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grandline-fics · 2 days

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Hi Kerrie, thank you for your wonderful writings! I was wondering if we could we see the ‘waking up the morning after’ prompt with Shanks and/or zoro and sabo (if you enjoy writing for these characters). Thanks, I hope you’re having a great day! ✨

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Waking up the morning after

WARNINGS: a little suggestive but nothing explicit? mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Zoro

WORDS: 1,889

A/N: Thank you for requesting this! I kept everything more on the fluffy and sweet side and only managed to think of something for Shanks and Zoro. I might do something with this for Sabo separately if I think of a scenario for him. Hope you like what I managed to come up for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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SHANKS

You’d always known what you were getting yourself in for when you joined the Red Hair Pirates. You knew the type of man Shanks was, his presence alone commanded everyone’s attention and that was before he’d even opened his mouth to begin the effortless charm that flowed from him. He was as charming as he was powerful and unapologetically flirty with everyone he came across. Even before he’d offered you a place on his crew your first interaction with him head been a flirtatious one. It had been so natural and easy, you’d never had an interaction like it. If it hadn’t been interrupted by the group of bandits attacking in the middle of your conversation you’d been sure that you would have gladly followed Shanks to where his bed had been for the night and never seen him again when you woke. However it was thanks to the bandits that Shanks had gotten to see just how formidable a fighter you were and insisted you be a part of his crew.

Naturally you couldn’t say no to him with an offer like that but now that he was your Captain you’d made it a firm rule that nothing would happen physically between you both. It would just become messy if it was only a one time thing. It would muddy the waters between seeing him as a lover without lessening his authority as your leader. While you knew deep down that Shanks would never kick you off the crew you didn’t want to risk it. You’d kept firm in your dedication to just being his subordinate and resisted his charms when the crew partied. Yes you indulged in the playful banter but that’s as far as you allowed it to go. You just always felt so comfortable with him that the second his lips met yours the evening before during one of your late night talks that all sense went out the window and you gave in to temptation so easily.

That’s why you refused to open your eyes, because if you did that meant facing the fact you’d royally fucked up. Still denial was the more appealing option because the warmth of Shanks’ sleeping body against yours was just as enticing as he was when he was awake. No, you had to be strong. With a deep breath you forced your hand to rub your eyes and slowly opened them, internally cursing when you saw the sight of Shanks sleeping all too peacefully beside you. It really wasn’t fair how good he looked but you couldn’t get distracted. You needed to talk about what happened. Glancing down you looked at his arm across your body, fingers lightly curled against your hip. As if sensing what you were awake, Shanks’ peaceful expression shifted to one of groggy stirring. His fingers secured themselves against your side before his arm pulled you sharply to hold you by his chest. Your breath lodged in your chest when he let out a content sigh, nuzzling his face against your neck. “Mornin’ gorgeous…” Heavy with sleep, his voice was even deeper than normal. When you didn’t immediately answer, Shanks’ eyes finally opened, regarding you carefully. “What’s up?”

“You really have to ask?” You asked softly with a small laugh, turning you head to look at him. You never had an issue being open and honest with Shanks. Even now as you both lay naked and about to talk about what happened between you both you felt no hesitation or need to hold back. “Last night shouldn’t have happened, should it?”

“You asking me or telling me?” Shanks asked softly, fingers lightly moving to play with yours. “I don’t regret it.”

“This isn’t about regrets Shanks.” You sighed, settling your free hand over his to still the gentle but distracting motions. “This is about what happens next. This is about balance. What are the crew going to think?”

“I think the words ‘fucking finally’ and ‘Cap’n you lucky bastard’ will be the general consensus.” Shanks grinned at you, relieved to see you fight a smile and playfully roll your eyes at him. “I’m serious though. The only one overthinking this is you. The crew have been waiting on this for so long so nothing’s going to change with them. The only question is, did you want this to have been a one-time thing?”

“Shanks you don’t do relationships. Not in the time I’ve been on the crew.”

“Yeah because I only wanted to do a relationship with you.” Shanks explained, lacing his fingers between yours to lead your hand up to his lips and press the softest kiss against your knuckles. “So what do you think?”

“I think you’re a very dangerous man Red Hair…” you sighed, stunned at his confession but not rejecting it. His effortless charm and commanding warmth was dangerous. Even more so was how safe and happy he made you but you had no fears about this.

“You’re one to talk.” Shanks chuckled, lowering his hand to pull you closer. “You’ve had me under your spell since the first day we met and I’ll be damned if I let you go now.”

ZORO

You and Zoro always had a strange sort of tension underlying in your friendship. On the surface you both were warm and comfortable in each other’s presences. Perfectly balancing the other and both having a strong understanding of the other without needing to communicate beyond brief words and the slightest shifts in stance. On the ship you two were considered the closest of friends. Underneath it all? You both held heavy attraction and intense want for each other but at the same time the restraint you both had to never step over that line and delve deeper into what you both desired was stronger. For now you were both set on getting stronger and enjoying your adventures together with the rest of the Strawhats. Deep down you both knew that the other wouldn’t reject any advances if they were made but still you both held back, believing there would be plenty of time for that. That you’d both know when the time was right.

Then Sabaody turned the tide for you all. Under the assault of the Marines you were all defeat so easily and with terror in your eyes you realised you were all outmatched. Out of instinct you looked to Zoro and you could only watch helplessly and washed in cold dread as the swordsman disappeared in the blink of an eye. Then one by one the rest of you were dispatched by Kuma, struck out of sight and before you knew it you were on a completely different island. Alone and scared for the first time in a long while, missing and fearing for your crew. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse you were faced with the news that your Captain had lost his brother. Thankfully you deciphered his coded message and resolved yourself to spend that time getting stronger.

Through the two years away from your friends you always thought of them, hoping they were safe and training too although Zoro crept into your mind most of all. On your worst days, the image of him training on Sunny’s deck like he used to helped motivate you to push through your mental blocks and keep going. Finally the day came when you stepped foot on Sabaody again and a shudder ran through you at the memory of what had happened the last time came to your mind. You had faith in your crew that you’d all improved and it would never happen again but it was hard not to remember the fear of that day as if it was happening all over again. Setting off you made your way to the grove for the long awaited reunion.

Night had begun to fall when you spotted the familiar sight of Sunny’s head and your steps quickened from your relaxed pace into a full run. Just as you climbed onto the deck you felt a presence rush towards you. Sharply you turned and lifted your weapon in time to block the blade being swung at you. Your eyes lit at the sight of Zoro, the relief that flooded you quickly gave way into all those old feelings hurtling back and your smile grew to see the recognition appear in Zoro’s expression. Then your smile fell slightly to see one of his eyes was scarred and shut. Without thinking you reached out and settled your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently touching his scar. The small action was all it took to bring those old feelings that had always danced dangerously close to the surface reappear stronger than even given the two years of separation. “Who else has arrived?”

“No one. It’s just us.” Zoro answered while capturing your hand that was still against his cheek. Without needing to say anymore you both closed the distance remaining between you both and your free hand fisted in the collar of his clothing and yanked him forward while his grabbed your waist. Neither of your wasted anymore time in finally coming together and kissing intensely, something both of you had spend the two years apart regretting hadn’t happened until now. Even then it wasn’t enough, you were both so desperate for each other, to make up for lost and wasted time holding back that you both fell headlong into your desires now; acting in perfect synchronisation and the almost wordless communication that was unique to the two of you.

Finally when morning came you woke feeling calmer and more at peace than you ever had before. Even with the weight of Zoro’s arms holding you tight and secured against his body you felt light and happy. More importantly you didn’t feel scared about the next part of your adventures with the crew. Your eyes opened to see Zoro was already awake and watching you carefully, seeming to be just as relaxed as you were. “Hope you’re not planning to greet everyone back like this.”

“As if.” Zoro rolled his good eye but the slow grin began to appear on his face as he took in your face in the morning light. The two years had changed you both, but not in the ways it mattered. You were still you and apart from his loyalty to Luffy, you were the only other person he worked hard to get stronger for and return to. At his response you grinned brightly and Zoro let his knuckles lightly stroke your face, he’d missed your smile. He’d missed you. Zoro leaned forward with the intention of pulling you into another kiss only to stop when a familiarly ‘super’ cheer broke through the calm morning air.

“Looks like we won’t have the ship to ourselves anymore.” You grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss against his lips as you prepared yourself to get up and change to greet Franky. It wouldn’t be long now before you were all finally reunited. You were stopped when Zoro sat up with you and pulled you back to hug you tight, his silent way of telling you he wasn’t going anywhere ever again, not without you. With a warm smile you squeezed his arm in a reassurance that you felt the same way.

——————————————-

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sporesgalaxy · 14 hours

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in my dream last night they released a bill cipher themed soda called Decipher and I tried to go get some but insane wacky nonsense kept interrupting me before I could. I mean the nonsense had to do with the plot of the rest of the dream but it just kept showing up at the exact moment that I was about to get my soda. Ive just remembered the plot of the rest of the dream was that all of the straw hat piratds were there at tbis theme park we were in and some other group of pirates were trying to bully nico robin. the other pirate group was goth btw. their captain almost died from getting splashed with acid (by nico robin) (it was justified). But I didnt see that happen bc really I was mostly focused on getting my dumb soda.

#dream journal #yeah oh my god it was like. a one piece pre timeskip filler episode was happening at the same time as the rest of my dream. wild #and I was a part of the straw hat crew??? or friends with them or something???? i kept getting lost th #oh my god was i zoro. was i fucking zoro. i dont remember seeing zoro was i zoro and i didnt realize it??? help #zoro wants that stupid bill cipher soda . god damn it i remember wondering if it was alcoholic i think i was zoro and didnt even register #im lsoing it thats so funny. usually when im a character in my dreams i like. Know It. but being zoro didnt feel any different I guess 😂😂#god no there were definitely parts where i was me or i tjought i was me. and my irl friends wer ethere also.#i guess it was one of those dumb fading in and out things that happens in dreams sometimes #it did kinda feel like i was having two dreams at once #still i dont think i ever registered that anything was different when i was zoro so thats really fucking funny #and there was this whole 3rd plot line with made up people i dont know irl or from fiction.#it was kind of like sky high but completely different and with less white people...gah i dont rlly rember

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ironworked · 2 days

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Hen Begins timeline

"Ah, since the meltdown in '08, everybody's been cutting back.", says one of Hen's co-workers (2.09)

"Gina dragged me to that vampire movie." (2.09): New Moon was released on November 20, 2009 and remained in theaters until at least the end of March. Eclipse came out on June 30, 2010 and lasted on theaters until at least mid October.

"Senate votes 63 to 31 to repeal 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell.'" (6.06): Hen and Karen celebrate the repeal (December 2010) when they're already living together.

"I'm a Black lesbian that joined the fire department at 30" (4.03); "Last time I saw Clive was 1978 [...] I couldn't walk out on the father of my child." (5.09) -> Hen was born in 1978 or 1979, so it's likely she'd be 30 in 2009.

"After 13 years in the same firehouse, why would I know - what supplies we need?" (5.03)

“When I first entered this department, Captain Gerrard didn't even see me as a firefighter. And now, 12 years later," (6.01) -> this is a quote that doesn't quite fit, because it would put Hen starting out in '11, but it's not far off.

Circumstantial 'evidence': It's raining on every call and every time we can see the outside from the firehouse (and they make a point to note how 'rare' it is "it's nice in the sunroom when it's raining. Which is, like, once a decade now."). They don't imply or mention a 'significant' passage of time; we only see Hen meet up with Athena and her friends once ("Three of us we get together once a month, swap war stories."), no montages or timestamps or mention of holidays, and on the contrary, many scenes are connected in time:

Hen arrives during the day, there's a 'raining outside' transition shot, then they all arrive at the station after a call:

Next they're eating, a fade to black, and another transition (still raining, as we can see thanks to the window and the transition shot) this time to night and into the next 9-1-1 callers:

We follow the mudslide call, fade to black, another 'raining in LA' transition shot, and come back to Hen and Chim doing the dishes:

Next up, another transition shot showing a lightening sky with, you guessed it, more rain. From there we get Gerrard berating Hen (gif edited for length; also notice it's still raining!) followed by the 118 leaving on another call, without her. Jump to her dinner with Athena and friends:

The end of that dinner segues into Hen's speech, and then straight to the next call (limo accident). The end of that call fades to black. Lastly we get Hen arriving at the station the next day ('Yo, Wilson. Nice work yesterday') to find Gerrard gone:

After her talk with the Commander and then with Chim, they get called to another accident (and, poetically, it has stopped raining).

So we have a period of time from end of November 2009 to December 2010. In that time, Hen worked under Gerrard, and later made friends with Chim, and 'met-dated-moved in' with Karen. Which part of that lasted longer?

Next we have this:

"They're trying to recruit women now, you know?" + "8 women were recruited, and 3 of them make it through the academy" + "the mayor wants to say that female recruitment is up" "Since you've started working here, we've received numerous complaints. [...] It's not just complaints we're receiving. Your colleagues all have some pretty complimentary things to say about you. You've made quite an impression. [...] Why would we do that [fire Hen]? You're the future of the LAFD."

What makes sense to me, is that since the LAFD was making efforts to increase diversity they probably acted fast to oust Gerrard when the 118 started making noise, to avoid the possible bad publicity.

See what happened with Buck's lawsuit:

Bobby: You're gonna get a call tomorrow from the Chief; You're being reinstated to active duty. The brass didn't want the headache, they're afraid of the bad press. [3.05]

So, I would say Hen worked under Gerrard for a few shifts.

Thoughts? corrections?

I know that 911's timeline is hmm dot-on-Jeremy-Bearimy-coded, but this one actually made sense to me.

9-1-1 Episode Transcripts

#911 #911 on abc #Tv: 911 #long post #Btw this isn't meant to dismiss or diminish Hen's experience in any way; on the contrary #my intention is to highlight how what each of these characters did contributed to gradually change the 118 #Eli made it easier for Chim to stay on and stay himself; Chim reached out to Tommy #(who after being saved by Chim unfrosted a bit) and to Hen.#Hen stood her ground openly against the toxic culture at the 118.#And so by the time Hen arrived and did that “more than a few” of her colleagues were open to listening to her and willing to act.#Then Bobby and Buck continued making the 118 a better place #Bobby gets a lot of credit for what he did (and that's nice!) but the change started years earlier #and that how it often happens isn't it?

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day

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Mad Season 6 🕸 Story A

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: this is Peter's side of the story.

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Um...” you drone dumbly at Peter. “I don’t know.”

He stares back at you. He looks scared, “you don’t know?”

“I’m sorry, I...” the raucous party rumbles on inside the walls. “I can’t think here.”

“Hey, let me grab my jacket, we can talk outside,” he offers. “Wait, where’s your coat? You can’t go out like that?”

You look down and realise you left your jacket inside. In fact, he took it. You shrug and he holds up a finger.

“Please, just give me a chance.”

You nod. What else can you do? He rushes back through the door and you turn away. You try to ignore the couple sloppily lapping at each other’s mouths.

You don’t know what to think. You can barely cling to a coherent thought. Bucky’s warning echo in your head. Isn’t this proof? There are other girls, not just you. Yet, you keep asking yourself why you care about them. Peter asked you to be his lab partner, not his girlfriend.

In fact, no one has ever asked you to be their girlfriend. Why would they? You’re quiet and boring. You shrink back against the wall and peer down at the floor. You should just tell Peter to go back to MJ.

He appears and your resolve rots away. He only has his coat. “Hey, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find your coat. I looked all over. The green one right? With the orange buttons? I don’t know what happened but take mine.”

He holds you his jacket, “Oh, it’s fine. I can’t--”

“Now what kinda jerk would I be if I let you go cold?” He insists. “I’ll be fine. Really. I like the cold.”

You blink and take the jacket. You don’t like arguing. You already feel bad enough after barging in on him and MJ. You can’t stop thinking of it. God. It feels so... wrong.

He walks you down the hall. You’re both silent. You keep distance between you as you get to the elevator and ride it without saying a word. You go out into the lobby and as you get to the front door, you grab the front of his jacket and start to push it off.

“Please, keep your coat. I should go home--”

“Just hear me out, okay?” He begs and stops you from taking off the coat. “Please.”

You face him and dip your chin, “okay.”

He sighs. You peek up from under your eyelids. He smiles nervously, cheeks pinkening, and he shifts his weight on his feet. He clears his throat.

“Look, I’m an idiot. I went into that room with MJ. I know how she is. I’m not going to play victim here. All I can say is it won’t happen again.” His jaw ticks, “I’m a dummy. I was... I was so nervous about talking to you. I know you hate parties but I thought if I was drinking I could just tell you how I feel. And of course, it just made me stupid.”

Your mouth falls open. He can’t be saying what you think he is. Right?

Before you can respond, the door to the lobby opens and you look over as MJ struts out. Her long legs are toned in her heels and her short leather skirt. Her hair is perfect and her makeup brings out her natural colouring. She’s perfect and you’re wearing a pleated skirt.

You look at Peter again and deflate.

“Peter,” MJ approaches, “why’d you run off?”

“MJ,” he sighs, “I told you--”

“What did you tell me before you had my tongue down your throat?” She smirks.

“Stop,” he snips. “I said no.”

“But you didn’t stop me,” she scoffs. “And now what? You’re scurrying around with her? Really? Her?”

“Don’t be mean,” Peter steps between you and her, as if he’s trying to hide you.

“You call it mean, I call it honesty,” she chirps back.

“Get out of here. You weren’t even invited,” he snarls as he reaches back and latches onto your wrist.

“When did you turn into such a fucking loser?” She snips and shoves him.

He collides with you but takes most of the impact. She stomps out in her clunky heels as you turn to watch her. She doesn’t look back.

Slowly, you spin back to Peter, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” his shoulders droop. “Look, I get it. I screwed up. I don’t want to ruin the rest of your night. I already dragged you here. Just, take my coat, get home safe. Be done with me.”

His eyes twinkle wetly and his nose twitches. He looks like he could cry. As small as you are, he seems even smaller in that moment.

“You didn’t let me answer,” you say.

His forehead lines in confusion and his lips open wordlessly.

“I... I’m surprised is all. It’s been a weird night and...” You sway and fold your hands. “I’m kind of a mess myself. I really don’t do well in crowds. I know you know that.” You try to smile. “And I know it’s lame but... I really do try and...” you look away and your cheeks heat up. “I don’t think I would if I didn’t like you too.”

Another suffocating silence sucks the air out of the room. You fidget and stare at your boots. You wince as Peter steps closer. He surprises you as he pulls the jacket closed and does up the zipper. As the tab reaches the top, he taps your chin and you look up at him shyly.

“Can I walk you home?” He asks as he brushes his hand down the sleeve and tickles your fingers.

A full smile breaks through and you nod giddily, “sure.” You grab onto his hand, vibrating in vibrant excitement. Can he feel you shaking?

“You still cold?” He asks as he tugs you towards the door. You shake your head but as you step outside, he puts his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close. He walks you down the pavement as a blistering wind blows around you. “Gotta keep my girl warm, huh?”

“Your... girl?” You squeak.

He hums and squeezes you tight, “all mine.”

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #mad season #peter parker x reader #drabble #au #mcu #marvel #spider-man #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #captain america #avengers #winter soldier

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meo-eiru · 10 hours

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hi just wanted to say I lovee your art and your characters sm!! sorry I advance for some spam likes, I tried spacing it out a little in my queue but I just love your art and everything a lot😭

elias is my fave rn so I made this meme

anyways uh, what would his reaction to his darling's room looking like this🧍🏽 if you don't mind responding, no pressure tho!!

enjoy the rest of your day, and I hope your throat feels better🍀

This is what my room looks like if anyone was wondering fr fr

Don't worry about spam liking it actually makes me very happy whenever it happens!

Also credits for two of the drawings used here since they are not mine

drawing my @sleepyue00

drawing by @k1ttykk4t

If he saw your room being like this he would be VERY happy and take it as a green light for doing the same to his own house. He actually has thousands of pictures of you but was scared to hang them all over his house because you visit him sometimes and he doesn't want to creep you out but if you did it he can do it as well right?

What do you mean you have no recollection of him taking some of these pictures? Haha don't worry about it

#asks #elias #yandere pretty boyfriend #male yandere

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 day

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I Hate It When You're Drunk - 9

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden romance between a princess and her bodyguard leads to a dramatic wedding, but their happiness is soon overshadowed by political intrigue and betrayal, testing their love and resolve.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on : Ko-fi 🙏🏻please, please please.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Watching the former queen leave the palace felt surreal. But seeing the king lose his composure, even for a moment, made it all worth it.

Perhaps Alicia's return stirred something in Leonard. Did her presence remind him of who he used to be? Does he feel guilt for taking the life of the former king and his siblings?

Leonard clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated, but he couldn't do anything since she was a diplomatic guest.

"Welcome to the family," he said, tapping Bucky's shoulder. "As of today, you're officially part of royalty."

Bucky stood tall, his expression composed despite the turmoil of the evening. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will do my best to honor the family name and uphold my duties."

Leonard gave a curt nod, his gaze still clouded. "Now, go find my daughter. She must be shocked by the uninvited guest."

Bucky nodded and quickly left to find you.

He asked one of the guards outside, "Where is she?"

The guard hesitated, clearly nervous. "She went back to her chambers, sir," he stuttered, quickly correcting himself. "I'm sorry—Your Majesty."

Bucky didn't waste another moment. He hurried down the corridor toward your chambers, the tension from the evening still weighing on him. When he reached your door, he found the room shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the window.

His eyes fell on you, lying across the bed, already passed out from the alcohol. He sighed heavily, a mix of relief and sorrow flooding him. Today was supposed to be the day both of you had longed for, the day that sealed your love. But it didn't feel that way—not with all the chaos and the looming weight of what had happened.

Walking over quietly, Bucky knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your tear-streaked face. His hand lingered on your cheek, and his heart ached for you. You had endured so much, and now, instead of celebrating together, you were drowning in grief and confusion.

He gently wiped away the remnants of tears. He wanted to protect you from all this, but somehow, it all seemed to follow you both, no matter how hard he tried. Today should have been filled with joy, yet it felt as if the very world had turned its back on the happiness you deserved.

👑👑👑👑

The next morning, you woke with a pounding headache, groaning as the light filtered through the curtains. As you blinked your eyes open, you noticed several servants standing around your bed, their faces full of uncertainty.

"Why are you all surrounding me like this?" you asked, your voice groggy.

"Your Highness," one of the servants said nervously, "today... you're scheduled to leave for your honeymoon?"

You widened your eyes in shock and threw your head back onto the pillow with a frustrated sigh. The last thing you wanted right now was a honeymoon. You felt exhausted—mentally and physically.

"Where is my husband?" you muttered, rubbing your temples to ease the headache.

"With the king," the servant replied.

"Fuck," you murmured under your breath.

Reluctantly, you got out of bed, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The servants hurried to help you get ready, brushing your hair, and helping you into a more appropriate outfit for the day. But despite their efforts, you felt sluggish, your mood foul as you tugged on your shoes and stormed out of the room.

You ran through the halls toward the dining room, your steps quick and determined. As you pushed the heavy doors open, you were greeted by the sight of King Leonard and your newlywed husband, Bucky, sitting together at the table. The tension between them was palpable, though Bucky remained composed.

Leonard’s eyes flicked toward you as you entered, his smirk just as arrogant as ever. “Ah, here comes the bride. I trust you slept well?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

You shot him a sharp look. “Not particularly,” you muttered.

Leonard chuckled lightly, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Well, I suppose you’ll have plenty of time to rest on your honeymoon. You’re leaving shortly, after all. I wish you both a safe and pleasant trip.”

Bucky stood up, offering you his arm, his expression neutral though you could feel the tension radiating from him. “Shall we?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated for a moment but then linked your arm with his, glancing up at him. Together, the two of you walked toward the palace doors, with Leonard trailing behind. As expected, a crowd of press and citizens had gathered outside, their cheers and shouts echoing across the courtyard. They were here for the young newlywed couple—their eyes full of admiration and hope for a perfect royal love story.

Though you still felt tired and irritated, you forced a smile, waving at the crowd. Bucky followed suit, his arm still linked with yours as he raised his hand to acknowledge the people.

Once you reached the helicopter, the cheers faded into the background. Bucky slid into his seat, fastening his seatbelt, but he could feel the cold air between you. You had been giving him the silent treatment, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

As you reached for your own seatbelt, it was Leonard who stepped in to assist you. You let him fasten it, though the gesture felt awkward. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Stay at peace while I'm gone,” you warned, your tone sharp but laced with exhaustion.

Leonard chuckled, his grin smug. “You never know,” he said, his voice low with hidden meaning.

You glared at him one last time before settling into your seat, the sound of the helicopter’s blades whirring loudly as it prepared for takeoff. Though you were now on your way to what was supposed to be a joyful honeymoon, the weight of everything lingered in the air between you and Bucky.

As the helicopter soared through the sky, the silence between you and Bucky was thick and heavy. He glanced over at you several times, noticing how your eyes were already closed, your head resting against the seat. You looked peaceful, but he knew better. There was a tension beneath that calm exterior—a storm waiting to break.

Bucky’s emotions were all over the place. He had thought this day would be different. After all the time you both had waited, after the struggles and secret glances, this was supposed to be your moment.

But instead, it felt hollow. His chest tightened as he replayed everything that had happened, from the uninvited guest to the strange distance you now put between the two of you. He couldn’t help but feel helpless, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had suddenly grown.

On the other hand, you were drowning in your own thoughts. Behind your closed eyelids, memories of the past day swirled in your mind. Everything felt off. You were supposed to be celebrating your love, but it felt like the world around you was falling apart.

After what felt like hours, the helicopter began its descent, landing softly on a lush green field. You opened your eyes to see the sprawling beauty of the resort that would be your honeymoon destination.

You had hoped for somewhere far away, but Leonard had other plans, citing safety concerns. At least this place was special—a resort with several private islands. It was supposed to be a romantic getaway, secluded from the rest of the world.

The resort’s staff greeted you and Bucky with utmost care, ensuring everything was perfect for the newlywed royal couple. After checking that everything was in place, the managers and employees finally left, leaving the two of you alone on your private island.

The air between you remained tense as Bucky stood near the window, watching you move around the room. The silence was deafening.

“Are you going to continue ignoring me?” Bucky’s voice broke the quiet, his tone low but firm.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you walked over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of rum, searching through the ice bucket. Your hands moved mechanically, trying to find something to numb the unease creeping up your spine.

Suddenly, Bucky grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Stop it,” he said softly but with authority. His blue eyes searched yours. “I’ll answer it. Whatever you need to know, just ask.”

You paused, the rum bottle slipping from your grasp and landing with a soft thud on the counter. Your chest rose and fell with frustration.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning to face him fully, but the hurt in your eyes was unmistakable.

Bucky exhaled deeply, his grip loosening but not letting go completely. Both of you stood there, a heartbeat away from what could either be a breakthrough or another layer of distance.

Both of you sat across from each other, the tension in the room palpable. Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words. His eyes locked onto yours, determined, but there was also a flicker of doubt. He knew he couldn’t drag this out any longer.

"I started the coup d'état," he finally said, his voice low but steady.

The moment those words left his mouth, it felt like a thunderclap in your ears. Your heart pounded as you processed the confession, your mind racing to catch up with the weight of what he had just said.

"Bucky, what the fuck?" you snapped, disbelief and anger flashing in your eyes.

“I know... I know,” Bucky said quickly, holding his hands up as if to calm the rising storm. "But we—I mean, me and the others—had one goal: to make the king step down. That’s it.”

You let out a frustrated groan, rubbing your temples as if that could somehow ease the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “Bucky, I love you to death, but what you did was stupid.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me?” he shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I did it for us! And for the victims of that tyrant king!”

You couldn’t deny the truth in his words. The king—your father—had left a trail of victims in his wake. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled the horror that had befallen your family. “The king killed his three older siblings, along with their spouses and children,” you said, your voice trembling. “My cousins... they’re all gone because of him.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, hearing the pain in your voice, but he didn’t speak. He knew the reality of your father’s cruelty, but it was different hearing it from you.

“He was a no one,” you continued, your voice thick with disbelief. “And yet he became the king that everyone fears.” You stared at the ground, the weight of your father’s reign heavy on your shoulders. “He knew his weaknesses, and the people who supported him exploited them.”

"What made me even more furious," you continued, your voice sharp with betrayal, "is that I’m the future queen, yet I had no idea what was happening in my own country. My husband turned out to be the leader of a coup d’état, and my father—the tyrant king—knew it before I did!"

You lifted your head, locking eyes with Bucky, frustration lacing your tone. “I’m your wife, but you left me in the dark!”

Bucky’s eyes widened, his mouth opening to defend himself, but you weren’t finished.

Your words hung in the air like a dark cloud. Bucky looked at you, his expression torn between regret and defiance. You both sat there in a tense silence for a moment, the weight of everything settling between you.

Finally, you sighed, leaning back in your chair as exhaustion overtook your frustration. “I’ve been living in a bubble,” you admitted quietly.

Bucky leaned forward, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “I didn’t want to leave you out of it. I thought... I thought I was protecting you.”

He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly struggling with the gravity of the situation. “I did it for us—for a better future. You know the kind of man your father is. I couldn’t just sit by and let him continue.”

You looked at him, the raw emotion in his eyes matching your own. Despite everything, you knew his intentions had come from a place of love, no matter how misguided they were.

“I get it,” you said, your voice softer now. “I understand why you did what you did. But you should have trusted me, Bucky. I should’ve been part of this.”

Bucky reached out, taking your hands in his. “You’re right,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you.”

You squeezed his hands, feeling some of the tension start to dissolve. “We’re supposed to face things together, not alone,” you said softly.

“I know. And from now on, we will,” Bucky promised, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles.

You both sat there for a moment, the silence no longer oppressive but comforting. You had reached an understanding, even if the road ahead was still uncertain. There was still love between you—love strong enough to survive even this.

As the tension between you and Bucky began to ease, you both found solace in the quiet moments of your honeymoon. Finally, it was just the two of you, no more secrets or unspoken words hanging over your heads. The weight of everything slowly lifted as you immersed yourselves in the beauty of the private island.

The days were filled with a tranquil bliss, the warm sun kissing your skin as you and Bucky strolled along the secluded beaches. The turquoise waves lapped gently at the shore, creating a soothing backdrop to your peaceful escape. You’d often find yourselves on the balcony of your villa, overlooking the ocean, wrapped in each other's arms as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

Bucky had his arm around you as you leaned into his chest, both of you quietly enjoying the view. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“Me too,” you agreed, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. For the first time in a long while, you felt safe and content, the weight of the past slowly fading into the background.

You and Bucky spent your days exploring the island—swimming in the crystal-clear waters, relaxing in hammocks under the shade of palm trees, and sharing intimate dinners under the stars. His laughter was lighter now, and your smiles were genuine. There was no need to rush; this one month of vacation belonged to the two of you.

At night, Bucky would hold you close as the two of you talked about the future, making plans that seemed so far away now but filled you both with hope. The warmth of his body, the way he kissed your forehead before you both drifted to sleep—it made everything feel right again.

But on the last day of your honeymoon, that peace was shattered.

The morning had started quietly enough. After breakfast, you and Bucky curled up on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV. As you turned on the news, something caught your attention. The usual cheerful headlines were gone, replaced by the stark seriousness of a breaking news broadcast.

The image of King Leonard, standing behind a podium, filled the screen. The sight of him immediately sent a chill down your spine. You could feel the air shift, the sense of foreboding creeping in.

Leonard stepped closer to the microphone, his expression grim. He paused for a moment, scanning the audience, before leaning in and saying, “We’re going to war.”

Your heart stopped. For a moment, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

"What the fuck?" you and Bucky blurted out at the same time, both of you staring at the screen in disbelief.

Bucky's face hardened, his hands clenching into fists. "This can't be happening," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood up, pacing in front of the TV.

You swallowed hard, trying to process what you just heard, but dread weighed heavily on your chest. The peaceful bubble of your honeymoon had been shattered, replaced by a terrifying uncertainty. War meant everything would change—and not for the better.

Bucky stopped pacing and looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “We need to go back.”

You nodded slowly, your mind racing. “I knew something was off,” you murmured, fear creeping into your voice. “But war?”

Neither of you could believe it, yet the reality was there, staring at you from the screen.

The honeymoon was over.

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bpmiranda · 2 days

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The Bodyguard III |l. howlett|

A/N: slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, bodyguard!logan x original character, 21 y/o f!reader, flirtationship, organized crime, mentions of death

The Bodyguard The Bodyguard II

There was a need for Mercedes’ skills again today and Logan had to seek her out at the clinic where she worked. It was a shabby minute clinic with a full waiting room and understaffed medical support. The nurses ran around frantically while the doctors sipped coffee at their discretion. “Looking for Mercedes.” He told the receptionist who nodded and immediately went to retrieve her from the back.

Her eyes widened when she rushed out and spotted him in the waiting room. “Logan?” He simply gave her a nod and cocked his head towards his car which she could see parked outside. “Mierda.” (Shit) She whispered underneath her breath as she quickly gathered her things.

It was incredibly awkward having to excuse herself early from work without being able to give her supervisor a legitimate reason, and she knew there would be consequences later on. “We gotta run.” Logan said, ushering her quickly into the passenger seat and hurrying behind the wheel.

“What’s going on?” She asked, her heart beating fast as Logan basically sped all through town to get her to one of the safe houses in the outskirts.

“One of Emilio’s guys got shot.” He told her, taking a particularly sharp turn which made her slide in the seat toward him and she stopped herself by grabbing onto the dash. “Put your seatbelt on.” Logan scolded, reaching around her and handing her the buckle which she clicked immediately.

When they arrived at the safe house, Mercedes was surprised to find one of Emilio’s cars there. “He’s here?” She asked in surprise as Logan opened her passenger door and led her inside without a reply. Her breathing was shaky as they weaved through the house and to the kitchen where she saw Emilio standing over his second in command, Gomez. Her brother looked over at her and he quickly grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her towards the table where the man was straining to breathe. “Por fin!” (Finally!) Emilio exclaimed urgently. “Take the bullet out.” He ordered and Mercedes carefully moved the bloodied shirt up enough to see the wound was on his right side, just below his ribs. “Que esperas?” (What are you waiting for?) Emilio demanded and she gave him an exasperated look.

“Emilio, look around,” She snapped. “I need more equipment. Better yet, he needs to go to a hospital.” Emilio shook his head. “Hermano, por favor.” (Brother, please.) She pleaded. “I need more than what I have in my bag. I need something to dig the bullet out with, it needs to be sterile, and I need him to be sedated because this is going to hurt like hell.”

Angrily, Emilio looked around at his men as they were watching the two of them and he threw his hands up in the air. “You heard her!” He yelled at them and they quickly scrambled to find the items she listed.

Mercedes turned to Logan anxiously and he quickly shook his head as he approached her to place his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t,” He told her, crouching down to be at eye level with her teary eyes. “Don’t cry right now. Cry after, okay?” Mercedes sniffed, but she nodded, blinking the tears away as she took in a deep breath. “Do you need anything from me?” He asked, one hand softly caressing her cheek. A gesture that did not go unnoticed by Emilio.

“Yeah,” She nodded as she motioned to Gomez who was coming in and out of consciousness. “I need to take his shirt off so I can clean the wound.”

Logan let his claws protrude and he carefully sliced Gomez’ shirt off, watching as she gently peeled it back as it stuck to his skin from all the blood. Her hands were shaky and he wondered if she would be able to get through this. More importantly, what would happen if she didn’t. Mercedes offered Gomez something to bite on and he wearily refused, instead asking for a shot of tequila from the one of the few bottles they had lying around. Logan brought it to him, lifted the man’s head to let him swallow the shot. “Gracias.” Gomez said hoarsely before he looked back at Mercedes who was shaking a bottle of disinfecting alcohol. “I trust you, doctora.” (doctor)

Gently, she poured the alcohol over his wound and her brows turned up anxiously as he groaned in pain. “Lo siento.” (I’m sorry.) She said as she lightly dabbed the blood away so she could better see the bullet entry hole. Emilio was watching from a few feet back the way the bodyguard was so attached to his sister and Logan noticed, forcing himself to give her some space as she continued cleaning the wound until her brother’s men returned with makeshift equipment that she could only hope would work for her needs.

It took almost two hours to extract the bullet. Mercedes had fallen quiet as she focused on not hurting Gomez, not digging too deeply, not pushing the bullet any further into the wound. Emilio and Logan were watching from across the kitchen. Emilio had an arm crossed and a fist pressed to his mouth as he kept an eye on the procedure. Logan was leaning against the empty fridge, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her desperately easing the man through this subpar procedure as he teetered the line of between consciousness and death.

Finally, the bullet was out, but Gomez didn’t make it.

Emilio called his men to take care the body before he reassured his sister that he wasn’t upset and he knew she did everything she could. “Logan, ven conmigo.” (Logan, come with me.) Emilio said as Mercedes silently washed off her hands at the kitchen sink. Logan made sure no one else was in the kitchen with her as he followed Emilio out into the living room. “Is there something going on between you and her?” He asked Logan who stared at the drug lord for a moment before shaking his head.

“No, there’s not.” Logan said.

Emilio clearly didn’t believe him. “You know what happens to the guys that want to mess around with Mercedes?” Logan says nothing. “They disappear. They go away. You know why?” Emilio shoves a finger into Logan’s chest. “Because she doesn’t need that shit and neither do you, entiendes?” (Understand?) Logan nods. “No distractions, Logan. You do not need no fucking distractions.”

“There’s nothing going on, Emilio.” Logan says again, not afraid for himself, but simply wanting to return to the kitchen and make sure Mercedes is okay.

“Take her home.” Emilio says after staring him down for a moment.

Logan returns to the kitchen where he finds her leaning over the sink, staring at her blood stained hands with a quivering bottom lip. “‘Cedes?” He asks as he places a hand softly on her back, her whole body is shaking. Mercedes looks up at him with teary eyes and she shakes her head.

“It’s not coming off, Logan.” She whimpers, her hands are trembling and he touches them, feels how cold they are before he tests the faucet. “I can’t wash his blood off.” She choked out, sobbing, and it made his heart ache for her.

“There’s no hot water.” Logan says, moving her away from the sink and grabbing her medical bag. “We gotta get you home. It’ll come off, sugar. I promise.” He said as he led her out of the safe house and to his car. Emilio caught his eye outside as he was discussing Gomez with another employee and they shared a curt nod while Logan opened the passenger door for his sister. Distinctly, he heard the man Emilio was with say something about ‘el lobo’, but he decided to worry about it later on. “It’s going to be alright, yeah?” He said, peering at her through the window after closing the door. Mercedes nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks as she stared at her hands in her lap. With a sigh, he patted the car’s roof and walked around to the driver’s seat.

It was a long night. Logan could hear her sobbing in the bathroom over the shower that was running, his sensitive hearing picked up every sniffle, and he felt awful not being able to do or say anything. While he knew that Gomez was most likely going to die from the shot itself anyway, he also knew that wasn’t something that was going to make her feel better to hear. It was Emilio’s fault. Gomez should’ve been taken to a hospital like Mercedes said, but what could be done now? When he heard the shower shut off, he wondered what he could do for her right now. How could he possibly make her feel better after a man died in her care?

“Logan,” Mercedes found him in the living room where he was standing almost apprehensively as they locked eyes and she sniffed, reaching her hand out to him. “Can you come to bed with me?” She asked in a shaky voice. His heart softened at her request and he found himself nodding as he took her hand and let her guide him to her bedroom. Logan closed the bedroom door behind him as she crawled underneath her covers and he removed his boots and his jacket.

It didn’t feel odd or inappropriate, Logan was comforting a friend that had just witnessed what was perhaps her first death. One could argue this was within the lines of consolation. “You okay?” He asked as he laid down next to her, welcoming her into his arms as she laid her head on his chest.

“No.” She whispered, her voice was wavering and she inhaled his scent quietly, letting out a trembling breath as she closed her eyes. That comforting aroma of his cigars and his familiar cologne grounded her a little better and she found herself able to drift into sleep. But Logan couldn’t sleep with her this close to him. Emilio’s vague threats crossed his mind, but it didn’t really bother him. Nothing could upset him at this moment.

In the morning, Logan found himself still in her bed. His arm was wrapped around her, her back pressed into his chest, his nose buried in her hair. He should’ve gotten up, he should’ve removed himself from the situation, but when she began to stir awake, he wanted her to know he was still here with her. Her body turned in his hold, a hand came up to rub the sleep out of her eyes, and those deep brown irises looked like pools of honey as the sunlight caressed her face. God, she’s gorgeous, he thought to himself. “Hey,” Mercedes whispered, shyly covering her mouth with her fingers as she smiled at him. “You sleep okay?” Logan nodded.

“How about you?” He asked and he saw the reminder of last night dawn on her face. “It wasn’t your fault.” He told her, lightly caressing a strand of her hair out of her face. “You did everything you could, ‘Cedes.”

Her eyes closed and she nodded, a small tear fell from the corner of her eye and she sniffed before looking back at him. “Thanks for staying.” She said, her hand wrapped around his waist and he kissed her forehead as he lightly scratched the back of her head, stroking her soft hair.

“I had to,” He murmured, caressing her cheek softly. Her face grew warm and she tucked her face into his chest. Logan smiled to him as he held her close. “Your bed is uncomfortably small, but you know, it’s fine.” He teased making her giggle.

Her hand fiddled with the chain around his neck and her eyes held a different look in them as she looked back up at him that Logan had not yet seen from her - it was submissive. “You’re just big.” She said in a timid voice, her hand gently tugged on his chain and her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips. This was a drastic change from her usual forward personality. Logan caressed her back softly and he found himself leaning in until there was a knock on her apartment door. Mercedes let out a small sigh before she got up to answer the door and Logan expelled a deep breath as she left the bedroom. His hand rubbed over his face in frustration as he tried to collect his thoughts.

When Mercedes opened the door, her eyes widened at the sight of her sister in law standing in the hallway, a smile plastered on her face. “Buenos días!” (Good morning!) Clara grinned brightly as she let herself into the apartment, walking past a still surprised Mercedes who leaned back against the door to close it. Her eyes were glued on the bottle blonde as she walked slowly around the apartment, as if looking for something, or someone. “Are you just waking up?”

“Uh, yeah, I had a long night.” Mercedes answered, her eyes darting to her slightly ajar bedroom door where Logan was still lying on her bed. “What’re you doing here?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest as her mind spun to prepare a lie.

Clara turned to Mercedes with a small smile. “Emilio sent me to check on you. He wanted to come on his own, but you know he is just so busy.” Her nostrils suddenly flared as she inhaled deeply and she chuckled. “Does it usually smell like Logan in here?”

Her heart nearly dropped into her stomach. Emilio didn’t send Clara to check on her, he sent her to check on something else. “He’s my bodyguard, he’s here a lot.” She shrugged, her heart was beating fast as Clara gave her a small nod, a tiny smirk on her lips as she slowly backed into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Clara.” Her tone was almost warning and her brother’s wife laughed.

“Por favor, Mercedes, no soy una idiota.” She laughed lightly. (Please, Mercedes, I am not an idiot) “His car is parked outside. Why must you complicate things for yourself?”

“Nothing is happening, Clara.” She almost snarled at the older woman who rolled her eyes as she looked at her with disbelief. “Why is it your business? Emilio can’t take two seconds to call and ask me himself if I’m fucking my bodyguard? Why would it matter anyway? I’m an adult.” Her chest felt tight as she had to defend herself, as she had to stand here and have this conversation with possibly the last person she wanted to see in the world right now. The last thing she wanted was an interrogation about who is in her pants, a man had just died. Did no one but her care?

Clara only sighed and shook her head. “See, that is your problem right there,” She said as she took a few steps towards Mercedes whose eyebrows furrowed in anger. “You think everything is about you. Logan is more valuable than you or any of Emilio’s men combined. Emilio doesn’t give a damn who you bring into your bed, cariño,” (darling) Clara pointed to her bedroom door. “But it can’t be him.”

“Scared he won’t care all that much about the organization that keeps you all comfortable and blonde if I fuck him?” Mercedes asked with a smirk. “I’m flattered you think I have that effect on men.”

Clara was silent for a moment before saying, “Don’t think you have any type of upper hand here, cause we will do what we have to in order to keep Logan’s head where it needs to be, got it?”

Once Clara left, Mercedes let out a shaky breath and she held onto the edge of her counter as she heard Logan come out of her bedroom. Their eyes met and she gave him a small smile. “Thanks for letting me handle that.” She said as he stood in front of her, gently pulling her into a hug. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she nuzzled her face into his chest with a deep sigh.

“Would Emilio hurt you?” Logan asked.

For once, Mercedes wasn’t sure that she could confidently answer that question.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

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#logan howlett #logan howlett fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett angst #logan howlett x original character #xmen dofp #wolverine #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine angst #wolverine x oc #wolverine fluff #x men wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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awaywithself · 2 days

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thoughts on “fell first” sanji and “fell harder” zoro? “fell harder” sanji and “fell first” zoro seems more typical for their characters so it’s seen more in fanfic, but i think a reversal would be just as fitting.

sanji, who’s been in love since they were in east blue waters, learning to temper his affections so it simmers just beneath his skin, his expressions, his actions. undeniably constant, but subtle, controlled, and nonetheless warm- like the flame of a lighter. when he hands zoro something he prepared with extra thought and care and is gifted a small, pleased smile after the mosshead takes a brutish bite, he tucks the vision away into his pocket like a handkerchief. something to retrieve and treasure later.

then there’s zoro, who had always acknowledged sanji as an equal- his other half in battle. he knew sanji was important to him, that they had a bond that differed from those he shared with his other crewmates. it wasn’t until the events of zou and whole cake island did he realize it was love. and since then, he’s been in a constant war with his feelings- a kind of battle that made him plant his feet, grit his teeth, and clutch his heart like he did his swords. everytime he saw sanji, he was engulfed in rampant thoughts, loud and wild like the bonfire that illuminates a chaotic celebration.

and sanji, who’s been there and done that, easily shoots a glare, already long accepted it would never happen.

#zosan #one piece #one piece spoilers #sanji #roronoa zoro #ouuuuu they make me so sick #i would love to expand on this and turn it into a fic somehow #I invite anyone who sees my vision to do whatever they want with it #HAHSHAHD

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jesncin · 3 days

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The Potential of Asian Lois Lane: An extra addition

A bonus addition to my Asian Lois essay. I know Lois Chaudhari isn't technically a Lois since the premise of the comic she's from is where the Superman mythos is fictional and the characters in it happen to be named Clark/Lois etc. But since she's a Lois stand in and romantic partner to the Clark Kent of that story, I figured she deserves an honorable mention at least.

Here's where I position her in my Spectrum of Asian Lois Lane chart. And I'd like to talk about her!

Compared to American Alien, this Lois is actually specific and textually Indian in Superman: Secret Identity. Unlike American Alien Lois (that never specified what kind of Asian Lois was), she can't be replaced as a white woman because the text acknowledges her Indian identity (her name, lines of dialogue like this, etc.) hence she's not interchangeable with whiteness. So this take has that going for it.

Where Lois Chaudhari still falls behind Girl Taking Over (and what it shares in common with American Alien) is yet again a sense of missed opportunities narratively.

In Superman: Secret Identity, a man named Clark Kent from Picketsville suddenly has Superman's powers. After years of being made fun of for his namesake, he suddenly is what everyone has been making fun of him for- and as he lives through life he slowly understands why fictional!Superman is the way he is. It's a great story but where it misses the mark for me is its failure to recognize Superman as an immigrant. Secret Identity's Clark isn't an alien immigrant, or a human immigrant, and is instead ostracized because of his name. Government baddies want to do experiments on him so he has to hide from them too. But then he meets city girl Lois Chaudhari, and they connect because people keep teasing them for their names and Lois knows what it's like to keep secrets because she,,, committed a crime as a teen once.

"I guess we're both dangerous felons, then. Public menaces."

Being hunted by the government and being experimented on isn't really the same as being caught shoplifting.

It works well enough as a connection but to me is a huge missed opportunity to have an Indian American relate to your Superman stand-in as an immigrant. To connect on a deeper level other than "people make fun of us for sharing names with fictional characters". Later in the story, Clark and Lois have twin daughters who are visibly Indian. They too, have Superman's powers. While we're treated extensively to the narrative showing us why Clark would hide his powers from the government wishing to seek harm on him, we never get to see what Clark's daughters have to deal with on top of being visibly non-white.

Superman as an alien immigrant is an anecdote in this story. Because after all, that's not what a white American man from Picketsville would find relatable about him, is it? I have the same thing to say about Secret Identity that I did with American Alien: "Clark isn’t the only American Alien in American Alien, if you catch my drift."

I think this story is the perfect encapsulation of the limits of a white writer. One of my hottest takes on Superman is that the best and most holistic take on his character doesn't exist in the white imagination. Take a look once more at the Spectrum of Asian Lois Lanes chart that I made. All save for Girl Taking Over were headed by white men (MAWS may have Asian directors and writers on their team but ultimately its pitch and main ideas are the brain child of Jake Wyatt, a white man).

People have taken issue with me saying this and assume that I mean white people can't write a good Superman story, and no. That's not what I'm saying. I like Superman: Secret Identity. I even like American Alien. But it's been 80 years of predominantly white writers of all backgrounds getting the chance to write Superman- and already multiple attempts at an Asian Lois- and yet it took until Gene Yang (and artists Gurihiru) with Smashes the Klan and Sarah Kuhn (and artist Arielle Jovellanos) with Girl Taking Over that I felt Superman's themes as an immigrant finally took center stage and weren't just a mention or anecdote.

In no way do I want to imply that getting writers of color or Asian writers specifically will mean you'll be guaranteed a great Superman story. I'm against promoting the idea that diverse talent is infallible or tokenizing and essentializing them in such a way. What I am saying is that the best and most holistic story on Superman as an alien immigrant isn't even a goal in the white imagination. Immigrant Superman doesn't live in that mind. He doesn't pay rent there. He doesn't stop by to visit. And no, Superman creators Shuster and Siegel wouldn't have written that story either. Superman may have been the "Champion of the Oppressed" from another planet under their pen, but he would never have related to or have had immigrant solidarity with America's perpetual foreigners the way Smashes the Klan portrayed him as having. Superman's creators were too busy writing Slam Bradley to be able to write that kind of Superman.

The appeal of these cape characters for me, is the process of adaptation. Seeing them be handed off to someone else with different life experience. Seeing them bring a whole new perspective that surpasses even the creator's intentions on their character. That's what makes these characters rich and worthy of constant revisits. I just think that people of different backgrounds should be able to get as many chances as white men have with writing Superman and his cast of characters.

#ramblings #media criticism #lois lane #jesncin dc meta #“I'm an Asian Lois Lane scholar” i say like a liar bcuz I refuse to watch maws s2 or read the maws comics cuz I value my mental health #also did this clark ever think of writing under a pseudonym if being clark kent bothered him so much idk #maybe his agent was like “it's good for marketing omg keep it” but lol it is a choice to change ya name if u wanna

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fuji-sen · 2 days

Text

the 'evil imposter' just wants to be a baker!

Prologue: The Food turned Imposter?!

Part 3: Mint Tea

[ part 2 ] || [ masterlist ] || [ part 4 ]

divider is made by @/saradika-graphics

After that bone chilling scream, what happened next was a blur. Vaguely you remembering forcing yourself to run to the windows, crashing through it as you landed outside and behind the headquarters of the knights of Favonious, you stared in fear when a purple hue shone above you, Lisa was ready to hurt you again with her electro powers but-

Thawk!

A flying chair was hurled towards her and hit her straight in the face! you would have laughed but the pain from being electrocuted made you cry, your body was shaking from the immense pain, Lisa was powerful despite what you saw in-game.

The next thing you knew, you heard footsteps and yells from approaching knights, you had nowhere else to go but. .

As Jean ran to the window, the last thing she saw was you, meeting your gaze for a moment and then. . you hurled yourself off the wall and into the lake that had surrounded mondstadt.

The winds that Stormterror brew was stronger than before, as if he was irked more than usual. Perhaps that was the cause of the presence of the imposter, someone so villainous to even try and imitate the divine. .

Still. .

terrified [color] eyes and cold gray blue eyes met only for a moment, the acting grandmaster faltered, hesitated for a moment to yell out orders when she felt something pierce her heart.

she clenched the fabric just above her chest, the pain lessened but it still lingered. . .

𓂃 ོ𓂃𓅩𓂃 ོ𓂃

Burning,

then drowning,

and last, darkness.

Those were the last things your body experienced before finally giving in.

Afraid, Sadness, Confusion. . betrayal.

Those were the feelings that haunted you in your final waking moments.

As you were unconscious, you were susceptible to the nightmares that formed from your experience, like you were trapped in that same scenario in that damned office.

Labelled as an imposter, your life almost being taken, and being struck by powerful lightning, or rather electro. The feeling of being struck by such. . otherworldly power, it felt like being burned and drowning all together at the same time. It left your muscles sore and stiff, you were sure the librarian's attacks would leave scars on your skin.

Stirring awake you sat up, you hadn't been unconscious for long as your clothes were still very much wet. In the struggle of fighting the waters to not drown, your cinnamoroll slippers were lost, perhaps now at the bottom of the lake. The only thing you had left was the same sword Jean pointed at you, the same sword she had almost used to take your life.

A part of you wanted to throw it, discard it some place she'd never be able to find. But you couldn't, not out of guilty but out of exhaustion and the need for a weapon to defend yourself with.

The winds caressed you gently, letting the tears that left your eyes be carried away by the wind.

What hope and respect you had for those characters seemed to slowly die, your comfort game now felt like a prison, it felt like you were in a survival game with all these odds stacked against you.

What crime did you commit to warrant your life to be targeted and taken away from your grasps?

You stomach growled, ah. . "I'm hungry. ." you hugged yourself as you sobbed, the overwhelming feelings you tried to hold back and bottle up were now surging from the broken damn that was your hope. That same hope that was shattered by the knights of favonious, by Jean and Lisa. You wondered if the other characters will treat you in a similar fashion, or maybe even worse.

You ended up falling asleep once again, from the hunger and exhaustion you felt from your very first day in the world you once felt comfort from. . what a pity.

In your tired and frantic state you had never noticed you were in the ruins of Stormterror's lair. The said dragon returning from who knows where, landing near your sleeping form, his neck craned as his head neared your body.

Eyes blinking every so often as he sniffed, although it was faint he could smell it. The smell of warmth and compassion the diving creator had for its land, weak, but it was there. And for Dvalin that was enough, he opened his mouth, and from it dozens of fish fell from it, forming a pile right beside you.

Your nose scrunched up at the smell of fish but you did not wake.

Satisfied Dvalin rested near you, head facing in your direction.

However numerous days and nights had past and you did not stir or wake from your slumber, Dvalin who had already been in a bad state as it is, lost control of his emotions and flew in a fury towards Mondstadt.

For they were the ones that caused you to fallen into such a depressive state. It was well with-in his rights as the dragon of the east to protect your honor as the [redacted]. So please, wake up, if you do not, you may end up dying once more. . .

𓂃 ོ𓂃𓅩𓂃 ོ𓂃

When you awoke Dvalin was gone, in the distance you could see the storms brewing from a far, in the direction you assumed that lead to mondstadt.

"Why. . why is there a pile of rotting fish beside me?" you wondered, fingers pinching your nose at the disgusting scent. The fish seemed to have been out for a few days already hence it was in a very undesirable state.

"There's not even a body of water in this ruins. ." you realized when the fish were salt water fish of all things. "God. ." your hand reached to brush through your greasy looks "how did I get here?" you wondered aloud, and of course nobody answered. You'd be more scared if there was.

Your stomach painfully twisted, your body was reaching it's breaking point due to the hunger. Eying the fish, you decided it was best to not risk it and so you began your descent from the ruins of the Dragon's lair. It was harder said than done due to the wind barriers and the lack of a wind glider meant that you had to climb down the infrastracture.

Which was a pain considering you woke up at the very top.

You were only halfway there when you stared at your bruised hand, [color] eyes squint at the shimmering liquid in your hands, barely noticeably, was it glitter? it was hard to tell with all the sweat that accumulated from your rock climbing.

You wiped your hands on your pajamas, as something caught your eyes from your peripheral vision. A statue of the seven. .

Cautiously you walked towards it, hands outstretched, hovering but never quite touching. What if touching it alerts Venti of your presence. . was he an ally or a foe. .

your arm fell limp on your side, you couldn't risk your life.

So in the end you turned your back to the statue as you began walking to a pillar you could easily climb done from. Your hands were aching, part of you screamed to touch the Statue so it could heal you if possible but you ignored it, choosing to endure it.

"Ah!-" you screamed as your grip loosened and you began to fall. You were headed towards the wind barriers, you shut your eyes tight as you brought your arms up to protect you face, fearing the worse!

Instead of getting cut by the fierce winds or being pushed back like what you had seen in game, all you felt was a gentle embrace. You opened your eyes slightly to find yourself floating down to the ground.

". . ."

without even questioning it, you dusted off your clothes and smile in relief. "Thank you to whoever is looking out for me. ." And, not wanting to waste anymore time, you looked around to scavenge for some ingredients, there you found an abandoned cooking station which you made sure to remember its location as you tried to find ingredients otherwise, what was the point of a cooking station if you didn't have any things to cook with?

you found some old utensils, mint, a pot, and calla lilies. Finding nothing else and being unable to kill birds for fowl and the fishes had been scared away you went back to the abandoned cooking station. You filled the pot with water from a nearby pond and boiled some mint in the water (the fire being provided by a nearby fire slime that had been nothing but accommodating for her strangely enough- and stuck beside you).

Sitting pretty on a crate you patiently waited for the tea to brew.

meanwhile. . .

"So there is an imposter that has defiled the lands. I see, this is very serious." Amber nodded in understanding as she, Kaeya and the traveller, Aether and their companion Paimon, had returned to the city after dealing with the temples that had been powering Dvalin.

Jean continued "Yes, although her status is unknown we must make sure to see to it with our very own eyes that the imposter has been dealt with." The blond haired traveller knew that 'dealth with' meant 'killed.' He felt a shiver, was Jean always this. . cruel? merciless?

"This will take precedence above all else. So Stormterror will have to wait." The acting grandmaster decided with shocked him.

Aether looked confused at the situation, an imposter? a creator? as far as he knew, this was a case of identity theft, did that constitute being killed on sight in this land? also, how was that more important than the crazy dragon that had been terrorizing the city for months?

Someone make it make sense for him.

Seeing his confused looks, Kaeya, who had been silent up until now, quietly explained to him the situation.

"In Teyvat, there is a being higher than the seven Archons. They are the divine creator. The origin of everything in this world, it is through them we exist, and it is to them we return in death." he explained in simpler terms.

Ah so the ultimate God, wait. . was that the unknown God that trapped him here?! and took his sister?!

"What do they look like?" Aether asked, trying to remain calm. It seemed that disrespecting this creator would end with him getting killed so he tried to act as neutral as possible. However if the divine creator was the one responsible for him being separated from his sister. .

not even the knights of Favonious will stop him.

"Let me show you," the captain offered "there is a statue made in the exact likeness of her excellency, or so I heard." he chuckled and guided him and Paimon out of the office. As he exited last, he glanced at the three that remained at the office, scheming and planning of ways to catch the so called imposter.

The Statue was located in an intimate area, it was smaller than the Anemo Archon's statue which towered over all in the city, just in front of the cathedral but the statue of the Great Creator made up for what it lacked in size with quality.

Aether stared at the statue that was erected behind the cathedral, he studied the well defined features of the statue and breath a sigh of relief upon realizing that the Great Creator and the Unknown God were not the same person.

And yet, "she seems. . familiar. I know this person." he frowned, facing morphing into a look of hopelessness and confusion until his eyes lit up with recognition. "Care to share traveler?" Kaeya patiently waited for his response.

"I saw her. When I was falling to Teyvat, I saw and heard her voice. ." Aether placed a hand on his chest, closing his eyes as he reminisced that distant memory. "She talked to me with so much sweetness and warmth. When I was in the beach, first waking up alone, I felt a presence, I'm sure it's her."

*He winced, clutching his head as unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time, memories flooded his mind. Memories of soaring through the skies, of falling to the ravenous oceans and being caught by a green haired warrior. . the feeling of being struck by lightning, holding someone in his arms as they drew his final breath-

"Aether!" Paimon floated beside her partner, small hands trying their best to comfort the traveller by rubbing his back or patting it. "are you okay?"

He did not answer, brows scrunching up as he panted, 'what was that?'

"I see." Kaeya's eyes shifted to the statue made in the Creator's image, he paid no heed to the fact that the traveler fell to the floor in a state of disarray.

"Why. . " Aether stood up, not entirely offended at the man's lack of care "why did they label them quickly as an imposter though? Wouldn't they first think it is the creator?" It was a reasonable point to brought up.

The blue haired knight hummed "it is because of an old prophecy that foretold the end of Teyvat, when an evil being that wears the face of the creator descends to bring chaos and trick the loyal followers of the Great Mother."

"How are you sure the prophecy is real or it is fulfilling though. . I mean, not all prohpecies are fulfilled. ." Paimon cautiously asked with a frown.

"True" the cavalier captain chuckled, yet it was humorless "but the fact that they showed up in Mondstadt, during the Stormterror's crisis. . when the city and its people is in a state of unrest. You can see why it led to this conclusion, right?"

Aether frowned at that, "it could have just been a coincidence." he defended.

"It could be, but it doesn't change how uneasy the people feel, they'll seek answers to why this whole situation is happening, for them it is easier to blame an 'imposter' of the divine Creator, which is an omen of destruction and misfortune."

Meanwhile you were sipping the improvised mint tea straight from the pot. It tasted spicy and bitter, a weird description but it worked well enough as you felt the burden on your stomach ease up. **

"This is going to be hard."

The Pyro slime that stayed by your side seemed to agree as it sorta nodded.

*Although when you were playing genshin impact, you progressed pass mondstadt and other nations, but upon returning to teyvat or getting 'isekai'd' time seemed to turn back to the starting point of the game. The memories of the residents of Teyvat were changed, yet the vision holders could remember your presence, your gifts (artifacts, weapons) and the strength you gave them. There will be characters who remember though, or partly so. **Funfact: there is a type of mint that specifically helps with staving off / delaying hunger (peppermint oil iirc), [name] applied that knowledge in this chapter because she couldn't find anything to fully help with her hunger.

also Teyvat is trying to keep you alive, hence when you were about to hit the wind barriers in stormterror's ruins you were able to pass through it without it hurting you and it (the wind barriers) helped break your fall.

Please pet Dvalin, and tell him he's a good boy (and don't mention how the fish had rot and you ended up disposing it. .)

taglist: @fantasyhopperhea

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anyydidi · 10 hours

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WRITING THIS POST BECAUSE I'M SO SICK OF PEOPLE MISCHARACTERIZING FORD!!!!!!!!!

Before we begin, everyone is entitled to their opinion. If you really think Ford wouldn't truly care, you do you.

That being said, I feel like people who claim that Ford wouldn't do a single thing to bring Stan back if their places were switched do not understand his character at all.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that he would open the portal. At least not right away. The one thing I agree with is that Ford wouldn't put the life of his brother above the whole planet like Stan did. He realizes the threat of the portal and Bill too much to do that.

But have people forgotten that Ford also loves his brother? Yeah, he was angry, bitter and resentful, but he wouldn't have just let Stan die in the multiverse. Especially since that would be entirely his fault he got stuck there in the first place.

For people thinking, "But Ford was too blinded by rage! He didn't care for Stan until after Weirdmaggedon!", have you seen the show? Have you read the journal? Through everything that happened, Ford kept a photo (tattered and worn, obviously taken out a lot) of him and his brother in his left, inner breast pocket which is the one closest to the heart. If that wasn't enough, for those who haven't read the journal, Ford kept reminiscing about and mentioning his brother before the portal incident. Even though those lines were often crossed out, it was obvious that at least unconsiously he had Stan in mind a lot. And at the end of the journal, it is written that he worked day and night, to the point of passing out, to bring Stan's memories (and essencially Stan himself) back. (Oh and have we forgotten about the absolutely shattered expression he had when he erased Stan's memories? You don't look like that for a person you don't deeply care about).

Still not enough to believe that Ford cared about Stan before Stan's sacrifice?

Let's talk about the fact that when Ford was at his lowest, that being paranoid, sleep deprived, tortured by Bill, drowned in guilt, and completely alone, he reached out to Stan? He says it himself, "I needed help, someone I could trust." After everything, he still trusted Stan to an extent and believed him to be his last hope. You don't give trust like that to people you truly hate.

Ford was self-absorbed and egocentric, but also hurt and betrayed. That feeling came from a misconception, but that doesn't make it any less valid. It is understandable that he acted towards Stan the way he did, with venom and bitterness. But we can be angry at people we love and still care for their well-being.

How I said earlier, I don't think Ford would really open the portal. He wouldn't risk the entire world for Stanley. But I do think he would do anything in his power to be able to bring Stan back safely. You cannot be telling me that he'd be able to live with the guilt and not do anything about it if he could. After all, in his head, it would be his fault. He got tricked by Bill, he built the portal, he made Stan come to him and showed him the portal and he wasn't able to let go of the journal and fought Stan for it. I'm convinced he'd still throw some blame at Stan for some of the fight to make himself feel better at first, but after some time he would just blame himself completely (the same way I think Stan did with the science fair incident). The guilt for all of that would eat him alive.

Let's not forget, Stanley worked for 30 years, basically half his life to bring Stanford home and I believe Ford would be willing to do the same. He would just go about it differently. He would either try to get rid of the threat of Bill and then be willing to upgrade the portal and turn it on again, or maybe try to find a completely different way to get Stan back from the multiverse, or in the end something entirely different, I'm not fully sure.

What I am sure of is that Ford wouldn't just let Stan be stranded in the multiverse without doing absolutely nothing. Maybe he wouldn't succeed, maybe Stan would actually have to find his own way back home because Stanford wouldn't be able to find a solution without risking their entire universe. But Ford would at least try, give it his all, because despite everything, he still loves his brother. Differently than Stan loves him, because Ford is a different person than Stan, but he still does.

So I beg you, people. Stop taking Ford's complex character from him. He can be a selfish, self-centered asshole, but he's not heartless.

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lusmeitli · 1 day

Text

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break.

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him.

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together.

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left.

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?”

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand.

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped.

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

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