honeypie302

[honeypie302]

wilted flower

@sylviavf

@sweetstrawberrianne

The lights went out, leaving only a warm glow at the center of the room.

A massive piggy bank, made of transparent plastic, slowly descended from above.

"What you see before you is the vessel that will hold your prize money," a voice announced.

We were mesmerized. It was so enormous it could easily hold over ten billion won.

"After each of the six games, your winnings will be added to this piggy bank."

The guy next to me—Choi Su-bong, I think his name was—looked like something out of a cartoon, his eyes practically sparkling with hearts and dollar signs.

"How much is the prize?" a man asked with curly hair. He was too far away, so I couldn’t make out his number.

"The total cash prize is 45.6 billion."

My heart nearly stopped. It was more money than I’d ever needed—more than I could even fathom. With that kind of cash, I could do anything.

The room erupted in murmurs. People whispered, laughed nervously, some already making plans.

"Only one person wins?" the curly-haired guy asked again.

"Prize distribution details will be announced after the first game," the guard replied, dodging the question.

Strange. Why not just answer?

"For these games, we’re offering you a special advantage—one we’ve never given before."

"What advantage?" The old man from number 100 spoke up.

All eyes turned to him. My head was still spinning. So much money. So much at stake.

"At the end of each game, you’ll vote on whether to end or continue."

It sounded too good. Cash out early, walk away debt-free…

"If the majority votes to stop, the games end, and you leave with your accumulated winnings."

Excited murmurs filled the room. But something felt off. The kidnapping, the uniforms, the spotless bunks, the masks—none of it added up.

Then a man shouted, silencing the crowd.

Number 456. Had to be the last arrival.

"So… we can play just one game and walk away with the money?" His voice was sharp, tired.

"That’s correct," the guard answered, his tone shifting slightly.

I couldn’t stop staring at him. After speaking, he turned away sharply. What was he looking at?

I edged closer and realized—he was watching a security camera. I hadn’t even noticed them before. Was he that observant?

"MOVE ASIDE!" A tiny old woman shoved through the crowd, snatching my attention.

She punched the curly-haired guy in the arm.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

"Mom?!"

Mother and son, trapped in this together. The absurdity almost made me laugh.

"But… Mom… What are you doing here?" The desperation in her voice pierced through me.

"That's what I should be asking you!" The old woman's hands trembled, not with fear, but with fury. She should be at home knitting or cooking, like the grandmothers on TV. Not here. "Useless!"

"Shut up! You're embarrassing me!"

"I'm embarrassing you?" Her voice cracked. It was like a knife. "You should be on your knees ashamed of yourself for dragging you into this hellhole!"

"Not here, we'll talk later…"

The whole room stared at him. How would it feel to be loved so fiercely that someone would follow you into death games?

"There is no 'later'!" She grabbed his arm as if he were still a child. "We're leaving. Right now."

"Why did you come here, Mom, it's reckless!"

"Why?" her laughter was raw. My own family's failures flashed before me; this idiot didn't realize how lucky he was. "To pay your debts, you selfish brat!"

The words tore me apart. My father sold me to pay off his gambling losses, while this woman went to hell to protect her son.

"What other reason would there be?" My vision blurred, but I clenched my jaw. No tears. Not before the first game.

"Monsters!" The son turned to the guards. "Why bring an old woman into this? If she gets hurt…"

"Yong-sik." She stroked his face with her hand, softening. I ached for my own dead mother. "Let me take care of this. Go home. Please."

Every syllable oozed love.

"How am I supposed to leave if I'm already here?" 007 muttered.

"You promised me, remember?" the woman pleaded, her voice fraying at the edges. "You said you wouldn’t gamble anymore."

"No, no—this isn’t gambling," 007 whispered, avoiding her eyes. "I wish my father gave half a damn about me like his mother does. These are just games."

"One round. Then I’m gone, okay?"

Player 149 started hitting her son’s arm, her blows sharp with frustration. "Do you even hear yourself? You’re addicted. It’s always the same!"

I tuned out the family drama and focused on 456 instead. He looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slumped. For some reason, it was weirdly attractive. What the hell is wrong with me?

"If you wish to participate, sign the consent form," interrupted the masked man, cutting through the argument. "Otherwise, declare your withdrawal now."

We shuffled into a line to sign. Something felt off. Why would a game need a consent form?

"Remember: you may leave at any time."

Nobody bothered reading the terms. They just scribbled their names and moved on. I was a few spots away when the commotion near 333 snapped my attention elsewhere—the purple hair type was arguing with another player.

then 230 took from the neck to 333. They clearly knew each other, but the tension between them was volatile. He clenched his fist near his face, about to hit him, I got distracted and was the next one to sign

The form was brief. Only one line stood out: "Refusal to play results in elimination." Elimination? The word sat heavy in my stomach, but I signed anyway.

They herded us into a cavernous room lined with staircases, machines humming at the center. A robotic voice crackled overhead:

"Attention. The first game will now commence."

The machines, I realized, were cameras. Why the hell do they need our pictures?

Nearby, the purple-haired guy drew a crowd. People clamored for selfies, whispering. Must be some kind of celebrity.

I’ve never been photogenic. My attempt at a smile twisted into something more like a grimace. As I stepped away, I felt eyes on me—but when I turned, no one was there.

I really hope you like it!! The love interest will be a secret to keep things a surprise, but don't worry, it'll be worth it!! I'll try to update more often.

[honeypie302]

wilted flower

He spoke in an impassive, slightly irritated tone.

A boy near me started asking about his cell phone.

"Where are our phones?" I still found his trivial concerns unbelievable.

"Why did they take our phones and wallets?" The boy with the number 333 stepped closer to the doors as he spoke.

"Can we have them back?" It seemed like a stupid question. They kidnapped us—they're wearing masks, forcing us into uniforms. Did he really think they'd just hand our stuff back?

"Don't worry. Your belongings are safe. You'll get them back after the games."

The masked man made it sound so simple. But something told me not to let my guard down.

333 kept pushing. "At least give me my phone. I need to check my crypto!" His voice turned demanding. "If I lose money, are you gonna cover it?"

The man in the pink suit repeated, "You'll get it back after the games." His tone shut down any further arguments.

"I need to see the charts! You have no idea how much I've invested!" He was shouting now. I rolled my eyes, annoyed.

"Player 333—Lee Myung-gi!" The masked man pressed a button on his controller. A video played—the same subway salesman with the briefcase, the one who'd lured us in.

The screen showed 333 playing ddakji, just like I had. But instead of winning, he got slapped.

"Age 33. Owner of the YouTube channel MG Coin." A clip played—him hyping up an altcoin called Dalmatian. The guy beside me stiffened, his face twisting in rage.

"Scammed his followers out of 15.2 billion won. Then he shut down his channel and vanished." A dramatic pause. "Wanted for fraud and violating the Financial Services Act."

The guy next to me clenched his jaw. Interesting.

"Current debt: 1.8 billion won."

333 shrunk in his seat, humiliated. Guess even grown men have their struggles.

"Kang Mi-na—45 million won in debt." The girl who loved pink flinched as her slap played on screen.

Poor thing. I looked away, uneasy. Please don't let that be me next.

"Cho Hyun-ju—total debt, 330 million won." The pretty woman’s face flashed on the screen.

A second later, the purple-haired boy appeared. My focus snapped back.

"Choi Su-bong—debt of 1.19 billion won." He ducked his head, shamefaced. So much for his tough-guy act. Embarrassed this easily? Pathetic. Cute, even.

I shook my head. What the hell am I thinking?

An old man’s video played next. I missed his name, but not the number: 10 billion won. How does someone even owe that much?

The room erupted. People craned their necks, demanding answers—Who is he? Where’s he hiding?

"They’re staring at me!" The man—Number 100—suddenly roared, veins bulging. "Where the fuck would I get 10 billion? No bank hands out that kind of money! That’s why I’m here!"

The masked man’s voice cut through the chaos. "Every one of you is drowning in debt. No way out. No hope."

My chest tightened. Father’s loans. The mortgage. Two jobs. His fists.

"When we first approached you, you doubted us." His tone was eerily calm, like we weren’t locked in a nightmare. "But after winning ddakji, you took the money. Willingly. Now you’re here—by choice."

Choice? I almost laughed. But anything beat that apartment.

"Final offer." His voice turned sharp. "Go back to your miserable lives, hunted by creditors… or seize this opportunity."

It's a slow burn, but it'll be worth it, I promise!

Thanks for the support, I really appreciate it. I'll be back tomorrow with a new chapter.

[honeypie302]

wilted flower

I gather my courage and head out toward my freedom.

A van with tinted windows pulls up next to me. A man in a pink suit and a black mask calls out to me in a cold, computerized tone:

"Soo-jin???"

I nod fearfully.

"Password," he demands threateningly.

"Green light, red light," I answer, my voice catching in my throat as the van door slides open, revealing more unconscious people inside. The sight unsettles me.

"E-excuse me… are we picking up more people?" Before I can get an answer, a wave of dizziness hits me, and everything fades to black.

[Scene transition]

The Circles examine Soo-jin’s unconscious body before dressing her in the uniform. One of them gasps at the sight of her bruises and calls out to their leader, voice laced with anger:

"What did they do to her?"

The others immediately deny any involvement, shrinking under the leader’s intimidating glare.

"N-no, boss! She was already like this when we found her!"

The leader’s expression darkens. "Be careful with her. And give her some medication—she’s been through enough already. Too much, for someone so young."

A short time later, harsh lights assault my vision as I slowly regain consciousness. My head throbs, and the brightness makes my eyes water. Cheerful, childish music plays in the background, a stark contrast to the fog clouding my mind. I can’t remember anything after getting into the van.

I lower my head, my aching body growing more aware with each second. I’m dressed in a green tracksuit with the number 409 on the left side and a pair of ugly white shoes. Blinking away the blurriness, I focus on my surroundings.

Rows of beds stretch out in front of me. At the center of the room, a large screen looms over a heavy metal door. Strange symbols—still indistinct in my unfocused vision—are painted on the floor, divided by thick lines.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself up. In the bed beside me lies a boy with vibrant purple hair, impossible to miss. A flicker of fear runs through me as I step onto the cold floor, moving as quietly as I can. But before I can get far, I hear him shift behind me. His presence lingers too close for comfort.

Just as I consider turning to face him, the doors at the center burst open.

Guards file in, their uniforms identical to the man from the van—except for their masks. These are square, adorned with more circles. The one in front speaks in a chilling, robotic tone as the doors seal shut behind him.

"I’d like to extend a warm welcome to all of you."

I instinctively back up, pressing myself between the purple-haired boy and a few others.

"Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days." His voice remains unnervingly neutral. "Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize."

A woman across the room—number 120 stitched onto her jacket—suddenly speaks up. She’s striking, with sharp eyes that burn with defiance.

"Excuse me," she snaps, drawing the masked man’s attention. "I was told we were just coming to play. Do you really expect us to believe you after you kidnapped us?"

Her words send a jolt through me. Kidnapped. Of course. My hands fly to my sides, checking for injuries. When I lift my shirt slightly, the scent of herbal medicine clings to my skin. Faded traces of ointment glisten over my bruises.

Who treated me? And why?

The masked man’s voice remains eerily calm, unfazed by the growing unrest.

“I apologize for that. Please understand these measures were taken to maintain the confidentiality of these games.”

A woman near the front crosses her arms, her voice sharp with suspicion. “Then why the masks?” She gestures at his concealed face. “What identities are you hiding?”

Beside her, a man’s patience snaps. “It’s true!” he shouts, surging forward. His aggression ripples through the crowd. “Why hide?! Where the hell are we?!” With each question, his voice grows louder. “Some underground gambling ring?!”

A scoff comes from the back. Another woman shakes her head. “Don’t be stupid. Gambling dens don’t mask their guards.”

Murmurs erupt—theories clashing, fear simmering. I stay silent, eyes locked on the masked figure, waiting.

“The masks ensure fairness,” he replies smoothly. “No identities revealed—not ours, not our staff’s." His tone is polished, rehearsed. Lies.

Then, a girl barely older than me yanks at her ill-fitting jacket. “You stripped us and shoved us into these rags?” Her cheeks flush with indignation.

The purple-haired boy beside me peels off a shoe, inspecting it like a crime scene. His tattoos flex as he clenches his jaw. “And these?” he growls. “My sneakers were limited edition. Irreplaceable.” His voice climbs, furious. “What will they do if they lose them!"

Priorities, I think, stunned. Kidnapped, bruised, and he’s raging over footwear.

The girl from before, mocking her baggy uniform. “This monstrosity isn’t my size.” She bats her lashes at the guards. “How about I trade it for one of your adorable pink suits? Pink’s my color~”

The masked man doesn’t flinch. “Employee uniforms are for employees only.”

I really hope you enjoy it a lot. I appreciate your patience and I like it! I know it's going a little slowly, but it'll be worth it. You'll see!

[honeypie302]

wilted flower

Hello!!! I hope you're all well and looking forward to reading the continuation of the story!! I appreciate your support on the last chapter; I wasn't sure if you'd like it. I remind you that English isn't my first language :(

A hollow weight settles in my chest as I trudge down the unlit street, the glow of a ramen shop pulling me forward like a false promise. Maybe tonight, I think—maybe tonight he’ll be sober. Maybe we’ll eat together like we used to.

I order two bowls. Pay without a word. The taxi ride home is silent, the city’s neon bleeding across the windows until we reach my apartment, wedged in Seoul’s forgotten underbelly. These walls used to be a home. Now they’re just a shrine to ghosts—to a family that dissolved like smoke.

I steel myself, paste on the best smile my exhaustion allows, and push open the door. But the sight in the hallway kills it instantly: the jagged neck of a shattered sake bottle, glinting under the flickering bulb. Another proof. Another night.

The man who owns this apartment is a monster. A stranger who shares my blood. But he’s all I have left—the last frayed thread tethering me to something that might’ve been called family.

*If you're sensitive to these types of topics involving violence, physical and verbal abuse, and mentions of 18+ topics, I recommend skipping to where you see an ad similar to this one to continue the story*

My hands tremble—a warning. I know what awaits me, yet I step forward anyway. Straight into the lion’s den.

"Father...?" The word cracks. Fear bleeds into my voice.

I tiptoe past the shattered sake bottle, glass crunching like bones under my shoes.

"I brought ramen for dinner," I whisper, voice shrinking with each step toward the living room. The glug-glug of liquor hitting glass grows louder.

Then I see him.

Slumped in his chair, surrounded by five empty bottles—each a different poison. His face twists into something bitter, something dangerous.

"Father, I’m back. I brought—"

"Took you long enough." His voice is a blade. His eyes? A wildfire. I can’t tell if he hates me or the ghosts haunting him.

"Where the hell were you?! You were due three hours ago!" A bottle explodes at my feet. I flinch but don’t run.

"I-I was making money."

"Making money?" He barks a laugh, rising unsteadily. "How? How did my precious child earn it?"

His breath reeks of ruin.

"A man... played ddakji with me. I won." My gaze stays glued to the floor. My hands won’t stop shaking.

"You lying little—!"

Fingers snatch my hair, wrenching my head up. Tears spill hot and traitorous.

"You whored yourself out for cash, didn’t you?!" Spittle hits my cheek. "Why did God spare you that night? Huh? WHY JUST YOU?!"

TELL ME THE TRUTH, YOU DAMN BITCH!

Her words sting, but I clench my jaw. I don't react. I don't give her the satisfaction.

Silence. Then her nails dig deeper into my hair.

"You ungrateful little thing…!"

A shove sends me tumbling to the glass-strewn floor. Shards sting my palms. I don't make a sound.

"You should have died instead of my Hye-rin!"

A kick to the ribs. I instantly curl up—shield my face, shield my face—because my work uniform can't hide the bruises on my neck. The next kick lands softer, without enthusiasm.

"Oh, my sweet Hye-rin…" Her voice cracks. She's not speaking to me anymore. Only to the ghost she loves more than me.

The ramen bag creaks. "This is all you're good for."

I wait for him to slump in his chair before I stagger to my feet. Every movement screams at me, but I swallow the pain along with the cold noodles. Then I retreat to my room, locking the door.

I take off my sweater. Underneath, my skin tells the true story, yellow-green bruises from last week, purple ones from three days ago. Deep red and fresh tonight.

With my heart in my throat, I step out into the cold night.

My loose sweater falls to my thighs, as always. Not like the pretty dresses girls my age wear—if only they knew what's hidden in those worn sleeves…

My hands won't stop shaking. The man's card in the briefcase burns in my palm. What am I getting myself into? But the memory of the eviction notice—five late payments—chokes me more than fear.

I knock.

Three rings. A raspy voice cuts through the silence: "Hello?"

"I-it's the girl from the train station… the one from this afternoon." I swallow, knowing there's no turning back.

"Want to join the games?" Not a shred of emotion in his words.

I close my eyes. I see him rolling in his own vomit, the empty jars rolling on the floor. Anything's better than this.

"If you want to play, you must provide your name and date of birth."

"Soo-jin. July 5, 2003." I type out the details like someone signing a sentence.

Click

A message lights up the screen

I slip away

The door creaks softly—damn—but all I hear is snoring on the other side. The night air whips against my face. I run toward the bus stop, knowing that even this unknown danger smells like freedom.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and support it! I know it might be a little slow, but it'll be worth it, you'll see!

[honeypie302]

wilted flower

HELLO!

My name is honey pie, this is my first post, English is not my first language

I was really excited to share some of my early morning drafts with you!

I hope you like it a lot, if you do, let me know with hearts or reblogs please!

The Encounter…

A girl sits on the ground at the train station. Exhaustion is evident on her young face—a face that should have been full of life, but her father's debts forced her to work from an early age.

As I try to get some sleep before the train arrives, a man with a briefcase sits beside me and sets it down.

"Miss, do you have a minute?" His voice is soft, but the sudden interruption startles me.

"I-I'm busy," I mutter.

"I’d like to tell you about a great opportunity," the man in the suit insists.

"I don’t have time for pyramid schemes," I snap, rolling my eyes in annoyance.

"Miss, would you like to play a game with me?"

"A… a game?"

He opens his briefcase, revealing stacks of cash and ddakji pieces. He takes them out and places them in front of me.

"You've played before, right?"

I nod slowly.

"Play with me. Every time you win, I’ll give you 100,000 won. Does that sound fair?"

I'm suspicious. There must be a catch to this innocent game, so I hesitate.

"Are you saying that every time I flip your ddakji, you’ll give me 100,000 won?" I ask, incredulous.

"That’s right. And every time I win, you owe me 100,000 won," he replies, his voice cold and unreadable.

"I’ll let you go first," he offers politely, but my mind races, unable to trust his calm demeanor.

"I don’t have that kind of money," I retort, irritated that he’s ruining my short break.

"Then you can pay with your body," he says, smiling. My blood runs cold.

"If this is some kind of sick proposition, forget it. I’m not that kind of girl—and I’m way too young for you!" I snap, anger flaring.

"No, not like that," he clarifies, unfazed. "Every time I win, I’ll slap you. Fair?"

I hesitate. I need the money—for food, for survival. Gritting my teeth, I force down my fear and make a decision.

"Fine. I’ll play." My voice is steadier than I feel.

"I’ll start!" I declare, though the tremor in my hands betrays me.

"Which color do you prefer?" He holds out two ddakji—one red, one blue. After a pause, I point to the blue one.

The first round begins. My hands tremble visibly, betraying my nerves, and I lose almost immediately.

I brace myself for the slap, squeezing my eyes shut—but nothing comes. When I dare to peek, the man hasn’t moved.

"This time, I’ll let it go. You were too nervous," he says, offering a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Emboldened, I swallow hard. Maybe luck is on my side after all.

"One more round," I insist, steadying my breath. This time, I won’t fail.

My focus narrows to the ddakji on the ground, so intense that I don’t notice the last train pulling away. Stranger still, the man hasn’t struck me even after multiple losses.

Three rounds later, I finally flip his piece. A rush of adrenaline surges through me—"I won!" I blurt out, leaping to my feet. For the first time in years, hope flickers in my chest. Maybe tonight, Father won’t be drunk. Maybe we’ll eat together, like we did before Mother—

The man slides the money toward me, his movements deliberate.

"Congratulations. As promised." He folds my fingers over the bills, his touch oddly gentle.

"This… this is really mine?" My voice cracks. In minutes, I’ve earned more than a week’s wages from both my jobs combined.

"Listen," he commands, snapping my gaze back to him. "A few days of this, and you could win enough to change your life." His smile stays soft, but his eyes are calculating. "Don’t you want to try?"

"I’m not who you think I am," I snap, shoving the money into my pocket. "I won’t quit my jobs to gamble. Understood?"

Soo-jin Age: 21 Fired from her second job today. Eviction notice received. Technical secondary education.

Mother and brother died when she was 15. Alcoholic, gambling addict. Debts:

Loan sharks: 170 million won.

Bank mortgage: 190 million won.

The words burn in my throat. Who is this man? How does he know my desperation?

"Who are you?" I demand, my fists clenching. "What do you want from me?"

The man slowly reaches into his jacket; the leather creaks softly. A card emerges between his fingers, its edges gleaming faintly in the flickering lights of the station.

"There aren't many seats left, miss. Think about it."

His voice has an unexpected force, like that of a man reciting phrases he no longer believes. Something about his delivery makes my skin crawl. He doesn't want to be here.

When our fingers brush as he takes the card, his hand is icy cold. It's not the chill of the night, but something deeper. That chill that lingers.

"I'll be waiting for your call, Miss Soo-jin."

The way he says my name—too familiar, too certain—sends a chill through me. Before I can answer, he's already walking away, his polished shoes tapping rhythmically against the concrete until darkness swallows him completely.

Alone again, I examine the card. No company name, no identifying marks. Just a phone number.

The station clock strikes two in the morning. I curse under my breath: the last train has already left. As I grab the card and the money in my pocket, a bitter realization washes over me: that man hasn't taken my time tonight; he's also given me a twisted opportunity to get ahead.

That's the end of the first chapter. I really hope you like it! The love interest will be kept secret to add more excitement to the story!

[honeypie302]

Child without love

Summary: Namor finds a marine biologist with the powers to control water and deep knowledge of the sea and is intrigued.

Word count: 1,1k

Tags: Smut in later chapters (no minors allowed), “water-bender” reader x Namor after the events from Wakanda forever, possessive Namor, mutant reader, talk of climate change, asphyxiation, the deep sea being a bit scary, war, violence, harsh language, Wakanda forever spoilers, the usage of y/n

Ps. if you read the preview before you can start reading after the divider. I barely made any changes other than grammar-related and wording. If you want more chapters I would greatly appreciate some constructive criticism in the comments

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 1

I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. “You can’t just go behind my back like that! There are set rules and hierarchies that keep our organization running smoothly!” Adeoye yelled while he was walking frantically back and forth. He never could handle stress well. “ You’re little outburst may have cost us our one shot to get the right people’s attention!”

I want to say I’m sorry and that it was rude and petty of me. But I couldn’t because I did what I thought was right. They have ignored our every attempt to better their policies and today’s presentation only opened my eyes to how blissfully ignorant they allowed themselves to be. He stopped his pacing and rubbed his eyes under his big ill-fitting glasses.

Seguir leyendo

[honeypie302]

Immortal she, Return To Me - 1

A/N: Hello, I'm finally getting to writing the first chapter! You can find the Masterlist for this series on my pinned post!

Chapter Summary: We are going to time skip to present day. We are going to learn more about Y/n and their involvement with Wakanda. They also go through deja vus of situations that have never happened before in places they've never been.

Summary / Preview / Next Chapter

"Wha...what?" struggling to keep your eyes open, you look around you. A field? You look around and see many of the same soldiers and warriors you were fighting with just as confused. You look down and see you're wearing the same clothes and gear as you were a second ago. What happened in those minutes? Was the battle finished? Did we lose? Did he win?

You swallow harshly and start walking, wobbling and struggling to stay upright due to exhaustion. You find Bucky who's lost in thought while looking at his hand,

"What...happened?" he gives you a confused look, about to answer before he's interrupted by a wizard? What's a wizard doing here?

"Fights not over let's go!" The wizard urges us forward, where we see multiple wizards opening up portals to what looked like another realm until I saw them. It was Captain America, Iron Man, and Thor. All staring shocked as heroes rush forward ready to attack. You take a deep breath waiting for the signal.

"Avengers Assemble."

Everyone rushes forward with no hesitation and a brave attitude.

-A Year or Two Later -

*Bleep* *Bleep*

You jolt up. Wiping away the eye crust and drool. Both of which are total signs of good sleep. The alarm still blaring is quickly shut off and thus starts your day. Getting ready to work for a normal security company that pays decently but includes nothing exciting, or thrilling. Life before this was interesting. There was always something drastic and life-threatening but since the final battle, everyone's moved on or stepped back from a hero's life. You included.

You are Y/n L/n. A known hero for their liquid manipulation abilities. Liquid ranging from beverages to blood. Fans theorized that even with a drop of blood you could do real damage. Although you'll never confirm that... publicly. Don't want to make people even more afraid of you now.

How you got your powers were simple. You were a volunteer experiment. Tired of the life you had before, you wanted to do more than what was given to you. That doesn't mean you were exempt from the abuse. From scientists and guards who worked on keeping you tamed so you don't murder anybody. Even through all of that, you didn't let it hold you back. Escaping and joining the 'Shield' agency where you met the Avengers becoming good friends with them.

To get back to the present day, you entered work with the intention of getting through the day. Finish those boring papers and answer calls. Sitting down in your claustrophobic office room, you took a deep breath getting straight to work.

After several hours of the same old. You heard yelling. Tilting and twisting your head to the left a little bit to get a better listen. Silence. You scrunch your eyebrows with a small frown before continuing to work on your report. Then you hear it again but more defining.

"Help me!" A desperate voice cried out. Jumping out of your chair, you take off your blazer, and throw it on your desk. Before you book it, you grab your phone and shove it in your back pocket. Following the sound of the screams, you enter a hallway. Everything again goes silent. You stop, breathing slowly to listen. You search for any sign of struggle but there seems to be none, just a normal empty hallway. You sigh thinking you're crazy and walk back to your office.

Once you get there someone has taken your seat facing the door that you just walked through.

"Hello, Y/n. Long time no see."

"Hello, Shuri w-what are you doing here?" you say while walking to the left, leaning on the bookcase in front of the wall. She smiles before saying,

"You can come out now." You give her a questioning look. Then come two pairs of footsteps. Looking to your right, you see Okoye and a young girl who seems to be in either high school or college.

"This is Riri." That was her name huh. You raise an eyebrow and nod toward her. Who is gleaming and amazed.

"Wow. WOW. THIS IS SO AWESOME I LOVE YOUR POWERS. C-Can I get your autograph?"

Okoye huffs and eyes the girl, "Enough! We came for her help, not for a fan meet-up."

"Help? Why would you need my help?" You questioned, looking at Shuri who sighs.

"Riri here has created a school project that was then stolen and sold to the U.S. government to find vibranium," You nod still not understanding what this has to do with you.

"We have also discovered that there is an underwater civilization that is in danger because of her project and is trying to kill Riri and we need your help to stop them." The last part of her explanation is quickly said. You look side to side mouth open slightly.

"Oh." The three of them nod.

"So... will you help us? Please." Shuri pleaded with genuine concern. Okoye showed her support by nodding. Riri stared holes with a scared look on her face and her hands praised together pleading, begging.

You look down and think for a moment. This job is boring but it also is good financial support. If you leave you may be fired but you also get to use your powers on purpose and not when you're bored.

You finally decided, "Sure why the hell not."

The three women smiled while Riri whooped causing the rest to look at her concerned. She smiles shyly and gives a quiet 'sorry'. You snort before looking at Shuri,

"So when do we leave?"

-Taglist-

@violet-19999 @blushsage @ichigimm @sunshinedk0017

[honeypie302]

Midnight Rain

Pairing: Tenoch Huerta Mejia x reader

Based on: Midnight Rain - Taylor Swift.

Summary: You meet Tenoch Huerta at age 17. You both attended María Elena Saldaña for acting. Going into the acting business lead to fame. Tenoch and you stayed in contact. Landed movies and shows together soon rising as Hollywood's favorites. You work closely together in even stating in their movie. Your relationship developed into romance. He proposed to her and she accepted. However. That all changed in 2016 when you landed a character in Marvel's Captain America Civil War. Followed by her own movie in 2018 when Narcos: Mexico started to film. You had a choice stay with Tenoch or follow your career. You chose your career. It's now 2021 and the production of Wakanda Forever started. It shocked you when you are told your character is now the love interest of the Anti-Hero Namor. The cast and crew now watch the tension between you and Tenoch build. What will happen?

Warnings: SMUT, Cussing, Alcoholism, Angst, and more

Let me know if you want to be tagged let me know!! Here are the ones Tagged as of now:

Tags: @shoxji @tian-monique @omgsuperstarg @angel-bi666 @sunfairyy @sunkissedebony97

Idk how many chapters want tight now. So far I think 5 at minimum.

[honeypie302]

Protector, Lover, Fighter

Relationship: Namor x afab!reader 

Warnings: 18+ Smut, possessive/soft Namor, and slight feels. 

Summary: Namor comforts you after a long day wanting to be close to you and lavish you in the gifts and adoration you deserve, for he is but a benevolent king. 

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT claim, repost, copy or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 967

A/N: Soft Namor has been itching at the back of my brain, and I decided to give it a go while still trying to stay in character. Namor can be soft with those he loves and come on those puppy eyes he was giving Shuri throughout the movie were irresistible. Graphic by @firefly-graphics​ Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 

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[honeypie302]

“The Offering” (A Namor of Talokan Fic)

My first Namor story!

Summary:

A young Wakandan woman attends an annual Mama Wati celebration to honor the sea spirit and surf with friends. She encounters a strange man in the ocean who claims to be from a land as powerful as hers. A man who calls himself, Namor.

NSFW. Smut. 18+. (7,330 words) Namor x Black Female OC

“You’re ruling the way that I move And I breathe your air You only can rescue me This is my prayer”

Sade – “Cherish The Day”

It was the day of offerings for Mama Wati.

No time of the year ever made Lebadi happier than the first days of summer in Wakanda when the Border Tribe region celebrated the deities of the deep waters. Bast, Sekmet, and other higher powers were recognized inland, but on the sea, Mama Wati ruled everything. From the fishermen and fisherwomen to the military patrols on the ocean by the military, and everyday citizens, the big water was respected and revered. Mama Wati held sway there, and the annual offerings and celebration excited Lebadi beyond belief. Birnin S'Yan faced the sea and thousands of Wakandans made the trek across the mountains to the shorelands to dance, pay homage, and leave offerings to the mother of the sea.

Seguir leyendo

[honeypie302]

My Queen, My Sun and My Sea

talokan once had a queen. one who loved her people with all her heart—with the same heart she had given to her k'uk'ulkan for what felt like millennia ago. but they lost her to the hands of the enemy; it was a tragic tale painted on the walls of the king's mural, the pain searing itself onto his heart uninvited. he rules now with a darkened hole in his chest, fueled by the loss of his true love and a force to protect his people even more. after all, only the most broken people can be great leaders.

pairing: namor x fem!talokan!reader

warnings: bpwf spoilers!! death (i was lowkey evil for that), colonizers, inaccurate translations, nawt very proofread lol

El Niño Sin Amor.

That was a name that echoed deep inside Shuri's head, its bitter aftertaste lingering still; a piece of Namor that she'd just uncovered.

He was an enigma; a powerful being who rose from the sea, unannounced with his presence but has always been there, deep in the waters where he and his kingdom have flourished in the city of Talokan. He'd just finished recounting about his and his people's origins, how the colonizers brought a disease that left his ancestors to drink a concoction from a vibranium-infused plant found in an underwater cave to save themselves, turning them into water-breathing individuals; the Talokanil.

She turned to Namor with many questions unanswered, only to see him staring at something with a look akin to pain and longing on one of the surfaces on his murals, caressing the painting with a gentleness she had yet to seen from the god.

She shifted to the side quietly, trying to see what he was gazing at. When Namor bowed his head, Shuri saw a painting of a woman beside his serpent, posing regally with what looked like a staff in her hand.

She wore a beautiful jade and gold headpiece, green and brown feathers lining the outer layer, fading in its design as if the light was shining on them. It towered atop her figure, framing her perfectly like she was always meant to be there. She was adorned in jewelry, from the large, circular green jade plugs that hung from her ears to the tessellated necklace that she wore—a striking amalgamation of gleaming silver beads, plated viridescent tiles to carved gold pendants and everything that complemented her beauty. The woman had a tan clothe wrapped around her body, washes of terracotta and hues of sage and cream woven in stripes on the fabric. She was covered in jewels—just like Namor.

One thing for sure, she must have been of royalty in Talokan, or a goddess, perhaps. The corks in Shuri's head turned as she tried to figure out where the woman in the mural fit in Namor's story.

"Who is that?" Her question seemed to break him out of his reverie and she could see the way his body tensed at her question—whether it was because she cut him out of his thoughts of because of what she asked, she didn't know.

It took a quiet moment before Namor answered, looking in deep contemplation with his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his eyes growing darker. The next thing he uttered was so full of emotion that it flooded through the sentence, his voice sounding thicker than blood.

"Leti' ka'ach in reina. My queen. In k'iino' ka, in k'áak'náabo'."

(She was my queen. My sun and my sea.)

For a second her words refused to make it out of her mouth. The Wakandan princess' mind didn't wonder to Namor having a queen.

The Namor now wasn't like the Namor she had met in the shores of her land with her mother. The Namor now felt like a broken man who would go the farthest lengths to protect his people. With every counting second of being in this underwater cave, Shuri seemed to discover more and more about the man, slowly laying bare the walls he had built around himself.

"Is she-"

"She was.. she was killed by surface dwellers." The god cut off, as if he couldn't bear to hear the words coming out from someone else's lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and Shuri felt the sea grow quiet for a split second. It was like it remembered their lost queen.

He took a deep breathe before speaking out and if one were to listen closely, they could hear the slight shakiness in his voice, like talking about this particular incident tore his wounds open again. "Years ago the surface dwellers tried to find Talokan. They were told of an underwater city filled with glittering gold and diamonds, with a palace of precious metals whose value exceeds all else."

"They are greedy, always taking and taking what is not theirs—beasts who ravage land with no mind of its consequences. She was there where the land met the waters along with the young ones, and those monsters crossed paths with them." Namor shook his head, disdain present in the way he moved his body and his words.

"The first thing they did they raised their weapons, pointing it at her when all she did was offer them her hands. She tried to speak to them, to negotiate with peace and kindness. But they are blinded with hatred." He spat that word out and Shuri almost flinched at his tone.

"With no mercy they killed her and the children. They took their lives as if it was nothing to them."

"When I emerged to the surface.. she was already dying."

One of your handmaids had been the one to inform him of the situation, barging into his mural room right when he got back from a trip with a growing panic in her eyes as she screamed in anguish, 'Le reina! Le reina!'

"I turned to those murderers and treated them with how they treated my wife and the young ones; I killed them with no mercy."

The feathered serpent god will never forget the possessing rage he felt when he saw what those killers did to his wife. Without a single doubt in his movements he flew towards them like a strike of lightning and sliced their heads off before they could even scream.

Something that would always haunt his dreams was seeing his beloved die in his arms, unable to do anything, running out of time.

Sometimes, if the K'uk'ulkan thought too much about it, he could still feel the way he held you in his arms, the jarring coldness of your body that surged across his skin like a bloodthirsty frostbite.

Your hair fell in a pool beneath your head, encrusted with blood that he didn't know where it came from. There was too much, too much of it that slithered around your body. With trembling hands he supported the back of your neck, bringing your face closer as he cradled your cheeks in his palms.

"Ma', ma', in puksi'ik'al.. jaap wicho'ob, láayli' ma' jach a súutuko'," he pleaded, heart racing a thousand beats at your weakened state. His fingers stroked your temples, tracing the skin from your eyebrows to the high point of your cheek and you swore you would forever savor the feel of his skin on yours.

(No, no, my heart.. open your eyes, it's not your time yet,)

"It's al-..right, in amado." You choked out, holding the hand that held your face and leaning onto his palms with whatever energy you had left in you. It was getting harder to open your eyes or even speak, the hole in your chest rampaging your body like an unquenched beast.

"In ku. Let go, K'ukulkan. Ts'o'ok in meentik le ba'ax táan des-.. destinado in beetik waye'.. je'el u páajtal in je'elel bejla'e'.."

(They call me. I've done what I was meant to do here.. I can rest now..)

He ignored your terrifying acceptance and gently quieted you, pressing his lips onto your forehead in deep fervor. "Save you words, in yaakunaj-"

Namor's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest when he felt your hand go slightly limp, desperately taking it above the crook of his neck, right where the ends of his jaw met his ears. The king held onto you so tightly, trying to keep you grounded with him in the world of the living as if the warmth of his body would spread life to your decaying one. He saw you smile peacefully, like his touch rejuvenated you for a single beat, slowly yet surely stroking the tip of his pointed ears as you've always done whenever you had the chance to. It was a small act of affection that Namor fell weak to, and he couldn't contain the abrupt cry that fell from his lips at the familiar gesture.

"K'a'as a puksi'ik'al yéetel a-.. a yaakunaj, in ajawo'," but even then your stubborn and insistent nature persevered. You spoke with only him and your love for him in mind, silently telling him that this will not be the end. That despite after all this when you will no longer be there to tell him just how beloved and brave he is, he should still remember what he had learned—what he had taught you. You hoped that it would keep him grounded and true, still fierce but with compassion and empathy.

(Remember your heart and your love, my king,)

"In.. yaakunech," and you let our your final breathe, the light in your eyes no longer shining as you stared up into nothing. At the least you looked content to pass to the afterlife in your husbands arms, a gentle lift on the corner of your lips to signify that you've moved on. But along with your departure you tore apart of Namor that he didn't think could ever be replaced—left him with a half-ripped heart and as a shell of the man he once was.

(I love you)

Now, kneeling on the prickling pearly sand tainted with weeping carmine, he was not a god. He was not the king of a powerful underwater nation, he was not a lethal mutant, a hero, a villain, or a protector. No, he was just a man. A man whose heart had been punctured with a hole in the shape of his beloved.

He screamed at the world with the voice of someone who had just lost everything, scorning the surface dwellers with a burning pit of anger and vengefulness in his blackened heart. It echoed around the area, bleeding onto every rock, every blade of grass and every tree with his promise of death. The sea grew restless, mirroring the raging currents in his soul.

Namor choked a cry, closing your eyes as his hands shook with grief and pain, body threatening to collapse under his heartbreak. He brought your face closer to his, resting his forehead onto yours while he scrunched his eyes closed, disbelieving and mourning of the loss of his beloved. Because no matter how much he begged, how much he cried for you, you would never come back to him, never blessing him with that delicate smile on your face again. The god stayed there for what felt like hours and days, whispering sweet goodbyes, harrowing sobs and promises to avenge you.

When he carried your cold body to Talokan, the people could only stare in shock and despair over the loss of their darling queen. In their eyes you were one of the most powerful people in the kingdom, not just because of your position, but because of your compassion and your love—something that knew no bounds.

It was a painful and gut-wrenching experience, to bury his own wife. It brought him back to the time where he had to do the same to his own mother, to cover her in clothe and put a piece of maize inside her mouth.

"The surface dwellers have taken so much. Talokan's queen, our home and our freedom. I will not let them do so again." Namor had a scathing look in his eyes, a latent tone of tiredness at facing a world that only took from him.

"She must have been an amazing queen and a strong woman." Shuri could only utter these words with a solemn expression on her face, unable to reply to such vulnerability of someone she had considered a dangerous enemy. Despite that.. there was an underlying empathy between the two. Shuri understood him. She knew the pain of losing someone you love.

"She was." A calm visage eventually spread around his face as he looked up at the glorious mural depicted on the walls of the room. "She had the biggest heart and the kindest soul."

Namor couldn't help but get lost in his memories of his beautiful wife. He speaks no lies when he describes you. You were the people's queen, as what the Talokanil called you. You'd always visit the people, play games with the children and scour the underwater markets that sold all kinds of trinkets and foods. Whenever the people needed you you were always there, willing to help them without a second glance as you opened your heart to them all.

After you death, whenever he would swim around Talokan and talk to his people—laughing and joking around with them—there would be this.. serene melody inside his heart, a gentleness that ran through his veins. Namor would feel the water pulsing on the pads of his skin and he'd always take a moment to close his eyes to relish the feeling. Then a smile would make it onto his face—the kind of smile that you would always tell him to show more often. His people felt it too, like a warm embrace to their soul, as if you were watching over them, still caring about them even when you were gone.

It was not only to Talokan's people, but to the ocean's animals too.

If there was one thing about his queen, it was that you had a deep affinity with the marine animals. Whenever the king couldn't find you anywhere in your room or in the palace halls, Namor would only smile to himself and swim to the clearing of the sea just outside of Talokan, watching his wife croon along the whales and the orcas, taking care of them as if your love spoke a thousand languages.

"In ch'ujuk, ko'oten paakat!" You would shout, gleefully waving your hand up in the air with no care in the world.

(My sweet, come and look!)

Sometimes he would only stay back and watch you with eyes so tender that it looked like he was entirely captivated by you. By your voice, your laughter, your smile; your everything. Other times, Namor would be too taken by you (as he always was), deciding to join you play with the creatures that you'd called 'your babies'. Whirling and chasing them around them felt like dancing in the water and Namor was too in love to ever deny you of your little joy.

Even now whenever the whales would call out to the sea, or when the orcas whistled and clicked along, he could still hear your radiant laughter singing along with them and oh how he longed to hear that sound again, to hear the melody of the ocean in its fullness.

You were simply the glue to Talokan; everyone adored the queen.

Until now, your throne still sat next to his, the jade and vibranium never ceasing to glow. Every time he sat there, watching over his people and celebrating his kingdom with defiant shouts of "L'ik'ik Talokan" he would always remember your face, remember the proud look you had when you would raise your fist to your chest along with everyone. Your memory will never fade in the heart of Talokan, always lingering in the brightest places, comforting during troubling times, because you will always be a precious piece of the kingdom that neither he nor his people would forget.

If he brought the sun to his people, you were the sun to him.

"You and I, we are not so different, princess." He broke his train of thought.

"Those people only see us as threats because they know we are powerful. They will not stop until they have what they want. It is a danger to my kingdom and my people—a threat to your people too."

Finally, Namor turned his head to face Shuri, a determined aura lingering in his voice and in his expression. She felt compelled to stare back straight into his eyes, the conviction in his tone like a true king. "And so I offer you again."

"Join me, and we will never have to see our people suffer, to see our loved ones suffer. We will no longer mourn our losses and bury the dead for unjust cruelty."

"Together, we will watch the world burn."

lawd this man singlehandedly got me out of a writing slump like.. making a fic with angst + namor = too easy 😩💳💥

this is my first time writing for him, so i hope it was okay! im so in love with him and i wanted to contribute my own piece to the fandom.

also, i'm pretty sure the yucatec mayan was not properly translated, so i apologize from my heart for the inaccuracies. please tell me if i have to fix anything!

dividers by @delishlydelightfuldividers and @rpinkling

tags: @bloatedandlonly

[honeypie302]

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 - 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖗.

“protect the princess!” okoye screeched, diving her spear into one of their shoulders as she spoke to m’baku.

it was no secret namor had took a shine to you, threatening to return to wakanda for the princess - you.

as soon as he came with his army, you were rushed underground, in a safe made out of vibranium.

you were the future queen, and ever since your brothers death, the protection against you had skyrocketed.

three dora milajes were down here with you, but at the call of their general, they had to rush off.

but as soon as they stepped out of the room, a downright battle ensued. more of namor’s soldiers were outside, and they didn’t look happy.

m’baku saw him, close to the entrance of the underground cave. he launched himself off a boat, smashing his wooden stick against namor.

but all he did was lift his arm, the wood smashing into pieces as if it was plastic. he punched m’baku, who went flying back and got knocked out.

that meant there was no protection to the cave. he could take you.

the dora milajes inside were knocked down, and you could do nothing but watch as your only form of protection was no more.

a couple of guns were inside, something your sister left in case worst came to worst. and it had.

“come with us!” they demanded, holding their own spears up to threaten you.

you fired the guns, but they easily blocked the shots. that’s when you finally realised, whatever you could do, you were going to be taken.

“ah, princess.”

that voice. it sent chills up your spine, the hairs on the back of you neck standing up. “namor,” you responded, grip tightening on the gun.

he approached you, and you didn’t move, stuck to your spot and your eyes stuck on him.

“i said i’d be back for you. all of this chaos could have been stopped if you had just came in the first place.”

“you know that i don’t want to. wakanda is my home, my future. not talokan.”

namor seemed to grow angry at your response, and he whipped his spear out, hitting you around the back of the head.

your body dropped to the floor, and namor swiftly picked you up.

“paalalo'ob, llévala paache' talokan. yaan ti' meyaj u betiko'ob.” (children, take her back to talokan. i have work to do).

one of them picked you up, walking out of the cave and into the water, not without putting a mask on your face.

namor flew up to the window, taking notice of the queen. “our alliance is now dead! i have what i want. if you come and look for her, wakanda will fall!”

the queen dropped to her knees, harsh sobs escaping her lips as she realised she had now lost another child.

he flew back into the water, swimming down and straight to talokan. back to her.

+

“let me go!”

namor could hear your screams as soon as he returned, entering the room and catching a vase that was hurtling towards one of his soldiers.

“je'el u páajtal a biin,” he dismissed, the woman walking out of the room and shutting the door behind her. (you can leave).

“how many times do i have to tell you people, i want to go home!”

“you are home.”

a harsh chuckle left your throat at his words, shaking your head in denial. you spat out, “fuck you!” namor sighed, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.

“wa causa máak, in llamas,” he spoke to one of his people, placing his hand on her shoulder. (if she causes any trouble, you call for me).

“je'ele', k’uk’ulkan.” (of course, k’uk’ulkan).

namor headed off, straight to his clothes designer to get the princess some nice clothes.

“why is he doing this to me?” you cried to the woman, who did nothing but stand by the doorway. “i just want to go home.”

when the woman turned her back for a split second, you grabbed a piece of rock that lay on the floor.

you charged at her without second thought, smashing it over her head as she screamed and fell to the floor in pain.

unlocking the door, you rushed out and took the mask to help you breathe as you swam.

desperately, you tried to reach the surface, but as soon as you saw that familiar tanned skin, you knew you were in for a whole world of trouble.

“are you insane?!” he yelled at you when he finally dragged you back to his house. “maybe i am!”

“you’re the first surface-dweller to even enter talokan, and this is how you repay us?”

his anger scared you. it scared you to the point you wanted to sit in the corner and cry.

which is what you did.

you slid down the wall, landing on the floor and shoving your head into your hands.

“i know the pain you have suffered, princess. all of the loss, but trust me, acting like this will get you nowhere in talokan.”

you stayed silent as namor ranted on with himself, berating you for your failed escape attempt.

when he realised you weren’t going to answer, he sighed, sliding down next to you. “princess, i can show you the whole world down here.”

“i’ve seen the world and trust me, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be,” you scoffed, finally looking up as namor acknowledged your bloodshot eyes.

“the ocean is different. it’s calmer, and we don’t rage war on other lands just for power.”

“really? then what about wakanda? because that seemed like you were raging a war, all for me.”

“yes, for you! you are enchanting, princess.”

he pointed over to the walls, something you hadn’t even bothered looking at till now.

carvings of yourself were painted into the wall. one of you on the beach, one of you visiting italy, even one of you in a bikini.

“you’re psychotic,” you hissed, but he paid no mind. his eyes were fully trained on you. as if you really were enchanting.