this forever

Lots of giggles

Loves playing with your hair and listening to you talking about stuff you like or simply telling him about your day

Gives you so many pecks

Especially on the nose and on the lips

Wears clothes that are too big for him to fit the vibe

Doesn't really prefer a certain position. As long as he gets to hug you he's happy

Holding your hands while cuddling is also something he absolutely loves to do

Just kissing the back of your hands and intervening his fingers with yours

Diavolo

So extremely touch starved

Hasn't even noticed it himself

Has never really cuddled with anybody, since his father has been asleep for a very long time and no one even daring to look the prince directly in the eyes out of respect for his title

So once you start hugging him and cuddling with him he refuses to let go of you

Always has to touch you in some way

When you're laying in bed or on the couch he wraps his hands and legs around you, using you as his personal bodypillow

Having you on top of him makes him feel kinda safe and super happy, but he also likes it when his head is on your chest or tummy

Please play with his hair or stroke it

He loves being touched like that

Also a big kisser like Asmo!

Diavolo can't decide though which part of you he likes to kiss the most so he just straight up showers you with them

Barbatos

A man as busy as him doesn't have much time for cuddles

But when he does he enjoys them as much as he can

Loves hiding his face in the crook of your neck and just close his eyes

Can be the big and the little spoon

It's as if you're a cat ok

If you don't move he doesn't move either

He's most relaxed in those moments

Takes off his uniform to wear some casual clothes, because even for him it's uncomfortable to cuddle in the uniform and he can't be all formal 24/7 especially not around you

Just imagine his cute disheveled hair after you run your fingers through it

Absolutely loves listening to your stories when you two are cuddling

You can hear a happy sigh escaping his lips from time to time

---

Masterlist

Tags

obey me obey me shall we date obey me diavolo obey me x reader diavolo x reader diavolo fluff

805 notes View Post

stormtopia

1 year ago

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, reader not in the best mental state (esp in first scene).

notes: FINALLY!!! its unedited so bear with me, i dont rlly have time to go through and edit + i've been sick as hell for two weeks straight now. but i hope u guys enjoy!!!

ALEA IACTA EST

You were trapped.

You didn’t know what sort of witchcraft Pantalone used but you couldn’t leave his wing. You thought you might be going crazy, it took two days of making excuses for you to realize that something was severely wrong, and another three for the anxieties to start embedding in your head. You had your first panic attack in years on the sixth day, and now on the seventh, you were sitting in the small library alone—there was a book in your lap, but the words were swimming off the pages and your head was spinning.

How was this what he wanted?

You couldn’t understand how either of you were benefiting from this. He wasn’t getting whatever knowledge he wanted from you and you weren’t getting what you needed to know. You were just stuck here, alone and lost. Not even Pantalone was around for the past few days because he went to finalize a business deal in a Mondstadt port town, he should be coming back soon but even when he did, you knew he wouldn’t spare you much attention.

How was this what he wanted? You wondered if it was supposed to be some sick sort of torture, wear down your mental fortitude so you’d be more apt to answer the questions he wanted. If that was the case, he would be severely disappointed when you spat in his face the next time he dared to make an appearance. Another part of you wondered if this was just how it would be—he would keep you locked up and alone so he didn’t have to deal with you but he also didn’t have to fear you running off and putting yourself in danger.

The more you thought about it, the more you convinced yourself of both options, and the more you hated your own soulmate.

Seven days. It had been seven days of being trapped in this place with only Pantalone to occasionally talk to and of the few times he spoke to you, the majority were just of him going on a vicious rant about how the Tianquan of Liyue kept sidelining his proposals and how the wineries of Mondstadt were icing him out of the wine market with Liyue’s merchants. He claimed it was all some big conspiracy against him because there was no reason they should be blatantly disregarding his letters, all of his proposals were mostly targeted for their profit, which the Regrator thought was blasphemous in itself—the Jester apparently cared more for building relationships with the administrative and economic sectors of each of the nations than Pantalone’s dignity as a businessman. You, evidently, did not give him the outraged reaction he wanted and he hadn’t come back to speak with you since, leaving for his meeting across the nation without a word.

Now you were alone, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you—and you knew it was not Dottore.

You exhaled as you tried to focus again on the book laying on your lap but your head throbbed and you were forced to avert your gaze back to the ceiling, trying to quell the pain through sheer willpower alone. The Regrator’s library was filled to the brim, but with nothing that would be of use to you trying to figure out how they had trapped you in this sector. Books on economics, the aristocratic families of Snezhnaya, the history of the northern lands and all of the old traditions and folklore that noble children were brought up learning, undoubtedly so he could fine tune that mask of his, pretending that he had always been one of them in order to shear more money from them.

A part of you wanted to warn him that the more he tried to fake it, the more they would ridicule him, but you didn’t want to be totally isolated again as soon as he came back so you figured you’d just let him figure it out himself.

Regardless, even with the massive amount of books that stacked his library’s walls, not a single one could help you in figuring out this spell. You’d never seen magics like this before—it was not elemental based, it was psyche-based. Every time you got down the hall, to the eighth window from your room to the right, your head started feeling light and dizzy, you felt sick and nauseous and were forced to turn back lest you put yourself in a very, very vulnerable position in a place where you could not afford any vulnerability.

As nervous as it made you, at first, you found amusement in it. You were irritated and scared, yes, but more than that, you knew that Dottore could feel everything you did. So, you made it your mission to stay right at that eighth window for as long as you possibly could, just because you knew that you were racking your soulmate with that same nausea and dizziness and light-headedness that you were experiencing.

Now, the amusement was gone and you were just scared. You were scared that you would be trapped here forever, never again to see your mother and your half-siblings and your grandfather. You were scared that you’d disappoint your father, that you wouldn’t be able to succeed in your mission and he would never be able to rest peacefully without justice having been exacted. And as much as you hated him, you were scared that you would never see him again either, that he would just leave you here to rot, live out the rest of your miserable existence confined to a single hall with books that you would rather burn than read.

You hated that you felt so attached to him already—that even though the thought of him filled you with vile rage and agony, your body still ached for his touch, your eyes still longed for the sight of him walking through the dark doors of the library, and your bond still screamed for you to somehow end this war between the two of you so it could find peace.

Even if peace negotiations were in your hands, you would still stubbornly throw them out the window, but they weren’t because he continued to completely deny you his presence. You were at his mercy, only when he decided, would a white flag be lifted.

“Excuse me.”

You stiffened, an unwelcome chill ran down your spine as you looked over your shoulder to where an unfamiliar figure was standing in the doorframe of the library. With golden blonde curls and green eyes, no more than a decade older than you, you thought that the man might’ve been handsome were it not for that there was a dark gleam behind his eyes that reminded you a lot of your step-father, one that promised danger and deceit.

He smiled and even though his teeth were not sharpened, somehow they looked more like knives than Theta’s did. “You’re the aristocrat from Fontaine that the Regrator took in, no?”

“I am,” you said. Your voice was hoarse from days without speaking, you cleared your throat, closing the book and placing it down on the couch next to you just in case the man tried to take a seat there with you. “And you are?”

He wasn’t as unfamiliar as you originally believed. You recognized him from the event, standing with the rest of the Harbingers—immediately, you were on edge, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. He came closer to you and you bit the words that tempted to fly from your mouth as he picked up the book you had placed as a deterrent to take a seat on the couch right next to you, too close for comfort. You could feel his thigh brushing yours as he looked to the side to watch you, eyes tracing over your body once before settling on your face.

“Brighella,” he greeted, holding a hand out to you. “Tenth of the Fatui Harbingers, delighted to make your acquaintance.”

You placed your hand in his, albeit reluctantly, watching raptly as he lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently before letting go. His lips were soft and pleasant against your fingers yet it still made your skin crawl. You drew your hand back into your lap immediately, waiting for him to explain what he wanted.

“I was just curious,” he said, answering the unspoken question. “The Regrator is a very proud man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he never responds well to help. It came as a shock to hear that he was taking in an aristocrat from Fontaine as an advisor.”

He was lying—about what, you weren’t sure, but you knew somewhere in that statement of his that there was a lie, and though you had no way of confirming it, you suspected that it had to do with his initial claim: that he was simply curious.

“He intends to expand the Northland Bank into Fontaine City,” was all you replied with, a thin smile painting your lips. “Even someone as proud and intelligent as him is not capable of such a feat alone, the Court of Fontaine is notoriously anti-Snezhnaya.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” Brighella waved off your words and relaxed into the chair next to you, eyes disarmingly beseeching as he watched your reactions. “But we have our own operatives in Fontaine City, I was surprised that he didn’t just come to me for information, rather insulting, actually.”

He laid the information in front of you like meat to seduce a starving beast, all the while he lurked behind the bushes and waited for you to lunge at it so he could drive his blade across your neck as an execution. You didn’t respond, maybe for a second longer than you should have, but the sudden information had thrown you off guard.

It was him.

The words rang resounding through your head, Brighella was the one running the Fatui’s operations in Fontaine. Why had he told you? What did he expect to gain from this? There was something you were missing still, but after a week of forced isolation and no progress in your mission, this was like a feast handed to you on a silver platter.

“Perhaps your operatives are just not capable enough for such a scheme,” you said dryly, but your voice sounded vacant even to your own ears, it was clear that you were focused on something else.

Brighella raised a hand to his chest as if he’d been wounded by your words. “Oh, but the Knave and I had trained so many of them personally,” he sighed. “What use am I to this organization if my colleagues won’t even rely on me or my agents to deliver when necessary?”

It was a rhetorical question but you didn’t know what to make of it, or of him. Faux-mourning tainted his tone as he spoke, a regretful expression on his face as he turned his eyes up to the ceiling above.

What was he trying to gain from this? You asked yourself again, more desperately this time. His lips, still tilted up as they’d been this whole conversation, had a bit more of triumph in them than they’d had before and you knew that somewhere you had slipped up, revealing something you shouldn’t have. But you rewound the conversation in your head over and over and over again and you couldn’t quite place where you had. You’d been careful with your words, nothing to set off alarm bells—your cover with the Regrator’s expansion in Fontaine was true, but you were just not being quite as helpful as he would like you to be, and Pantalone was very clear in his opinions on their Fontaine plants and their inadequacy.

It had to have been your tone, the emptiness in your response to his reveal about his subordinates in Fontaine. It gave away your interest, and you could play it off as if it was just a general interest in how they’d infiltrated Fontaine, but if your stepfather truly was his agent, then he would know very well who you were and your ulterior reasons for being here—or he would at least now have confirmation.

Pantalone had told you that Pulcinella, Brighella and Tartaglia would be the three Harbingers who would be the least of your worries, but you thought that the Friar was much more dangerous than he made himself out to be.

How were you supposed to proceed? You tested words on the tip of your tongue but you could not figure out what to say—if you were suddenly interested in him, he would know it was only because of the information he revealed, but if you were cold and distant, you risked him not returning and you needed more information one way or another, even if it meant consorting with a man that made your hair stand on end.

You didn’t get the chance to speak up again though, as your lips parted to speak, Brighella rose to his feet.

“I should get going. I’d prefer not to draw the ire of my fellow Harbingers, but it was a pleasure talking to you,” he murmured, a small smile and eyes turned upward as he nodded his head down in acknowledgement. “I’ll stop by again soon, it’s cruel of the Regrator and the Doctor to leave you alone the way they have.”

Two days later, the Friar returned.

You’d spent the two days alone reeling and trying to understand where you had gone wrong and how you could compensate for it. You needed a plan of action, and a fast and efficient one at that. Freezing him out would be stupid, as much as it might be the most comforting course of action, but you also couldn’t just suddenly be trying to get closer to him because he would realize something was up.

You weren’t stupid. If he had truly just been curious about you, he would have come much sooner than he did. He waited because he wanted you to be worn down and utterly alone, so you would latch onto him like he was a buoy in the raging sea. Unfortunately for him, you were far too used to being alone. As agonizing as a week of isolation was, it was not near enough to make you that desperate.

But he had information you wanted desperately, so you wanted to let him think whatever plan he was concocting was working in hopes that he might reveal more to gain your trust and dependency. You thought it would be a slow and arduous process, not to mention agonizing, but considering neither Pantalone nor Dottore have come to see you in over a week now, you figured you had nothing better to do anyway and this was your best shot at getting what you wanted… and maybe, if you ended up being successful with this, you could free yourself too but you thought that was far less likely.

At the very least, it might force Dottore into action if he thought you were starting to get close with Brighella.

But that was a long shot anyway. Brighella was a type of beast that you were unfamiliar with. He kind of reminded you of some of the crueler members of Fontaine’s aristocracy, the ones who found entertainment in setting up trials that they knew would lead to one terrible sentencing, all the while smiling to the defendants face, but even then they were nothing like this. He was a wolf that portrayed himself as a sheep in the truest sense of the proverb and you just didn’t know what he was capable of, or what he wanted, and that was what scared you most—you didn’t like it when you didn’t know what someone’s intentions were with you.

Your stepfather was easy, all he wanted was more power in Fontaine, evidently to report back to the Fatui for a promotion—you and your father were obstacles in obtaining said power, so he removed your father from being able to influence your mother and you were certain that if you had stayed in Fontaine City, he would have gone after you too.

Dottore was somewhat frank in his intentions with you: he wanted you out of his life so that you couldn’t affect his research but he was keeping you here because he wanted information from you… and a part of you was certain that he was keeping you here also because it prevented you from going out and getting yourself hurt or killed, and that scared you because you didn’t know just how long he planned to keep you isolated here. Or if he ever even planned to release you.

Pantalone had been upfront with you: he wanted a way to get the Northland Bank into Fontaine, you had offered your help in exchange for assistance with removing your stepfather from the courts but you had no intention of giving him any help until he had pulled through on his end. And even then, you had never specified how much help you would give him—you were not going to give the Fatui more of a foothold than they already had.

Not after what they did to your father.

Brighella was an unknown. He had come to you with a goal two days ago, and whatever that goal had been, he had achieved it. You still couldn’t figure what it was, even after days of recounting your conversation to figure it out, and that unnerved you more than anything.

“You actually came back,” you said quietly, eyes flickering up to where Brighella had entered the library. He brought something with him, you couldn’t quite tell what it was but it smelled good, and familiar.

“I promised, didn’t I?” Brighella replied, amused. He came around the couch to sit next to you. He sat closer this time.

“It’s been two days, I was beginning to doubt.”

“Yes, well, the Regrator grew a bit suspicious when he saw me coming from the direction of his wing, the last thing I needed was to draw his ire. The Doctor already has it out for me even when I do no wrong.” Brighella sounded aggrieved as he spoke but your ears rang loudly at his words.

“The Regrator already returned from his meeting in Mondstadt?” you asked, keeping your voice free of all tightness but when Brighella only shot you a confused look, one that did not appear to be feigned in the slightest. “Ah, I see.”

There was no meeting in Mondstadt.

You wondered if it was by Dottore’s will or his own that he had lied and left you here in isolation. You thought it would be easier to believe it was Dottore’s, you had already made him out to be your villain, but you knew better than to assume that. Dottore was obstinate and prideful, yes, but Pantalone was the one who had clawed his way from the bottom tiers of society to the very top, his manipulation would know no bounds—he knew that you were already struggling with Dottore’s refusal to acknowledge you, and he probably thought that his disappearance, after entertaining you for a few days, would put you over the edge.

Jaw tight and trying your best to keep your emotions off of your face lest Brighella take advantage of your distressed realization, you forced yourself to turn your attention back to the Harbinger.

“Here,” Brighella said, passing the covered dish over to you. “Tartiflette, I figure you must be missing home. I hear tartiflette has been rather popular amongst the aristocrats lately.”

I hear.

Bitterly, you wanted to ask just how he managed to hear that but you refrained. Instead, you glanced down at the dish—it was covered with foil but it smelled good, just like the one you and Sylvie used to get from Cafe Lucerne before your father passed away.

You wondered if it was poisoned, or laced with something, you didn’t exactly put it past Brighella. Even if there were ulterior motives behind him bringing you the dish, it was thoughtful nonetheless. So instead of voicing your suspicions or refusing the dish, you took into your lap, letting the warmth of the bottom of the plate and the familiar scent sink in.

“Thank you.”

Brighella looked pleased, green eyes glittering. “You’re welcome.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you listened to the way the wind rattled the glass nearby. It was getting late already, you could see the moon rising over the trees in the distance. Nine days now with no word from Dottore at all. You were sure he was probably keeping the segments away from you too because you hadn’t seen a single one since that night.

After a few moments of silence, Brighella asked, “He told you that he had a meeting in Mondstadt?”

You didn’t respond, you supposed that was answer enough because he let out a heavy sigh.

“The Regrator does love his underhanded tactics.”

“And you don’t?” you couldn’t help but press, eyeing him curiously.

“I do.” At least he didn’t bother hiding it, shooting you a deceptively friendly smile as he relaxed back into the chair. “But it’s different, my underhanded tactics are for the greater good.”

“Many men have claimed to do terrible things for the greater good,” you murmured. “What makes you different?”

Your subordinate killed my father, you were saying, tell me how that was for the greater good?

Brighella watched you for a second and then said, “Perhaps you’re right, but I’d like to believe otherwise.”

You hummed, looking away but you could feel that he was still looking at you and it was making you feel antsy, like a cornered animal.

Finally, Brighella spoke up again. This time, his voice was far more quiet, as if he didn’t want someone listening in. “I wish we had more time to talk instead of rushing straight to business, but I fear that I’m testing many boundaries and patiences by coming to visit you and I’d like for you to understand why I am.” Curiously, your eyes focused onto him, he was still staring at you, watching your reactions. “The Regrator cannot give you what you want. He has no power in Fontaine, nor jurisdiction over any of the subordinates there, that is why he’s coming to you and trying to get your assistance. He does not want to use me as an intermediary for his business.”

There it was. You raised your chin a bit in surprise as Brighella’s words reached your ears and his motives became clearer. You didn’t doubt that there were other ulterior ones that he was keeping to himself, but this one was enough for you to get some clarity on the situation: Brighella and Pantalone were playing a game of chess for Fontaine, and both thought that you would be the piece that would win them the game.

You realized, slowly, that you might just have a bit more power than you realized, and that Pantalone had been trying to keep you ignorant to it.

It also gave you more insight on the Fatui itself, and more specifically, the relationship between the Harbingers. You had a feeling that the camaraderie shown during the event was just a show but you hadn’t thought the rivalry ran so deep as to having Harbingers competing for power through using outside sources.

You wondered if Brighella realized just how much he had revealed to you. From the steady look in his eyes as he watched you, he very much did. You wondered then why, because it had to be something beyond just trying to get you to not help Pantalone—unless he was that desperate to keep Fontaine in his grasp. But you had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you finally responded with, pointedly meeting his eyes.

He was studying you carefully and finally, he nodded, rising to his feet. “It’s alright. I’ll come back soon and give you some time to think. Just remember, what the Regrator promised you is not something he is able to give at this point and time. He’s making you think that you are the one dependent on him but without your cooperation, he doesn’t have a foothold in Fontaine, which is what he desperately wants.”

You didn’t respond as he walked out of the room, but before he stepped through the door, he turned to look at you one last time, “Enjoy the tartiflette—perhaps next time, I’ll bring you an even grander gift.”

You were not in the library the next time Brighella came to visit. You were lounging in your room preparing for bed when the knock came at your door. For a second, just a second, you might’ve hoped that it was Dottore, finally ending the war between the two of you—but as you called for the person to come in, and a head of curly blonde hair and green eyes peeked from around the door, the bit of hope that had sprung up withered in an instant.

“May I?” Brighella asked, motioning for him to come into your room.

How improper, you thought to yourself, trying to force away the heat that rose to your cheeks. But you needed to keep talking to him, milk him for all that he knew before you made a decision about what you were going to do.

“Of course,” you responded with, watching him carefully as he slipped into the room and made his way over to where you were sitting. He sat on the window nook next to where you were sitting at your vanity, leaning back on his hands as he studied you carefully.

“Have you thought about my proposal yet?” Brighella murmured, his eyes were intense as he watched you, you could barely even hold his gaze and you had never had trouble holding anyone’s gaze before.

You had. Of course, you had. With the newfound knowledge of Pantalone’s inability to actually get you what you want without you giving him what he wanted first, everything changed. Your whole position in this situation changed. You were still a prisoner, naturally, but you were a prisoner with power right now. You had two different Harbingers vying to acquire your support. It could change in a second, you knew that, you couldn’t get ahead of yourself, but you couldn’t just disregard the opportunity this presented.

You also could not take everything Brighella said at face value.

You remembered the look in his eyes when you first met him, the skeevy one that reminded you of your stepfather and all of the other men and women in your life who had done terrible, terrible things without remorse.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied instead, and Brighella sighed, disappointed but not surprised.

“Ah, I see,” Brighella said. “I haven’t quite gained your trust yet—well, perhaps this will change that.”

From his pocket, Brighella pulled out a piece of parchment, sealed with a wax Fatui insignia. He held it out to you and you reached out cautiously, taking it into your hands and turning it over to view the blank back of the parchment. You had no way of knowing the contents of it without breaking the wax seal, you looked up at Brighella, questioningly. He looked pleased, a small smile teasing at his lips.

“This is a letter I have addressed to a particular subordinate of mine stationed down in Fontaine,” Brighella explained, leaning his chin on his hand, elbow propped up on his knee as he watched you. You could only barely bite back the sharp intake of breath as you looked down at the parchment again. “Yes, yes, I know, you don’t know what I’m talking about. But hypothetically, if you did, I was willing to gift you one of two options.”

“What are these hypothetical options?” you asked, your knuckles just a bit too tight around the parchment to pass it off as normal.

“You can keep that letter, and we can work together as partners. I can work with the Knave to set up a mission with the Jester and the Tsaritsa to have you head back to Fontaine, where you can use the letter as evidence to put said subordinate on trial before the Hydro Archon and Chief Justice,” Brighella said, your throat felt tight and swollen, your lips on the verge of trembling.

Everything you wanted, but there had to be a catch. You knew better. For all you knew, the contents of the letter was empty, he could let you go down to Fontaine only to make you look like a fool when you presented the letter as evidence.

“The second option?” you asked, proud that your voice remained steady and void of the turbulent emotions rushing through you.

“I will send it south and summon him back to Snezhnaya. You can exact your own justice here.”

What was the catch?

There had to be a catch, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure it out. You knew it was something more than just preventing Pantalone from stepping into his territory but Brighella was impossible to read and far more unpredictable than you expected. You were baffled that he would go to this length to try to get you to trust him.

“You can hold onto the letter until you’ve made your decision, I-”

“My, my,” a familiar, smooth voice drawled. “What is this?”

At once, your blood ran cold as you looked up to see a familiar figure standing in your doorframe, violet eyes cold and cruel as he stared at where you were sitting with Brighella. Brighella only smiled thinly, mocking, as he looked at Pantalone and said: “Regrator, I hope you don’t mind me spending time with your new advisor, she’s quite the lovely little thing. I’m rather fond of her.”

“Is that meant to mean much?” Pantalone asked dryly, the smile on his lips tightening at the corners and you braced yourself for whatever he was about to say. “You’re fond of everything with two legs that will open for you.”

Your face felt hot, fingers tightening around the parchment as his words registered. Two legs that will open?

How dare he?

Who does he think he is?

The barrage of livid questions battered your head, begging to be let loose but you bit your tongue, sharpening it as you instead responded with: “How crude, I know you had an unfortunate upbringing but I thought you’d learned better by now than to speak every vile word that crosses through that repulsive mind of yours.”

Next to you, Brighella hid his smile behind his hand and you at least felt a little validated even as Pantalone’s eyes bore down into you, you could see the promise for bloodshed barely veiled beneath his calm expression.

“I’ll take my leave.” Brighella rose to his feet and to your horror, he leaned in close to you, taking both of your hands in his and you wanted to pull away, ask him what the hell he was thinking, but the words died on your tongue as he took the parchment from your hand before Pantalone could catch sight of it, subtly letting it drop to the floor before using his foot to slip it beneath the bed. His lips flickered upward. “Think about what I said. I’ll come by again.”

“No, you will not,” Pantalone interjected coolly. “I believe I have mentioned before that you are not welcome in my wing of the palace, Friar.”

“Then I will send one of my subordinates to fetch her to bring her to mine.” Brighella waved off the comment. “It’s no bother.”

He directed a faux-smile toward Pantalone as he slipped past the other Harbinger and left the room, leaving you alone with him. Pantalone stared after Brighella for a moment before turning his attention on you.

You raised your chin and asked sweetly, “How did your business deal down in Mondstadt fare?” knowing damn well that there was no business deal down in Mondstadt.

He very clearly understood what you were getting at, the sweet smile on his lips just as fake as your tone as he said, “Very well.”

“I’m sure.”

The mockery in his eyes slowly slipped away the longer he stared at you—he wanted to say something, that was for sure, but he either didn’t know how to say it or he couldn’t, and you had a distinct feeling that Pantalone spoke more than he breathed so finding a way to say it was not the problem, he felt that he couldn’t.

“The Friar is not to be trusted,” he finally decided.

“There is not a single soul within this palace that is to be trusted,” you countered icily.

He smiled, but the smile did not meet his eyes. “Fair enough.”

There was a quiet tone to his voice, you wondered if any of Brighella’s statements held any truth to them, if he was worried that you would side with the Tenth instead of him, and he would lose his shot at expanding the Northland Bank into Fontaine.

Something wicked swam in his eyes as his gaze cast over where you were sitting once more, voice more scathing now. “I do wonder how the Doctor will feel about your newfound relationship with the Friar,” and you realized that the Regrator did not fret over anything. And if he was backed into a corner like a wounded animal, he would lash out ten times as deadly.

He was threatening to tell Dottore if you did not speak to his liking, if you did not dismiss Brighella’s option.

Your eyes widened, just a bit—you knew there was nothing wrong with what you’d been talking about with the Friar. Dottore knew that you were here for one thing, and one thing alone: obtaining the evidence to convict your stepfather of your father’s murder. But you had a feeling that Pantalone would be spiteful and describe what he had walked in on as not what really happened, he’d put it in the worst light possible and blow the slim chance you had for Dottore ever showing up…

Or, it would finally force him into action.

It was a risky gamble—one that you weren’t sure if you should take. Dottore was prideful and stubborn and you didn’t know how far it extended. It could blow up in your face, or it could finally get you what you wanted: the upperhand.

You had never been a gambling woman before, but ever since you got to Snezhnaya, you were being put into situations forcing you to change and adapt just so you could survive, so you could bring justice to your father.

You didn’t think you liked the person who you were becoming, but you didn’t think you had a choice.

You smiled at Pantalone, but the smile was as empty as you felt.

“I don’t particularly care what the Doctor feels concerning my relationship with Brighella. Tell him whatever you please, do pass on my regards to the younger segments though.”

“I must say your soulmate truly is a little spitfire, she has proven it time and time again.”

Dottore sighed as he looked up from his vial, heavy eyes focusing on Pantalone as the man slunk into his labs as if he owned them. His smile was tight and his eyes were not in the typical upturn they usually turned up whenever he was amused—whatever you had said to him had severely pissed him off, it nearly made his own lips twitch upward, wondering what exactly you had said to get under his skin so badly.

“And what did she say this time?” Dottore drawled, not even bothering to feign curiosity, placing the vial back down on the burner as he looked up at Pantalone, whose eye twitched at the question.

“It’s about time you stop playing this game with her, Doctor.” Was all Pantalone said in response, observing a failed, burnt test subject disdainfully, poking at it with a long, gloved finger before drawing his gaze back up to Dottore.

“And here I thought you were playing the same game,” Dottore dismissed, although he would beg to differ that it was not a game, but the last thing he wanted was to get into a battle of semantics with Pantalone. “Was that not why you’ve been loitering around my labs this past week?”

“Yes, I was,” Pantalone agreed, but there was an edge to his voice that made Dottore suspicious, “and it backfired. A certain snake rose from the grasses to take advantage.”

“Hm?” Dottore tilted his head to the side, red eyes narrowing as Pantalone’s words registered.

“Now is not the time for your stubbornness, Doctor,” the banker warned. “Continue to disregard her and she will turn to someone else… or I suppose, she already has. I caught her acting rather intimately with the Friar in her quarters just before I came here.”

Dottore’s lips flattened and his eyes went cold, Pantalone caught the physical reaction, eyebrows shooting upward, mockingly. But Pantalone could only see the physical reaction, he could not feel how Dottore’s blood somehow felt like it was burning and freezing at the same time, he could not see how his vision tunneled and he could not hear how his ears were ringing.

Intimately?

There it was again—that prideful and possessive feeling rearing its ugly head. You were his, only by fate and by chance, but you were his nonetheless, even if he was loathe to admit it. He ignored the hypocrisy of his thoughts, you were his and yet he had ignored you for over a week? He was laying claim to you after all of his denial and anger?

He had been doing what was right, separating himself from you to prevent the bond from getting any stronger. He wasn’t playing the same game that Pantalone was, isolating you to try to make you more malleable to his requests when he finally came back around; Dottore did not play games, not with anyone, much less with you.

But was he okay with you turning your attention elsewhere with his absence?

No. No, he was not. The thought filled him with an emotion he hadn’t felt in over four hundred years, not since his years as a Fatui recruit before he’d learned to separate himself from his emotions.

“She asked for me to pass on my regards to the younger segments.” Pantalone smiled as he spoke, knowing that the words were bound to set Dottore off even more because how dare you send your regards to the children as you let another man into your quarters. “I’ll be heading to my office now. I have some paperwork to finish filling out. Do think on what I said, I expected a branch of the Northland Bank in Fontaine to come out of this arrangement. If it does not, you will have to make up for it.”

“Your expectations are not my responsibility,” Dottore said, voice clipped and icy and far more strained than he meant for it to be.

Pantalone only let out a huff of laughter as he spun on his heel, shooting Dottore one last long look that had Dottore’s body begging for violence as a response. Nearly twenty years of him being forced into a corner because of you, and it was only getting worse.

“It is in this situation,” he said as he made his way out of the lab as quickly as he had come, leaving Dottore there alone with raging thoughts and turbulent emotions.

The Friar.

Brighella.

Lip curled up in a type of rage he hadn’t felt in a long, long time, he finished putting his equipment away and reached for his mask, intent on heading to your quarters himself to understand just what was going on between you and the Tenth.

It was the first time you’d been in Snezhnaya where there hadn’t been a storm battering the night. Once the Regrator had left you to your business, and you were finally able to finish getting ready for bed, you curled up at the window nook to look outside, where the air was still bitter and cold but the harsh winds had subsided and the moon was reflecting prettily over the frozen lake north of the palace.

It looked calm and peaceful—you thought there was a beauty to Snezhnaya that was unique. The Hydro Archon and her acolytes liked to frame the nation as one big frozen wasteland but the more time you spent there, the more you realized that it was just not true. It was frozen, yes, but there were towering trees and massive lakes, the snow sparkled beneath the sun and moon in a way you’d never seen before.

You pressed the pad of your finger against the glass, a longing feeling sweeping over you as your eyes focused on the line of trees on the opposite side of the frozen lake. You thought that this might be your chance—the storms had subsided, you could make a break for it, but you knew deep down that the lack of storm was a deception you couldn’t afford to fall for. Just because the winds had died and the snow and ice had stopped falling, it didn’t mean that it was safe enough to travel through. You would still freeze. Perhaps if you had a pyro vision, it would be different but your hydro vision would do nothing to protect you against the cold.

You sighed, laying your forehead against the window and letting the chilly feeling spread through you, a stark contrast from the warmth of the fireplace emanating throughout your room.

You wondered if you made a mistake. You had antagonized Pantalone, and he had likely antagonized Dottore on your behalf. It had felt good in the moment—a sharp jab that relieved some of the heavy pressure that isolation had put on you, but now the pressure was back and worse than before.

You were not wondering. You knew it had been a mistake.

Even if Brighella had been telling the truth and you held more power than Pantalone was leading you to believe, you couldn’t afford to isolate yourself from the option he presented. Dottore clearly trusted him enough to trust him with you, which you thought was about the biggest show of trust anyone could get from the Second.

And neither of them trusted Brighella.

Your pride and anger had gotten the best of you—they had gotten the best of you when you had thought you had been in control. You laid everything out logically, convinced yourself that the option Brighella posed was just as appealing as Pantalone, forgetting that at the very least, Dottore and Pantalone were known threats to you. That yes, Pantalone wanted to use you and Dottore wanted nothing to do with you, but neither of them would risk your safety. Brighella was an unknown, just a charming and manipulative one that knew precisely when and how to strike.

You weren’t cut out for this. You let your eyes slide shut as you tried to force away the tears building in them. Frustration, anger, desperation, they were all becoming too much for you to handle. You didn’t know what to do. If Brighella was telling the truth, he really was the key to getting what you want, but you couldn’t trust him, you didn’t know what his motives were. Behind the pretty eyes and glittering smile was a snake with venomous fangs that could clamp down at any moment.

You thought the courts of Fontaine had prepared you for this but the Snezhnayan court and the heart of the Fatui was a beast that you were not equipped to deal with. The courts of Fontaine were a beast, you would never think otherwise, but you’d been foolish enough to let yourself believe that they were similar enough to Snezhnaya’s that you’d be able to handle it.

In Fontaine, your name had power and words were as sharp and lethal as daggers—as long as you put on a pretty mask and an entertaining performance, you would survive, but the aristocrats and observers of justice would eat alive anyone who could not put on a convincing and beguiling show.

In Snezhnaya, your name meant nothing and the only coat of protection you could place over yourself was Dottore’s position in the Fatui, and his forced bond to you. Your mask was shattering the longer you were stuck in the cold, and the entertaining performances you were so adept at putting on were becoming more pathetic than anything else. Danger lurked around every corner, not even just those who wanted to kill you as a means to weaken the Doctor, but also those who hated you for the country you come from. You had seen the way one of the Harbingers had looked at you during the event, and having even one Harbinger against you meant that you had hundreds of subordinates out for your throat to try to gain her approval.

You were well beyond your depth. A vast ocean all around you and the currents were dragging you under, water filling your lungs as you tried to thrash your way back to the surface but there was an anchor chained to your ankle that you simply couldn’t fight against.

You took in a deep, shuddered breath. You thought back to the old prophecy, the one that whispered that one day Fontaine and all of its citizens would be washed away by the rising waters, drowned by that which is supposed to protect them, finding their eternal rest in the sands until they became one with the sea.

Sometimes you wondered if it was a literal or metaphorical fate, you had always taken it as literal and dismissed it as an old wives’ tale, but now you were questioning everything you held as true: you felt like you were drowning, your identity dissolving as the water closed in around you, and you felt helpless to it, just like how the ancient prophecy threatened.

Finally, you raised your head and looked back outside, eyes widening when you caught sight of a figure standing in the frame of your door through the reflection of the window, tall and imposing. You hadn’t even heard the door open. Even with the mask, you could feel the coldness behind his gaze.

He only spoke one word:

“Come.”

reblogs appreciated!

919 notes View Post

stormtopia

1 year ago

"am I Really That Old?" Lucifer Wonders On The Train Later

"am i really that old?" lucifer wonders on the train later

(you've probably seen them already but references taken from this post + the original tweet)

-> the follow-up

Tags

obey me lucifer is NOT beating the millennial allegations

10K notes View Post

stormtopia

1 year ago

freaky friday

OR… that one time you woke up in luke castellan’s body, told from the perspective of percy jackson.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Demeter!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Content: the most loser loser!luke has ever loser-ed. this is sooo unserious like pls.

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷

Percy Jackson had only been at camp for a day, but he was completely sure that something was wrong.

It started early Sunday morning — well, when he thought back on it, he guessed it might have started late Saturday night, when he woke up to a few of the older campers (Luke included) sneaking off out of the cabin and not coming back until the sun was peeking through the horizon.

But he didn’t really think about it until Sunday morning — when the thing that startled him out of sleep was a loud shout of “Holy Fuck!” echoing from the bathroom. He sat up, startled, and eyed the door along with everyone else. Then there was a yelp.

“Oh my gods. No — this is, this isn’t real. Am I still — oh don’t touch that. That’s not yours. Jesus, Luke — No. Stop looking. Oh my gods.”

A few campers shared some wary glances, asking the silent question of who’s going to investigate? Eventually, Chris (Percy thought, one of Luke’s friends from yesterday), stood up with a sigh and a raised brow, stepping over sleeping bags until he stood outside of the door. He looked at them all, the curious eyes of literally every kid there, and knocked slightly. There was another yelp.

“Uh…” Chris blew out a puff of air, “Are you okay in there?”

A few seconds of tense silence, then the door cracked open and Luke Castellan stuck his head out. He looked at Chris, at all the kids staring at him, and smiled stiffly, “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

He shut the door once more, the force blowing Chris’ hair back for a brief moment. The boy shrugged and nodded at everyone else to start getting ready because it was almost time for breakfast. He headed over to Percy, asked how his first night was, and left him to gather his bearings before they had to leave.

The kids attempted to forget about Luke’s debacle in the bathroom, but when they started to get impatient about his hogging it, all disregard of his personal business went flying out of the window. One kid mustered the balls to knock, and then another shouted through the wood for him to hurry up.

Just as one of the Stoll brothers was about to pick the lock himself and check out the situation, the door flew open, and Luke frowned at them from the doorway, “I’m done, my gods.”

They looked at him — he was leaning against the now open door, hip bucked out and not a care in the world that he was in nothing but his underwear. He glanced at them, then at the kid who Percy thought was called Conor, and sneered in his face until the kid flinched back. When he did, Luke pushed the bathroom door until it hit the wall and gestured dramatically inside, “In you go.”

Percy didn’t think he was the only one who was shocked by Luke’s sudden show of attitude. Sure, he’d only known the guy for a day, but he’d been super nice the whole time. Even when Percy was ready to give up on finding his skill, Luke was supportive and kind. Now, he just looked irritated at everyone in the room. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Percy decided to let him wake up a bit instead of irritating him with questions about how the morning routine at camp usually went. Instead, he followed the lead of the kids around him and got himself ready before lining up along the wall. His face bloomed red when someone had to tell him to go to the back because he was new, but other than that he was doing somewhat alright.

Chris and Luke were arguing quietly in the corner, being careful to ensure nobody else could hear their murmurs. At one point, Luke stepped up so he was nose to nose with Chris and the boy put his hands on his chest to push him back — only for Luke to sharpen his eyes down at them with such a scandalised look that even Percy was slightly confused from where he stood and watched. Luke folded his arms over his chest indignantly and Chris sent him a dumb look before muttering something that made Luke straighten and drop his arms once more.

When the boys ceased their conversation and walked over, the kids pretended as if they hadn’t been watching their entire time

“Okayyy.” Luke spoke, huffing out a breath. He shot his hands out and waved them, “Let’s go.” Nobody moved, and he furrowed his brows, “Uh, onwards and upwards? Hop to? En guarde?” Silence greeted him and he rolled his eyes, clapping loudly, “Can yall just fuckin’ move?”

The kids at the front flinched slightly, deciding it best to just leave rather than wait for him to say his usual morning pick-me-up. Clearly he was having a bad day and they chose to leave him to his own devices. Percy followed at the back, and couldn’t help but listen as Chris muttered to him once more from behind him.

“Can you at least try to act like a normal person, please?”

“I am acting normal.”

“Luke Normal.” He paused, waiting. Percy guessed Luke must’ve agreed silently because the next thing he said was, “Thank you. Now get to the front of the line like the cabin counsellor you are.”

Luke huffed, pushing past Percy to get to the front of the line. Chris followed, whispering something about Luke having a bad day and to just ignore him before jogging to catch up. The blonde boy had never felt so awkward — the only friend he’d made and the guy was skulking around like he hated the world only twelve hours after they’d met.

He tried to brush it off by focusing on his breakfast — blue pancakes, blue cherry coke. Okay, not the healthiest option but he was having a bad weekend, let him live.

Chiron came to find him a bit after that, asking Percy how he was settling in and if he was ready for the Capture the Flag game they were playing later.

After that, Percy tried to avoid the prying eyes of Annabeth by spending his free hour in the Hermes cabin where she couldn’t get to him — only to walk in on something a lot more awkward.

Luke was lying on the floor, groaning in pain. The smiley Demeter girl he had introduced Percy to the day before was on top of him, also groaning in pain.

“Uh, are you guys okay?”

They flinched, scrambling off each other and pulling themselves to their feet. Luke brushed himself off and looked at Percy wide eyed, “It’s not what it looks like!”

“Seriously.” The girl said when Percy raised his brow. She shook her head slowly, “We would never —“

“Yeah.” Luke scoffed, “Like never ever.”

The girl — Percy was still trying to remember her name — turned her head and looked at him blankly, “Okay. That wasn’t needed.”

“I’m just clarifying.”

“You didn’t need to sound so disgusted about it, though.”

“Oh my god.” Luke scoffed a chuckle, shaking his head, “You’re such a guy.”

Percy screwed up his face, and Luke suddenly backtracked, “Uh, I mean — such a lie…er.” Even he looked confused by what he’d said. He straightened up and scoffed, waving his hands, “She wants me so bad. Right? Bro?” He held out a fist, but Percy just looked at it.

The girl, who had swiftly knocked his hand back to his side and stepped slightly in front of him, smiled kindly like she had yesterday when she’d asked how Percy was feeling about the sudden change in his life. “Sorry for scaring you, Perce. We’re just talking about something. Did you have a question?”

“Yeah, actually.” He looked at her, “Are you in pyjamas?”

She looked down at herself like she was just remembering her white tank top and fleece pyjama pants with bats printed on them, and Luke laughed into his fist. Upon hearing his chuckles, she swivelled back to glare at him, “Hey, don’t laugh at me! Would you rather me undress you?”

“What?” Percy asked. He was ignored.

Luke took a step back and held up one finger, “Uh, no. I don’t need you looking at my tits, perv.”

“What?” Percy tried again.

The girl scoffed, looking away from him and muttering under her breath, “Kinda hard not to when they get hot in the night and climb out of your shirt.”

Luke gasped and put his hands to his chest, “Oh my gods.”

“I tried not to look but they were right there — !”

"Well — " Luke stammered for a rebuttal, eventually pointing in accusation at the girl beside him, "You had morning wood!

"What — ?!"

“Hey, guys!” Percy finally interrupted, and they looked at him in surprise like they’d forgotten he’d been standing there the whole time. “What the hell is going on?”

The two shared a look, but it was you who stepped forward and looked at him kindly, “Nothing you should worry about. You’ve had a tough weekend already, just pretend you never saw us.”

Percy was tempted to refuse and force them to spill the beans, but they were two older campers who could very well send him to detention or whatever it was they did here for punishment — he wasn’t keen on finding out. So he left with a nod and closed the door behind him.

Your voice drifted through the window, “—can’t believe you wear batman pyjamas.”

“At least I wear pyjamas.” Luke responded, “You left very little to my imagination this morning.”

He walked off before he could hear anymore.

He didn’t see either of you again until just before lunch. He was walking through camp with Grover, half-listening to his friend yap about a blueberry bush he thought was cute, when they passed you and your sisters giggling about something near the forges.

“Gods, he’s cute, though.” One of them was saying, eyeing up a boy with soot all over his face. Percy couldn’t see much of him to determine him as cute, but your sisters seemed to agree with a loud dreamy sigh.

“He is, don’t get me wrong.” Another girl added, “But consider this: Lee Fletcher.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“He’s got potential. He’s got potential.”

Percy found himself slowing down, the teenage boy in him wondering if someone would mention his name. Of course they wouldn’t — he’s twelve, and they’re all around yours and Luke’s age, but a boy could dream.

One of the girls clicked her tongue, looking at you, “Who was it you said was sorta dreamy the other day?”

Percy watched you freeze, suddenly looking very awkward. You took a deep breath in and pretended to think about what you were going to say, but one of your sisters chimed in for you.

“It was Astor. The Ares kid with the curly hair.”

“Oh yeah!”

“What?” You exclaimed, scrunching up your face. When your sisters looked at you all confused, you backtracked, “Uh, I mean yeah he’s…cute.” You forced the word out with difficulty, “But, I dunno. There's cuter guys out there.”

“Oh?” Your sister said, interested, “Who are you thinking?”

Now you were on the spot. You swallowed, making these exaggerated facial expressions that Percy assumed were you trying to convince the girls that you had just come up with this idea, when you’d actually probably been wanting to say it the whole time you’d been talking and just needed an excuse, “Oh, I don’t know…” You shrugged, “Luke Castellan’s sorta…y’know?”

The girls looked between each other, and you watched with slight anticipation. Then one of them, the one who had mentioned Lee Fletcher earlier, said, “I swear you said he was too full of himself.”

“What —?”

“Yeah, she did.” The other chimed in, “You said he would be cuter if he didn’t — what was it? — flaunt around camp like he had the biggest cock out of all of ‘em.”

The girls laughed, and you attempted a weak chuckle, but it sorta looked like you were in pain. Percy thought it best to walk off after that, looking for Grover who had long since left him to his eavesdropping devices and presumably wandered off into the forest to look for Blue the blueberry bush.

So maybe Percy should’ve pressed harder when he’d cornered you and Luke earlier that morning. He thought he could brush it off, even when he kept seeing Luke lift up the hem of his shirt and poke at his abs in wonder, or when he saw you pushing your hair out of your face once every ten seconds before finally putting it in the messiest ponytail he’d ever seen. It was as if you had lost all sense of self overnight, like you'd never actually seen your own bodies before. It creeped him out, but he held back on asking. Maybe it was a demigod thing he hadn't been taught yet.

The straw that broke the camel's back, however, was after dinner. Usually when the nymphs take the plates away and the campers start to trickle down to the campfire, a few odd groups would stay behind at their tables, gossiping or finishing their desert until they had to get up and go — not only were you and your siblings part of this group of people, but so were Luke and Chris (and, by default because he had nobody else to hang out with, Percy).

So the newcomer had the fortunate opportunity to bear witness to possibly the greatest series of events he’d ever seen (and he once saw a rat the size of a small dog eating a small dog).

It all started when a girl from the Aphrodite table stood up and walked over to where the boys were sitting.

“So, if you do ever want to sneak out to the forests, don’t go through the pavilion.” Chris was explaining, “Mr D has a birds eye view of the whole place from his bedroom window, so you gotta sneak as close to the Big House as you can get. But make sure to duck under the windows just in case Chiron is trotting around in there.”

“And be careful around cabin four.” Luke butted in, “They have vines that spring out of the floor whenever a non-Demeter kid gets too close during the night.”

Chris turned to his brother with a look, “How do you know that?”

“Oh, uh — ”

“Hey, Luke.”

Three heads turned to the edge of the table where she was standing — a pretty girl with short blonde hair, a few strands dyed pink near the front. She was smiling at Luke cheekily and Percy noticed Chris send his brother a smirk.

“Uh, hi…” Luke trailed off, squinting.

“Laura.” She finished with a frown.

“Laura!” He exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “I knew that. I did.”

“Cool.” She said slowly, brushing off the moment and bouncing around the table to sit next to him on the bench. She leaned on her elbows into his side and Percy watched him shuffle back, only for Chris to push him right back forward. “So, uh, I had fun…last night.” She side eyed Percy across the table, but the boy just pursed his lips awkwardly.

“Really?” Luke responded, a little shocked. He nodded, “Well, uh, me too?”

Laura grinned widely at that, back straightening, “I’m so glad we agree.”

Percy wasn’t so sure Luke agreed, he wasn’t even sure the guy remembered whatever saucy interaction she was referring to. But he was pretending to, for her sake. He blinked at her silently, but she just looked as if she was waiting for him to say something — Percy was only young, but he’d seen enough movies to know that she was waiting for him to suggest they do it again sometime.

He did not. Instead he twisted his body away from her and back towards Percy, smiling at him, “Wanna head to the campfire, get some good seats?”

The boy was moments away from responding, but Laura clearly wasn’t taking his silence as an answer. She pulled Luke back to face her by his arm and blinked up at him, “I was just about to suggest we skip the fire tonight. Just us, y’know?”

Chris cleared his throat and stood, ushering for Percy to do the same, “Let’s go, lil bro.”

“Wait — “ Luke stood with them, staring back with a silent plea of help. Chris wasn’t having it, just grinning at him.

“Have fun, Luke.” He snorted, “See you later.”

“No, you can’t — ” He started, but Laura was yanking him back with a high pitched giggle.

“You heard him, Luke.” She smirked, “No one's gonna notice we’re gone, loosen up.” She ran a slow finger down his torso, and Percy watched him visibly tense up. He didn’t understand why she hadn't taken the hint already.

Chris seized Percy by the wrist and began to pull him away, occasionally looking back and giggling like a schoolgirl, with the odd snort. The younger boy didn’t really want to look back, but then when he heard Luke yelp like a girl, well…

He had to. And thank the gods he did.

Luke was sprawled on the table like a scared rabbit and Laura was standing with one hand hanging limply in the air, looking confusedly at his stance. Chris burst into loud laughter when he noticed Luke’s legs were spread and the boy was trying really hard not to look at his own crotch.

They walked over when it was clear someone needed to intervene, and Percy noticed the Demeter girls from before joining them — you were at the front, looking panicked and slightly annoyed.

"What's going on?" You asked, looking between the two of them.

"Nothing." Laura said plainly, "We were just talking."

Luke looked at you, “She — uh, she grabbed your — uh, your — ”

He gestured between his legs with a shaky hand. Percy raised a brow, as did everyone else at the scene. Except for Laura, who began to cackle loudly, bending over at the hips and bracing her hands on her thighs. The rest of the kids stared at the pair with varying expressions, and Laura straightened up, wiping under eyes with a giggle before pointing between you and Luke.

“You guys — oh my gods — ” She laughed again, shaking her head and trying to breathe long enough to get her words out, “Holy Hades, Castellan. I’m — I’m sorry.”

She held her hands up in surrender, looking at you now, “I am. I didn’t know you guys were dating. I guess I took mine and Luke’s conversation the wrong way, but — ” Another wheeze, “And I shouldn’t be laughing, but he just referred to his penis as yours, and I — ”

“Laura, it’s not like — ” You stepped up with a wince, trying to alleviate the growing tension between the group. The Aphrodite girl wasn’t listening.

“I just think that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard since…” She took a moment to think, catching her breath and smiling at herself as she thought about it. Eventually, she gestured to you with a laugh, “Well, since last night when you called Graham Lee an extra-terrestrial ass-kisser.”

Luke licked his lips, taking a deep breath in and pushing himself off the table and to his feet. He went to say something to Laura, face serious, but then he stopped and knocked his head back in a slight movement. He looked around at nothing, as if he was recollecting a memory, and then he gasped and pointed a finger at you, “I did do that.”

“You called Graham Lee an extra-terrestrial ass-kisser?” You tilted your head at Luke, “Why?”

Luke shrugged, “He grabbed my ass.”

Laura scrunched up her face, looking between the pair of them, “Are you guys on drugs?”

"There aren't any drugs at this camp." You blanked. You brother laughed.

"Says the drug dealer."

You raised a brow in shock, like you'd had no idea about your own small business. You looked at Luke intensely -- Percy thought maybe you were trying to keep your drug dealing thing a secret, and Luke had gone and spilled the beans. That would explain why he suddenly looked so sheepish. It wouldn't explain why you then said, "Well I am not on drugs."

"Then what is wrong with you guys?" Someone finally asked the question Percy had been sitting on since he watched you hover your hands over your own boobs before retracting them quickly as if it was against some demigod rule to touch your own body — only for Luke to see from afar and have some very stern words to say about it.

Finally, after ten seconds of intense eye contact, you and Luke took in simultaneous breaths. It was you who spoke first, addressing the whole crowd — which consisted of Percy, Laura, Chris, and the Demeter kids — “We’re in eachother’s bodies.”

The Demeter kids made grossed out faces, but Chris just snorted into his fist and let the conversation go on. Percy had never been more confused in his entire life — and he had once thought his dad was Jesus.

Laura chuckled, “Yeah, we know that. His penis is yours, or whatever freaky shit yall are up to.”

“What?”

“No — ”

You and Luke spoke at once, each taking a single step forward. You paused, looking at each-other until you gestured at Luke with a sigh, letting him speak. He nodded, “We’re serious. We are in each other's bodies.”

“Freaky Friday style.” You jumped in before anyone could make a sex joke. You sent the group a sharp look, and then zeroed your eyes in on Percy, “That’s why we were acting so out of it earlier.”

It was silent for a long stretch — everyone looking between one another. Percy didn’t even know what to say. It did explain their strange behaviour, but —

“How the hell did you end up in each other’s bodies?” A demeter boy asked, holding a finger up like he was in class. The rest of them nodded, wondering the same.

“Well…” Luke sighed (or You sighed, he guessed. He was still confused), “At first we had no idea, but now I think it was Graham Lee.”

Another Demeter girl hummed, “He is a Hecate kid. It’d make sense that he put some freaky spell on you after you insulted him.”

Chris coughed, still red in the face from laughing into his shirt, “Okay, but why Luke?”

You shrugged, “Dunno. I’ve never done anything to the guy.”

Suddenly, Laura let out a long, “Oooohhhh.”

Everyone eyed her. She pursed her lips in embarrassment, although Percy definitely saw amusement in her eyes. She tucked some hair behind her ear and winced, “So, maybe we went to the clash together.”

“The what?” Percy asked, finally speaking up. The rest of the group looked at him as if only just realising he’d been standing there, suddenly looking sheepish.

“Uh, it’s a party.” Chris scratched behind his ear, “Older campers only, but if you don’t tell anyone about ‘em you can come to the next one.”

He shrugged, “Deal.”

“So, wait.” You pointed at Laura, “You went to the clash with Graham? Like with him?”

“Yeah.” She folded her arms indignantly, “But he was literally staring at you the whole time, so I left to flirt with Luke.”

Your cheeks dusted pink, and both Laura and Percy realised she was talking to Luke, not you. She turned to Luke, clearing her throat, “Sorry. He was staring at you the whole time. So I left to flirt with…uh, Luke.”

A collective breath ran through the group, everyone putting the pieces together in their own heads. Percy was still a little unsure, but he had the gist (maybe). Just as he was about to suggest they go find this Graham guy and ask him to undo his spell, one of the Demeter girls Percy had seen talking to you earlier gasped and looked between you and Luke with wide eyes.

“So when we were talking before…” She looked at you, “We were talking to Luke?”

You — or Luke, but as you — stammered, and Percy couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. Luke looked on, confused, and the girl looked at him with a smirk,

“Earlier, we were gossiping about hot guys.” She chuckled, pointing at you, “And Luke suggested his own name, as you!”

“What?” Luke exclaimed at you, partially appalled but also holding in a laugh.

You stammered for an excuse, but then her face contorted and she zeroed Luke with an accusatory stare, “Well, you said I walked around camp acting like I had the biggest cock out of them all!”

Luke scoffed, “You do.”

“I do not!”

“You kind do.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“You sorta do, man.”

You turned to Chris, scandalised, “Bro.”

The boy shrugged, “Sorry man. It’s true.”

Eventually, you managed to convince the kids to finally go to the campfire and leave Luke and yourself to fix your problem with Graham when you got down there. They agreed, although not without making as many jokes as they could on the walk down to the clearing.

“So, how did you guys pee?”

“Have you seen each other all naked and stuff now?”

“Did Luke have morning woo — ?”

“Alright.” You smacked Chris hard on the back for that one. “To your sections, please.”

Percy sat down on the end of a log, and watched as the two of you walked over to Graham and spoke to him in hushed but harsh tones. At one point, Graham was looking between you two with the most genuine look of confusion and Percy assumed he only agreed to reverse the spell because it was making his mind go all wobbly just talking to you.

When he saw Luke again, it was at lights out. Percy was tucking himself into his thin sleeping bag when the boy came over, crouching to his level and dropping something on his lap.

He lifted the bag of coins to his eyeline and then raised a brow at Luke, “What’s this for?”

“Drachmas.” He explained, “Just enough to get you a new shirt at the camp store. Or a thicker pillow, some three ply toilet paper. Whatever you want, really.” He shrugged, “Partly a welcome to camp gift, partly hush money.”

“Right.” Percy lowered the bag and levelled Luke with a curious look, “How was being in another person’s body? Weird?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded, looking into the distance like he was having some awful flashbacks. Percy remembered seeing you walk out of the bathroom earlier, a look of terror plastered in your eyes.

He cleared his throat, “Well, thanks for the money.”

“No problem, kid.” He patted him on the shoulder, “Get some rest. It’s capture the flag day tomorrow and guess what?"

"What?"

"We're teaming up with Demeter."

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